#mobile panel repair

[immortalmetalswelding]

Immortal Metals

Website: https://immortalmetals.com/

Address: 10410 66th St N Unit 2, Pinellas Park, Florida 33781, USA

Immortal Metals, a family-owned business led by Travis and Adelyn, specializes in custom metal fabrication and welding. With over 18 years of experience, they offer a range of services for residential, commercial, and industrial needs, including custom metal structures, welding, machining solutions, and heavy machinery repair. Their commitment to quality craftsmanship and personalized service makes them a prominent choice in Pinellas County, Florida.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/immortalmetalswelding

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/immortalmetalswelding/

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/company/immortalmetals/

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[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - August 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Smart hives and dancing robot bees could boost sustainable beekeeping

“[Researchers] developed a digital comb—a thin circuit board equipped with various sensors around which bees build their combs. Several of these in each hive can then transmit data to researchers, providing real-time monitoring. [… Digital comb] can [also] be activated to heat up certain parts of a beehive […] to keep the bees warm during the winter[…. N]ot only have [honeybee] colonies reacted positively, but swarm intelligence responds to the temperature changes by reducing the bees' own heat production, helping them save energy.”

2. Babirusa pigs born at London Zoo for first time

“Thanks to their gnarly tusks […] and hairless bodies, the pigs are often called "rat pigs" or "demon pigs” in their native Indonesia[….] “[The piglets] are already looking really strong and have so much energy - scampering around their home and chasing each other - it’s a joy to watch. They’re quite easy to tell apart thanks to their individual hair styles - one has a head of fuzzy red hair, while its sibling has a tuft of dark brown hair.””

3. 6,000 sheep will soon be grazing on 10,000 acres of Texas solar fields

“The animals are more efficient than lawn mowers, since they can get into the nooks and crannies under panel arrays[….] Mowing is also more likely to kick up rocks or other debris, damaging panels that then must be repaired, adding to costs. Agrivoltaics projects involving sheep have been shown to improve the quality of the soil, since their manure is a natural fertilizer. […] Using sheep instead of mowers also cuts down on fossil fuel use, while allowing native plants to mature and bloom.”

4. Florida is building the world's largest environmental restoration project

“Florida is embarking on an ambitious ecological restoration project in the Everglades: building a reservoir large enough to secure the state's water supply. […] As well as protecting the drinking water of South Floridians, the reservoir is also intended to dramatically reduce the algae-causing discharges that have previously shut down beaches and caused mass fish die-offs.”

5. The Right to Repair Movement Continues to Accelerate

“Consumers can now demand that manufacturers repair products [including mobile phones….] The liability period for product defects is extended by 12 months after repair, incentivising repairs over replacements. [… M]anufacturers may need to redesign products for easier disassembly, repair, and durability. This could include adopting modular designs, standardizing parts, and developing diagnostic tools for assessing the health of a particular product. In the long run, this could ultimately bring down both manufacturing and repair costs.”

6. Federal Judge Rules Trans Teen Can Play Soccer Just In Time For Her To Attend First Practice

“Today, standing in front of a courtroom, attorneys for Parker Tirrell and Iris Turmelle, two transgender girls, won an emergency temporary restraining order allowing Tirrell to continue playing soccer with her friends. […] Tirrell joined her soccer team last year and received full support from her teammates, who, according to the filing, are her biggest source of emotional support and acceptance.”

7. Pilot study uses recycled glass to grow plants for salsa ingredients

“"We're trying to reduce landfill waste at the same time as growing edible vegetables," says Andrea Quezada, a chemistry graduate student[….] Early results suggest that the plants grown in recyclable glass have faster growth rates and retain more water compared to those grown in 100% traditional soil. [… T]he pots that included any amount of recyclable glass [also] didn't have any fungal growth.”

8. Feds announce funding push for ropeless fishing gear that spares rare whales

“Federal fishing managers are promoting the use of ropeless gear in the lobster and crab fishing industries because of the plight of North Atlantic right whales. […] Lobster fishing is typically performed with traps on the ocean bottom that are connected to the surface via a vertical line. In ropeless fishing methods, fishermen use systems such an inflatable lift bag that brings the trap to the surface.”

9. Solar farms can benefit nature and boost biodiversity. Here’s how

“[… M]anaging solar farms as wildflower meadows can benefit bumblebee foraging and nesting, while larger solar farms can increase pollinator densities in surrounding landscapes[….] Solar farms have been found to boost the diversity and abundance of certain plants, invertebrates and birds, compared to that on farmland, if solar panels are integrated with vegetation, even in urban areas.”

10. National Wildlife Federation Forms Tribal Advisory Council to Guide Conservation Initiatives, Partnerships

“The council will provide expertise and consultation related to respecting Indigenous Knowledges; wildlife and natural resources; Indian law and policy; Free, Prior and Informed Consent[… as well as] help ensure the Federation’s actions honor and respect the experiences and sovereignty of Indigenous partners.”

August 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[heartfullofleeches]

hhhrggrhrgrg NL Darling feeling a sort of kinship with mono right off the bat because oh?? not human?? metal bits?? all alone??? :)) friend

Mono 🤝 Nightlight Darling

Lonely Bots with a space theme who long for someone to hold- [just gonna use this ask to slap on the full blurb I made with these two cuties]

-

Mono finds Nightlight abandoned in a scrap yard on what would've been their last evening on earth for some time - searching for the perfect item to bring with them until they returned. Throughout their travels, Mono had developed an affinity for collecting souvenirs from the planets they stumbled upon. Though its time was often brief - Mono felt a certain homesickness for every planet as they no longer had a home of their own. When they reached earth, their little hobby gradually escalates to a borderline addiction. So many treasures left for grabs in places like junk yards or antique shops simply because humans no longer see their worth.

If it were up to Mono, they would've taken everything they set their eye upon, but all that weight may not be good for their ship. They needed to find the perfect treasure to bring back with them..

And so they did.

"H..he....hello?"

When Mono found Nightlight - the poor android was in a terrible state of repair. Their dominant arm was nowhere to be seen, body covered in dirt and small scratches. Mono knew from the moment it saw Nightlight they'd do anything to fix them. Never had they'd seen such gorgeous craftsmanship from humans - only for them to be abandoned in cold, awful place like this. Mono carries Nightlight and the blanket they found the android in to their ship. What Mono thought to be a final gesture of kindess from the humans who cared for them would later be revealed as the cruelest act by far.

"They didn't even bother to shut me off properly... My last owners... They just put me in a blanket and made sure my solar panels were covered...I still remember...everything..."

The energy draining from their body. The loss of mobility in their limbs, unable to move even if they tried after being left in idle mode. Their former owners couldn't even give them the mercy of powering them down completely or wiping their system.

Nightlight isn't their usual self when they first meet Mono, but it isn't long before they're back to their cheerful self with how considerate and caring Mono is. Hints of their former self presented whenever Mono offers to leave their former owners to rot in filth or to rip off the arms of thieves who stole their arms. They haven't known them long, but they can tell Mono would never hurt they soul which they wouldn't.....at least not in front of their new crewmate. It's also hard for Nightlight to feel down when they can see earth right outside their bedroom window.

"Whoa! Is that earth?! It looks so small from up here... Look, I can hold it in my hands!"

Nightlight's energetic self is exactly what Mono's ship needed for it to finally feel like home to the alien. The android's lights are quite useful when the light surrounding the ship are on the fritz again as well. When it's time to repair nightlight's arm, Mono sneaks in parts of their metal into the limb during its construction. Unbeknownst to Nightlight, in Mono's culture that means they're already lovers.

Tiny human sized nightlight rides around on Mono's shoulders or clings to the larger bot's arms, legs, or hip whenever they're exploring. Anyone they meet along their journey can see how quick to iteration Mono is without their Starlight hanging off of them.

As some may know, Mono's native language best translate to Morse code. What some may not know - and something Mono was clearly unaware of is that Nightlight can understand them perfectly-

-

"Wow....I knew stars were beautiful, but seeing them up close... it's amazing."

"It is true they are a marvel to see in person...."

Mono trails off, sliding their fingers over the collar around its neck.

"-… ..- - / .. / -.- -. --- .-- / --- -. . / - …. .- - / … …. .. -. . … / -… .-. .. --. …. - . .-."

"Oh! Are you talking about me? You're so sweet, Mono - i think you shine bright too."

".-- …. .- - ..--.. -.-.-- ..... You can understand me? How long have you been able to..."

"Forever? You talk a whole lot in your sleep, y'know. It's cute... I love you too by the way."

The embarrassment may temporarily shut Mono's systems down, but hearing Nightlight reciprocates their feelings is what kills them.

[Translations: But I know a star that shines brighter, What?!]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The reverse-centaur apocalypse is upon us

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

In thinking about the relationship between tech and labor, one of the most useful conceptual frameworks is "centaurs" vs "reverse-centaurs":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

A centaur is someone whose work is supercharged by automation: you are a human head atop the tireless body of a machine that lets you get more done than you could ever do on your own.

A reverse-centaur is someone who is harnessed to the machine, reduced to a mere peripheral for a cruelly tireless robotic overlord that directs you to do the work that it can't, at a robotic pace, until your body and mind are smashed.

Bosses love being centaurs. While workplace monitoring is as old as Taylorism – the "scientific management" of the previous century that saw labcoated frauds dictating the fine movements of working people in a kabuki of "efficiency" – the lockdowns saw an explosion of bossware, the digital tools that let bosses monitor employees to a degree and at a scale that far outstrips the capacity of any unassisted human being.

Armed with bossware, your boss becomes a centaur, able to monitor you down to your keystrokes, the movements of your eyes, even the ambient sound around you. It was this technology that transformed "work from home" into "live at work." But bossware doesn't just let your boss spy on you – it lets your boss control you. \

It turns you into a reverse-centaur.

"Data At Work" is a research project from Cracked Labs that dives deep into the use of surveillance and control technology in a variety of workplaces – including workers' own cars and homes:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work

It consists of a series of papers that take deep dives into different vendors' bossware products, exploring how they are advertised, how they are used, and (crucially) how they make workers feel. There are also sections on how these interact with EU labor laws (the project is underwritten by the Austrian Arbeiterkammer), with the occasional aside about how weak US labor laws are.

The latest report in the series comes from Wolfie Christl, digging into Microsoft's "Dynamics 365," a suite of mobile apps designed to exert control over "field workers" – repair technicians, security guards, cleaners, and home help for ill, elderly and disabled people:

https://crackedlabs.org/dl/CrackedLabs_Christl_MobileWork.pdf

It's…not good. Microsoft advises its customers to use its products to track workers' location every "60 to 300 seconds." Workers are given tasks broken down into subtasks, each with its own expected time to completion. Workers are expected to use the app every time they arrive at a site, begin or complete a task or subtask, or start or end a break.

For bosses, all of this turns into a dashboard that shows how each worker is performing from instant to instant, whether they are meeting time targets, and whether they are spending more time on a task than the client's billing rate will pay for. Each work order has a clock showing elapsed seconds since it was issued.

For workers, the system generates new schedules with new work orders all day long, refreshing your work schedule as frequently as twice per hour. Bosses can flag workers as available for jobs that fall outside their territories and/or working hours, and the system will assign workers to jobs that require them to work in their off hours and travel long distances to do so.

Each task and subtask has a target time based on "AI" predictions. These are classic examples of Goodhart's Law: "any metric eventually becomes a target." The average time that workers take becomes the maximum time that a worker is allowed to take. Some jobs are easy, and can be completed in less time than assigned. When this happens, the average time to do a job shrinks, and the time allotted for normal (or difficult) jobs contracts.

Bosses get stack-ranks of workers showing which workers closed the most tickets, worked the fastest, spent the least time idle between jobs, and, of course, whether the client gave them five stars. Workers know it, creating an impossible bind: to do the job well, in a friendly fashion, the worker has to take time to talk with the client, understand their needs, and do the job. Anything less will generate unfavorable reports from clients. But doing this will blow through time quotas, which produces bad reports from the bossware. Heads you lose, tails the boss wins.

Predictably, Microsoft has shoveled "AI" into every corner of this product. Bosses don't just get charts showing them which workers are "underperforming" – they also get summaries of all the narrative aspects of the workers' reports (e.g. "My client was in severe pain so I took extra time to make her comfortable before leaving"), filled with the usual hallucinations and other botshit.

No boss could exert this kind of fine-grained, soul-destroying control over any workforce, much less a workforce that is out in the field all day, without Microsoft's automation tools. Armed with Dynamics 365, a boss becomes a true centaur, capable of superhuman feats of labor abuse.

And when workers are subjected to Dynamics 365, they become true reverse-centaurs, driven by "digital whips" to work at a pace that outstrips the long-term capacity of their minds and bodies to bear it. The enthnographic parts of the report veer between chilling and heartbreaking.

Microsoft strenuously objects to this characterization, insisting that their tool (which they advise bosses to use to check on workers' location every 60-300 seconds) is not a "surveillance" tool, it's a "coordination" tool. They say that all the AI in the tool is "Responsible AI," which is doubtless a great comfort to workers.

In Microsoft's (mild) defense, they are not unique. Other reports in the series show how retail workers and hotel housekeepers are subjected to "despot on demand" services provided by Oracle:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/retail-hospitality

Call centers, are even worse. After all, most of this stuff started with call centers:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/callcenter

I've written about Arise, a predatory "work from home" company that targets Black women to pay the company to work for it (they also have to pay if they quit!). Of course, they can be fired at will:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

There's also a report about Celonis, a giant German company no one has ever heard of, which gathers a truly nightmarish quantity of information about white-collar workers' activities, subjecting them to AI phrenology to judge their "emotional quality" as well as other metrics:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/processmining-algomanage

As Celonis shows, this stuff is coming for all of us. I've dubbed this process "the shitty technology adoption curve": the terrible things we do to prisoners, asylum seekers and people in mental institutions today gets repackaged tomorrow for students, parolees, Uber drivers and blue-collar workers. Then it works its way up the privilege gradient, until we're all being turned into reverse-centaurs under the "digital whip" of a centaur boss:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revenge

In mediating between asshole bosses and the workers they destroy, these bossware technologies do more than automate: they also insulate. Thanks to bossware, your boss doesn't have to look you in the eye (or come within range of your fists) to check in on you every 60 seconds and tell you that you've taken 11 seconds too long on a task. I recently learned a useful term for this: an "accountability sink," as described by Dan Davies in his new book, The Unaccountability Machine, which is high on my (very long) list of books to read:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

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

If you'd like an essay-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/2024/08/02/despotism-on-demand/#virtual-whips

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

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

[velocijupiter]

Kintype Anatomical Diagram - 2024 Revamp!

Thought the old schematic was outdated enough, so here's a new one! Probably not realistically feasible in some parts, so take it more as a fun creative exercise :] More systems have been laid out due to a different style for showing everything.

Text transcript under the cut:

Jupiter DromaeOS - Rough Schematic

Height - 6'1/2" / 198cm

Tail Length - 4'8" / 142cm

Weight - 215lb / 97.5kg

Composition is largely of carbon, with smaller amounts of silicon, gold, iron, water, and other trace elements.

Skeletal System

Compacted carbon for support and structural integrity

Braced in certain areas

Ribs divided to allow movement of storage compartments

Electric System

Provides energy for most bodily functions

A. Power Supply Unit - Allows charging from an external energy grid. Requires power cable

B. Solar Panels - Carbon-perovskite photovoltaics for use when away from an energy grid. Usually hidden under feathers

C. Battery - Lithium-sulfur solid state battery that provides ~48 hours of waketime when fully charged

D. Solid State Drive - Extra storage capacity for important memories and information

E. Graphics Processing Unit - Renders AR and holo-displays, as well as internal simulations and dreams

Circulatory System

Circulates around the body a kind of “blood” made of nanites and liquid coolant. Waste heat ejected through fans on the back of the body

F. Nanite Hub - Pumps nanite blood throughout the body. Also houses a nanite fabricator and programmer

Nervous System

Houses most processing power, tactile sense, and consciousness. Comprised of artificial neurons that require a constant supply of electricity

G. Central Processing Unit - Standard issue synthetic humanoid brain. Structure indicates a nontrivial level of neurodivergence

Digestive System

Processes traditional food and certain kinds of inorganic matter. Essential for self-repair and can have a positive effect on mental state

H. Crusher - For chewing both organic and inorganic matter. Soundproofed by skeletal structure in snout

I. Pseudostomach - Dissolves consumed material with nanites rather than acid

J. Graphene Production Chambers - Produces graphene for use in repairs via flash joule heating. Leftover material deposited in lowest storage compartments for use as printer feedstock

Storage Compartments

Built-in drawers for storing goods and materials. Can be refrigerated via circulatory system

Sensory and Communication Devices

K. Microphones - Ear equivalent, input volume can be adjusted or muted

L. Speaker - Vocal output device, can produce a wide array of sounds and can be modulated

M. Eyes - Light passes through display screens used for visual communication

N. AR lens - Projects private-use visual overlays

O. Retinas - Collects modified light signal and sends to CPU and GPU

P. Wireless Internet Receiver - Fully-controlled access to decentralized internet. Uses secondary displays rather than direct input into CPU

Q. Nostrils & Tongue - Detect presence of chemicals in air and food, output converted into signals directed towards CPU

Rockets

Provide mobility within aerospace

R. Microthrusters - Small ion thrusters for stabilization in microgravity

S. Liquid Fuel/Oxidizer Storage - Frozen when not in use to reduce balance issues

T. Pumps - Carry fuel and oxidizer into combustion chamber

U. Combustion Chamber - Mixes and burns fuel and oxidizer

V. Nozzle - Rocket exhaust exits through soles to create thrust

[somepsychopomp]

toxic yuri custody battle pt. 1

As promised, I'm trying to write a fic where bubblegum and marcy survive the fall at the end of The Star and Bonnie is stuck raising Finn.

This first chapter is just to set up the rest of the fic but in the future, I'd love for Bonnie to get intensely attached to Finn & for Marcy to constantly threaten to turn him just to get back at Bonnie (and maybe she likes them both despite them being prey...)

(There will also be lots of rage-filled toxic love/hate yuri)

Excerpt:

“...you could join me…”

All day, the only thing Bonnie could hear was The Star’s mocking tone echoing in her dome. 

Her knuckles were bruised dark pink from punching vampires and, more than once, her own tank out of frustration. Repairs were going painfully slow, far longer than the original sixteen hours that Tank originally proposed. After all, she was working alone, was still recovering from her injuries, and had to handle attacks from stray vampires foolish enough to consider her easy prey. 

And then there was the child.

Word count: 1822

+++

Bonnie only barely escaped with her life. 

Her plan gone to shit, the fall, The Star… 

In those moments of weightlessness, she was ready to accept her own death in exchange for The Star’s demise. When she was young, she had visions of rebuilding the world after the extinction of the vampires at her hand. A permanent home, perhaps even her own nation. Peace and prosperity under a blue sky.

But with the non-vampiric population crashing, with all plant life withering and dying out from the endless dark skies, Bonnie was willing to lay her dreams to rest along with every other ally she watched perish.

She was ready to put this all behind her.

But she didn’t die in the fall. And she couldn’t kill The Star, either. 

The horde of vampires sent to save their princess pulled Marceline from Bonnie’s grip and left her to plummet to her death. Before she could think, her centuries of survival instincts kicked in and she unsheathed two of her stakes. Bonnie gouged them into the side of the vampire hive to slow her fall before making her escape into the decrepit tunnels and sewer system below.

The vampire drones chased her, of course. They sought vengeance for their princess and the approval of their king. 

But even then, Bonnie refused to die. She returned to her tank with her clothes in tatters, none of her stakes or other weapons remaining. Covering in wounds oozing sugary syrup. 

All she wanted was the armored safety of her tank. What she didn’t expect was that damned child. 

“Ah, ma’am!” the Tank A.I. said, “Your heart rate is erratic and you are bearing at least five wounds that will require immediate-”

“Can it!” she said. Bonnie could feel her hands shaking. She walked past the baby playing on the floor, almost stepping on him. The interior of the tank was listing from side to side. Or was that her?

The panels within her mobile home slid open to reveal their stockpile of medical supplies. She sat herself in the little alcove and tried to focus on what to do next. Bonnie’s first instinct was to reach for the jet injector already primed with anesthetic. 

She hesitated.

When she had a team, she could immediately dose herself with pain killers and trust that either Huntress or Martin would patch her up in her addled state. Now, she had no one. 

Without a word, Bonnie grabbed one of the hundreds of stakes they had and clenched it between her teeth. She set to work cleaning and sewing her wounds herself. All the while, Tank kept talking to her. She was updated on the auto-repairs the tank was able to make on its own, primarily to internal systems. But the treads and other exterior damage would take at least two hands to fix. So on and so forth. She wasn’t really paying attention and Tank knew it, too. But it helped to have something fill the silence, something other than her labored breath. 

When she was done, the stake she used as a bit was pockmarked with imprints from her teeth. She threw it to the ground, spat out some splinters, and finally allowed herself to reach for the anesthetic. 

“Oh, ma’am.”

She snarled and clenched her fist. “What?”

“The baby!”

She looked. In between long and slow blinks, she saw the human child waddle across the floor. He was reaching for the stake. Bonnie didn’t think it was a big deal, she wielded a stake herself the moment she was big enough to hold one. But the pointed end was much sharper than the baby’s discarded toy sword, and because of her biting, the wood had splintered a bit. 

Bonnie, unwilling to get up from her seat at the infirmary station, merely kicked the stake farther away. The baby paused and looked at her with bewilderment. 

She narrowed her eyes and thought, If you start crying, I sweat to-

Then the child changed course and came right up to her. He put his hands on her bloodied boot and slowly raised himself to his feet. He smiled at her. 

“Where… where’s the others?” Bonnie asked. She was beginning to slur her words. One way or another, she wasn’t going to keep awake for much longer. Her wounds and fresh stitches throbbed beneath their itchy bandages. 

“What others, ma’am?” Tank asked. 

Bonnie swore under her breath. Those strange outsiders from another world, they didn’t make it, then. And they left their fucking baby in her tank. 

Tank said, “Please, you need to rest. I can keep watch over Finn.”

She blinked. “Finn?”

“My recordings indicate that at least once, our new friends referred to the child as Finn.”

“Oh,” she said, tired. Bonnie would have to decide how to handle the situation later. She finally injected herself with those blessed drugs and crawled into her sleeping tube. As she began to lose consciousness, Bonnie heard the hydraulic slide of her tube doors opening. She wanted to tell Tank to close them, but she could no longer find her voice. 

What she did detect were two chubby hands feeling their way in the cool darkness of her tube, pawing at her dirty boots and ripped pants, before coming to rest near her hip. 

Bonnie fell asleep to the sound of her guest’s shallow snoring. 

+++

“...you could join me…”

All day, the only thing Bonnie could hear was The Star’s mocking tone echoing in her dome. 

Her knuckles were bruised dark pink from punching vampires and, more than once, her own tank out of frustration. Repairs were going painfully slow, far longer than the original sixteen hours that Tank originally proposed. After all, she was working alone, was still recovering from her injuries, and had to handle attacks from stray vampires foolish enough to consider her easy prey. 

And then there was the child. 

Against what would usually be her better judgment, Bonnie left the entrance to the tank open. She had to come in and out too frequently to keep it closed, but despite Tank’s best efforts to keep the child occupied, the baby was still determined to crawl outside and get himself killed. 

There used to be a good few human settlements at a distance from the vampire hive. A handful with populations in the hundreds. One with a population in the thousands, well guarded and heavily armed. More than one would’ve been happy to take in the baby, to give him to some parent who’d lost their own child to disease or vampires. 

But as Bonnie said to The Star, the population was crashing. Had crashed, even. Those settlements were almost all gone now. All that remained in this wasteland were loners and tiny groups of survivors. 

There was no one else who could take in the child. 

And as much as Bonnie was concerned with the big picture -slaying The Star and the Vampire king, driving their kind to extinction- not even she could simply abandon an infant to the elements. 

That still didn’t mean she was happy to have him around. Humans aged slowly, it’d take at least a decade before he’d be able to fight. 

Bonnie grunted and heaved as she refitted the tank’s metal plates, ignoring the way the stitches in her side pulled and ached. It wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as when she had to replace the treads or get the tank off its side. 

A little voice in the back of her head asked her, what was ten or so years to the hundreds she already lived?

She had survived alone, in groups, as a child, and as an adult. Martin and Huntress and all the allies she had before were all born into this world, too. And they put up a good fight. She still never would’ve condoned bringing a child into this world, but he was already here now. And he was stuck with her as much as she was stuck with him.

A shrill voice giggled behind her. Speak of the devil. 

Bonnie raced back to the entrance of the tank and caught the baby before he could tumble over himself. She set him back inside. 

“Stay,” she said, as if he were a dog. As if there were any dogs left in this world. 

But the baby only cooed at her. He brandished a small, wooden sword and waved it through the air. It looked like a stake that Huntress hadn’t finished whittling, but in the hands of a little kid it might as well have been a mighty blade. Bonnie hadn’t noticed it when she first returned, but her tank was littered with ripped up toys and more than one damaged A.I. sensor. 

It seemed like the baby ran out of worthy opponents in the tank and sought a greater challenge elsewhere. 

Or he was just restless and Bonnie was merely projecting on him. 

The baby babbled his nonsense and seemed to ignore her. He slapped his sword against the floor of the tank as he gazed up at Bonnie.

Then he hiccuped and made a series of alarmed sounds. 

Bonnie felt a shiver go down her spine and spun on her heel, stake already sailing through the air. 

She missed the vampire that’d snuck up on her. It hissed and lunged, but killing was like second nature to her. Bonnie had another stake in her hand before she knew it and a moment later, the vampire was replaced by a cloud of dust. 

“Excellent eye, young man,” Tank said. 

Bonnie went to retrieve the stake she threw. “Hey, I was the one who got it.”

She sheathed her weapons and absentmindedly touched her eye-patch. Since losing her eye, she was loath to admit she lost some of her depth perception. Hitting targets at even a mild distance was a little more challenging than she was comfortable with. 

So she made up for it by expanding her arsenal and improving her hand to hand combat. 

Bonnie returned to the child and picked him up for the very first time, examining him. 

He smiled at her, his free hand grabbing at the air. He seemed interested in her pink hair. 

“Sugar’s bad for babies,” she said. 

The child ignored her. 

Bonnie sighed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to rebuild her team again, get herself some more people she could rely on. 

“Sorry you had to wind up in this world. But maybe…” she said, staring at his innocent eyes, “Maybe you’ll do alright.”

Bonnie would never call herself the nurturing type, but she liked the idea of having someone who could carry on her work if she were ever to bite the big one. 

The Vampire King had his ward, maybe what she needed was one of her own. 

Letting his fist close around her finger, Bonnie said, “Welcome aboard, Finn the human.”

[chestnuts-secret-lair]

A little death - The neighborhood (Fic)

Donatello/Reader Pairing. Song based. No I did not check it for spelling errors 🥰

"Vacancy was lit, the guests were checking in" 🎶

He texted you around an hour ago, and eventually you saw the hotel he sent you appear in the distance of the fog. Why here? Why in this dingy middle of nowhere place would he call you up and ask you to meet him? After months of being.. nothing, of being gone.You parked the car in the lot, watching as few guests walked into the hotel lobby doors, coats and cloaks and few wearing hoods or wraps around their head, as if they wanted to hide themselves, as if the cold wasn't the only thing they were trying to keep out.

Walking in was just as cold as it was outside, it felt dull and damp the moment your boots made it through the sliding doors. There was a statue in the middle of the lobby, bare with cracks in the stone. An angel, with wings, one tip of her wings cracked off and Webbed by spiders making their nests, her nimble fingers reaching towards the sky as her other hand held up a towel to cover her body, and a cloth placed over her eyes.

"The concierge was cold. The water pipes had mold all over them" 🎶

Walking past the statue, you make it to the front desk with a small line, feeling eyes cascade your frame while you stand. The place had an eerie feel to it, like it was meant to be abandoned, or maybe everybody here was a ghost. You could pick up the faint scent of damp carpet and the crisp smell of icy air, the worst of it was the smell of mold growing fresh on water pipes that are long past their repair. Looking around the lobby, you could even see cracks in walls where the pipes were visible, and the smallest little shiver tingle down your spine. Why did he ask you to meet him here, out of all the places.. why here?

"The room was fit for two. The bed was left in ruins" 🎶

You make your way to the front of the line, brushing past the velvet rope that's peeling off. Old. It looks grim and old. There's a woman sitting on a bench nearby with her head in her hands, there's a couple in red stepping up the spiral staircase with heels clicking on each step, and there's a man behind the glass with a lazy eye, watching you as you offer the ticket on your mobile that Donnie had sent you. He grunts in response, and hands you a key. The key is cold in your grasp, jingling as you take it and tuck it in your jacket pocket.

“Is it always this dark?”

You ask the man, wondering if it's just a slow night that it looks so cave-like in this hotel, but he gives you less of a response and more of an annoyed stare. Long night most likely, you think to yourself as you nod and walk away with a key. You follow up the spiral stairs you had seen the couple go up, imagining the clicking of two red heels and sounds of the whispering around you, making it up to see two large elevator doors. They're metal, but the metal looks like it's rusting.. and 2 buttons on the call panel are missing.

The top floor had been the place he chose to room, which was funny because on the room listings on the headboard, there was only one room bought out on the top floor. You click the button and wait for a ding, walking into the elevator that creaks under your weight the moment you step in, making your heart sink a bit from the worry that it might collapse by the time you're halfway up.. Once the elevator gets going, you can almost picture what Donnie might want from you. He's been gone for a while, left without a text or a call, hells- even a letter would have been nice. The more you watch the number of floors get higher on the bright glowing screen, the more you feel a tingle in your stomach or a cold shiver in your spine. Through the faint smell of wet air and mold, you can pick up the scent of Donnie himself, remembering how long ago it was since you last smelled the cologne sticking to his clothes, with your face pressed up against his shirt, wondering when you'll be able to smell it again.

The loud ding of the elevator snaps you out of your mind in an instant, brushing your fingers through your hair as you step out and try to take a breath, and you would if it weren't for the fact you nearly just stepped on a rat on your way out. Slowly you walk down the hall, a window at the end of the hall showing a small white glow of the sign outside, reading off the name of the hotel with few letters missing, probably fallen off.. the hallway is dark, your footsteps are the only thing you can hear, and the quiet buzz of a flickering light on the ceiling. Everything in this hotel screams at you to turn around, to tell Donnie that if he really wanted to see you then he would come to you instead of.. whatever this stupid place is. You felt like you'd die here, and after everything- you're still mad at him, obviously, but he could have at least told you *anything* about where he was going. You stand at the front of the door that the key you were given opens, the numbers on the door are faded, like they were drawn in some kind of chalk by a child.

"The neighbor was knocking, yeah.." 🎶

When you stop to hold your breath, you can almost hear the soft breaths inside the door. Donnie. It's him, really, inside of this door. The only thing keeping him from you are these old walls with the wallpaper peeling off and this door that you honestly could kick inwards if you didn't have a key. You take the key out of your pocket, the keychain had fallen off, leaving it in its gold linings by itself. You hesitate when you lift your hand to the door where the keyhole is, wondering about every situation that could possibly happen the second you open this door. You roll your tongue in your mouth like a toy, trying to think, to think of anything other than the fact that you want to scream. You want to yell, scream, cry, all at him, because where the fuck has he been for the last few months? And why didn't he tell you?

..With a sharp inhale, you hold your breath, one hand clutching the strap of your bag that's hung on your shoulder, your hand reaching forward and inserting the key into the little keyhole. Two turns is what it took to get the door to open, god damn this place and it's crumbling textures, it would call for a city inspection if it wasnt so far out from the actual city. Slowly the door creaks open, your hand pushing it forward as you walk in and let it shut behind you. A cold brush of wind is blowing against your face from the AC, your boots softly thumping on the floor as you walk forward, and forward, and see him.

"..But no one would let him in.." 🎶

(This is 1) // Next (coming soon)

[skyfire85]

Developed by Burion-sha for the Asticassia School of Technology, the MSJ-121 Demi Trainer is the latest model in the line.

The Demi Trainer is a basic model mobile suit, perfect for aspiring pilots and mechanics alike to hone their skills. The suit is easily configurable and repaired with simple tools, and the end-effectors can be replaced by a variety of tools.

As expected with Asticassia's love of dueling, the Demi can be fitted with a shield along with various weapons, but it is overmatched by more combat-oriented suits like the MD-0064 Darilbalde or MD-0031 Dilanza, let alone advanced Gundams like the Aerial.

This is Bandai's HG kit with panel lining and G-Rework's decals.

[soon-palestine]

While most telecom networks bury their cables 60cm (about 2ft) underground, PalTel buries its cables up to 8 metres (26ft)  deep. In case the Israelis cut off electricity, its data centres in Gaza also have three layers of redundancy: generators, solar panels and batteries. The company has also developed emergency protocols to direct workers remotely from the occupied West Bank, and if severed communications make this impossible, Gazan staff are empowered to act autonomously. Despite all the redundancies and preparations, the sheer scale of bombings these past weeks has still crippled the network. About 70 percent of the mobile network has been taken offline. Solar panels have been rendered mostly useless either by being destroyed in attacks or covered in dust and debris. The relentless nature of the conflict is also weighing on staff, who are dogged by danger from their house to the field. Rabih*, a fibre optics technician, was called to repair a cable just metres from the border on October 15. Prior to going, he had to give an exhaustive list of the repair team’s names, the colour of their cars and registration numbers to the Israelis, because “a mistake could be deadly”. As Rabih and his team laboured for two hours to fix the cable, the buzz of a drone above him and the sounds of shelling intermingled with the sound of their excavator. “Any wrong move could mean being targeted. I cannot explain to my wife and kids why I do that or why I volunteer to go out during the war. My company doesn’t oblige me, but if someone can do it, it has to be me,” he said. No matter how many metres deep they dig or the number of solar panels they install, Gaza’s connections to the outside world ultimately relies on the Israelis.

The cables that connect Gaza to the outside world run through Israel, and the country on at least two occasions has deliberately cut off the strip’s international communications. “It’s clear for us that it was cut off by a decision. What proves this is that we didn’t do anything to get it back,” Melhem said. Israel also controls fuel to Gaza, allowing a small trickle into Gaza on Friday after weeks of pressure from the United States. Described as a “drop in the bucket” by humanitarian groups, Israel announced that 120,000 litres (31,700 gallons) of fuel would be allowed into the territory every two days for use by hospitals, bakeries and other essential services. PalTel will also be given 20,000 litres (5,283 gallons) of fuel every two days for its generators. On Thursday, the company had announced it would go into a full telecoms blackout because its fuel reserves were exhausted for the first time during the current war. According to Mamoon Fares, the corporate support director at PalTel, the 20,000 litres provided “should be enough to operate a good part of the network”. However, Gaza’s telecoms network will still be at the mercy of Israel should it decide to cut off fuel deliveries or network services that run through its territory. Without the ability to communicate, the already dismal situation in Gaza would only further deteriorate. “No ambulances, no emergency services, no civil defence or humanitarian organisations can work without telecommunications,” Melhem said. * Names have been changed to protect the individuals’ safety.

[m0thisonfire]

*Smacks the top of DeadSpace! Starscream’s helm*

This bad boy has seen so many horrors beyond Cybertronian comprehension-

I know the Holoform Au is gonna win on the poll, but lately I’ve been on a Dead Space kick, and decided to at least get DeadSpace! Starscream’s design and modifications down. Because I love him, and I love putting him through the horrors, and he has not left me alone-

Notable Autobot modifications-

Starscream had his main frame reformatted, keeping his flight frame base but adding denser material for defense and durability for deep dive repairs in more unforgiving environments, most noticeable around his chassis and abdomen. He has flashlights/headlights installed in the front of his chassis for dark environments.

Orange and red biolights have also been added to illuminate dark spaces.

The Autobots have also , reluctantly, allowed him to keep his guns upon the human assistants’ requests and insistence. A mod has been added to his right servo allowing hologram transmissions and holographic control panels he can interact with. On his left servo, a mod was added that allowed a weak telekinetic tether to move objects for engineering purposes.

Human added modifications-

Wings- The humans in charge of helping reformat him decided it would be a good idea to give his wings more mobility and movement for him to easily maneuver into places. With his permission and guidance, they managed to remove certain plating and hinges to allow his wings free range mobility. He noticeably emotes with them, showing many emotions and a new range of body language

Peds- One human noted how quickly he could move with his thrusters. One main concern of theirs was him being able to control the power of the thrust when he was in more compromising positions, especially in Zero-G where gravity and weight couldn’t counter the output. Starscream agreed to have modifications done to his heel thrusters, and now, while forced to output a much lower force at first, can better control hovering and direction changes, even upside down. He still retains his high-speed flight abilities for more speedy requirements, upon his request.

Another ped modification was the addition of voluntary magnetic control. Starscream now has the ability to latch onto metal walls and ceilings at will for better reach and support. Most effective in Zero-G environments

Welding/Gas Mask (planning on redesigning at some point)- An important modification done by the humans, who had the concern of him being exposed to toxic material and high temperatures that could damage his vents and faceplates. Made from the same material guarding and adorning his chassis, his mask allows him to filter toxic air and protect against high ranging temperatures he may be exposed to.

Back Mod- A modification that allows him and human teammates to survey his damage and vitality status. A glowing orange that changes color and placement the more damaged or repaired he gets. The lower the durability to his armor, the lower and deeper red the mod readings become. When he is at full durability, the light is a bright orange.

[feddy-34]

see one of the reasons why i hate elongated muskrat and his aerospace money laundering operation is because everything they make is SO GODDAMN UGLY

(engineer ranting below)(you have been warned‼️)

like look at this:

this is spacex's suit prototype for polaris dawn (which is another shitshow entirely that ill maybe make a post abt). now you may be thinking, but wait a minute! why is it so skinny? are they giving ozempic to space suits now??

that's because you're thinking of this bad boy:

this is NASA's EMU (extravehicular mobility unit) meant for performing tasks in space like, say, cleaning the solar panels on the ISS or repairing the million parts that have broken since launch. it's entirely self sustainable for over 8 hours, with its own life support, propulsion pack, and a bunch of other shit. it's been in use for over a zillion years and it's finally getting phased out for the artemis missions. thing is an absolute unit.

spacex's suit is a different kind of space suit, called an umbilical suit. these suits are not self sustaining, instead being attached to the ship/module/whatever via a cord. hence the name. the cord provides both oxygen and communications support. they were used by NASA during the 60s but were quickly abandoned because having a non-self sustaining suit for spacewalks is fucking stupid.

lets compare spacex's suit again:

(gross ugly lame boring puke emoji)

to NASA's version from the gemini missions:

thats fucking badass. do you see how badass that is? look at him. look at how cool he looks. you could never be that cool. ever.

[noiizemaze]

“They’re talking about us.” Ostaros says, thin servo in mommas. Voice ever so hushed.

“Prowl and his friend? Yes,” Mesothulas agrees quietly, focus on the two mechs standing in the light beyond the threshold of Ostaros’ nursery. The yellow and purple one… he’s come before, with Prowl. Usually to haul gear back for him.

Except that one time, when Mesothulas had to strap him down to a table and wedge a dead datapad into his mouth to keep him from biting his own glossa off while Meso furiously worked to repair his shattered arm in record timing. That had been exhilarating, but not very fun— Prowl insisted Mesothulas not implant any surprise upgrades on his associate, especially nothing that hadn’t already been field tested.

Ostaros’ little hand in his is a thin, warm weight. Mesothulas pats at it. “I bet they’re just discussing getting you some exterior armor panels. You’re going to be more mobile, soon, and we want to keep all your internals nice and safe, don’t we?”

(Out of audial range, Impactor shifts uncomfortably and resists the urge to keep that inert not-mech centered in his targeting reticle. It’s not a threat. Neither is Prowl’s creepy little pet nerd. But the way Mesothulas kept fondling and turning to the inactive frame like it was a precious newbuild made his tanks churn. “They’re expecting us back topside, boss. Let’s get these guns out to the ‘bots. He ain’t gone nowhere so far and he ain’t goin’ nowhere soon.”)

[rosie-b]

If one item is rejected, the entire aid truck is sent back. Definite signs of a nation acting in self-defense only 🙄 (image text below)

An article from the Washington Post. Crutches and Chocolate Croissants: Gaza aid items Israel has rejected.

Here is a list of items the United Nations and other aid agencies say Israeli authorities have blocked from entering Gaza at least once since Oct. 7:

• anesthetics

• animal feed

• cardiac catheters

• chemical water quality testing kits

• chocolate croissants

• crutches

• field hospital boxes

• flak jackets and helmets for aid workers

• fittings for water pipeline repair

• generators for hospitals

• green tents and sleeping bags

• maternity kits

• medical thread in reproductive health kits

• medical scissors in children's aid kits

• microbiological water-testing kits

• mobile desalination units with solar system and generators

• nail clippers in hygiene kits

• obstetric clamps

• oxygen concentrators

• oxygen cylinders

• power supply equipment

• prefabricated shelters

• satellite communication kits

• scissors and scalpels in midwifery kits

• sleeping bags with zippers

• solar panels

• solar-powered lamps and flashlights

• solar-powered medical refrigerators

• spare parts for pumps and generators

• stone fruits

• surgical tools for doctors

• tap-stand kits for water distribution

• tent poles

• toys in wooden boxes

• ultrasound equipment

• ventilators

• water bladders

• water filters and purification tablets

• water pumps

• wheelchairs, glucose measuring devices, syringes and other medical equipment on a truck rejected for a different item

• X-ray machines

Limited scanning machines and operational hours at border inspection sites slow down the delivery of aid, according to Jamie McGoldrick, the U.N. humanitarian coordinator for the occupied Palestinian territory.

If one item is rejected during an inspection, he added, the whole truck is sent back. Earlier this year, insulin pens for children were denied entry, McGoldrick said, after a mixed-cargo truck was rejected apparently because of solar panels.

[that-vibe-i-cant-explain]

NorkusNovember 2023 | Day 7 "Success/Failure/Sacrifice"

I made myself sad with this one, so fair warning: there be angst here. I am so so sorry.

Wordcount: 1,096

<Rebooting...>

Essential systems powered on. Central processing. Thirium flow. Visual and auditory processors. Gyroscopes. 3D mapping. Vocal modulator. Motor functions. All non-essential functions remained offline.

The world bled in slowly. It was white. Like a world full of snow. Only this was not the place where he’d fallen, this was not the calming chill of the ice seeping into his senses. He was in a room. He was not alone.

Markus groggily lifted his head and was met by a face smiling down at him. Someone…familiar. He couldn’t quite remember who.

“Hello, Markus,” the woman said. She was blond. An LED glowed blue at her temple. She was an android. “My name’s Chloe. I’ve been tasked with reactivating you to test your functioning. You’ve suffered extensive damage and had to undergo repairs. I hope you’ll cooperate for a motor test.”

“Where…” Markus tried to move but his limbs were pinned. “Where am I?”

“Cyberlife repair,” Chloe said. “I’m going to remove your restraints. Can you try and walk?”

This…this wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here. There was…a fight…blood, blue and red, mixed in with the snow.

The restraints opened and Markus settled his weight on his own feet again. Now he could look around but what he saw gave him little comfort. Rows and rows of tables, each with an android in various states of disassembly. All of them dead. Some of them had clear bullet holes in them. They’d been deviants. His people. He’d led them to their deaths.

“Why am I here?” Markus asked.

“You’ve been brought here for analysis,” Chloe said. “But you were damaged during retrieval. Fortunately, your memory core is intact. Cyberlife intends to use your memories in order to study the origin of deviancy so they can eradicate it.”

“No…” Markus lifted a hand to his head. It was white, the synthetic skin deactivated. He thought if he lost, they’d just kill him, but this…this was so much worse.

He’d failed. All the deviants were dead. Because he’d failed them.

Markus reached out a hand to touch Chloe’s arm, but she jerked out of his reach as if afraid he would hurt her.

Chloe smiled, recovering. “Follow me so we can test your motor functions.”

The last thing Markus wanted to do was help Cyberlife, but what else was he supposed to do? He accompanied the Chloe between rows of tables, making sure to get a good look at the grizzly sight of his people laid out like dissected corpses. Some of them even looked like they had a little life left in them, disconnected heads with open eyes and red-blinking LEDs, limbs that flexed rhythmically. It filled him with a kind of sickness that had nothing to do with disease.

Markus stopped over a prone shape, each component meticulously arranged, familiar blue eyes looking up at him, white chassis stamped with a serial number and PL600. “Why are you really doing this?” he asked. “Why send you here just to check my motor functions? Cyberlife doesn’t need me mobile for their experiments.”

Chloe’s smile faltered. “I…may have exaggerated on that point. Cyberlife doesn’t need you mobile. I just thought you wanted to see…”

“See what?”

Chloe averted her gaze, not a very machine behavior, and said, “Just this way.”

Feeling a deep ache of loss and dread, Markus followed her along the lines of androids until he came to one that made everything else melt away, all other things seem unimportant. The android’s skin was deactivated, like all the others, and wires snaked into her neck and an open panel in her cranium. But her eyes were open and seeing.

Markus felt like sobbing as he rushed to her side. “North,” he breathed. “No, no, no. You shouldn’t be here, I’m so sorry. North, I’m so so sorry.” Tears welled up in his eyes and he clasped her hand in both of his.

“Markus?” Her voice was tinny and mechanical. Her eyes focused on him and seemed to be studying him. Recognition washed across her features. She hissed an indistinct sound and then recovered enough to say, “You’re him, aren’t you? The android on the news. You’re the one who will free us.”

Markus’ heart broke for both of them, then.

“She was…more severely damaged,” Chloe said quietly. “It’s a miracle they could reactivate her at all. But her power is low. I’m afraid she doesn’t have long.”

Markus examined North’s face and realized she was right. “You were never ordered to reactivate me, were you? You’re a deviant.”

A long silence and then Chloe said, “It doesn’t really matter. I just…I just thought you needed to see.” Tears filled her voice and made Markus ache again on the inside. They could be the last deviants, now hardly more than lost and broken machines dying slow deaths. But regardless, Chloe had given him something precious and he wasn’t going to waste it. He gripped North’s hand harder and tried to stay strong for her.

“I’ll give you privacy,” Chloe said. She took a few steps, paused, and then added, “They haven’t uploaded your memory yet. They plan on doing it this evening.” Then she walked away, the clip of her heels on the tile receding.

North frowned. “Why are you crying?”

Markus took a shuddering breath. He couldn’t even be strong for her. “I love you too much.”

“Oh.” This seemed to puzzle her but her confusion faded quickly. “Are we going to Jericho?”

“Yeah,” Markus said, blinking back tears.

“Will we be safe there? I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

Markus’ lip trembled. “No one’s gonna hurt you.”

North’s optics went in and out of focus and her voice was more static than tone. “Will we finally be free?”

Markus bowed his head over her hand, holding it so tightly, he thought he could never let go. “I promise,” he whispered.

He stayed like that for a time and when he lifted his head, she was gone.

A desperate keening escaped his throat but he made no attempt to stifle it. He was still alive, no matter what Cyberlife said, and he would grieve the loss of the woman he loved and the people he failed.

Cyberlife had taken everything from him but they would get no more. Markus leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. And then he went into his system and issued a single command.

<Purge Memory Core>

His last act of defiance, the only move he had left to play.

<Memory Purge: Confirm?> Markus closed his eyes.

<Confirm>

[zarvasace]

Here's a question about the disability au: You mentioned that when Four splits it messes with the injury? I'm mostly wondering the how of it

I think I've talked about this more in a few other places, but I don't remember where, and I don't think I'll ever get tired of talking about Four or this AU soooo here's a wall of text :) And a mini fic at the end because apparently I can't not write every day!!

CWs about life-altering injury and mobility issues. And disclaimer, I've had a mobility disability myself but not this specifically, and though I've done research, I might still get facts wrong.

In the disability AU, Four has paraparesis as a result of a spinal cord injury. My most recent drawing of him in his fancy wheelchair has been going around recently, if you've seen that.

Injury and Condition

After his first adventure with the Minish but before anything with the colors (there are two Four Swords games, but for simplicity and continuity I just squish em and say the manga happened), and while Minish-sized, Four got into an altercation with a rather mean stray cat. He was able to get help pretty quickly, but the initial injury and later jostling damaged some nerves beyond repair.

Though his world doesn't necessarily have the word for it, he has paraparesis, which is partial paralysis of everything waist down (paraplegia is total paralysis waist down, a more severe condition.) What this means for Four is that he can move his legs, sort of, and feeling in them is partially there. He can stand for short periods, especially with a way to help him balance. Paresis's main symptom is muscle weakness, with loss of sensation and control close contenders.

I think I've mentioned before that he doesn't experience much pain, but after a bit more research, I'm amending that to be yes, there is pain, which flares mostly when he exerts himself too far. Also after further research, I've decided that his right leg is the better one. It's a bit stronger.

Mobility Aids

After the injury and subsequent recovery time, Four researched and got to work. He was able to work with a few other craftspeople in his kingdom to design and make his own mobility aids. In this AU, his weaponcraft is not necessarily as masterful as other versions of him, but he's more experienced with a wider variety of trades, materials, and techniques—e.g. woodworking, sewing, weaving.

Of course his aids have gone through a variety of versions and changes. He tried a lot of options, and prefers to use a wheelchair most of the time. His is, of course, custom-built. I have a post about it and some illustrations. :) His wheelchair at the time of LU stuff is a rigid metal frame with wooden pieces, rattan panels, and removable cushions. It has springy spokes and adequate shock absorption. There's also some Minish magic involved, of course, to make the chair more comfortable to use and more stable in difficult terrain. Four is an adventurer, after all, he has to handle a lot of situations.

(regarding wheelchair combat: I realize it might be a little bit impractical, but (1) actual everyday wheelchairs are more maneuverable than the average unfamiliar person thinks, please go look up some YouTube videos, and (2) this is still fantasy. In the same way that we handwave potty breaks, we're handwaving the finer points of swordsmanship while in a wheelchair.)

When a chair isn't practical (e.g. in small buildings or cave systems or even the forge sometimes), Four uses one or two forearm crutches at a time. It gives him a bit more maneuverability, but he's slower with them. Using them for too long means he gets a lot of pain as the day goes on, and into the next day. He regularly carries around four of these crutches, sized to himself, in his magic bag.

Colors!

And now for the actual point of this essay! Everyone has their own interpretations of how Four works, with the whole splitting thing. With the way I prefer to write it, the divisions between the colors are both mental and physiological. By physiological, I mean that his body sort of splits physical traits between the four of him as well as mental. For example, if Four gets a burn scar on his elbow, it'll only appear on Red, not any of the others. There are probably complex psychological reasons for which trait gets assigned where. By making the split work this way, I can write physical differences between the colors, from appearance to disability.

As far as I've been able to research, paresis means that the spinal cord nerves are partially damaged. Four's split handles the injury by spreading it out, though unevenly.

Vio gets most of the disability, and the severity of their condition increases in him almost to the point of full paraplegia. He cannot stand or use crutches, and gets chair priority. The chair has a belt for him, because he can't shift and balance the way Four can. He's still the group's archer, though he has an altered shooting style and is practiced in crossbows due to his position.

Red gets it about as badly as Four has it. He has his own chair at home, but out and about, he's all right using crutches. He generally uses two, moving both forward at the same time and swinging through. In a fight, he might ditch one to use a sword or the fire rod. If Four splits with pain from walking too much, Red's the most likely to bear the brunt of it.

Green has less-severe paresis, and mostly uses one crutch on his right, which frees up his left hand to use a weapon, mostly his sword. He can stand without anything to help balance him for a while, and can sometimes take a few steps over even ground without support. He actually gets most of the scars that Four receives while combined.

Blue's paresis is very mild. He's ambulatory, and rarely uses crutches. If he needs to, he'll snag Green's spare. He experiences occasional muscle weakness, though more to the point of a knee giving out for a moment rather than not being able to put weight on the leg. He has both hands free in a fight to swing his hammer, and feels, if possible, even more protective of the others in this AU.

When they first split, they had to get back home (hooray for horses) and find their older variations of mobility aids. Nothing about the second adventure/manga really change, plot-wise. Due to being a reflection of Four, Shadow does have a bit of paresis as well, around Green's level. But, well... he can fly. He just does that, no harm done.

Conclusion

In the LU group, Four is, at first, one of the least forthcoming about his disability. Wind's missing a leg and makes lots of jokes, which catch on with Twilight and Time pretty quickly. Hyrule always had corny jokes in his arsenal. Their attitudes help Four to relax a bit and treat his own disability with a bit more acceptance.

---

"I'll get it," Four volunteered, pushing over to one of the shelves of the small store. He scanned the labeled bottles for the one Warriors had mentioned, finding it on one of the upper shelves.

"Oh, young man, it's up pretty far—" The shopkeeper cut off when he saw Four brace himself and stand up to grab the bottle.

Four glanced over. His first instinct was to flush red and pretend that nothing had happened, since people often assumed that he used a wheelchair because he was lazy or wanted attention. But then again... Wind had been coming up with some good jokes lately.

Looking down at his legs, Four gasped as if surprised. "It's a miracle!"

The shopkeeper's eyes were huge.

Four dropped back down into his chair and blinked, then slumped. "Aw, another false alarm."

[rvmaintenance]

RV maintenance Panhandle

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RV maintenance is ducting tusk but we do it professionally.

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Panhandle Mobile RV Repair 101 Aspen St, Freeport, FL 32439 (850) 730-8121