#however none of the data on it could be accessed

[problemeule]

screaming crying rolling on the floor

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Unpersoned

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

My latest Locus Magazine column is "Unpersoned." It's about the implications of putting critical infrastructure into the private, unaccountable hands of tech giants:

https://locusmag.com/2024/07/cory-doctorow-unpersoned/

The column opens with the story of romance writer K Renee, as reported by Madeline Ashby for Wired:

https://www.wired.com/story/what-happens-when-a-romance-author-gets-locked-out-of-google-docs/

Renee is a prolific writer who used Google Docs to compose her books, and share them among early readers for feedback and revisions. Last March, Renee's Google account was locked, and she was no longer able to access ten manuscripts for her unfinished books, totaling over 220,000 words. Google's famously opaque customer service – a mix of indifferently monitored forums, AI chatbots, and buck-passing subcontractors – would not explain to her what rule she had violated, merely that her work had been deemed "inappropriate."

Renee discovered that she wasn't being singled out. Many of her peers had also seen their accounts frozen and their documents locked, and none of them were able to get an explanation out of Google. Renee and her similarly situated victims of Google lockouts were reduced to developing folk-theories of what they had done to be expelled from Google's walled garden; Renee came to believe that she had tripped an anti-spam system by inviting her community of early readers to access the books she was working on.

There's a normal way that these stories resolve themselves: a reporter like Ashby, writing for a widely read publication like Wired, contacts the company and triggers a review by one of the vanishingly small number of people with the authority to undo the determinations of the Kafka-as-a-service systems that underpin the big platforms. The system's victim gets their data back and the company mouths a few empty phrases about how they take something-or-other "very seriously" and so forth.

But in this case, Google broke the script. When Ashby contacted Google about Renee's situation, Google spokesperson Jenny Thomson insisted that the policies for Google accounts were "clear": "we may review and take action on any content that violates our policies." If Renee believed that she'd been wrongly flagged, she could "request an appeal."

But Renee didn't even know what policy she was meant to have broken, and the "appeals" went nowhere.

This is an underappreciated aspect of "software as a service" and "the cloud." As companies from Microsoft to Adobe to Google withdraw the option to use software that runs on your own computer to create files that live on that computer, control over our own lives is quietly slipping away. Sure, it's great to have all your legal documents scanned, encrypted and hosted on GDrive, where they can't be burned up in a house-fire. But if a Google subcontractor decides you've broken some unwritten rule, you can lose access to those docs forever, without appeal or recourse.

That's what happened to "Mark," a San Francisco tech workers whose toddler developed a UTI during the early covid lockdowns. The pediatrician's office told Mark to take a picture of his son's infected penis and transmit it to the practice using a secure medical app. However, Mark's phone was also set up to synch all his pictures to Google Photos (this is a default setting), and when the picture of Mark's son's penis hit Google's cloud, it was automatically scanned and flagged as Child Sex Abuse Material (CSAM, better known as "child porn"):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/22/allopathic-risk/#snitches-get-stitches

Without contacting Mark, Google sent a copy of all of his data – searches, emails, photos, cloud files, location history and more – to the SFPD, and then terminated his account. Mark lost his phone number (he was a Google Fi customer), his email archives, all the household and professional files he kept on GDrive, his stored passwords, his two-factor authentication via Google Authenticator, and every photo he'd ever taken of his young son.

The SFPD concluded that Mark hadn't done anything wrong, but it was too late. Google had permanently deleted all of Mark's data. The SFPD had to mail a physical letter to Mark telling him he wasn't in trouble, because he had no email and no phone.

Mark's not the only person this happened to. Writing about Mark for the New York Times, Kashmir Hill described other parents, like a Houston father identified as "Cassio," who also lost their accounts and found themselves blocked from fundamental participation in modern life:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/08/21/technology/google-surveillance-toddler-photo.html

Note that in none of these cases did the problem arise from the fact that Google services are advertising-supported, and because these people weren't paying for the product, they were the product. Buying a $800 Pixel phone or paying more than $100/year for a Google Drive account means that you're definitely paying for the product, and you're still the product.

What do we do about this? One answer would be to force the platforms to provide service to users who, in their judgment, might be engaged in fraud, or trafficking in CSAM, or arranging terrorist attacks. This is not my preferred solution, for reasons that I hope are obvious!

We can try to improve the decision-making processes at these giant platforms so that they catch fewer dolphins in their tuna-nets. The "first wave" of content moderation appeals focused on the establishment of oversight and review boards that wronged users could appeal their cases to. The idea was to establish these "paradigm cases" that would clarify the tricky aspects of content moderation decisions, like whether uploading a Nazi atrocity video in order to criticize it violated a rule against showing gore, Nazi paraphernalia, etc.

This hasn't worked very well. A proposal for "second wave" moderation oversight based on arms-length semi-employees at the platforms who gather and report statistics on moderation calls and complaints hasn't gelled either:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/12/move-slow-and-fix-things/#second-wave

Both the EU and California have privacy rules that allow users to demand their data back from platforms, but neither has proven very useful (yet) in situations where users have their accounts terminated because they are accused of committing gross violations of platform policy. You can see why this would be: if someone is accused of trafficking in child porn or running a pig-butchering scam, it would be perverse to shut down their account but give them all the data they need to go one committing these crimes elsewhere.

But even where you can invoke the EU's GDPR or California's CCPA to get your data, the platforms deliver that data in the most useless, complex blobs imaginable. For example, I recently used the CCPA to force Mailchimp to give me all the data they held on me. Mailchimp – a division of the monopolist and serial fraudster Intuit – is a favored platform for spammers, and I have been added to thousands of Mailchimp lists that bombard me with unsolicited press pitches and come-ons for scam products.

Mailchimp has spent a decade ignoring calls to allow users to see what mailing lists they've been added to, as a prelude to mass unsubscribing from those lists (for Mailchimp, the fact that spammers can pay it to send spam that users can't easily opt out of is a feature, not a bug). I thought that the CCPA might finally let me see the lists I'm on, but instead, Mailchimp sent me more than 5900 files, scattered through which were the internal serial numbers of the lists my name had been added to – but without the names of those lists any contact information for their owners. I can see that I'm on more than 1,000 mailing lists, but I can't do anything about it.

Mailchimp shows how a rule requiring platforms to furnish data-dumps can be easily subverted, and its conduct goes a long way to explaining why a decade of EU policy requiring these dumps has failed to make a dent in the market power of the Big Tech platforms.

The EU has a new solution to this problem. With its 2024 Digital Markets Act, the EU is requiring platforms to furnish APIs – programmatic ways for rivals to connect to their services. With the DMA, we might finally get something parallel to the cellular industry's "number portability" for other kinds of platforms.

If you've ever changed cellular platforms, you know how smooth this can be. When you get sick of your carrier, you set up an account with a new one and get a one-time code. Then you call your old carrier, endure their pathetic begging not to switch, give them that number and within a short time (sometimes only minutes), your phone is now on the new carrier's network, with your old phone-number intact.

This is a much better answer than forcing platforms to provide service to users whom they judge to be criminals or otherwise undesirable, but the platforms hate it. They say they hate it because it makes them complicit in crimes ("if we have to let an accused fraudster transfer their address book to a rival service, we abet the fraud"), but it's obvious that their objection is really about being forced to reduce the pain of switching to a rival.

There's a superficial reasonableness to the platforms' position, but only until you think about Mark, or K Renee, or the other people who've been "unpersonned" by the platforms with no explanation or appeal.

The platforms have rigged things so that you must have an account with them in order to function, but they also want to have the unilateral right to kick people off their systems. The combination of these demands represents more power than any company should have, and Big Tech has repeatedly demonstrated its unfitness to wield this kind of power.

This week, I lost an argument with my accountants about this. They provide me with my tax forms as links to a Microsoft Cloud file, and I need to have a Microsoft login in order to retrieve these files. This policy – and a prohibition on sending customer files as email attachments – came from their IT team, and it was in response to a requirement imposed by their insurer.

The problem here isn't merely that I must now enter into a contractual arrangement with Microsoft in order to do my taxes. It isn't just that Microsoft's terms of service are ghastly. It's not even that they could change those terms at any time, for example, to ingest my sensitive tax documents in order to train a large language model.

It's that Microsoft – like Google, Apple, Facebook and the other giants – routinely disconnects users for reasons it refuses to explain, and offers no meaningful appeal. Microsoft tells its business customers, "force your clients to get a Microsoft account in order to maintain communications security" but also reserves the right to unilaterally ban those clients from having a Microsoft account.

There are examples of this all over. Google recently flipped a switch so that you can't complete a Google Form without being logged into a Google account. Now, my ability to purse all kinds of matters both consequential and trivial turn on Google's good graces, which can change suddenly and arbitrarily. If I was like Mark, permanently banned from Google, I wouldn't have been able to complete Google Forms this week telling a conference organizer what sized t-shirt I wear, but also telling a friend that I could attend their wedding.

Now, perhaps some people really should be locked out of digital life. Maybe people who traffick in CSAM should be locked out of the cloud. But the entity that should make that determination is a court, not a Big Tech content moderator. It's fine for a platform to decide it doesn't want your business – but it shouldn't be up to the platform to decide that no one should be able to provide you with service.

This is especially salient in light of the chaos caused by Crowdstrike's catastrophic software update last week. Crowdstrike demonstrated what happens to users when a cloud provider accidentally terminates their account, but while we're thinking about reducing the likelihood of such accidents, we should really be thinking about what happens when you get Crowdstruck on purpose.

The wholesale chaos that Windows users and their clients, employees, users and stakeholders underwent last week could have been pieced out retail. It could have come as a court order (either by a US court or a foreign court) to disconnect a user and/or brick their computer. It could have come as an insider attack, undertaken by a vengeful employee, or one who was on the take from criminals or a foreign government. The ability to give anyone in the world a Blue Screen of Death could be a feature and not a bug.

It's not that companies are sadistic. When they mistreat us, it's nothing personal. They've just calculated that it would cost them more to run a good process than our business is worth to them. If they know we can't leave for a competitor, if they know we can't sue them, if they know that a tech rival can't give us a tool to get our data out of their silos, then the expected cost of mistreating us goes down. That makes it economically rational to seek out ever-more trivial sources of income that impose ever-more miserable conditions on us. When we can't leave without paying a very steep price, there's practically a fiduciary duty to find ways to upcharge, downgrade, scam, screw and enshittify us, right up to the point where we're so pissed that we quit.

Google could pay competent decision-makers to review every complaint about an account disconnection, but the cost of employing that large, skilled workforce vastly exceeds their expected lifetime revenue from a user like Mark. The fact that this results in the ruination of Mark's life isn't Google's problem – it's Mark's problem.

The cloud is many things, but most of all, it's a trap. When software is delivered as a service, when your data and the programs you use to read and write it live on computers that you don't control, your switching costs skyrocket. Think of Adobe, which no longer lets you buy programs at all, but instead insists that you run its software via the cloud. Adobe used the fact that you no longer own the tools you rely upon to cancel its Pantone color-matching license. One day, every Adobe customer in the world woke up to discover that the colors in their career-spanning file collections had all turned black, and would remain black until they paid an upcharge:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

The cloud allows the companies whose products you rely on to alter the functioning and cost of those products unilaterally. Like mobile apps – which can't be reverse-engineered and modified without risking legal liability – cloud apps are built for enshittification. They are designed to shift power away from users to software companies. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a felony to add an ad-blocker to it. A cloud app is some Javascript wrapped in enough terms of service clickthroughs to make it a felony to restore old features that the company now wants to upcharge you for.

Google's defenstration of K Renee, Mark and Cassio may have been accidental, but Google's capacity to defenstrate all of us, and the enormous cost we all bear if Google does so, has been carefully engineered into the system. Same goes for Apple, Microsoft, Adobe and anyone else who traps us in their silos. The lesson of the Crowdstrike catastrophe isn't merely that our IT systems are brittle and riddled with single points of failure: it's that these failure-points can be tripped deliberately, and that doing so could be in a company's best interests, no matter how devastating it would be to you or me.

If you'd like an e ssay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[katyspersonal]

The best Bloodborne Wiki is a passion project of a single person, is about to get even better + how it can be sustained for years to come!

Hello guys! So like many of you've learned from the post with super good model view of Winter Lantern, recently, on Twitter, Meph announced ( x ) the plan to fill the wiki with very useful, very comprehensive screenshots of the models for bosses, enemies, NPCs and even cut content! The wiki has already been a huge help for lorediggers and artists, but THIS is what we will get:

This page is for Lady Maria and you can check it yourself here: ( x )! It is broken down in the categories of general close-ups of her model, then very high-quality screenshots of every attack during her boss battle and walking, and then raw model!

(I never was able to capture a good look at her using Arcane too like here, for example!)

Winter Lantern page ( x ) is using similar principle!

This is not a secret that very often in Fromsoft games, additional information can be obtained not through descriptions but through visual hints! For example, some people only learned that Winter Lantern's head is made of melted Messengers only now, after a proper look at her model! So, of course getting a proper look at every single character and creature from the game could always be helpful!

This, however, is just a recent highlight for this Bloodborne Wiki! Even prior that, it has been providing invaluable help for the fans! Examples off the top of my head: comprehensive data on what character has what items used or not, great and comprehensive hints and tutorials on upgrades and farming and builds for the players, making every bit of information on Chalice Dungeons and glyphs easily accessible, making datamined NPC sliders of all characters way more accessible and easy to grab and repeat, access to much more obscure models (like Gratia's model), full list of internal filenames and patches progress, making information from physical Bloodborne tutorial book accessible...

There are probably more things to cover that me and others found a great help in, and sometimes we might not even notice! I am sure many people could name at least one way where this wiki has been very helpful, offering raw facts and 100% valid information (and properly sourced whenever someone else helped!) without any speculating, in the most elaborate manner! We should not take it for granted because all this information, found or reshared, was compiled by just one guy out of raw passion for the game! And although this project is not profit-based and Meph is willing to commit to it and pay as much as needed to keep it living, I really still wanted to share the Ko-fi link that exists for anyone who is willing to help sponsoring it!

This is not necessary, and Meph has stated the same, but this project is not only helpful but also really hefty to sustain. The monthly support is only $3 per month, but every little bit not only helps the sustenance, but also knowing how much fans care and simply feeling their support is very significant and sometimes you don't even know how much. Heck, when Meph learned how excited people on Tumblr were about Wiki improving with full compilation of models from every angle.. the reaction was "I am so glad that people still care"! I think everyone who does their best to be useful for the fellow fans needs confirmation that they ARE, for sure, helping!

I just really wanted to get the word out anyways because honestly, none of my super elaborate theories and detailed fanart would've been possible without Meph's Wiki. and also because I am trapped in a clown country where I can't send any international money transfer so the feeling of 'do what I can't' got to me too fsdhfdhs There is no pressure or necessity, but here is the link to anyone who can help and feels the wish to! You've noticed I didn't tag Meph.... since there is no Tumblr account to tag, but again, the Twitter link is also here: ( x )!

[spreadwardiard]

The Rot (part 1)

In the dead of night, Orion Pax received a call from Megatron. Not knowing what was happening, but sensing the urgency in his companion's tone, Orion followed the instructions given. Unbeknownst to him, the Rot had already begun to spread.

I was super inspired by the My Little Pony Infection AU so had to try my hand at something like that, so I came up with this thing. I wanted to try my hand at some zombies. There is an BIG THANK YOU TO @lets-try-some-writing for all your encouragement and help! (sorry everyone, for keeping them so busy XDXD)

Part 2 Here

Orion woke slowly, the edges of consciousness still unable to grasp reality. The persistent pinging on his private comm link, however, was quickly forcing his processor to rouse from his dream state to deal with it. A part of him hoped that if He just ignored that ping long enough, it would cease, and he could slip back into his dreams. His wish was not granted. 

The pinging continued, and finally he roused enough to note that he had only been in recharge for a couple of joor. It was well into the night, far beyond what would be considered polite to call someone. Orion groaned softly as his optics came online. He had always been one to recharge deeply and come online slowly. It was an unfortunate side effect of processing so much raw data for the Archives. 

The pinging stopped and Orion sighed audibly in relief as he rolled over onto his side to try and drift back to his dreams, only for the pinging to resume abruptly. Obviously there was no escaping this. He sluggishly pulled himself into a seated position, and rubbed his optics slowly as he finally took note of the data attached to the caller: MDT-425-B-D-16.

Megatronus? That was odd. They had just spoken at length, right before Orion had drifted into recharge. Orion wondered what could possibly be so important that it couldn’t wait until he came online in the morning. 

He accepted the call and put his best effort into sounding as if he were more awake than he actually was. 

“Megatronus?” Orion inwardly flinched at how much he had failed in his efforts. His voice was deep, and slow in the way that only showed with exhaustion. 

“Orion?” He heard some shuffling come across the connection, and he heard Megatronus mutter something under his venting, that sounded suspiciously similar to ‘thank Primus.’ He was about to open his intake to begin to jest at him for that, but Megatronus did not give him the time. 

“I need you to listen carefully. In approximately two and a half groons, there’s a train coming directly to Kaon from Transport platform 3-5B. I need you on that train. Do not pack. Just get up and get on it.”

Orion frowned as he took in Megatronus’ words. This wasn’t making any sense. 

“What are you-” But Orion couldn’t finish his question. Megatron cut him off with urgency.

“There’s no time for questions. I promise, I will explain everything when you get here.” Something was wrong. Orion’s tanks churned with unease. “Promise me that you will get here, Orion.” 

He didn’t have time to think, his legs were moving without his conscious consent, pulling him out of the comfort of his berth and into the unforgiving chill of his apartment. “I promise, Megatronus. Please, tell me what this is about.”

“I wish I could. There isn't time.” Orion paused only for a klik with his servo hovering in front of the access panel to his door. He was still largely trying to wake up. Hardly any of this was making sense. He half wondered if he was recharge-walking and this was all a bizarre dream, but Megatronus continued to speak. “I love you, Orion.” 

“I love-” the distinctive click of a comm being dropped slapped him in his audials. “-you too…” 

Orion was suddenly left with an agonizing silence. He felt too alert for this to be a dream, and yet none of what was happening made any sense. He locked the door behind him and sluggishly made his way down the long hall of his building towards the elevator. 

Megatronus said he had two and a half groon to get to the station. As the elevator lowered him down to ground level, he did the calculations in his head to determine if he could make it there on pede or if he’d have to use his alt mode. As long as he didn't stop, he should be able to make it. Using his alt mode would take up too much energy anyway. 

Orion rubbed his optics once again as the elevator dinged, and he stepped off and out into the street. The air was cool against his plating, a sensation that he normally welcomed as it aided him in recovering from his recharge cycles. This late into the night, however, the chill left him wanting to turn around so that he could crawl back into his berth and nestle himself in the warmth of his thermal sheets. His pedes continued to take him towards the station, despite his desire for more rest. He had promised Megatronus, after all. 

It wasn't an especially long walk to the station: he just had to take a left three blocks down by the local pub, and then a right two blocks from there. The route was as familiar to him as his route to the Archives, by this point, which was an excellent excuse for him to allow his frame to fall into auto-pilot mode to get him there. It took up much less of his energy that way, and would allow him to stay firmly planted in his half daze between being fully alert and slipping into recharge. If he could maintain it then he'd be able to slip right back to his dreams as soon as he sat on the train. The thought brought a smile to Orion’s face. 

If he recharged on the train, he would be fully ready to come online just before they reached Kaon. He’d be rested and fully ready to tackle whatever issue had come up that Megatronus required his assistance with. It was the perfect plan… if this wasn’t all a strange dream, that is. If he had dreamt up this entire encounter, then he would at least be able to claim a surprise visit. 

The further down the sidewalk his pedes took him, the more he was convincing himself that this was a dream. Megatronus’ call had been eerily similar to the one he had had just a deca-cycle ago. The Megatronus in his dreams had used the guise of urgency to lure Orion to kaon for a romantic date that had started with dinner and ended in the fantastical way that dreams tend to do, with them dancing together amongst the stars themselves. 

Orion was pulled from his memories by a shrill, yet far off scream. He paused in his steps as his finials twitched, to try and locate the source of the sound. Wherever it had come from, it was far from his location. There was no time to investigate, and it was highly probable that the situation was already being dealt with by Iacon’s dutiful Enforcers. Even so, he found that it put him a bit ill at ease.  

With quickened pedesteps, Orion continued his trek and felt slightly more at ease once he rounded the corner by the pub. He’d never gone inside, but it was a well known landmark in his neighborhood, where many mechs would congregate at the ends of their shifts to unwind. It was strange to see it this late at night with no music or boisterous laughter emanating from within its walls. The audial absence made the area feel cold, and lifeless. Unwelcoming. That is what it felt like when the streets were silent and the city largely in recharge. 

At least the station wasn’t much farther. Once he got on the train, he’d be able to relax and the odd foreboding feeling that comes from walking alone in the dark would pass. He’d be able to slip back into his dreams, and he and dream space Megatronus would dance amongst the stars to pass the lengthy journey. It was a perfect plan. 

He could already see the welcoming lights at the front of the station, and he hurriedly crossed the street, a bit more eager than he expected to be to step into a well lit area. The station was nearly deserted, but that was to be expected at this late time of the night. That was fine by him, that only meant that the line to purchase a ticket would be as well. 

Orion was not disappointed. There was only one mech in line, and by the time Orion’s pedes got him there, it was already his turn. 

“Archivist Pax, its-zzz great to see you again. Heading out to Kaon again? There’s a train about to leave.” The mecha behind the glass was smiling at him, but Orion couldn’t help but notice the viscous optical lubricants leaking slowly from the mech. 

“Ah, that’s right. Can you add my designation to the roster, or am I too late for that?” The service mech raised his servo in a polite gesture. Orion had always been on friendly terms with the mechs at this station. He valued their hard work and commitment to getting everyone where they needed to go, and he tipped them well once he received his bill at the end of each stellar cycle. 

“Anything for you, Archivist Pax. There we go… You’re all set to go. Better hurry, you’re cutting it a little close.” Orion uttered a quick and polite thank you as he turned towards platform 3-5B.

The whistle blew loudly, and Orion cursed softly under his venting as he started to run. He’d come too far to have to turn around now. The service mech was absolutely correct in that he was cutting it close. The doors shut immediately after he boarded the front compartment, and he allowed himself a heavy sigh of relief as he took his seat towards the middle, giving him plenty of space between him and the other passengers. He only jostled slightly as they began moving.

He already knew that slipping back into recharge would be impossible. After that eerie scream and then having to run, he had fully entered wakefulness. The trip would take about four joors. If he was lucky he’d be able to recharge for half of that now and there was no way he’d be able to slip into a romantic dream again, after how strange everything had been since he’d been ripped from recharge. 

It wasn’t normal for Megatronus to call him like this, outside of his dreams, of course. He’d been too tired before to really think about it, but now that he was awake… Megatronus had sounded less urgent and more concerned. He sounded worried…

A loud groan shook him from his thoughts, and he glanced towards the front of his compartment, towards a mech that looked as if he were about to be sick. He had his helm between his knees, and the mech beside him had a servo on his shoulder.  They must have been some of the last patrons of the pub, probably on their way back to their work duties. 

Orion looked back to the ground between his own pedes. It was rude to stare, and he had other things to think about anyway. Like the strange tone Megatronus had on that call. How he had made Orion promise that he would make it to Kaon… how he had said that he loved him…. 

Megatronus never expressed his affections in such an open manner, especially over spoken comms. They had already agreed that they would put their romantic attachments on hold until after they were able to plead their case to the Senate. There was too much at stake to be distracted by their feelings for each other. 

A heavy, twisting feeling began to settle in Orion’s tanks. Something must be wrong.  Megatronus had said there wasn’t time to explain, but Orion had nothing but time now. He accessed his contacts, and set up a secure, private line, opening a comm link to Megatronus, ready to get to the bottom of this. 

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa:: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

That… was strange. What was going on? Had Megatronus blocked his commlink? That made no sense, especially after that cryptic and worrying last call. Perhaps Megatronus’ private line had been hacked? It was unlikely, but possible. He could try calling Megatronus’ public line, but that had its risks as well… He tried the private line again. 

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

Perhaps trying the public line would be the way to get through. He had to sort this out, or he’d be an anxious mess this entire trip. He vented deeply, preparing himself for an audial full for not using the secure line to call but… 

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

That unsettled weight in his tanks surged. This wasn’t normal. Was Megatronus alright? Had something happened to him? Was that concern and worry in his voice because he’d been fatally injured? Orion felt himself begin to spiral, and couldn’t stop himself from immediately trying to reach Soundwave next. The two weren’t exactly close, but Soundwave knew of he and Megatronus’ arrangement, and thus would understand Orion’s concern. 

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

Orion then recalled the audible click that had cut him off and ended his previous call. He’d assumed Megatronus had simply ended the call a bit prematurely, having said what he felt he needed to say. But now… Had comms gone down?

A harsh retching drew Orion’s attention back to the drunken mech in the front of the compartment. He looked up just in time to see him purge his tanks of a thick, lumpy, viscous dark green goop. The mech beside him groaned in disgust, but immediately leaned in to assist his companion.  “Get the frag-zzz away from me!” The drunken mech half yelled and half slurred. 

Orion didn’t stick around to see what the outcome would be. He was unarmed, and barely armored. He couldn’t afford to lose his life in a drunken brawl when he and Megatronus were finally making progress with their movement. 

Orion made his way to the back of the compartment, and quietly slipped through the door, intent on making his way to the rear of the train, as far from this scuffle as possible. He passed by the security station in the middle of the train, and informed them of the problem that was brewing in the first compartment. They quickly thanked him, and they parted ways.  

By the time he made it to the last compartment, he was ready to slump into the closest seat he could find. If he was perfectly honest… That was disturbing. He’d spent a lot of time with Ratchet, and had gone over his fair share of medical data. He was no medic, but he definitely knew that purging your tanks wasn’t supposed to look… like… that. 

He’d never seen anything like that before. But maybe Ratchet had? If it was something medically significant, Ratchet would want to know what he saw. Yes, comms to Kaon were obviously not working, but Ratchet should still be reachable. 

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

Orion’s spark pulsed in anxiety. In all his life, he’d never had this happen. Something was wrong. He should have picked up on it immediately, as soon as Megatronus had called him. He should have especially known after that admission of love. Now that he replayed the conversation over in his processor, Megatronus had sounded afraid. 

A spark-freezing scream tore him from his thoughts. That… came from the front end of the train. A tremor of fear rang through him, and he quickly got up from his seat to engage the locking mechanism on the door of his compartment.  Before he could return to his seat, his audials were assaulted by the screech of brakes ripping into the tracks and the explosive groan of metal crunching against metal. He didn’t even have time to brace himself before he suddenly was airborne. 

And then Orion’s entire world went black. 

[lets-try-some-writing]

For Secret of the Primacy: I don't know if anyone else has asked this, but does Optimus accept Megatron's request? If he does, how to the other Decepticons and Autobots react? If he doesn't, what is Megatron's reaction? Does Optimus take his time to answer?

(Feel free to delete this if someone has already asked/requested something like this.)

Ah yes, an excuse to write for this au. Fantastic.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Megatron's offer was a... delicate thing for Optimus to consider. Megatron was his life long foe. Adhering to his request and coming to the Nemesis was akin to stepping into a burning building and praying to any watching higher power that a beam didn't drop on his helm and kill him. But failure to comply was not only an emotional risk, but also a lost opportunity. If he went with Megatron, he would potentially gain access to Decepticon data as well as information regarding his Sire. It was a win for him, and yet it left him suspicious. What did Megatron want?

Out under the stars, Optimus considered in silence until he decided to simply ask.

Optimus: What do you desire from me in return.

Megatron: As I already said, I wish to know more of your origin.

Optimus: You know everything of relevance. What is it you truly seek?

Megatron: Confirmation, or perhaps closure. I am not unfeeling, Prime.

Optimus hesitated, his logical processors left running through countless scenarios as he contemplated. This could end horribly very very quickly. And yet... the offer of information and the chance before him could not be overlooked. Megatron would have killed him already if that was what he wanted. The warlord was looking to gain something from their interactions, and Optimus highly doubted keeping him as a hostage was the full plan. He was, at his core, replaceable. Not to mention if need be, he could still do severe damage to the Nemesis before being brought down.

It was a logical and relatively sound offer. Thus, Optimus requested a day to prepare, and they went their separate ways with a place and a time to meet. Optimus returned to his team and informed them that he would be going on a week long scouting mission and due to the distance, would largely be out of contact. Ratchet wasn't pleased, Arcee wasn't either. Bulkhead and Bumblebee were confused more than anything. But none present wanted to deny Optimus what they assumed was a poor attempt to ask for some alone time. To them, there was no other mech who could use a break more than their Prime.

Ratchet prepared Optimus some rations and requested an update daily. Arcee slipped Optimus a hidden blade to keep in his arm guard in the event that something happened. Bulkhead patted Optimus on the back and wished him well, and Bumblebee gave his Sire a hug. It was a simple but heartfelt farewell for what the team assumed was a simple trip. Guilt plagued Optimus's mind as he elected to not tell them of his plans. They would never allow him to leave, at least not with Megatron. This he needed to do alone. It was dangerous, but in the worst case scenario, he could always call for a ground bridge, or even fight his way out. He'd been on the Nemesis before, and he could hold his own for a limited amount of time against the Decepticons. Megatron was a mech of honor when he felt like it.

It was risky, but there was much to be gained... at least, that was his hope.

He made his way to the designated meeting point even though he knew the team would worry the moment they saw his signature moving far faster than it should have. Once he was at the meeting place, Megatron emerged from a ground bridge and beckoned him to follow with a smile. It was unnerving and Optimus quietly readied his hidden blade just in case things fell apart. However, after venting deeply, he followed Megatron through the portal with only a quick message back to Ratchet.

[[If this doesn't work, I hope you will forgive me. I want to know the truth, and if all goes well, I will gather other vital information as well. Thank you for everything Ratchet. I pray that I will return to you soon.]]

With his message sent, Optimus followed his enemy and stepped aboard the Nemesis. Unease rattled his spark as Megatron smiled and led the way to the Command deck. Optimus did not know what he should have expected, but a vial of sedatives to the neck was not on his list of potential outcomes. He wheezed and his vision blurred, but before he lost consciousness, Arcee's gifted blade found its mark, slashing across Megatron's face even as Optimus was forced into recharge.

When he returned to consciousness, he was strapped down on an examination table and a series of cables connected to his processors through ports normally well hidden. He was too sluggish to move and his whole frame ached. All he was able to do was listen as Megatron began to make plans with Shockwave and Knockout.

Megatron: Does he possess the correct coding?

Knockout: Surprisingly, yes. Despite his physical age and maturity, his coding has not completed its development. He could still theoretically be moved from one frame to another-

Megatron: Excellent. Get that relic out of him and prepare to transfer his spark to a protoform. Ensure the protoform in question is adequately adjusted.

Knockout: My Lord, I will gladly obey, but you must realize that tampering with the relic is highly dangerous! Not to mention moving him to a new frame could cause incredible stress-!

Megatron: What are the issues that concern you, Doctor?

Knockout: The Matrix is tied to him. Trying to remove it could kill him! If you want him dead then by all means go forward with this plan, but if you want a live Prime, he needs that relic at least until I can create a stabilizer to replace it.

Megatron: Very well. Leave the relic until there is a way to remove it. Anything else?

Knockout: He may have the correct coding, but putting him in a protoform is just asking for all sorts of mutations. He needs a stabilizing element, a CNA contribution of some sort considering there are no hot spots for him to go roll in.

Megatron: Then find someone aboard the Nemesis. I want him and that relic dealt with before the cycle's end!

Optimus watched in horror as Megatron grinned down at him. Knockout simply sighed and raised a blade with a murmur about not wanting to damage such a fine frame.

Optimus Prime finally came to fully understand just what his Sire endured as he was picked to pieces for a purpose he did not know. Memory faded in and out as the Doctor worked, but all the while Optimus recalled searching for Ratchet, desperately hoping the mech who treated him so tenderly would come save him. His attempts to call to the team were fruitless, and in his moments of awareness, he noted Knockout had removed his tracker or otherwise blocked the team's ability to find him. He was stranded and alone.

What a foolish decision it was to come to the Nemesis. He regretted it more with every moment and only found himself aware enough to actually process data once more when he came online in a far smaller frame. He was without many features, his new body not yet adjusted to his CNA. The Matrix wrapped around him almost like a ribcage in order to fit his small form. But aside from a few familiar features such as his finials, he also noted a few smaller adjustments, namely the duel datacables that he sensed distantly on his back.

He could not speak, he could not act. Alone and weakened, all he could do was go limp when Soundwave and Megatron came to look him over.

"He has accepted your CNA well. Take care of him Soundwave. Orion's sparkling should be preserved at all costs. I refuse to allow his memory to fade."

Soundwave collected Optimus and carried him as if he weighed nothing. Optimus, having endured his forced reformat, merely groaned. Of course, Megatron was not to be trusted. What a fool he was to even believe in a vague concept of honor. Megatron was always obsessed with his Sire. Was it really a surprise that he would try to claim what little remained of Orion Pax? He was lucky to be alive...

Soundwave took him away, and before Optimus knew it, a new schedule formed for him. He did not fully understand, but the warlord, seemingly drunk on whatever the dark energon did to him, had fully devoted himself to preserving that which remained of Orion. Megatron held no love for him. Instead, the Decepticon instructed Soundwave to tend to Optimus. That tending came... with adjustments. Every cycle he was trained in the craft of the spymaster and dutifully educated in the ways of the original Decepticon creed. Soundwave was not loving or affectionate, but he was a devoted teacher.

Cycle in and cycle out, Optimus obeyed. He couldn't fight, not when his very frame seemed so frail. He could not trust his limbs, nor could he trust his mind without wondering if his thoughts were influenced by the Matrix or Soundwave's teaching. He'd fallen for Megatron's trap, and now he remained until the warlord grew tired of him. He could only hope his team were safe and that they could continue the fight without his aid.

Locked on the Nemesis in a frame not his own, Optimus learned. And given time, he learned one important skill.

He learned to bide his time and scheme.

[whitherwanderer]

4 // reticent

Accessing Everkeep Data Terminal Network . . . Please remain still for regulator scan or insert identification tag. Verifying user registration . . . User PYR-0562 registration verified. Access granted. Welcome back, Pyrite. Memory storage shard detected in port A. Displaying memories. IMG_1051 IMG_1052 IMG_1053 IMG_1054 IMG_1055 IMG_1056 > IMG_1055 Loading IMG_1055 . . . Loading failed. Memory corruption detected.

Blue light from the terminal screen cast a sickly glow across the room, making a sleepless Pyrite look all the more weary as her eyes strained against the blocky remnants of a corrupt image. Despite the distortion of the image turning the figures pictured into little more of a hint at a person, she could recognize herself in one of them; the suggestion of a smile on her face, her arm slung around a brunet man that could be none other than Galena, though she had no recollection of this moment preserved in light.

He had long since awoke and found her there, alert but not wholly present, as she delved into their personal records. She could still feel the press of his lips on her cheek before he left their darkened apartment to begin the long trek out to the driftdowns. She only opened the image back up when she was sure he was long gone.

Between them in this disembodied memory, observed secondhand through a broken lens, was a third figure.

Younger. Much younger. Not more than ten years old. Held in their arms with a certain pride she could almost remember feeling once. Blonde, like her, but otherwise featureless. The conclusion was as obvious as it was maddening. But when? How?

The longer she stared, the more it ate at her how much was missing. A name she wanted to call out in a long-learned habit, though her tongue could never quite form the syllables. A face she could almost see in the white, flickering moment as her eyes closed, but something always pulled her away from recognition of a face. Everyone was aware of the cloud. Everyone had these holes in their memory. So why did this eat at her so?

The blinking prompt beneath the image tempted her sorely. She had already found the futility in taking up its offer, however…

Repair IMG_1055? [Y/N] >  Y Repairing IMG_1055 . . .

What is it they say about the definition of insanity?

She watched the loading bar fill, tick by painful tick, until there came a chime at the door that, for all its intended pleasantness, nearly sent her to the floor with a jolt. “Who’s there?” she calls.

“Pyrite? It’s me,” a young woman called over the comms unit just outside, “Sphene.” Pyrite froze in her seat, her blood set to ice. She clapped the terminal closed and kept her hand atop it as if it might shout her secrets if she didn’t, then looked down to examine herself.

“I apologize for calling upon you at this hour. I haven’t woken you, have I?”

“No,” Pyrite calls back urgently. “No, I was already awake. Just- just give me a moment to get myself decent, your Majesty.”

“Oh! By all means.”

Fully clothed, but caught obviously unprepared for any guest, let alone the bloody Queen of Reason herself. Not that Sphene was known to judge, but the impropriety of greeting her barefoot did cross Pyrite’s mind. So too did the thought of keeping her waiting at the door.

Pyrite hurried to the entrance, pressing her hand to the pad beside it that saw the shades open and the lights of Solution Nine to fill the room before another press lifted the door, revealing the young queen’s expectant, spring green stare and warm smile. Coiffed, crowned, and poised, wide eyes and the wringing of the young queen’s hands indicated something was troubling her, but she brightened the moment Pyrite smiled back at her, however wearily.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, your Majesty,” she Pyrite offers, harried though it is, and the queen’s eyes close with a gentle shake of her head.

“Don’t be, my dear Pyrite. It’s still quite early,” the regent assured. She paused, looking back over Pyrite’s shoulder for a moment before smiling to politely inquire. “May I come in?”

Pyrite was keenly aware she’d been sorting through the records and attempting repairs for hours now. The Everkeep administrative systems would have caught it, wouldn’t they? The visit from the queen couldn’t be a coincidence.

Her smile widened from ear to ear. Why did this feel like a guilty conscience on display? “‘Course. Please, come in.”

As Pyrite stood aside to let the young queen enter with polite thanks, her hands were kept folded neatly at her middle. Her scintillant dress cast prisms of light about the floor, turning as she did once she reached the middle of the room. Pyrite touched the pad against the wall once more and the door slid closed, quieting the distant sound of Sphene’s name called down the hallway.

The resulting beat of silence frayed Pyrite’s already buzzing nerves.

“Restless morning?” she asked the queen. An attempt at smalltalk to soothe the nerves. It was not so long ago that they gossiped like schoolgirls after all.

“Restless is… one way of putting it,” the queen tone nearly touches upon sardonic humor. This does little to put Pyrite’s nerves at ease.

“...How have you been, Pyrite?” Sphene asks tentatively, turning to look upon Pyrite with a smile that spoke of genuine concern. Like a check-in after an illness. Why did the queen’s once-comforting visits now feel like interrogation? “You look well, and that is heartening enough. I hope the same goes for dear Galena?”

“I am, and so is he,” Pyrite said cooly, motioning towards the sofa. She didn’t take a seat until the queen accepted the offer, happily perching on the edge of the cushion and smoothing her dress over her lap.

“But somehow I get the feelin’ you didn’t come by just to tell me I looked well,” Pyrite remarks lightly, and Sphene’s eyes glint with delight.

“Ah… subtlety has never been my strong suit, has it?” the queen admits, casting her gaze to her knees. Her smile remains warm. “In truth, I was rather worried about you and Galena.”

Play dumb, instict told her. “Worried? Why for?” Pyrite asks, sitting back. Was this too casual? Did it read as too confident?

“I heard a spot of troubling news from the hunters afield in the Thunderyards. That one of our valiant huntresses had suddenly handed in her notice of resignation…” Her Majesty hints, jeweled gaze lifting to the fool’s gold of her host’s.

Pyrite clicks her tongue. “Loudmouths, the lot of ‘em,” she jokes, and Sphene lifts her fingers to her lips to giggle. The apparent ex-huntress sighs, her head tilting to one side. “They speak true, I’m ‘fraid. I’m lookin’ fer new work. Somethin’ to keep my edge honed. And the change is… welcome, I suppose.”

Not a complete lie. Not the whole truth, either.

“Ah, so that’s the way of it. New employment,” the queen surmises with approval in her tone. “Blessed are we to have ambitious people like you seeking new challenges and finding more ways they might serve our fellow Alexandrians. I do not doubt your skills can be put to good use elsewhere, within the keep or without.”

She pauses, her hands folding on her lap again to wring gently. Here it comes, Pyrite tells herself with an inhale. Surely this wasn’t honest trouble, was it? It was only their personal records, their rightful property, And she can’t have been the first to go digging through the past. She certainly wouldn’t be the last. Could it really be so dangerous to go fishing for memories lost in the cloud?

“...I gather Galena also seeks such new challenges?” comes a tentative worry, and the young queen’s smile is one of honest apprehension. “I spied him at Mosaic this morning and I couldn’t help but notice that he had forgone the use of a regulator.”

Pyrite’s lip is pinched between her teeth, but she manages to finally exhale. So that’s what drew the queen’s attention to them. Washed over with the relief that her prying into the past would have consequences for herself and her husband, she could speak to the Queen of Reason with some degree of candor. Sphene, for her part, did seem honest in her concern. Her delicate hand pressed to her chest as she made plain her case.

“Just this month we’ve seen a one hundred and sixty-eight percent increase in soul use among the reforgers. Of course we cannot accurately capture full scope of the risk with so many who don’t wear regulators, but we’re still seeing a rate of nearly ten accidental deaths per year on average, seven of which are caused by aggressive wildlife and the other three—”

She stopped herself short, and Pyrite realized how deeply furrowed her brow must have been as Sphene began to cite statistics they were both fully, painfully aware of. Galena wasn’t just taking a risk in choosing not to wear the regulator and continuing to operate in the field; it was downright recklessness. But it was still his choice, and Sphene knew this.

Both took a beat to release their tension, the queen adjusting herself to face her host fully, her smile apologetic. Pyrite obliged her with a tired smile of her own.

“I’m sorry,” Sphene laughs, pained but earnest.

Pyrite forgives her with a shake of her head. “You care for him. Couldn’t possibly be cross with Her Majesty for worrying over her subjects’ well being.”

“I do care for him, just as I care for you, Pyrite,” the queen agrees quietly. “Queen or not, you are dear friends to me, and I would do anything within my power to make your lives as happy and fulfilling as I can, even if that means merely providing a listening ear. So please, know that if there is anything you would like to talk about—anything at all—you may confide in me as you would any other.”

Her plea is honest, heartfelt. Pyrite knows well that the queen’s word is her bond, even as she smiles cooly. “I appreciate it, Queen Sphene. Truly, I do,” Pyrite tells her. A part of her doesn’t lie. “Might be I’ll take you up on that someday.” Both know, of course, that the offer would remain on the table. Untouched.

Sphene’s smile wanes, gladdened, but plainly disappointed. She seemed to recognize the appropriate time to leave her host to her thoughts, and rises to her feet. Pyrite follows suit.

“I shan’t press. Ever have you kept your counsel, and to ask it of you now may well be brazen indulgence, I fear. I ask no more of you except that you forgive me if I’ve overstepped.” Sphene’s expression wanes pleasantly apologetic before she takes a determined step towards the door with Pyrite close behind.

With the press of the door panel and the hiss of hidden hydraulics, the sound of conversation down the hallway fills the silence once again. Pyrite soaks in the relief of nearly having her privacy once again, until Sphene’s hand catches the door.

She turns, her voice lowering. “If I may be brazen once more, might I prevail upon you to ask Galena if he would reconsider the use of a regulator? I wouldn’t presume to disrespect his choice but…” It’s she that bites her lip this time. “It would break my heart to learn that tragedy had struck and I was powerless to keep his memory safe.”

Pyrite blinks, unmoving. It takes a moment for her to remember to offer some sort of condolence in the form of a nod and a smile. “I’ll talk to him, Queen Sphene,” she promised. She did not promise the content of that conversation, but Sphene smiled gratefully nonetheless.

“That is all I ask. Thank you, Pyrite. Be well.”

Pyrite watches her depart, motes of refracted light following her across the floor as she is excitedly flagged down by the small group conversing down the hallway, eager to catch up with the young queen. She pushes off the door and closes it, breathing in the silence.

But a few steps to her terminal to check on the progress of the repairs, and she is unsurprised to see it report failure to repair yet again. The error code is frustratingly familiar. 

Unable to repair. Error code: ORIG-0053

But perhaps it wasn’t a dead end. She taps at the display, punching the code into the database for a workaround or some other solution—bootleg or otherwise. She couldn’t have been the first to attempt this.

Instead of solutions, however, she is greeted by a message.

Please, do not despair. Your precious memories are held in the Cloud for safekeeping until such time as you are ready to reunite with them. Until then, I ask only for your patience. All will be well.

The terminal is slapped closed again, and Pyrite silently seethes for reasons she doesn’t quite understand. There must be others who went looking and shook with silent rage for all the answers that seemed to slip through their fingers. There must be.

She just had to find them.

[youngwonhui]

✦ dance of the swords

*•. member: Jeonghan x gn readers

*•. summary: you were in a path of revenge. In your venture to obtain incriminating data of the company, Jeonghan, the illegitimate son of the CEO caught you by surprise and took you away. Little did you know that his next action will surprise you even more

*•. genre: angst

*•. wc: 1,8k

*•. warnings: none

“Let me ask you something then.” Jeonghan looks down to the stacks of paper on his desks. Hidden company data that simply wouldn’t do any good to the good name of the company.

Might as well put a big red tape with the words ‘Corruption’ it might not convince the media of the truth behind the dirty parts of his father’s company. Jeonghan subconsciously pulls the collar of his Loro Piana sweater. The soft material never felt so suffocating, yet Jeonghan enjoys this moment altogether.

You kept your breathing straight. Eyes never leaving the smirking figure of Jeonghan, now his eyes turn a shade brighter. Maybe it’s just the light. There’s a familiar glint. You spend enough spying around the office to recognize this particular trait of the CEO bastard son.

You had prepared every consequences that will follow this dangerous venture. Revenge are never risk-free and you’re determined to lurk around this company for any leads that will help you put a light on the truth of this company that took everyone you ever loved. A measly CEO son who treat the place like a playground just to pass his time isn’t going to easily stop you from your plan.

“Your question, sir?”

“Sir? That’s new, you never call me that.” Jeonghan glance at you before he leaned back on his seat, lacing his fingers leisurely, however he failed to control the ever-growing smirk on his face. “Ah, question, that’s right. I’m guessing this document doesn’t magically found it’s way into your pretty bag there? Wait i can answer this. Of course not, because to access this particular document you’ll need to pull a few strings up top. And i mean half of the board which i doubt you’ll managed, seeing that you only begin to work around…?”

You drew an exasperated sigh while Jeonghan continues to trail his gaze around the room and finally to you as he made his way around the obnoxiously large desk. What’s more obnoxious are the sound of Jeonghan’s expensive leather shoes paired with the tapping of his playful fingers on said desk. Million questions ran through your head as you perfectly aware it isn’t a coincidence that Jeonghan had manifested himself right outside the hallway after you had manage to secure the document.

You planted your feet straight, as now Jeonghan stood right in front of you with an indiscernible expression hanging off the usual bright complexion often posted by the mainstream media. Leaning against his desk, you kept your eyes against his. Refusing to back down, seeing as he hasn’t call any form of security to drag you off the property, a thought popped up on your mind that Jeonghan might have a different thought for your action.

Yet your question remain unanswered.

“I’m not gonna lie and pretend i don’t know every little detail and background about you. I’m also not gonna lie that i don’t have a little inkling of what you might have in plan with this incriminating documents.” Oh how you wish you could wipe those smirk off of his beautiful face.

By now you can’t help the little side eye that you give to him. The CEO son just chuckled at your crumbling fortress. By this point you wondered if this is just the shakedown Jeonghan is playing so he could impress his father. You took a deep breath and steel your will, straightening your posture and reminding yourself of why are you here in the first place.

Revenge.

There’s no doubt that the air and tension around the two of you could easily choke anyone without clear understanding of the situation. Underneath the silence and above the small ticking noise of Jeonghan’s old wooden clock, somehow you could find the rhythm to his slow breathing. His chest slowly moving behind his crossed arms. Not that you were staring at that particular spot. You were keeping an eye on him. Readying for the next blow. Because being interrogated like this surely will not be the only obstacle you found in this long road you had planned.

“If it is revenge you seek, i have an offer to make.”

Jeonghan’s soft voice caught you by surprise. More than the words he uttered, which both piqued your interest and raise the alarm at the same time.

“What do you know about revenge?” You found yourself asking.

“I don’t know much. But i feel like you do.” Jeonghan kept his eyes on yours, tilting his head ever so slightly. Inviting.

He’s dangerous. You kept reminding yourself. The mere fact that he’s off of your radar are what brought this obstacle altogether. If you had kept a close eye on him, you would be walking free with the much needed documents and further into your plan. And yet here you are.

You could dance around the tension built. The fact that Jeonghan manage to somehow figure out what you’ve been doing yet he’s so far from your attention are saying something about Jeonghan. For whatever reason he’s been willing to hide the fact that you are in the midst of smuggling incriminating data to the outside world. 

Judging by the fact that you’re not in a bigger problem yet.

Yet Jeonghan is already a problem enough. You just didn’t know how much, and his offer sounds more like a poisoned apple. But an apple still. Alluring.

“Whatever it is you’re offering, i don’t need it.”

“You haven’t even heard it.” Jeonghan argues. You hate how he’s enjoying this. “As i said, you seemed to know a lot about revenge. I know a lot about this company. More than any average money hungry old geezer of a board member at least. And i know you need help. What good is a revenge when you can’t even smuggle out a little document without getting caught by me.”

“Are you offering a way out or trying to be knight on a white horse?”

“We both perfectly know that i’m not honourable enough to be a knight. I’m merely offering an olive branch. Since we seemed to be headed to a similar path.”

“I’m not interested for your help. As much as i know of revenge, i don’t need to owe anyone anything. Moreover owe you.” Jeonghan briefly looks down at the accidental condescending tone you give. You regret nothing though if he’s being candor, so can you.

“So you’re stubborn. I like that.” Jeonghan muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Apology accepted.” Jeonghan straightened, you can’t help to lightly chuckled at the situation. “As i said we’re going to the same path. So how if it’s like this, i’ll be your hired gunman. By your order i’ll shot the gun so that your plan goes smoothly without obstacle. You know, grease the gear a little.”

You couldn’t help but to be amazed at the polarity of his sentence. What could he be planning behind this offer. How could he said such words with a smile on his face. Words that might help you bring down this rotten company to ashes. He’s willing to stomp on those ground.

“Why do you want revenge?”

“That might be a talk for another time.” Jeonghan kept his composure. “I’ll be whatever you want and i’ll do whatever it is you needed. You have your obstacle, and i have mine. We’ll clear each other path so it’ll be easier for both of us.”

“What if i refuse?”

“Well, i was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” Jeonghan clicks his tongue before straightening up and stuffing his hand to the pocket of his trouser. No matter how heated the air has been between you, the cold breeze of the room and weather still gets to him. “Then i’ll find another way of revenge. Although i hate to be the one to stop yours.” His other hand move faster to picks up the phone on his desk.

In frantic, you unknowingly moves and stop his act before he could follow through. While being successful to keep Jeonghan from calling anyone important, you hadn’t planned the close proximity resulted from your action. You could feel Jeonghan’s cold hand in your hold. For some reason you can’t let go of it. In fear of him doing the deed or it just felt right to held his hand down.

You could sense the small smirk blossoming on Jeonghan’s face—hell, by this close proximity you can even feel the slight movement of his breathing. The warm puff of air he exhale right into your temple.

Slightly tilting your head to look at him, you took a deep breath before planning for the next step forward. Now with Jeonghan in the mix. You couldn’t lie he make a good addition to smooth out the small wrinkle in your plan. But the possible consequences of him being Jeonghan continues to throw you into the shadow of doubt.

You’ll have an easier path to your revenge but you’ll be dancing a tight line alongside a man with hidden intentions.

“What’s your next move?” Jeonghan whispers lowly, yet it rang so loud into your eardrum. You could feel his gaze. All the brown and glint of somewhat madness. It looks so clear up close.

It should scare you, but you can’t help to join in his dance.

You realize this is no longer your plan. As of this moment, you play right into his hands and now it became both yours and Jeonghan’s plan. Volatility and collateral damage be damned.

“I don’t like gunman.” You replied, sliding your hand off of his. Giving him the benefit of the doubt as a sign of agreement. Your first move. Strangely Jeonghan looks a little disappointed, when he lost the touch of your hand. “I prefer swordsman. Agile, skilful, and undoubtedly powerful.” You whispered those words straight into Jeonghan’s ear, which fall short to his neck. You could spot the slight jolt of his shoulder, which he quickly regain his composure and school his face back to his default disarming smile.

“I’ll be exactly that for you.” Jeonghan raises his hand to your face. Stopping a mere millimetres of your cheekbone. You held back your breath, but didn’t move away. Jeonghan took this to close the distance and graze your skin softly. As expected his hand felt as cold as it looks. His touch was brief, it left you somehow wanting for more. Jeonghan lowered his hand as an invitation. “I’ll join your dance. We’ll even talk to the dead. They’ll fear us.”

[folkwitchofthewest]

Dancing in the Rain

Hi all! I'm back! This is a fluffy fic inspired by my first date with my dearly departed fiance. It went something similar to this, lol. Hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

Word count: 2,387

Warnings: None, other than tooth rotting fluff!

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Everything was perfect at last. Donatello took a step back to admire his hard work.

The rooftop looked gorgeous. The flames of the cream colored candles that were carefully placed around the roof swayed in a mesmerizing dance, red rose petals scattered about, his playlist of all your favorite love songs was waiting at his command to start playing.

The warm, romantic, glowing atmosphere he had meticulously put together was exactly what he wanted for your anniversary. You and Donnie had been dating for 1 year. 1 year 6 hours, 13 minutes, and 52 seconds exactly he mentally calculated. 1 year ago today he had asked you to be his girlfriend. He shuddered when he thought of how he had stumbled over his words, and his face felt like the surface of the sun that night. Not that he had become any better at expressing himself, but conversation had become much easier. Your interactions were no longer awkward, and stiff thankfully. They had become comfortable, almost instinctual.

He wanted this night to be special, you deserve nothing less than perfection. So he spent months collecting data on how to make this night something thus far you had only seen in your dreams.

Pride swelled in his chest as he looked over his handy work again. The sound of a door closing and light footsteps behind him brought Donnie out of his reverie. He couldn’t help but grin. Time to give you a night you would never forget. He quickly made his way over to the roof accessible stairway door to intercept you. His little surprise was set up on the opposite side of the roof, and he intended to keep it a surprise until he was ready.

“Good evening, my dear,” Donnie greeted you.

“Good evening, and happy anniversary,” you replied.

“Happy anniversary,” he said, handing you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Oh Dee, they’re beautiful, and my favorite color too! Thank you,” you said, breathing in the sweet smell,” They smell lovely.”

“I am thrilled you like them. However that is not the only thing I have in store for the evening,” he beamed at you.

“Is that so?” you asked, a smile gracing your lips.

“It is! Close your eyes,” Donnie instructed.

“Pray tell, how am I to see what your surprise is, or even reach it if my eyes are closed?” you challenged him playfully.

You squealed as your ever so chivalrous boyfriend scooped you up into his arms bridal style, before placing a kiss on your temple. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes going wide in surprise at the unexpected touch.

“Like this,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear,” Close your eyes, love.”

You laughed and did as you were told, putting all your trust in Donatello not to accidentally drop you.

Ahhhh, that sweet, wonderful, laugh was music to his ears.

You rested your head against his plastron, relishing in the rare physical contact. Your genius didn’t often show his love for you through touch or words, but when he did you soaked it all in like a sponge. The patter of his feet suddenly stopped and he set you down gently. His hands shifted to your shoulders, and he moved to your side.

“You can open them now,” he muttered in your ear.

You once again obeyed, and were left breathless by the sight that met your eyes. You drank it in, the candles, the petals, the soft music playing in the background.

“What do you think?” He asked, the slightest bit anxious.

“Tello, I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful,” you whispered, completely in awe,” You did all this just for me?’

“Of course. I wanted this to be perfect, like something straight out of your dreams,” Donnie replied.

“You certainly did not disappoint,” you cooed.

“Come on then. We both love to dance, I could not think of a better way to spend the night,” he grinned.

Donnie was nearly vibrating with giddiness as he led you over to his candle lit dance floor.

He took a moment to take in your appearance. You wore your favorite outfit, the one he knew made you feel confident and beautiful. This time though you donned his signature royal purple. It was a subtle detail but it still made his heart flutter that you would put thought into something on that small a scale, just for him. You were stunning.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, my queen?” he asked, bowing deeply, while extending one hand to you.

“Of course, my king,” you giggled, accepting his hand, and giving a mock curtsey.

The familiar feeling of your hand in his made butterflies rise in your stomach, still after all this time. His free arm wrapped around your waist, and yours draped across his shoulders; pulling you together in the typical ballroom position.

You both drifted elegantly across the roof to the slow, romantic, violin music. The cool evening breeze blew through your hair, and your collective laughter filled the cloudy night sky. You danced together for what felt like hours, though in truth it was no more than 45 minutes. The conversation soon turned to the familiar playful jabs and light teasing you 2 were known for.

The witty banter between the 2 of you was something you both thoroughly enjoyed, he the stimulation you provided, and you the challenge he presented. You intrigued him, you always had. Though when you first met, Donnie saw you as an annoyance, a fascinating one, but an annoyance nonetheless. You had been an insufferable distraction introduced to his tediously created world by his brothers, and April. Slowly though his intrigue became fondness as he got to know you more deeply. And fondness became affection. While he did not understand these feelings, and they scared him, he wanted nothing more than to explore them with you.

You had been determined from the word go to charm your way past Donnie’s defenses. He was like no one you had ever met, and you wanted to see who he truly was behind his emotionally unavailable bad boy image he so flawlessly maintained.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined falling for him, and he doing the same for you.

Donnie was your biggest crush, your first love, and first serious boyfriend. Sure you had dated a couple guys in your highschool years so far, but none of them gave you butterflies the way Donnie did.

You could only hope that ridiculous saying wasn’t true, and that some things would last forever.

So caught up in your own private piece of heaven you both failed to notice how the air had grown heavy, and the wind had picked up. A sudden drop of water landing rather unceremoniously on your nose startled you both. Another landed on Donatello. Another fell on the wick of one of the candles, extinguishing the flame with a sizzle. And then another fell, and another, and another, and another until the sky let loose a torrential downpour.

No! It wasn’t supposed to rain for several more hours! Donnie had planned for you both to be back at your respective homes long before it started. He had planned all this, calculated it down to the second. How could he have screwed it up so badly?!

He scurried over to the stairwell access, flinging the door open, and stepping inside to hide from the obnoxiously large droplets. He looked out over the rooftop, feeling utterly gutted as the music came to an abrupt halt. His surprise for you was ruined. You would surely be disappointed.

Only you didn’t seem disappointed at all. You stood smiling, laughing, as the last of the orange candle light flickered out, surrounded by the water. You hadn’t run to find shelter like he had. No, instead you twirled about in the rain, its drumming sound the beat you followed and swayed to.

“Tello! Come dance with me!” You called, a smile so vibrant on your lips it could light up the entire city.

“In the rain?” His absolutely astonished voice rang across the roof, slightly higher in pitch than normal.

“In the rain!” You beamed at him, holding out a hand.

Your hair was a dripping wet mess, your clothes clung to you in a way that would surely be uncomfortable later, and droplets of the cool liquid rolled off your face. Yet Donnie thought you couldn’t look more beautiful. Well, if a dance in the rain was what his queen desired, who was he to deny her that wish?

A grin spread across his face as he stepped out of his safe haven, shivering a bit as the cold rain hit his skin, and made his way to you. He grasped your hand tightly, and spun you into him. Your eyes widened and a laugh escaped your lips as he did.

“As you wish, my dear,” he grinned down at you, admiration and devotion shining in his eyes,” Play All of Me by John Legend.”

The song began to play softly in the background as you swayed with each other. The city's lights glittered around you both like a thousand diamonds, though its beauty could not compare to you in the slightest in his heart.

You pulled a strand of hair away from where it was clinging to your jaw, and giggled. Slightly embarrassed you tilted your face downwards, jeez, what was your boyfriend going to think of your appearance?

“I’m sure I look like a drowned rat,” you smiled, flinging the invading strand over your shoulder.

“Trust me, you are much prettier than Papa after being the unfortunate victim of one of Mikey’s water balloon attacks,” Donnie joked, lifting your chin so your eyes met his.

“Awww, Dee I’m flattered! You really think I’m pretty?” a mischievous grin creeping onto your lips.

“You look perfect,” Donnie mumbled under his breath.

“You’re pretty handsome yourself, Donatello,” you cooed.

“You heard that?!” Donnie nearly shrieked, his cheeks flushing in horror,” I didn’t mean for you to hear…”

This time it was his turn to bow his head in utter humiliation. You sighed and gently shook your head at him. Smiling lovingly, your boyfriend was the most adorable thing in the world to you. It wasn’t often he became flustered, and you took great pride in being one of the few people who could elicit this kind of reaction from him. You slowly moved your hands to rest on either side of his face, careful not to startle the purple clad turtle, and gently pulled his face up so he was looking you in the eyes.

“Donnie, you don’t have to pretend your feelings don’t exist, or bury them so deep they will never see the light of day. I know you aren’t good with expressing your emotions, but I need you to know the last thing I want you to do is hide yourself from me. This is a safe space, so when you’re ready please share what you’re thinking and feeling. No judgment here, I promise. Please don’t be ashamed. Just like the song says, ‘All of me loves all of you. All your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you.’ We’re a team, darling. You and me forever, so please stop hiding yourself from me,” your eyes looked deep into his.

He searched them for a moment. You kept those beautiful irises soft, like an open book, just for him. Adoration and tenderness swirled in them, adoration and tenderness you only held for him.

He sighed and smiled softly, lovingly, in a way only you could make him smile.

“Being in love with you is the most natural thing in the world, it’s like breathing. And you, you loved me even when I could not love myself. You showed me what romantic love truly is. And for that I shall be forever grateful, my dear. These things I feel for you are….terrifying, but I cannot think of anyone I would rather feel them for. I trust you, feel completely safe with you. And just when I think these feelings cannot run any deeper, they do. I’ve neve felt so……captivated by someone before. I have cherished every moment of the last year. I - I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he paused before taking a deep breath, his arms wrapping around your waist a little tighter, and his face inched closer to yours,” And I….I love you, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He had never opened up this much when it came to his feelings for you. This was the first time he said he loved you.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your lips brushing against his.

Donnie suddenly closed the distance between the 2 of you, his lips pressed against yours, and a 3 fingered hand tangling itself in the wet strands of your hair. Fireworks went off in your mind, and your heart felt as though it was going to explode. Eyes wide, you stood frozen for a moment before melting into his touch. This was everything you could have ever dreamed of for your first kiss. For a time, everything was perfect. Pure unadulterated ecstasy ran through your veins as you relished in the soft touch of his lips on yours. The kiss seemed to last forever and you were both disappointed when you had to break apart for air as your lungs began to burn.

Neither of you could seem to find your words after you parted, so you settled for simply wrapping your arms around him, and burying your face in the crook of his neck as you both began to gently sway again. All of Me was still softly playing in the background. You knew from now one you would always associate tonight with the tune, and more than likely it would be deemed your song. It was perfect, the lyrics fit your relationship so well. All of this was magical.

Well, if Donnie wanted to give you a fairytale evening, he had absolutely succeeded. This was better than anything you could have dreamed of, and you would be dreaming of it for the rest of your life.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

This letter writer believes a priority of the next B.C. government should be to improve COVID-19 prevention in healthcare facilities.

Dear Premier:

If you want to start fixing healthcare, there are three easy and obvious moves you can make. Currently, your government is doing none of these, but you could change this.

To begin with, we must acknowledge the simple fact that we are not “post-COVID” nor “post-pandemic.”

In May 2023, WHO [World Health Organization] declared COVID-19’s emergency phase to be over but at no point did it declare the pandemic to be over. We may all be done with COVID, but COVID is not done with us.

First, it’s time to improve COVID prevention in healthcare facilities. Doing so will significantly relieve pressure on hospital beds and reduce the number of health care workers off sick.

Recently, four Fraser Health Authority hospitals — Surrey Memorial, Delta, Royal Columbian and Abbotsford Regional Hospital — all had COVID-19 outbreaks.

The situation is likely no better in B.C.’s other health authorities. We only know about Fraser Health because unlike the others, it is more transparent.

When there are already too few hospital beds, the last thing we should be doing is infecting patients who are in hospital for another reason, and needlessly prolonging their hospital stays.

For the week of Sept. 8, stats from the Canadian Nosocomial (Hospital-Acquired) Infection Surveillance Program, with data from 78 hospitals, including 16 in BC, show that 34.1 per cent of patients in hospital with COVID, acquired their infection while admitted for another medical condition.

This is a major failure by public health and Infection Prevention and Control (IPAC).

Before the pandemic began, Canada already had one of the lowest numbers of hospital beds per population out of the OECD countries. That number had never kept up with our population growth let alone with our aging demographic.

Now add to that problem lengthened hospital stays, increased COVID hospitalizations and outbreaks, and an explosion in chronic diseases and disability following repeated COVID infections.

Second, Premier Eby, you should be ensuring that British Columbians get access to the new updated COVID vaccines immediately. This would prevent COVID-19 hospitalizations, lessen transmission and disease severity and would also protect health care providers and keep them on the job.

I know that going into an election you’d much rather not talk about COVID. However, delaying COVID vaccines until after the election, or under the guise of co-administering it with influenza vaccine, is only repeating last fall’s error.

Vaccination should always occur before infections peak. This year, the United States sped up its vaccine approval and started vaccinating at the end of August.

Health Canada has already approved the 2024-25 updated COVID-19 vaccines, what are we waiting for?

Third, I understand Premier that you would much rather delay the re-introduction of masks (preferably well fitted and high grade) in healthcare until after the election, but that would also be a mistake.

Recall what happened in 2020, it wasn’t until two days after the election that new regulations came into effect, and by then it was too late to stop the spread.

Yes, votes matter, but so do voters’ health.

Finally, Premier, there is no longer any serious debate that COVID is spread through the air, not by the hands. Keeping COVID out of all healthcare facilities will require cleaning the air.

Yes, you can still wash your hands, but to prevent COVID infections, it’s the air that matters.

Appallingly, in 2024, B.C. public health and infection prevention and control (IPAC) leaders at hospitals and the Provincial Infection Control Network of BC still continue to push for handwashing and surface cleaning to protect against COVID.

Clearly this strategy is not working, as health care facilities outbreaks keep happening and patients and health care workers keep getting infected, with some dying and others developing Long COVID.

At this point in the pandemic, repeating the same error over and over while expecting different results is beyond madness, it is reckless and incompetent.

British Columbians deserve better public health and IPAC leaders. Health care workers should be able to rely on effective workplace health and safety measures to protect them from getting sick on the job. But most of all, patients should not fear infections whenever they seek medical care or are admitted to a hospital.

In summary, Premier Eby, getting updated COVID vaccines into arms now and bringing masks and clean air into all health care settings will help preserve BC’s health care capacity now.

"A B.C. that works for all British Columbians" needs a functioning healthcare system.

Currently, British Columbians have neither.

- Lyne Filiatrault, retired B.C. emergency physician

[whisker-biscuit]

Sonic Big Bang 2024

Close Encounters of the Grim Kind: Chapter 2

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Tails stared at the device in his hands for a long time, just rereading the odd message over and over as if it could untangle the mysteries of the universe. It hadn’t been built to return on its own. There hadn’t even been a way for him to call it back to Green Hill once it had been set loose. He had made it for the sole purpose of collecting data beyond what he could access himself; a one-way trip reminiscent of the earliest satellites shot into space.

After nearly a full minute passed, he realized that checking the data logs would probably give at least some kind of answer to the first mystery. The fox opened the tiny outlet protector under its base and went hunting for the corresponding cord that would hook it up to his computer. Before he connected them, however, a more concerning thought occurred that made him pause.

How had his “hello world” message been changed? Who had changed it? Tails knew for a fact that the only person smart enough to make sense of his tech without tearing it apart was Eggman, and Eggman would have torn it apart anyway just on principle. If the mad doctor had somehow gotten ahold of this device, realized who it belonged to and what it was for, then its return could be indicative of a trap. There was no telling what kind of virus or spyware or any other kind of nasty cyberattack might be uploaded to the fox’s servers if he carelessly connected it.

Subtlety was not Eggman’s strongest suit by a long shot, but Tails wasn’t about to give him an easy chance at infiltration if he was trying a different tactic for once. Instead, he pulled out his Miles Electric to begin scanning the device. The “device.” He really needed to come up with a proper name for it since it seemed to be a more permanent part of his workshop than he’d first expected.

It came away clean, which only eased his worries a little bit – if Eggman had tampered with it, then at least the fox would have gotten some answers. Now he was just back at square one. With pursed lips and apprehension in his stomach, he attached the probe to his computer and watched the pop-up appear asking to sync its contents.

Now or never. Tails clicked ‘yes’.

At first, nothing came up out of the ordinary as data flashed across his screen beyond what he’d originally been aiming to achieve. The device had traveled at a rate slightly faster than the speed of light, helped by the power from the Paradox Prism. It had also made periodic “blips” – for lack of a better word – where it had seemingly jolted farther forward in its intended path than should have been possible even with its incredible speed, and often into a new, completely random set of coordinates. Tails suspected it was a kind of teleportation similar to how Sonic had described his own travels between the mini dimensions when he’d picked up enough speed.

None of the coordinates the probe recorded made sense on a three-dimensional plane, which Tails greatly hoped was evidence of the Shatterverse still existing instead of his tech being faulty. The device had to have gone somewhere for the week and a half it had been traveling so fast, right?

Just as the fox was about to stand up from his computer chair to take a quick snack break, the data fluctuated dramatically. The probe had done another “blip” through space into a new set of coordinates, and then suddenly its speed had come to a grinding halt. No movement, no more blips, no change in position or anything. It had still been active; it just...wasn’t moving.

Almost as if something had caught it.

Intrigued and mildly concerned, he studied the screen for any deviance from this strange new turn of events. The device had remained trapped in limbo for a lengthy period of time – almost as long as the entire section of travel it had recorded beforehand. Tails cursed himself for not adding some kind of time-keeper to its data log. He’d thought it would send him information in real time, not delayed like this, and now he had no way of telling when exactly the probe had been halted nor for how long it stayed that way.

Then, just as suddenly as it had stopped, the device had gone right back to traveling again. It gave up a string of coordinates that looked vaguely familiar and, when Tails checked, it became obvious that the probe had come back – or been sent back – on the exact path it had used to get as far as it had. That meant that whoever had encountered it had either the tech or the intelligence to handle its speed and keep it immobilized, and then figured out how to return it to its original sender.

An alternate Eggman, or an alternate Tails. Those were the only two possible explanations unless Sonic had neglected to mention a sudden technological genius cropping up within the other versions of their friend group. Without unplugging the cable connecting the probe to his computer, the fox picked it up again to stare at what was now very obviously an attempt at contact. It by itself wasn’t enough of a clue to determine the identity of the mystery sender, but he began to break down the possibilities anyway.

If an Eggman had been the one to grab the device, normally their response should have been to toss it, break it, or use it for their own purposes. But he remembered his brother talking about the teenaged-Eggman who was obsessed with gaming; if that version had picked it up, he might have returned it as some kind of twisted parry at a potential opponent. That, or just someone else to conquer once he had their location nailed down.

But there hadn’t been any malware in the probe. The interdimensional coordinates to Green Hill would have been easy to find for anyone smart enough to send it back, but without the Paradox Prism, the probe was likely the only thing they could send at all. If this was an Eggman’s doing, the fox still had the upper hand on that basis alone.

If it were another Tails, though…the long gap of nothingness in the device’s log made sense. They’d probably immobilized it to make sure it wasn’t dangerous, which is what he would have done. Returning it also made sense if they recognized their own technical prowess; they might even have been researching the exact same thing the Tails of Green Hill was, and found this to be a fortuitous shortcut for it.

Whichever way the pendulum swung, getting into contact with this mystery person was more beneficial than anything else. He just had to be cautious about how he went about it.

The fox ran his fingers along the seams in the metal of the device and gently removed the cover hiding the miniature keyboard. He deleted the message, then typed up a few new ones after a few moments of deliberation.

– Hello! –

– I’m researching the existence of alternate dimensions –

– Will you help me? –

While recharging the probe’s battery and running one quick diagnostic check for damage, Tails adjusted its programming by a brief margin. Instead of wandering aimlessly until it died or was destroyed, the device now had a set destination – the coordinates it had reached the moment it had been physically stopped. He paused, thumb hovering over the switch to get it going, then shook his head and flipped it before he could psyche himself out.

The probe hummed to life and hovered in the air before disappearing, just like before. Tails blinked the afterimage out of his head and leaned back in his seat. Sonic always said the best things in life were worth the risk. Whether this ended up being one of them remained to be seen, but he was going to be optimistic about it. There was nothing else he really could do, after all.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. He still had one other source for info, but he doubted Shadow was going to give up anything else. The deal they’d made was as sparse as it was for a reason, even if the hedgehog refused to say what that reason was.

And technically, he wasn’t the only one Tails could turn to. It was just a matter of getting his brother to tell the truth…or admit anything at all.

As if on cue, the sound of his workshop door opening was the only warning the fox had before a burst of wind ruffled his fur. He swiveled in his chair just in time to catch the tail end of a blue steak zipping up the stairs to the second floor.

It was pretty common for Sonic to take afternoon naps on the roof. Whether he chose to get there from the inside or the outside was a coin toss; lately, though, he’d almost always taken the route through the workshop itself, and Tails suspected it was related to his recent clinginess. Confirming the fox was around without bothering him was likely the cause of this oddly predictable behavior.

Tails stepped outside and flew upwards, unsurprised to find the hedgehog sprawled across the roof with his hands behind his head and one foot perched across the other knee. His half-lidded eyes had been lazily tracking the clouds in the sky, but they moved towards Tails at the sound of his aerial approach.

“Hey, Sonic,” he began, landing gently next to his brother so they could watch the sky together. “Can I ask you something about the Shatterverse?”

Sonic pulled one hand free of his quills to scratch the fur on his chest. “Sure. Shoot.”

“What were the other ‘Me’s like?”

“Honestly? They were pretty different from each other. The only thing they really had in common was being super smart, but it came out in different ways. Sails – the, uh, Pirate-You – was probably the closest to how you act. ‘Cept for the accent and the obsession with treasure.”

“Huh…”

The hedgehog gave him a sideways glance and a smile. “Of course, I would never compare them to the real deal. My best friend is perfect the way he is, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“That’s not why I –” Tails stopped himself with a grimace.

If Sonic thought he was asking because he was insecure, he might be willing to share more about those counterparts to ease his little brother’s mind than for any other reason. It wasn’t deception to let him think that way for a bit longer, right?

“…I’d still like to know about them,” he mumbled, averting his eyes to avoid seeing the growing crease in the hedgehog’s brow. “What did you mean about their intelligence? How was it different from each other’s?”

“Hm, well, I’m probably going to get a lot of concepts wrong, so bear with me. Basically…”

So, they laid together on the roof as Sonic described each of Tails’ counterparts and what they were capable of when it came to technology. He learned about Sails, who did maintenance on the pirate ship and had made a bomb in record time in the middle of a war zone. He learned about Mangey, who had helped Sails commandeer a giant robot and had increased the Chaos Council’s power output with just a few curious button presses. He learned about Nine, who had created multiple augmented tails to match his name and had single handedly figured out how to reform the shards of the Paradox Prism despite its incredibly unstable energy.

The fox listened with rapt attention. Every detail he turned over in his head, trying to determine whether it matched to the message he had received. His careful, vague questions eventually moved onto the alternate Eggmen, and his mental analysis was repeated all over again while his brother chatted away. It had been some time since they’d last done this, he eventually realized – Sonic reminiscing about an adventure as Tails worked through a dilemma that only he could solve. At least, it had been some time since it had been just the two of them.

Sonic seemed to realize it, too, because he trailed off after complaining about Dr. Deep’s “stupid katanas” and closed his eyes with a giant, contented sigh.

“Man, nothing beats this kinda life,” he said after a solid minute of comfortable silence. “Thwarting megalomaniacs and giving my legs a good workout are great, but having the downtime just to soak up some sun and hang out with my best bud is a luxury I’ll never take for granted.”

“Me, neither.” Tails paused, then turned onto his side so he was facing his brother. He chose his next words very carefully. “I’ve been meaning to ask…are you doing alright? Ever since we stopped Eggman from taking the Paradox Prism, you’ve been acting a little different.”

Sonic shifted in place. It would have been a perfectly nonchalant thing for him to do if not for the way he suddenly opened his eyes or how they darted towards Tails for a brief second before returning to the sky.

“I know you dealt with a lot in the Shatterverse, and you didn’t have us to back you up like you usually would,” the fox continued quickly before any shut-downs could be made. “And I know how happy you are about everything being back to normal. But just because we’re okay doesn’t mean you have to pretend to be.”

“…Heh. Thought I was being careful. Should’ve known nothing gets past you.”

“Never.”

The hedgehog sighed – this one a little more weighted than the last. He drummed his fingers on his chest, seemingly deep in thought, and Tails waited for him to reach a conclusion to his inner conflict.

“I’m mostly just worried about those other dimensions and how they’re all doing. We repaired the damage, and they all seemed to stay existing when the Paradox Prism got put back together, but there’s no way to really know. I was so relieved to get back home, that I didn’t really stop and think about how I left things until it sunk in that I was really in Green Hill with all of you again.”

“Not really sure about that last part, considering how clingy you’ve been the last few weeks.”

It hadn’t meant to be said loud enough for Sonic to hear, but he only huffed out a laugh. “That bad, huh? I’m shocked you waited this long to confront me about it.”

Now it was Tails’ turn to shift uncomfortably. “I was a little preoccupied myself. But I’m here now, and I want to make sure you know I’ll help you with anything.”

“Appreciate it, buddy, but unless you can somehow convince Shadow to lend me the Paradox Prism to check how they’re all doing out there, then we’re both outta luck. I’ll just have to assume the best and trust that the folks who helped me come back are okay.”

The fox opened his mouth, ready to tell his brother about his probe and the connection he’d made…and then closed it without saying a word. Shadow’s warning not to involve Sonic flashed across his mind. There was no way he wouldn’t learn about it somehow if Tails went back on his word, and then he’d take back the tenuous access to the other dimensions he’d given the young scientist.

Lying by omission was still a lie; he felt sick to his stomach at the sight of the hedgehog’s face clouded with worry, knowing he could potentially relieve it but choosing not to. He resolved immediately that no matter who this mystery person was – a Tails or an Eggman or even a Chao – that he would give them the benefit of the doubt for Sonic’s sake. The sooner he confirmed the dimensions were safe and their alternate selves thriving, the sooner he could declare his research finished, end the terms he’d set with Shadow, and tell Sonic exactly what he’d been doing and what he had found.

Even the possibility of working with Eggman would be worth the reassurance he could give to his brother.

When Sonic finally began to doze off, Tails crept off the roof and back into his workshop. He found a blank notepad and began creating a list of names.

• Sails • Nine • Mangey • Dr. Don’t • Mr. Dr. Eggman (?)

Next, he created columns alongside each in order to write down the notes he’d compiled in his head. Behavior that made sense for someone who might tamper with an interdimensional probe specifically to return it to its sender. Mangey, he crossed out within five minutes. From what Sonic had described, the jungle fox couldn’t or didn’t communicate with his companions in a way that would make sense to Tails. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t intelligent; it was just considerably less likely that he would recognize the written form of the language Tails had used for his keyboard. In some ways, linguistics could be more of a headache to decipher than complex calculus.

Unfortunately, almost everyone else still had logical potential for being his mystery pen-pal. He’d even added Mr. Dr. Eggman after hearing Sonic grumble about how much of a schemer he was compared to the rest of the Chaos Council. The one solace the fox had was that his own identity was most likely just as obscured. Unless someone somehow had Green Hill’s interdimensional coordinates memorized – virtually impossible, based on the short time frame that the Shatterverse had supposedly existed for – then he had nothing to fear. He just had to play it safe, stick to studying the dimensions, and keep Sonic out of it until he was done.

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

The next day, Tails woke up to the probe sitting on his desk where it hadn’t been the night before. He practically sprinted to check on it, excited to see what the response would be, and felt a mix of enthusiasm and frustration over what he saw.

[ i will help on one condition ]

[ dont ask who i am and i wont ask who you are ]

[ this is purely a research venture, nothing else ]

Drat. That was half of his questions immediately nixed. The paranoia made him want to lean towards this being an Eggman, but the lack of interest in who he was threw a wrench in things, again. He sighed, tamping down the disappointment as much as he could, and focused instead on his excitement. Here was someone who was either proof that the Shatterverse was still intact, or at the very least was willing to help him examine the current state of things.

This endeavor was a resounding success! …So far.

Just as Tails began to draft an eager response, the device suddenly let out a series of beeps before the screen went completely dark. He panicked for all of two seconds until realizing that the probe wasn’t dead, simply out of power – it seemed the tiny smidge of Paradox Prism energy had finally been burned through after nearly two weeks. It was an impressive battery life; he could certainly see why Eggman and all his other versions had been so dead-set on getting their hands on it.

Luckily, Shadow had given him a number to call before they’d parted ways, and he picked up fairly promptly when the fox called.

“Yes?”

“My probe came back, but it’s out of energy. Do you think you could bring the Paradox Prism to my workshop so I can get it running?”

Instead of a normal response like a solid yes-or-no answer, Shadow hung up. Tails stared at his cellphone, dumbfounded, until the open center space of the room warped in a single blink. Shadow stood there, holding the neutralizing container the fox had given him to keep the prism undetectable from prying eyes.

“Um, thanks.”

“This is simply part of our agreement,” the hedgehog stated, flat as could be, while he unpacked the giant crystal. He raised an expectant eyebrow at Tails, who handed him the probe without hesitation.

The Paradox Prism glowed a little brighter the moment the device made contact with it. They both watched it recharge quietly for a while.

“Have you learned anything?” Shadow eventually asked.

“Well, it definitely worked. The probe gave me coordinates for its travel path that could only be mathematically possible through quantum physics. I don’t know if it actually visited any other dimensions, though, or if it just remained whatever void space exists between them.”

“Hm.”

The hedgehog pulled the probe away from the crystal when it made an affirmative ‘ding’ to signal it was at full power again. He rolled it almost idly between his hands as he stared at the prism, seemingly lost in thought.

“Shadow? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I was just thinking back to being trapped in that void while Sonic was gallivanting through the different dimensions as he pleased.” He looked and sounded like he’d just tasted something incredibly sour. “I don’t plan on experiencing that again any time soon, so I expect you to remain careful when dealing with this energy.”

“Of course. I’d never abuse power like that.”

“Good.” Shadow offered the device, and Tails held out his own hands. Before they made the exchange, though, the hedgehog paused. “Was there anything else you learned? Anything about the state of the other dimensions or its inhabitants?”

Tails didn’t know why he didn’t immediately say yes. There wasn’t any reason to lie; he’d even promised Shadow that he’d keep him updated. If ever there was a time to talk about the mysterious messages, it was now.

And yet…

He thought back to Sonic’s troubled expression and the confession he’d made. He thought back to Shadow, two weeks ago, making it very clear he wouldn’t offer support for anything other than a basic survey job.

“No.” Tails looked him dead in the eye, feeling something cold prickle at the base of his neck. “There was nothing else.”

[phenikas]

Here's some pictures of the environments I created for this render - requested by @jack-jerky. More specifically: a random Atlas HQ hallway (or at least somewhat close to resembling one) and Jack's AR chamber he's been occupying ever since Rhys decided to bring him back about 2 years after the fall of Helios.

Final Render

Alternative Shots

Despite still having trouble plugging in some specific materials for the models (particularly the walls, which are actually rotated the wrong way but have been instead masked with additional models), this environment turned out better than I was expecting. Of course, there was a lot of trial and error but with each environment I make, I create some assets that are usable in other places. E.g. for my Jackothy render I made a lot of visual effects, like fog, flames, dust, etc. that I've also repurposed in this render as well as several other renders before this one. And as with most of the assets, I actually borrowed the sprites used for these effects from the BL games themselves so that they would fit right in.

When it comes to the chamber itself, I wanted to capture a very "hazy" and "unreal" feeling. After all, none of these things inside the chamber are as real as what is outside. They're somewhat of projections created from countless collections of data - honestly the closest comparison I'd make is to the VR missions in BL3. Like, you can still see and interact with stuff, there are collisions, but they're not real. Sure you could sit on top of that chair, but you can't really feel its texture and material, can't tell if it's hot or cold to the touch, or how much it weighs.

The change in lighting in, however, is done by Jack himself, who had been preparing for this particular moment for weeks on end. By this point he is fully integrated with the chamber's system, knows the ins and outs. Heck, he's even got access to the ECHOnet by now ("only" took him about a year to convince Rhys to get someone to install a driver into the system). But this is where the question comes in. Why is Rhys absolutely down throughout the whole thing? What's this thing Jack's been talking about that's making Rhys' frown a permanent feature on his face?

Considering the fact that the two have been broken up for over a year now because of an argument they can't even remember, and conveniently neither party can find another significant other (nor do they even try to... after all, they still feel an indescribable magnetic pull toward each other despite refusing to admit so), Rhys is rightly worried, and jealous, when one day Jack announces he managed to snag himself a date. However, Rhys has no idea that this is all a game to Jack, who is trying to see just how jealous he can make Rhys. If Jack's learnt anything over the years, it's that Rhys will never make the first move on him. And with Rhys' recent visits fluctuating in frequency (both because he is a busy man, and because Rhys feels no point in coming over anymore now that his and Jack's lives are not as intertwined as they used to be), Jack knows he needs to do something. And he needs to do it fast.

When Jack sees him that day, however, his entire plan to win Rhys over falls apart. The bouquet and wine he had ordered arrived early, sprawled over the coffee table like there was no thought or preparation made by Jack for his date. Not even that. Just the sight of Rhys makes him short-circuit. Every word he had meticulously planned to say disappears. Nothing else mattered to him besides Rhys. He needed Rhys. He needed him to stay. To be with him. To be his. His mind was filled with nothing but Rhys.

Remember how I mentioned Jack had been fully integrated with the chamber's system? Well, let's just say that the chamber sometimes also projects Jack's needs and desires.

[kikaitales28]

OC SHOWCASE #0

HYVANN: Gyganos soldier

Origins

=3044 A.D. the 30th Gaian Century=

Humanity was the in the middle of a great era, an era of understanding, growth, and independence thanks to the efforts and sacrifices of many across the years. From this prideful spirit came the desire to venture into the many unknowns that besieged our world and beyond, with one of the first steps being earthbound in origin, the formation of the Southern Cross government in the Antarctic continent of the South Pole; from which many scientific studies and expeditions across the icy caps and snow filled fields of the pole were carried out by insightful scholars in the field. Unfortunately...this desire would prove to be one of the first steps into a drastic shift for our race and our future...

In the Eve of Christmas, a group of scientists would uncover...a creature of great size, and with it a forgotten den...a temple, filled with never-to-be-seen markings and artifacts that belonged to an unknown civilization! Like locusts they took what they could to their homelands for further inspection outside the harsh Antarctic soil, unknowingly triggering the rise of a foreboding force of great power and vile design.

Much to the terror and dismay of the science division of the UK plus the company backing them up, "Nina", their so-called mistress of secrets..woke up from a prolonged slumber and wasted no time in bringing fire and ash to these foolish humans. Simultaneously via a special telepathic/Synaptic link...triggered a special command to the temple to rise back up in the South Pole! The Swarm known to this day as the ZARKRYGON had thus made contact with humankind and has turned the once "prosperous" city of London and most of the UK into a Hive fortress, and so was the South Pole with the rise of their Babel-ish Tower of Bioengineering.

In response, plus several alliances forged for the salvation of Earth, from which the past was brushed off, would see the kickstart of Project Talos; from which the Gyganos Soldier Battalions were formed and deployed across the globe as the ultimate force of defense and offense against the many odds stacked against them by the Zarkrygon Swarm!

The Gyganos Soldiers

[PS: Due to the highly secretive nature of their development, most if not all of the information regarding to their origin is highly secured and only accessable for high command, so unfortunately we won't be able to learn the creation, therefore birth of these Mecha Goliaths and therefore Hyvann's birth]

•Height: 100 [approximately]

•weight: 737 [approximately, without equipment]

•Occupant Accommodation: none

•Physique/build: outside of their bulky appearance seen in combat, one of the most interesting details about them is that behind their Masker Plates..hide an androgynous visage that we can't quite pin down why was this design applied in the first place [we can't deny however that it ain't pretty or awe inspiring to see].

•Equipment: [we only have data in regards to standard equipment, but suffice to say that it is known that they have more than what you see here]

•Speed: Despite their bulky and clunky appearance, the Gyganos Soldiers are fast troopers, often throwing off enemies by the fact that something that hulking shouldn't be moving "that fast" on the battlefield! [Speed: Approximately 50-70 km sprinting]

•Strength: still to be determined/ambiguous, but they definitely pack a strong punch! Stronger than any known artillery or machinery in Earth's history and of course surpassing humans by design.

Hyvann [Pronounced as Hi-van]

Hyvann comes from the 118th Battalion known as "Leviathan", as previously said their origin/birth is unknown/classified outside of the propaganda/news coverage which claims "the Gyganos Army are the culmination of Engineering and A.I., all in perfect synchrony to build the ultimate warrior against the ultimate foe." What we do know well about Hyvann is somewhat of a shared trait the Gyganos Army have with each trooper, that is a life-like personality but for Hyvann's spotlight in this file we know that they're a modest, grounded, and introspective individual, composed even in the most harshest of environments; however that doesn't mean they won't just idle and when the moment presents itself, they can dish-out a rather "snarky callback" on the scene, a juxtaposition between being humble and poised.

Unfortunately, that's where we'll end this file by wishing Hyvann and their Battalion the best of luck.

Godspeed, and may Gaia light your way...

Behind the Scenes

•The Gyganos Army/Hyvann, their aesthetic is heavily inspired/influenced by the incredible work of Mech/Art Designer Makoto Kobayashi of Dragon's Heaven & Armored Core fame, going with that blend between Biology and Machinery that in the end produce a dream-like yet functional fusion with his Mecha; all in part thanks to French Artist Moebius being an influence seen in his illustrations.

•Hyvann, if described with all honesty is essentially my take on Shaian from Dragon's Heaven, that mellow yet big presence, almost like having a "big mech papa" or "chunky bud" if that makes sense [unless you've seen the OVA].

•In-Universe Newspaper snippet: I added a shout-out to DeviantArt artist & good buddy of mine, Feyzer for being a great dude in helping me out whenever I advance on my Original Works; he came up with the nickname "Nina" for this <X)

Link to his page if you want to check him out

[PS: I will make a post exclusively focused on the Zarkrygon and "what we know about them so far"]

I'm open for honest feedback and your thoughts on the comments below ^u^ 👇

[aorish]

Hm, on one hand your post irritates me because I did pretty poorly in my STEM degree but unequivocally Learned Things, but on the other hand I would have definitely Learned More Things if I didn't have to come up with thousands of dollars every year for tuition and transportation. Don't you think failing everyone who gets a C- or less is a bit extreme?

This might have been specific to my experience or to physics rather than all of STEM, but the people who were getting a C- weren't getting a 70% on all of their exams, everything in upper level classes was necessarily graded on a curve. Which is the correct way to do it imo, it's hard to design an exam so that people who "know" the material all score exactly in the 70-100% range on the exam. Usually this is accomplished by erring on the side of challenging the students more rather than less, where 50% or so of the material on the exam is something you expect anyone would know, and the remainder is more challenging and requires an actual synthesis and understanding of the material, and often this gets you a nice distribution. But sometimes the professor messes up and they need to salvage an exam that was accidentally too challenging, where the class average was in the 60s. I even had an E&M exam that was so hard the professor refused to tell us anything beyond "none of you got a passing grade so I'm not counting it." So despite the appearance of numerical data, evaluation is a lot less of an exact science than one might expect!

But to illustrate the point, we had the opposite problem happen once with a newer professor, he accidentally screwed up and made the (take home!) midterm so easy in senior-level Intro to Quantum Mechanics that the median score was 100. This was, admittedly, complicated by the fact that due to our program's research specialties in AMO meant that at least a handful of us already knew everything there was to learn in that class before we took it. But despite this median score, which was achieved by more than just the kids who already knew the material, the lower mode of people still scored poorly! So there wasn't really much to do other than make the final nigh-impossible, which meant that all of those C and D kids failed to graduate on time anyway and had to "retake" quantum the next year when the curve would be more forgiving. I'm skeptical from having talked to and worked with many of them that they actually learned anything beyond intro physics.

However, I am probably being somewhat unfair in ways I don't realize due to, quite frankly, immense privilege. I came into college with two years worth of credit from AP exams and still took a full courseload and graduated in four, not only summa cum laude, but #2 in my class, despite basically taking no freshman and barely any sophomore-level classes to pad my GPA with. I thrived on the stress and conflict of test-taking and laughed (while still crying) about take-home exams that could and did take an entire weekend. I took the Putnam exam "for fun" my sophomore year and got a 10, beating all the math majors who took it that year. I was an obnoxious asshole about all of this, which I should probably regret more than I do. But by all accounts this means I'm the entirely wrong person to know what causes people to struggle with exams even if they do know the material. Throw sharp and heavy things at me, I probably deserve it.

But despite all that... I still feel that I didn't learn all of the physics as well as I probably should have? Many of those curves were strongly weighted in my favor because I happened to be the first or second highest score, which meant I got basically the same final grade in a class whether I slacked off a bit or not. And yeah, I think part of it is that Physics is really hard, and a four-year undergrad program with rigidly scheduled exams is not going to be remotely accessible or accommodating to anyone with a severe disability or extenuating life circumstances.

But when it's the same kids every semester who are barely passing, I think that at some point you have to say that even if the system *is* fundamentally broken and unfair, it's both of those things in a way where the people it's failed really haven't learned anything and so shouldn't receive a degree saying they have? Possibly they often don't even know what they don't know? I think that most physics classes form roughly discrete packets of curriculum, but as someone who has written and scored exams, I don't think 70% on an exam doesn't imply that even close to 70% of the knowledge was mastered. I'm not sure that any exam I took was ever that comprehensive, and I don't think that "learned some things" rather than nothing is really enough to cut it.

[paradise-in-k4]

The Gap in the Evening, Entry 5: “Blistering Irony in Quantum Theory”

Everyone has a fear. Everyone. Even the one person in your friend group who says they’re afraid of nothing. But what *is* fear? Is it something that was derived from a traumatic experience? A desire to prevent disappointment? A neurological defense mechanism that overreacts to the thing that goes bump in the night? In my opinion as someone who studies relative psychology, all of these answers are correct to their own extents and personalized by individual minds. But it seemed like fear wasn’t a stopping factor for one person who asked to talk about the Parallel Satellite Incident with us after learning about it supposedly through the tengu’s newspaper.

When asked about her identity and reason for asking, she introduced herself as Youmu Konpaku, a half-human half-phantom who wanted to know more about the incident and whether this would entail the Netherworld’s quotas. Halfway through her statement, however, she caught sight of an old horror movie we were watching on a kappa’s monitor and started screaming in horror when an obvious jumpscare involving the movie’s main antagonist- for context this was a vengeful ghost- came up. A reaction like this was to be expected, but not of that magnitude unless this was a kid who somehow watched a movie of this rating despite the public’s best efforts to prevent it. We had to take her inside and close the door to prevent drawing attention and embarrassment to ourselves. It took us a whole afternoon and a couple servings of dango from another local vendor to get her to calm down so we could continue our conversation. And that’s when it hit me.

This movie was her boundary between emotions. Reactions. What if there was another version of her who wasn’t as scared as her… or even more so? Alternate realities. Quantum physics. It all started to add up. If we gave Nitori the numbers and used my ability as a reference formula for some of the missing data, she could create a device that could exploit unkept seams in the dividing lines between universes without having to bother Yukari (whoever she happened to be in this universe), allowing us clear access into other dimensions including the one we were trying to resolve. What if… we weren’t from that universe, and instead… we were from this one?

-Maribel Hearn

——————————

Muse Notes: Youmu Konpaku

Title(s): Half-Human Half-Phantom Gardener, Half-Human Half-Phantom and Half-Baked

Universe of Origin: L1

Size (headcanon): Fairly Short, 4’2”

Species: Half-Human Half-Phantom (Half-Youkai)

Pronouns: She/Her

Age (headcanon): 71

Personality: Youmu is straightforward and diligent, yet openly vulnerable to manipulation, which sometimes results in her getting picked on by others. Despite this, her pure and earnest character grants her a certain likable charm that’s earned her several friends in the past. Youmu is reasonably sensitive to drastic changes in the environment around her such as- but not limited to- an insanity-inducing full moon that made her human half go insane (which made her half-insane(?)). She’s also very scared of things to a point where she’ll sometimes scream and/or run away on sight or sound of things such as ghost stories, dares, darkness, and ghosts themselves… but not phantoms. She’s cool with those since her other half is a floating phantom. For everything else, she’s been seeing others to help her overcome her fears.

Occupation: Gardener, Swordsmanship Instructor

Home Region: Hakugyoukurou, Netherworld

Ability: Capable of handling sword techniques

Techniques: While her training is incomplete under Youki’s disappearance, Youmu displays excellence with wielding both her swords at once to perform otherwise difficult or impossible techniques. She claims that the things she can cut down with her swords are next to none.

Danmaku: Spell card duels are long range. Swords are melee weapons. The energy produced by Youmu’s sword attacks can fly through the air like standard danmaku, which- combined with her speed and reflexes- allow her to close the gap between her and her opponent in order to deliver finishing blows and unnoticeably fast combo slashes. She can also utilize her phantom half for danmaku, as well as for other menial tasks.

Skills:

Ambidexterity

Single & Duel-Wielding Swordplay

Precision Gardening & Pruning

Cooking

Possessions:

Roukanken: “watchtower sword” and katana carried from her left shoulder to right-side waist, supposedly forged by youkai. Claimed to be capable of slicing ten phantoms in one slice.

Hakurouken: “blank tower sword” and wakizashi backup sword by her left waist. A Konpaku family heirloom capable of slicing through people’s confusion.

Aquamarine Vest/Skirt over a white Shirt

Black Bowtie

Black Hairband with a Ribbon

Muse-Specific Headcanons:

Certified screamer at any horror show Yuyuko drags her into

Her phantom half is often used as a universal tool… or something for Yuyuko to nom on for some reason

People sometimes call her Myon as a nickname

She loaned Roukanken out to a mysterious realm beyond Gensokyo called “Summoner’s Rift” once to make a bit of money out of desperation. After seeing how damaged it got after being returned to her, she never did it again and demanded they pay for it to get reforged. Sumireko’s first reaction to that story was a boisterous “LOL” for reasons unknown. (I am not sorry)

Youmu was forced to learn how to cook in order to sate Yuyuko’s periodic intense hunger pangs

Blog-Specific Lore Notes:

Youmu learned about the Parallel Satellite Incident from Aya’s “limited edition” newspaper, where she went to ask Renko and Maribel about it directly. She screamed not even a minute into their conversation since the two were watching a horror movie on a kappa’s monitor

After an accident during a Lunar New Year festival of 2024 that started a series of events known as the Resolvers Incident, she along with Marisa, Reimu, Patchouli, Koakuma, Shinmyoumaru, and Alice got involved with the Frost Miko Incidents and Beasts’ Menagerie Incident after being gapped across time into multiple different realms beyond Gensokyo. This RP blog takes place after the Frost Miko Incidents were resolved, but she along with the others are willing to answer questions about it. No, the Beasts’ Menagerie Incident hasn’t been resolved yet.

Youmu has joined in the investigation of the West Mountain

Reimu and Youmu worked together to resolve the Duck Incident and cater to a crow tengu party

Spell Cards:

*close combat spell card

**spell card for close combat and danmaku battles

***has known secondary uses besides combat

Ghost Sword “Fasting of the Young Preta”

Preta Sword “Scroll of the Preta Realm”

Hungry King Sword “Ten Kings’ Retribution on the Preta”

Hell Realm Sword “Two Hundred Yojana in One Slash”*** (secondary in MI - reward)

Hell Fire Sword “Sudden Phantom Formation Slash of Karmic Wind”

Hell God Sword (AKA Sign III) “Sudden Divine Severing of Karmic Wind”**

Animal Realm Sword “Karmic Punishment of the Idle and Unfocused”

Asura Sword “Obsession with the Present World”

Human Realm Sword “Fantasy of Entering Enlightenment”

Human Era Sword “Great Enlightenment Appearing and Disappearing”

Human God Sword “Constancy of the Conventional Truth”

Heaven Sword “Five Signs of the Dying Deva”*** (secondary in MI - penalty)

Deva Realm Sword “Displeasure of the Seven Hakus”

Heaven God Sword “Three Kons, Seven Hakus”

Six Realms Sword “A Single Thought and Infinite Kalpas”

Human Sign “Slash of Present World”**

Human Oni “Slash of the Eternal Future”**

Life-Cutting Sword “Slash of Meditation”*

Hesitation-Cutting Sword “Slash of Departure from Hesitation”*

Soul Sign “Wheel of Pain of the Living and Dead”*

Konpaku “Dharma of Gumonji Wisdom of the Living and Dead”*

Sign I “Double Wheel of Pain”*

Sign II “Slash of Delusional Inner Eye”*

Arcanum “Slash of Saigyou Spring Wind”*

Hesitation Sign “Sword of Blinding Desires”

Hesitation Sign “Half-Body Disillusion”

Human Knowledge Sword “Turning Angel Cut”**

Obsession Sword “Blood of Asura”

Celestial Sword “As the Silent Nirvana”

Four Births Sword “Echoes of the Inclemency of All Beings”

Sword Skill “Cherry Blossom Flashing”*

Spirit-Cutting Sword “Slash of Ascension to Buddhahood”*

Cherry Blossom Sword “Flashing Scattered Flowers”*

Thought-Cutting Sword “Slash of the Buddhahood of a Flora”*

Closed-Eye Slash “The Bullet-Cutting Spirit Eye from Roukan”*

Reincarnation Sword “Slash of Circular Vicissitude”*

Voidness Slash “Slash Clearing the Six Senses”**

Swordsmanship “Mōryō Wiping Blood Off of their Blades”

Upper-Level Spell Cards:

Light Sign “Light Flash of the Netherworld” (Impossible Spell Card)

Higan Sword “Hacking Slashes of Hell and Paradise” (Impossible Spell Card)

“Matsuyoi-Reflecting Satellite Slash” (Last Word)

[lorcaswhisky]

Tag Game: First 10 Lines Challenge

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

(Thanks for tagging me, @curator-on-ao3 !)

From newest publication to oldest:

1. Long Shot

(Discovery, 123,907 words)

He ran the data a second time, even though he already knew there was no mistake. He had made quite certain of that.

There it was again. Proof. Incontrovertible proof.

2. Probably

(SNW, 732 words)

"Next week?"

"I'm in the Antares Sector next week. Next month?"

3. We are here, and this is now

(SNW, 794 words)

“Are you alone? Or are there others like you?”

Brown curls bobbed as Khan nodded towards a photograph tacked to the cold grey wall, barely illuminated by the flickering light overhead. 

4. tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

(Discovery, 1,490 words)

"This is a terrible idea."

Katrina opened her eyes.

5. Tactical Briefings

(Discovery, 1,378 words)

Commander Angharad Jones halted outside the Captain's quarters and took a deep, calming breath. She had carefully rehearsed what she would say on the turbolift ride to deck five. Rule one of crisis management: don’t make an even bigger crisis by saying something stupid.

6. Nutritional Values

(Prodigy, 385 words)

Janeway folded her arms. 

“None of the items on this menu provide an appropriate balance of nutrients for - any known species.” 

7. Drawn that way

(Lower Decks, 847 words)

"Did you see how her hair moved? All - swooshy? And she had, like, in-di-vidual eyelashes." Eyes boggling, Mariner wiggled her fingers. "So gross."

8. Tap

(Discovery, 1,436 words)

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It’s been more than an hour now. Waiting in front of a screen for a call from - someone.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

9. Lost Cause

(Discovery, 55,980 words)

This one is a little different, and I couldn't work out what counted as the first line, so have the whole chunk...

Personnel File - Lorca, Gabriel

Status: Retired

Current location: [REDACTED]

Service record: [...] 2246.3 Awarded Medal of Commendation for action taken on Tarsus IV. 2246.7 Promoted to Commander, assigned to USS Hawking [...] 2251.2 Assumed command of USS Buran [...] 2256.4 [REDACTED] 2261.7 Retired

-Starfleet Personnel Logs, accessed 2270.3 by <UNKNOWN USER>

*

>>MESSAGE RECEIVED 2261.7.10.22:34<<

TO: Pike, Captain C.

FROM: Lorca, G.

SECURITY: HIGH

Chris,

I don't know if my last few messages reached you. I guess not. I'm hoping this one works.

You'll have heard the rumors by now. They're true. I'm home. Back, anyway. I can't say any more than that here. I need to speak to you, in person. I have so many questions. I'm sure you do, too.

Let me know.

Gabriel

>>MESSAGE DELETED<<

10. Settle

(Picard, 1,819 words)

"We’re safe here."

Laris snorts.

"All of the Romulans on this vineyard are ex-Tal Shiar. Of course we aren't safe."

Pattern analysis:

Hmm. My shorter fics tend to start mid-conversation. My longer fics, though ... they start however they want. I think all of them ask some kind of question, either big - what data? Why has all this information been redacted? - or small - who are they talking to? Who's waiting for what? I don't seem to go for many action starts, though, so maybe that's something I could try in a future fic. Opening lines are definitely something I'd like to strengthen in future projects.

Tagging: @lizardperson, @liz-squids, @ussjellyfish and anyone else who'd like a go!

[lets-try-some-writing]

Artificial Prime

Part 2 of the Artificial Prime AU, previous post here.

Recap: Optimus is a machine made by Ratchet to replace the deceased Orion Pax and serve as the Prime the Autobots desperately need. He didn't know he was a machine, he wasn't supposed to know that the Matrix within him was fake or that he was sparkless. But then Smokescreen arrived on earth with the real Matrix and now the truth has no choice but to come out lest the Autobots fall.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The real Matrix shone in the container it had come in and Optimus lay sprawled out on the ground unconscious, his processors overwhelmed by the sudden surge of data. The team remained silent for a long moment while Ratchet panicked. Then before any of them could do anything about it, he slammed the lid back on the crate and shoved the Matrix in its box under his medical berth.

His processors whirled, desperate to come up with a convincing lie to get both Optimus and the team convinced that Optimus was indeed a Prime. He briefly considered trying to claim that the new Matrix was fake, but none could deny its aura. It was real, it had to be. The very sparks of all the natural born Cybertronians sang at the sight of the relic, they all knew what it was.

In the end Ratchet gathered up Optimus while the team were still reeling and dropped him on the medical berth while struggling to come up with a solution. However after a moment, the team began to understand what happened and in mere moments, there were questions barraging him.

Smokescreen: That was the Matrix! The fragging Matrix! How is it here and not... in Optimus's chest?!?

Arcee: Ratchet, you seem to know what's going on. Care to explain?

Ratchet: ...

Bulkhead: Ratch? Is it fake or something?

Bumblebee: Is Optimus going to be alright?

Ratchet: ... Forget you ever saw this. If you want things to stay the way they should, forget you ever saw the relic and pretend it didn't happen.

Smokescreen: What?!

Ratchet: I can't tell you the truth. It would ruin everything. Just listen to me this once and don't say a word. When Optimus wakes pretend this didn't happen and never speak of it again.

Arcee: You can't be serious!

Ratchet: I am more serious than ever before. Optimus can't know about this. He needs to keep believing. He isn't allowed to know.

Bulkhead: Ratchet, you aren't making any sense-

Ratchet: Do you want a Prime?! Do you want a leader!? Then shut up and follow orders like a good soldier while I fix this!

Ratchet's sharp response caught the entire team off guard, so much so that they didn't stop him and merely watched on in growing fear and concern as he put the box with the Matrix in a storage room and locked the door before demolishing the access point. Not a spark had any idea why he had given them the orders he had or why he was trying to get rid of the actual Matrix of leadership. However as Optimus stirred, they had a choice to make.

As soon as Optimus's waking reached Ratchet's audio receptors he hurried forward and eliminated any evidence of the Matrix's existence before slamming down a random datapad that he intended to claim was the item within the box Smokescreen carried. Then as Optimus shot up, horrified and clawing at his chassis and looking around for where he last saw the Matrix, Ratchet smoothed his expression with such skill that even the team were frightened. Then without any hesitation he told Optimus it was all a dream, that it wasn't real. As he did so he uttered a soft command one which inspired submissiveness and trust. It was one of his failsafes, and while Optimus seemed confused, the command worked and he got up rubbing his helm.

The moment the Prime looked away, Ratchet shot the team the most deadly glare he could, almost daring them to go against his orders. They all looked away and said nothing, earning a hint of relaxation and hope in the medic. Optimus couldn't know the truth. If the team remained silent he could explain himself and come up with a reasonable lie. But until then, he needed them to keep what they had seen to themselves.

Thankfully with a few more near silent commands from Ratchet to make Optimus unfocused, the Prime didn't notice anything and wandered off to his quarters on Ratchet's orders to recharge. At which point Ratchet was once again met with questions, all of which he brushed off as best as he could. He murmured something about answering them later and then reminded the team to keep their mouths shut with yet another glare before heading off to his own quarters to think.

Optimus couldn't know. But now it was too late to keep the full truth hidden. That left Ratchet with only one real option... he had to choose the lesser of two evils and offer up a fraction of the truth, that being that the Matrix in Optimus's chassis was not the real one.

Ratchet mulled over his response for nearly a whole day, unwilling to leave his quarters and he agonized over it. By that point the team had already begun to question aloud and Ratchet's commands to Optimus had worn off. The Prime was suspicious and quickly came to realize that what he was told was not at all true as the team broke and told him what they had seen and experienced.

In the end Optimus was left fearful, confused, and anxious for answers. As such he and the team ended up waiting for Ratchet impatiently as he finally dragged himself out of his quarters to face the inevitable. One truth needed to be revealed, and in his mind, it was better that the falsity of the Matrix come to light rather than Optimus's nature. At least that way he could keep likely keep the team together and shoulder the blame, effectively ensuring the Autobots wouldn't crumble.

He should have known better than to expect things to go that easily.

Optimus: You lied to me Ratchet.

Ratchet: ...

Optimus: I want to know why. Tell me old friend, what's going on?

Ratchet: ... Optimus, you must promise to listen to me before doing anything drastic first.

Optimus: I cannot guarantee that.

Ratchet: ... Very well.

Smokescreen: Is it fake!? The Matrix, is it?

Ratchet: The Matrix that you brought with you is real Smokescreen. There is no denying that.

Arcee: Then Optimus-?!

Ratchet: His Matrix is fake. I made it and implanted it after minor memory alteration and frame upgrades.

Optimus: ... why?

Ratchet: We needed a Prime. Primus would not give us one, so I did what was required.

Optimus looked like his entire world was crashing down around him, his face the embodiment of pain, shock, and confusion. He didn't pass out again, but he wobbled and held onto the nearest surface like it was his lifeline as he opened his chassis to look at the faux Matrix. He raised a shaky servo to it and touched the faux Matrix as if the thing itself had betrayed him.

The team were in mixed states of shock. Arcee looked conflicted, Bulkhead appeared to want to vanish into thin air, Smokescreen just seemed confused more than anything, and Bumblebee was torn between going to Optimus and asking further questions. Ratchet watched it all while silently wishing Smokescreen had never arrived. The rookie was ruining everything, and all Ratchet could do was try to patch up the complex lie he had built up for the entirety of the Autobots and for Optimus.

After the reveal Optimus retreated to his quarters for over three days, not coming out for anything while he processed a whole part of his worldview shattering. Ratchet slid a datapad under his door containing all the details of the faux Matrix minus anything that would hint at Optimus's true nature. He hoped it would bring his creation some sense of understanding, but he could only wish. All the while the team did their best to function on their own. Thankfully for Ratchet, while they avoided him like the plague and treated him with mixed hatred and grim understanding, the team remained loyal. They didn't show any signs of abandoning the Autobots because of the lie Ratchet had built, and in fact they seemed more loyal now that they knew Optimus was as much as a victim of the lie as they were.

It was a cold comfort, but one Ratchet accepted. He had already made himself a heretic and a sinner by creating Optimus at all. He knew what fate awaited him and he accepted the cold disregard for his presence stoically. He deserved it after all.

When Optimus emerged again he was received with more understanding and care from the team than anything else. They respected him still and gave him their sympathies. He was in far more pain than they were and they knew it. He had led armies, fought in a pointless war, and suffered through every conceivable form of pain because he believed it to be his duty as Prime. To find out that he was not a Prime was a harsh reality check, one that had Optimus similarly avoiding Ratchet as if he were a stranger.

Ratchet accepted it all. He didn't show any emotion during the day and only told the children to refer to Optimus by his first name and not his title. He patched wounds as quickly as he could, opened ground bridges without a word, and kept out of everyone's way. What did his loneliness matter after all he had done? He deserved to be treated as an outcast.

As such time passed and battles were fought. Optimus opted to not reveal the truth of his lack of a Matrix to the Decepticons for obvious reasons. But around base he dropped the name of Optimus and instead asked to be called Orion, a fact that left Ratchet wanting to purge every single time the name was called. Still he endured and did not utter a word of objection, instead focusing on keeping the children from noticing the growing gulf between himself and the team.

They hunted relics, fought Megatron for them, and continued their war. It was a sad existence for Ratchet, but an acceptable one... right up until Optimus came to him for the first time in months since the reveal and asked him for one simple thing.

Optimus wanted the faux Matrix removed, claiming that he wanted to leave behind anything that set him apart from the others. Ratchet only half heard Optimus explanation before stress and panic emerged and he slammed his fist down onto his workstation with a resounding cry of "No". The team who were listening in all paused in shock again and Optimus looked more frustrated than anything. The artificial Prime had evidently had enough and began to question, asking why and getting in Ratchet's face. Ratchet pushed his creation away and refused to answer. The faux Matrix couldn't be removed, doing so would reveal Optimus's lack of a spark. Perhaps on Cybertron he could have whipped up something fake to go there instead, but on earth? He had no such ability.

Soon enough Optimus got frustrated and opened up his chassis with the intent to tear out the faux Matrix if Ratchet wouldn't. Desperate and fueled by panic and fear, Ratchet made a mistake. He grabbed Optimus's arm, tore him away from his attempts and uttered the shut down phrase he had installed in terror. Before he could realize his mistake, Optimus dropped to the ground, aware but paralyzed.

The team rushed to his aid while Ratchet shook, knowing that now there would be more questions. How could he tell them? Optimus already didn't trust him. And now that Ratchet's failsafe code had been revealed there was no way in the pits that Optimus wouldn't get curious and dig on his own if Ratchet failed to explain.

He was fragged, totally and completely fragged.

Arcee: What did you do to him!?

Bumblebee: Fix this! He needs help!

Bulkhead: We need an explanation now!

Ratchet: It was a failsafe code.

Smokescreen: What does that even mean?!

Ratchet: I... I couldn't risk him going rogue... If he ever found out or his AI went out of control I needed a way to shut him down until I could fix things.

Bumblebee: ... AI?

Ratchet: ... He wasn't supposed to be like this. He... it was supposed to be a tool, a machine to serve as a placeholder until the war was over... it wasn't meant to adapt as it has. I never intended for it to really feel anything.

Arcee: Ratchet, are you saying-?!

Ratchet: Orion Pax died. We needed a leader. I made one for us, a perfect leader who would never fall to lesser emotions like greed and envy.

Ratchet: ...

Ratchet: I made a perfect artificial Prime all for your sakes. It was for our cause... for the Autobots...

Not a word was spoken amid the silence that followed. Optimus remained prone, his optics gazing up at Ratchet in increasing horror as his AI struggled to comprehend the reality. The team stood in growing horror, looking between the paralyzed Optimus and Ratchet in confliction.

Everything Ratchet built was coming crashing down and all he could do was weep.