#modem position

[purgaytorysupremacy]

so I know the remote for my Apple TV (and proper tv) is here somewhere. I had my hands on it even and put it down, which means I will certainly come across it as I organize, but for now it is lost in the move. thing is. how do you connect it to the wifi so that I can use my iPhone as the remote if you don’t have a remote?? WITH GREAT DIFFICULTY it appears. but I’m weirdly proud that I managed it.

[5thearth]

Yes, the sound of negotiation and compromise.

remember when you were 10 and you would hang out with your friends in order to Look At The Computer together like you went to their house and experienced the information superhighway together. and then leave

[wilwheaton]

When I was a kid, and I was 14, 15, 16 years old, my home life was terrible. I was really sad and abused and having a terrible time at home, and the only place I was happy and felt safe was at work. I went to work and I loved my Star Trek family, and they loved me and I loved being there. And then the work we did, people were mean to me about it. People who didn't know me, who I didn't know, got on what was Usenet at the time, and they were awful. They wrote angry letters to Starlog, and they were really mean to me. They were cruel to this child at conventions and stuff in ways that would never fly today. I think that a narrative took hold — “Nobody likes Wesley.” That is empirically false. That is completely unsupported by decades of data. The truth is the kids who Wesley was meant to bring into Star Trek loved him! A lot of them grew up to work on Star Trek, right? [Laughs] What happened is, at that time, the kids who loved it weren't writing letters, they were not using Usenet. They didn't even have modems! They were just loving the show. It took me 30 fucking years to hear them and meet them and know, “Hey, buddy, you're not the person your dad said you were. You're not the person that those fans made you believe you were. You're that guy, and he is you, and there's a bunch of you together. You inspired a generation of kids.” I am so relieved and happy for my younger self. I wish I could just, like, pop through time real quick and just whisper in my ear, “Buddy, I know how much it hurts right now, but I promise you there's a day coming where it's really okay. You're not even gonna remember this.”

Wil Wheaton Reacts to the Positive Reception of Wesley Crusher's Star Trek Return: "It’s 35 Years Overdue"

[shamrockqueen]

Disposable

Pairing : Lloyd Hansen x Captive reader

Warnings : R18, Smut, You hate it but you love it, Captivity, strong language, dark-ish content, Dirty talk.

Word count : 4614

Chris Masterlist

Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge (Which I missed the deadline for a loooooong time ago 🥲)

You pinched at the thin, silky fabric as it hung to just above the top of your thighs. Neither a shirt nor a dress, it was some of the only clothes he ever let you wear, even when he wasn’t home.

It left your skin cold, no doubt so he could see your pebbled buds poking through the fabric upon his return home every day.

So, you simply traipsed around in what was barely a nightgown as you paced the dark wood floors of this big penthouse.

It had been this way since it all began. Since the day you’d lost your freedom.

You had applied for a simple secretarial position in his company. You weren’t even supposed to be at his side, so far down the professional ladder that he was never even supposed to see you. Yet, Mr. Hansen was the very first person you’d bump into upon applying for the job. He didn’t seem nice at all, a stale and cold figure towering over you in that tiny elevator. Much like a statue of a heavily feared dictator lording over all of his broken subjects.

The short moment, stuck in stony silence, left you shaky for your actual interview. It left you pleasantly surprised when you got a call back with a job offer. You had thought it strange when they gave you a separate address than where you’d interviewed, but you easily ate the lie that it was just another one of their locations.

You walked right in, head held high, spirits soaring free, never to be seen again.

The first two months were spent solely in the bedroom he gave you. Locked inside due to your initial defiance. When you were allowed out, it was only to what was left of his apartment that wasn’t locked away by more closed doors. This would be the gilded cage for his new bright-eyed canary.

The windows were too far from the ground to catch anyone’s attention for rescue, so banging on them yielded nothing but punishment. Later you’d be thankful to have a window at all, as the moving city below was your last grip on the outside world, much more real than the electric nightmares on the television.

The hope of escaping slowly faded, but some small flame was flickering off and on in your heart that you’d one day find a way out past this beast who stole you away.

Just one last shred of hope that swelled with curiosity upon finding the door to one of the off-limit rooms slightly ajar.

A crack of dim light cut along the floor from the sun glowing through the window inside. It was ominous, leaving a sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you stared at it.

What could this have meant?

Was this another awful test? Maybe he wanted to lure you back into his web to laugh at you as you entangled yourself inside.

Was this an accident?

It’s possible he’d become too comfortable with your level of obedience and got sloppy with his security measures.

You were curious, but all the while you were also scared. Your toes moved on their own, inching you closer to the sliver of an opening left between the door and its frame. You slid your little fingers into the gap and pushed the door just a little further, watching as the mystery room opened up to you.

It was so…plain.

Simple grays, blacks, and whites. All the clean lines and blunt edges of any normal home office. A sleek black leather swivel chair sat in front of a solid wooden desk with a thin desktop monitor and keyboard sitting on top of it.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful for a man like Lloyd.

He was never this miscalculated, and it was very likely that was an awful trap about to snap down around you.

But, anything had to be worth the consequences for an opportunity like this. The computer was sitting idle, a green light flickering on the modem, and a world of possibilities sitting inside of it. A possibility of rescue.

You pace in an arc around the desk cautiously, all before leaning in to tap at the keyboard. You winced at the password screen as it popped up, knowing you wouldn’t have the first clue as to how to surpass it.

You pull yourself back just as quickly, waiting and watching with bated breath before the screen goes back to black from inactivity. The last thing you needed was proof that you’d been inside the room.

You studied more of the small and unfamiliar space. The bookshelf was uncharacteristically cheap for his taste, holding up books he’s probably never cared enough to actually read. Mostly biographies and bestsellers to face his webcam for business calls.

The desk was a thick, dark wood, possibly vintage, with metal knobs sitting above the keyholes on his drawers.

You ran your finger over the darkened brass, catching the rim with your nail before giving the top drawer a small tug.

Your heart felt so unnervingly light when the drawer gave no resistance as you slowly pulled it open.

Its contents were only simple office supplies: just pens and blank paper. It seemed suspiciously devoid of any valuable information that came with Lloyd’s line of work.

You decided to close the drawer back up, but your curiosity had yet to be sated. Your sights soon turned towards the other cabinet, and you wriggled at its handle.

It opened as well, but its contents differed greatly from its counterpart.

There were a few papers, some cords, and a handful of flip cell phones. There were at least 5 just stirring in a nest of clutter, pointing up at you with tiny black screens.

You stared for a second, a thousand possibilities racing through your head. Lloyd wasn’t a stranger to disposable phones, often smashing them at a whim, whether to just rid himself of the loose end or simply out of anger.

You reached in and took one of the little flip phones between your fingers. Your heart thrummed harder each minute before you flipped it open, and you felt your pulse nearly stop.

The phone didn’t have a lock; no passcodes were necessary for such minimal technology. Nope, the phone was alive and ready to use, making it an immediate link to the outside world at just the press of a few buttons.

You could’ve cried, you were so happy, yet it didn’t feel real. Your ears wiggled at the silent apartment, ready to react at any single sign that you weren’t actually alone. It was just all too easy to have finally found a lifeline, leaving you with a sense of deepening dread at the possibility of getting caught.

You gripped the little hunk of plastic for dear life, but by the time your thumb finally hovered over the nine button, you heard the clicking of a lock. The front door coming alive with the intrusion of a key.

You slammed the drawer without thinking and bolted from the room. You shut the door behind you before the lock finally turned to allow him in, and you continued towards the bedroom before he could hear your feet rushing along the floor.

You heard the front door arching open as the heavy heels of his leather shoes met the hardwood. You were still holding the phone to your chest, looking around the small space he’d given to you as a bedroom, all for a place to hide your last piece of hope.

“Pumpkin? Where’s my hug?!” His voice carried throughout the apartment, but his tone didn’t hold any malice. A small indicator you were neither seen nor heard running away.

Your eyes quickly searched the area as he called back out against your silence; this time he sounded more annoyed.

“Hello?! Am I talking to myself?!”

You grit your teeth before shouting back, “I’m coming!”

You had to decide now or never, so you lunged for the bed, pulling the mattress up off its frame, struggling a bit as you held up its full weight. Then you tossed the phone underneath and set it back down over top of it.

You had to walk away quickly so as not to leave him waiting a second longer. He wasn’t a patient man and wouldn’t hesitate to barge into the room demanding to know why you were taking so long to greet him.

He grinned at the sight of you wrapped in a sweet little tuft of silk and lace he’d purchased for you some weeks prior.

You give him a plastic smile of sweetly tilted lips and a little glimmer of teeth as you let yourself be pulled into his open arms for an embrace.

He leaned in to press a peck of a kiss to the side of your temple as he greeted you.

“Hey pumpkin, How was your day?”

“Same as always, baby. What about you?” The pet name tasted sour as it left your tongue. Your days consisted of nothing, and he knew that. You walked in an endless line of circles around this apartment like a caged animal waiting for food and sunlight.

“Oh, you know how it is. Filed some paperwork, had some meetings, broke some thumbs.” He leaned away only slightly as he spoke, holding you by your hips so that he still had you attached to his waist.

“Oh, of course.” You spoke sarcastically.

His wide hand snaked over your hip to claim the soft contour of your perky bottom with his nimble fingers. Thick digits dig into your skin possessively, pushing you in their desired direction.

“I could really use some help getting more relaxed.” His voice rumbled low over the crown of your head as he shepherded you along.

He often used you to unwind after work, pulling at your skimpy clothes and taking yet another piece of you for himself.

Your room was never yours for this reason. A place where you were taken advantage of time and time again. Some nights you’d sooner choose to sleep on the carpeted floor than to lay in that bed. The stench of his sweat still clinging to your sheets often made sleep difficult to obtain.

Lloyd never liked finding you on the floor, often forcing you out of your few blankets and dragging you to his own bed for the night. Those nights were worse, finding rest only after he’d exhausted you.

Your body was his plaything to wind up like a small spring until it popped apart in his hands.

Your bed was his go-to during waking hours, and he was eager to pull you back towards it for his afternoon delights. His lips were tilted, showing a pink smile under the thick brush of his facial hair.

His hand never left your side, grip still firm on your hip. You’re pulled at his leisure, all autonomy taken the second he could get his hands on you.

Your bedroom is his playroom, and you were no better than a toy.

He waltzed straight to your well-made bed, seating himself on its edge like a king to his throne.

He presses the heel of his shoe against the back of the other, slipping the one off before doing the same to its twin.

He crossed his feet before leaning back to rest his body over the bed. It was a cock display not unlike any other, but his proximity to your one and only lifeline made your stomach roll.

It was there, just below his ass. That little burner phone.

Could he feel it bulging under him, like a rotten princess lying on a thousand mattresses and one miserable pea?

“Making yourself comfortable?” You asked, trying to keep your voice sultry as you stepped around his long legs.

“A little,” he hummed, trying to stretch his back along the bed before sitting up and addressing you directly. “You get your little ass over here, and I’ll feel a lot better.”

“Of course, baby.” You give a forced smile, as sugarcoated and sweet as possible to avoid suspicion.

You swallowed back, still anxious with his proximity to the phone, but recognizing his daily routine, you knew what he wanted.

With the soft press of your warm toes against the cold and glossy wood floor, you saunter over to his open thighs. His brown khakis hugged him like a second skin, leaving not a single inch of him to one’s imagination as he very obviously throbbed with anticipation through the fabric.

One leg lifts, resting your knee on the bedding on one side of his hip, the other leg sliding into place across his lap. His wide hands found your waist, positioning you over the firm bulge of his building erection.

“Atta girl. C’mon, pull me out so I can feel you.”

It was ridiculous the simple and unnecessary things he’d ask of you on a whim. Most days he was already pulling apart the barrier of his pants by the time he got through the door and called out to you. It made for ‘easy access,’ he’d say. But, there are other days he’d make you drag everything out, having you strip off his clothes before positioning yourself on top of him.

Today would be one of ‘those’ days.

You began by sliding your fingers over the glossy black leather of his belt, reminiscent of the moments in the past when he used it against you in anger. The hard snap of it cracking over your skin until the pain had melted to a numbing burn.

You felt your temperature begin to rise, heating your neck and cheeks with rage.

Yet it was mixed with something you despised even more, a deeply buried ember of passion that made you sick with yourself.

You’d pushed the metal peg out of the belt loop before sliding the leather the rest of the way out of the buckle. When you tried to push the button of his slacks through its respective hole, his fingers had beaten you to it.

“You seem to be taking your sweet time.” His voice was more amused than annoyed as he spoke, a rare but welcome occurrence.

It’s true, your subconscious was still preoccupied with the phone. It left you very obviously unfocused as your movements grew more and more labored. By now you were barely kissing him back; something in his mind would be an immediate offense.

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” He grins up at you, fingers digging into the sides of your hips as they crawl under the thin lace of the gown. The cold metal band of his ring indents against my flesh with the intense press of his thick digits.

Having him touch you made your stomach twist slightly, but what you hated the most was the familiar thrum of your lower body when you knew he’d be digging his fingers into your skin.

“Nothing, baby. I’m just…I’m still a little tired from this morning.” You smile weakly, quickly prying his pants apart, before pressing your hand down the front to let his warmth soak into your fingers. His member is hot and angry against your palm, and you carefully work him out of his khakis.

Stimulate him enough, and he won’t care to suspect you.

You carefully pull him free, feeling the thick trail of veins pulsing out along the shaft of his member before circling your little fingers around his girth.

You start by pumping him with your hand, letting a dribble of saliva swell up against your bottom lip before letting it drip over its luscious barrier and drop against the tip of his reddened cock. It serves as lubrication to help you stroke your nimble fingers along the length of him.

He flashes his teeth, a small but awful animalistic smile, as he growls low with the drag of your fingers.

You keep your movement slow and deliberate as you watch a pearl of pre-ejaculate beading at the tip and his shivers.

“Don’t tease, you fucking bitch.” His voice is grated, gritty as it rumbles through his teeth.

His nails catch your skin, hard fingers gripping your hands as he pries them away from himself. Your wrists are small compared to his wide hands, easily strangled in his tight grip.

His other hand finds the side of your hip again; with a sharp squeeze, he gives you that silent signal to move, or he’ll be forced to move you himself.

You don’t move quickly enough, too careful when raising your hips to re-maneuver over his member. His other hand meets the curve of your waist, thumb pressing against your belly as he forces you over the base of his lap. His cock is standing at attention, bobbing ahead as he pulls one hand away to better align himself to the soft opening of your lower lips.

“No more bullshitting, alright?” His voice was strained, almost obstructed, as he ground his molars together in aggravation as he forced your hips down, spearing you open on himself. The stretch is something you’ll never get used to, feeling your body fight to welcome him with only a drip of feminine lust dampening your pink carnation as the petals are torn at their root to accept every inch of his eager member.

The hiss that cuts past his teeth is sharp, his teeth grinding tightly together as he takes in the tight hug of your soft, velvety walls embracing all of him.

“Fuck.” He cursed with a tremor of an exhale that shakes both of you. “That’s fucking good, baby.”

Your eyes pinch together, wanting nothing more than to give him any more satisfaction as to make you watch his lecherous expression. My concentration is quickly shaken with the tap of his hand lightly batting against my cheek.

“No more zoning out, princess.” He calls out as he finally catches my gaze, and he smiles.

“I want your focus on this moment.” His voice was serious, drawing out each word as his fingers slowly lifted towards your chin and he rolled his hips from underneath you. You hum a little, still fighting not to feel him.

His thumb brushes along your jaw before resting on your lower lip, admiring it like a delicate ripe berry waiting to be bitten. He draws you in closer, nearly enough that he could sink his pearly teeth into you.

His lips ghosted over your own, tempting them but never colliding inward.

He whispered, warm air fanning over your cheeks and tongue as he entranced you with his wicked spell. “…because you belong right here. Your little cunt wrapped tight around me.”

His hand snaked over the soft expanse of your thigh before falling to the space where you were connected to him.

Fingers slowly dig, looking for the prized jewel he loved to overstimulate. A little button that finally turned you on and made you malleable to his wants and needs.

You felt that familiar jolt of fluttering electricity as he grazed your little pearl with the rough pad of his index finger. An evil grin spread out along his lips as he dragged them over your cheek, each warm breath tickling your skin as he continued to speak.

“I felt that. That shudder came from all the way in the back of this tight little pussy…it’s shivering just for me.”

With every word, every inflection, you melted. It’s exactly what sickened you the most, that a baser part of you actually liked all of this torture.

It’s him, hard, fast bashing that sweet, tender knot at the very back of your core. Knocking against your church bell like a nine-pound hammer, the heavy clang reverberating through your whole body.

It was then that he finally let himself kiss you. Tightening the grip on your jaw and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

His small crop of facial hair tickles your nose as he trails his tongue along your lips, threatening you with its intrusion. Not that you would be allowed to reject it.

You let him break that barrier to tickle your tongue with his, taunting it to fight back against him. You relent. You tangle my soft pink muscle over his, wanting at the back of your mind to dig your molars into his flesh and tear it out of his mouth instead.

He’s a hot fire, melting down the iron of your frustration with the movement of his body driving himself inside of you. With the grip of your fists against the rough fabric of his polo, knuckles paling as the blood is pressed away from the skin until your grip releases with a heavy shiver. Your body was wracked and back bending against your will as you fought a relentless wave of forced sensual pleasure.

Your core twisted, fighting like an overworked spring against the ferocity of his movements. He makes that feeling last, riding your body through the length of your climax as it crashes over you and washes through your muscles and weakened joints.

When he’s at his own peak, he pulls away, his cock falling to rest on your soft belly as it seizes and twitches while spilling the thick, pearly seed over your skin.

Once you had caught your breath, feeling his spendings chilling over your stomach, you knew something was amiss.

This was the sign above all others, the moment he pulls out and cums on your skin. Like a branding, he can see it on your belly or painted across your face. It was usually just the beginning of further torment.

You tried to breathe, wondering what he knew, what it was you had done in just a short amount of time that stimulated his ire, but he didn't speak.

He simply stands, stretching his legs with a subtle crack of his joints before strolling out of the room. Cock softened, wet and bare against his sweaty skin.

He kicked his pants away as he stepped around the few pillows that fell from the bed.

Your pulses thrummed heavily along your little veins as you watched him walk away, pulling the shirt off of his wide, chiseled shoulders to use the fabric to better wipe away your lingering slickness on his cock.

It was when he disappeared from the room without a single word that made you the most worried, fearful of what he knew or what you could have done without realizing it to make him upset.

You pushed yourself out of bed when you felt the mattress buzz. Your blood felt like sharp ice flooding under your skin as the sound felt louder and louder each time it vibrated against the bed. You can’t breathe anymore, the air falling through your lungs like a solid mass as your eyes blurred with a layer of burning tears.

You know there was no help for you; you knew he had to have heard. Worse would be true as he sauntered back through the open door, another phone pressed to his ear and a scowl seen along his face. He’d had time to pull on a pair of boxers before calling the burner that sat below you, and he stood there, like imposing marble cut into the hard muscles of Satan’s beautiful and tempting figure.

“You gonna answer it?”

Your heart stopped as you heard him speaking to you from where he leaned at your doorframe.

You felt a hard hiccup bob in your throat, an onslaught of tears flooding past your eyes and over your cheeks as the realization crashed over you.

“I’m so sor..”

He didn’t let you finish, not amused by your pitiable display of crying in the hope that it could save you from your punishment.

He lunged forward, hands hooking under the edge of the mattress. You’d barely begun crawling away when the entire world seemed to spin.

The mattress is flung over, leaving you to be pushed off of it to the floor. The hardwood is cold and unforgiving as you land in a crumpled pile against it. Joints screaming, muscles aching after the impact just as the bedding lands overtop of you.

He was so disappointed in you the moment you stepped into his office, taking his bait and breaking his rules.

He thought he had broken you in by now, made you submissive enough that you wouldn’t run once the leash was dropped. But no, you took the very first chance you had.

He reaches for the small lump of plastic and metal, holding it in his large fingers before flipping it open and taking it into both his hands. The screen snaps off of the base with a sick crack.

You push from under the mattress just as the sound reaches you, and you watch him smile to himself over the remains of your only lifeline.

“Looks like you need a new phone.” He laughed out at you in condescension.

“Nice try, pumpkin.” His voice was still an awful sort of calm, raised slightly, like the small rumble of thunder set before the harsher crack of lightning that follows.

“What, you didn’t think I’d see you?” He leaned in, back half bent, finger pointed dangerously in your direction.

“Didn’t think I had cameras over every inch of this fucking place.” He laughed to himself, knowing you wouldn’t answer back. “I see everything!”

“I mean…I thought you would have figured it out by now.” His voice had gotten louder as he flashed more of his pearly predatory teeth.

“You remember that one time you spit on the floor as I left the room.” He shouted, his lips curled into an awful smile under the small brush of his facial hair.

“Literally spitting on the ground I walked on!” He continued, stepping around you like a dangerous predator circling his wounded prey.

“You fucking animal!” His voice was so loud it left your ears ringing, booming against each of the four walls that made up your room. If the whole apartment wasn’t soundproofed, an immediate and yet unfortunate discovery you’d made your first night, every person on this floor would have been aware of how deep his ire had become.

“Huh…fuckin answer me!”

“No. No, I don’t..I don’t remember.” You sobbed back.

“No? Well, I bet you remember when I came home for lunch that day and fucked you in the ass.” He flings the shattered remains of the burner phone at your huddled form as you blubber for mercy.

But, mercy wouldn’t be given. It never was.

You whimper at the memory.

It was done without warning, tearing your tight ring apart for his pleasure and leaving you shivering in those sullied blankets.

You didn’t sleep in the bed that night either, nor on the floor near it.

You’d curled up in the bathtub, letting the cold porcelain chill your heated skin as you wept until exhaustion finally set its heavy hand over your eyes and pushed you to sleep.

You felt so stupid. So terribly stupid that you had fallen for such an easy trick on his part. He left a wire trap, obvious and clunky with a large hunk of yellow cheese to bait you in, and you were easily snapped down by the savory aroma.

“Get the hell up.”

“No..please..I’ll..I’ll”

Be good?

What would that mean if not only being more obedient, more broken, like a stray dog locked away to starve until desperate to please its new master if only for a morsel of food?

“You’ll what?! Fuckin nothing.”

There would be no freedom, not now, and possibly not ever.

Wanna join the discord, check it out here

Tags to those who I know appreciate Lloyd for the absolute maniac like I do so shout out to @alternativegirl23 @stargazingfangirl18 @imyourbratzdoll and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

[fangirltothefullest]

Prolifically waiting for ai to confuse diagnostic with diagnosis on a regular basis to itself as well as us. Like... I put my symptoms in and it tells me to unplug myself. I try to run the computer diagnostic and it tells me my modem has brain cancer; I need to check my brain interface and its positive it's wireless connectivity problems are a bloodflow issue.

[patriamrealm]

If the clans now have partial pieces of their deities, does that affect their relationship with the galaxy team? Does Kamado now see this as a power imbalance against his favor?

Yes! But there has always been a power imbalance that he's been struggling with. Jubilive village is a colony of refugees displaced by the war going on across the seas, none of them want to fight here. Not only do the clans have all had numbers on their side as well as home land advantage, they have the wardens.

People capable of stopping a raging alpha pokemon in their tracks alone. People that befriend pokemon and treat them like family, and those pokemon will come to their aid.

One warden is even a dead man who can seemingly command any pokemon and is known as the strongest battler in the land.

and what's more is that it's not just one warden, it's 10. 10 people from each clan that it's their duty to protect their people and the animosity between the clans blurs and even is gone completely amongst many of the wardens.

Already the only modem of power he was able to grab at is that no one wants to go to war. And Jubilife is a fantastic neutral ground for the clans, he took the position of moderator between the clans and has held on tight to that.

But after the red sky he lost all of that tiny sliver of power. The clans are more united than they ever have been and they do not trust him one bit. Now not only do they have fractions of deities they have Akari of whom has been fully taken in by the clans after his treatment of her. She had been someone like the wardens that evened the playing field even slightly but now she too is gone.

Kamado fucked up, royally all power scales are completely out of his favor and he knows it. All he can do now is try and make up for his actions one day at a time. He is very lucky that even still no one wants to fight, no one wants war and the clans are still kind enough to let his people stay.

[sanemisstalker]

The Disappearing Pillar - Hashira x Reader

Content Warning - Hurt, No comfort/ Non-Con/ Humiliation/ Unfinished.

Was also apparently going to be a 500 follower celebration?

_______

"Her repeated unwillingness to attend meetings shows a balatant direspect to the master and his cause. I find these to be blatant indicators for someone who shouldn't be a hashira."

You'd been victim to Sanemi's words before, but those ones had cut particularly deep. Blatant disrespect hadn't felt so blatant when you'd confirmed your master's acceptance of the behavior. Repetitively. That wasn't enough for Sanemi, though.

"I am often shocked by Y/N's unwillingness to attend our meetings! While I believe her Kasugai can get information to her just fine, I find her avoidance of us unnecessary, and, as Shinazugawa has said, disrespectful."

Rengoku's cut deeper. Jovial wasn't the best way to describe him, though his voice was just that. Even as it spattered your nerves across the ground, he kept that stupidly gleeful cadence. You began to gnaw at the inside of your jaw.

"I don't think she's done anything particular wrong! I think it's part of her nervous demeanor! It's super cute, if you really... think about... it..." Mitsuri's face grew warmer with every passing second, her kind words falling on angered ears as Obanai overtook her sentence,

"It's sloppy." He said flatly, those scathing eyes boring into the spot on your nape where your spine met your neck- You willed down the urge to smack the cold chill away. "I've witnessed children fresh from the mountain with a more basic understanding of respect than she."

Your head lowered further to your knees, the knees where your fists lay tightened around your blade, shaking.

"While I find everyone's words to be particularly unkind, I cannot deny that they hold a modem of truth to them, Y/N." Gyomei spoke, not even bothering to pretend he was speaking to anyone other than you.

"I find all of your words unkind and untrue." Giyu mumbled, having seperated himself from the crowd. Your defenses weren't very vocal.

"Of course you would." Sanemi bit back. "You're practically the same, but at least you bother to grace us with your presence-"

"Entirely unprofessional to not attend a single meeting." Tengen interrupted with that voice that just forces you to listen. It hurt to have it directed down at you. "It lacks style and grace. If you don't even show up fashionably late, what's the point?"

"I think that's a good question, Uzui." Shinobu smiled toward you, the only hashira willing to lend you an ear and a heart. "Why don't we ask Y/N why she hasn't been present? I'm sure her reason will be sound."

She said that knowing, probably, that your reason wasn't sound at all. There was something sadistic in her tone, like she knew she was setting you up for an undeniable failure.

"Well, Y/N?" Ubayashiki asked, tone as soft as it always was. You did your best to understand his silence in your moment of need. To not feel anger toward him- Ubayashiki's actions were never without purpose. He couldn't afford the moments recklessness could cost.

"I-" You spoke, your words catching on your tongue. "I don't..." You looked up to Ubayashiki, bothering for the first time in the last hour to raise your head. You met those soft eyes, no hint of disgust like you could feel from behind you. Just hope and a small encouraging smile.

You looked back down to your knees, your heart shaking.

"I-I do not have a reason for my absence. I apologize for my insolence, but I cannot attend any meetings." You warbled. You couldn't bear to look up and see his face. "I beg for your forgiveness."

The remaining hashira were silent- The master was silent, but only for a moment. His sigh made your face burn. The last thing a man in his position should be dealing with is your internal problems, you knew that much.

"I want to be clear on my position here. I'm not upset with Y/N, not in the slightest," Ubayashiki assured, but you knew he wasn't finished by the tightness of his words. "She has gone above and beyond to assure any information delivered to you, gets to her ears at no expense to our resources."

You could hear the look being passed between the lot of them. It made your teeth gnash.

"However, while I may not feel disrespected by Y/N, I cannot prevent you all, nor sway you from, feeling that way. I encourage you all to work this matter out amongst yourselves." You looked up at Ubayashiki, eyes wide. He stayed gentle and unblinking in his approach. "Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves, and pay me no mind."

The master sat alone in his usual place of rest. Not that you knew this to be odd, but the remaining hashira had made note of it immediately. No one to attend to him.

They also made note of Muichiro's lacking appearance, yet another abnormality you were in no place to notice. You knew of the mist hashira, of course, but You'd never seen the young man and couldn't theorize of his absence.

The remaining hashira could, though, aside from Giyu and Mitsuri, the latter of whom approached you shortly after the others broke away to form a small, bulky huddle. Giyu remained unmoving at the base of a nearby tree.

"I'm sorry they're not being understanding." Mitsuri fretted. "I don't think you have to tell anyone, anything! If the master isn't upset, we shouldn't be either. I'm sure it's a super big and scary reason if you don't want to share it." She pressed. Despite her cheerfulness, you couldn't respond. Your face flared up, eyes going wide as she'd approached you.

You turned your head back to the ground.

"Do you recall my name?" She asked, voice soft.

"You're... You're the love hashira, Mitsuri Kanroji." She clapped at that, bouncing ever so slightly. You turned your head further down to cover an instinctive gawk.

"Yes! Y/N is a goregous name! I've wanted to hang out with you so bad, because you're so cool and mysterious! Being a girl that's cool and mysterious is like- really inspiring!" She praised. "Same with Giyu!" Mitsuri turned to the man, "Though his aura is definitely... Less approachable."

"You think I'm approachable?" You asked, looking up.

"Most girls are, whether we like it or not. Shinobu doesn't like being approached very much, but you don't seem the type to mind..." Mitsuri's voice faded off, and then her face lit up red. You noticed, then, that Shinobu was watching you from the group. Eyes lowered, and smile anything but soft.

"Unless I totally read you wrong, and you didn't want to be approached! I'm so sorry! I didn't even realize!" She waved her hands frantically,

As the woman flitted around you, a thud ricochetted through the ground, both you and Mitsuri were to your feet in fractions of a second, hands wrapping around your swords, bodies posed to block the master from any on coming attacks.

Giyu laid pressed up against a nearby tree, Gyomei holding him like a sopping cat. You hadn't noticed the group had dispersed, which was telling. It hadn't entirely. Shinobu, Rengoku, and Sanemi still stood firmly where they'd been standing-

Tengen Uzui was a silent man despite how much He'd been speaking moments ago- Even quieter was the sound of your lungs expelling air as you made shock contact with the ground, The man willing your head to the dirt.

You watched as Mitsuri befell the same fate, Obanai pressing her against the ground much softer than Tengen was pressing you. Not only that, but Obanai's robes had fallen bellow Mitsuri, guaranteeing the woman wouldn't get even a speck of dirt on her.

"What is going on?!" Mitsuri cried out, wiggling below Obanai. The man had a clear problem with her struggle, but it was questionable if she was even trying to escape his grasp.

You didn't have the worst of it, though. Giyu's head bounced off the ground, his body temporarily cradling yours in pain before Gyomei was yanking the younger man back and singlehandedly holding Giyu so hard against the ground, you were certain an indent would be left.

"We're fixing the problem, Mitsuri. Don't worry." Tengen sang from behind you.

You wanted to go to the hashira meetings. You really had. No matter what they thought, you knew that. It had just proven more and more difficult to face them the toughter the job proved.

You couldn't find yourself delivering those trademark rengoku smiles when demons were in your face, or even forcing a Shinobu brand of toughness. Your devotion would never be louder than Gyomei's, and even Sanemi had something akin to Charisma past those wild eyes-

You weren't brave, or beauty, you weren't grace or grit-

You'd begun to grow repulsed when someone would call you a hero like there was spine to that comment. Shoe makers were heroes, on the right day. When your shoe was broken, that is. And everyone's shoes ran the risk of breaking, just like everyone was very able to be slaughtered by a demon at the turn of light.

You didn't have the hashira flare, and you understood that the first time you stood next to them- You hadn't even felt like you were on your feet.

You pleaded with Ubayashiki after that- never could you show your face to these people without reason- let them see your lack of Valor. It'd break you to have them view you in such an antish way- and there wasn't much left of any hashira to break. You weren't special in that regard, either.

Ubayashiki was kind. You couldn't be upset at him for this. It was punishment- for throwing the hashira's kindness back at them. And now Ubayashiki was upset- you wanted to sob.

"This isn't fair!" Mitsuri whined, but there was an undeniable grind to the way she squirmed, clearly making Obanai struggle to keep composure. "You all are taking this too far!"

A hand was lifting you up by your scalp. With Tengen still restraining you, Sanemi craved your neck toward him. Just to his left you could see the master, something of a frown still playing his soft features.

"I really don't know where you and that sorry fuck get off on acting all high and mighty- it's disrespectful." He snapped. You couldn't will a retort, any sense of self respect dying under the man's gaze. He seemed to notice, growing angrier in response to your silence.

"Get off of me." Giyu snapped below Gyomei. "This is too far!" The slight raise to his voice was jarring, your eyes flitting from Sanemi to him. A hard palm slammed into your face, rocking your head to the left before your chin was captured and you were swept back to the right.

"You will speak when spoken to." Sanemi spat.

"Don't be so rough, Sanemi." Tengen guarded, sighing behind you. His foot rested firmly on your ankles, keeping them locked to the dirt. "She won't learn her lesson at all of she's passed out." Tengen moved one arm forward, and gently popped Sanemi's hand from your jaw. You could feel the bruise from his grasp begin to form almost immediately.

Tengen began pulling at the ribbon keeping your robe together. Your uniform still sat beneath it, but feeling the fabric fall from your body felt exposing. Even more so infront of the master-

You squirmed, trying to will your body back toward the ground, a sudden sense of embarassment prevailing over your guilt.

"Ah, now you fight?" Rengoku asked, stepping forward. "You have an odd sense of courage." He complimented. Your face grew warm, unable to hold his eye.

"Please- let me down. I never- I never intended to disrespect you."

"We believe you." Tengen assured. "That doesn't mean we weren't disrespected." You lowered your head once more. "Your complete avoidance of us just hurt!"

"

[techav]

Wrap030 at VCFSW 2025

For VCF Southwest this year, I brought Wrap030, my 68030 homebrew computer running Multibasic, my minimal multi-user operating system. I paired it with three glass terminals, two classic Macs I recruited to serve as terminals via ZTerm, plus a pair of modems. In all, I had seven of eight total user consoles available.

I had a few demo programs prepared. A Mandelbrot fractal renderer, a few sin/cosine visualization programs, Conway's Game of Life, Hunt the Wumpus, a checkers game, and Eliza. I also made signs to help visitors get started with writing BASIC programs.

Eliza turned out to be a great choice for a demo. Eliza is an early example of natural language processing that in a way is an ancestor of contemporary LLM chatbots. That's part of what's great about VCF — it gives us the opportunity to demonstrate how modern computers and software got to the point they're at now. But beyond that, it was also approachable for attendees who otherwise might not have been interested.

During the show I got the opportunity to dial into Wrap030 from terminals exhibited elsewhere in the show. It was fun to be able to write, load, and run BASIC programs on my computer from remote terminals.

Overall, response to my exhibit was excellent. I feel like I hit both ends of the best reactions and exhibitor can receive at a show like this — I got to watch an elderly gentleman's face light up seeing hardware he hadn't used in many years; and I got to see children excited to see their first BASIC program run successfully. I also had some great discussions with attendees and fellow exhibitors about the technical details of my project.

The show was a lot of fun, and it was great to see such a positive reaction to all the hard work I have put into the project over the past few months.

[sundasystems]

1. The Letter That Started It All

On a sunny day in late May, I received a letter from someone whom I'd corresponded with on a story years earlier. The letter was confusing and fairly alarming. I will attach it here:

Something is going on here. I'm missing time. I can't seem to remember what my job is, but I know I've been doing it. And I get all warm inside when I think about work. A little voice in my head is saying I'm doing a good job. But at WHAT? I wake up at night from dreams that… I can't remember. Or won't remember. Or don't want to remember. My clothes don't fit anymore. When I ask the people here who used to be my friends they all tell me not to worry. That it just means I'm settling in to the job. I don't think I want to settle in. But I also can't seem to leave. Please help me. Emily Voss

Emily had recently taken a job at Sunda Systems, a global conglomerate with it's research headquarters in a North Carolina town known as Eden Springs. Her position was that of an Administrative Assistant in the Optical Research Division.

According to a phone call I'd had with her just after her hiring, she took this position in early April after having been recruited by another employee. I believe his last name was Varas, though I am admittedly basing that on an unremarkable memory from months ago.

That phone call was the last I spoke with Emily until this letter arrived. That was not uncommon. We were not very close friends, just acquaintances and occasional collaborators. She wasn't one to kid around very much, but I couldn't shake the idea that this was all just a practical joke.

Something in the back of my head was convinced that nothing bad could be happening at Sunda. After all their motto is "Connected in Harmony." I have a Sunda modem and router combo here in my apartment, though I'd never given it a second thought until I began this project.

It is for this reason, and a deep regret, that I ignored her letter for days. But it kept nagging at me and so I decided to do some cursory digging. After the glowing reviews from top brass in various governments and corporations, I found a small post on a forum devoted to conspiracy theories. I will post it's contents here:

Does anyone think it's strange that S*nda S*st*ms has a positions listed on their job boards seeking psychologists, psychiatrists, and neurologists? Any company that big has got to be up to no good.

The post is still visible in it's archived form, however the user, who went by w3bofli3s_222 made no posts after that one, and their account has been deactivated. No contact information was available for them.

For their part, that did appear to be true. The job listing website "Karear" contained the above listing for a Behavioral Psychologist who would be making six figures.

What would an internet infrastructure company need with a behavioral psychologist? And what work would they be doing that would allow them a bonus?

Out of curiosity, I inquired. Two hours later, I received a phone call from an unlisted North Carolina area code. The following is a transcript of the relevant parts of that call:

R: Hello there! My name is Reggie. I'm so happy you're interested in the psych position. How can I be of assistance. I: Hello Reggie. It's nice to hear from you. My name is Helen, which I'm sure you know from the form I filled out. I've been job hunting and I was wondering what exactly the job entails. R: Of course I'd be glad to explain everything. Have you heard of our company before? Perhaps you've used one of our devices? I: Yes, my internet provider uses your routers. R: Wonderful. Then you know that our mission is to make the world Connected in Harmony! To that end, we employ several psychological experts to act in concert with human resources. We have some of them monitoring employee morale and productivity. Some act as advisors to help us maintain healthy work cultures. And some act as councilors that are available to our staff. I: That is quite impressive... R: The position we are currently seeking to fill would be one of the advisory roles. We want our employees to be as relaxed and comfortable as possible while on the job. It's very important to us that our employees feel at home here; that they can breath easy and lose all their stress. Would you agree that's important. I: Yes... I would... R: That's good. It's important that prospective employees share our values, the first of course being Connected in Harmony. When people are together, they are understood. When people are understood, they fear less. And when people fear less, they relax more. I: ... R: Helen are you there? I: What? Oh sorry yes! I was just looking at my notes. Now the website mentioned a bonus structure? R: Yes, that's something that we could talk about that more in-depth during a formal interview. We like to reward our advisors when things are running smoothly. If employees are happy, then the psych team is doing it's job well. I: Okay well I think I have what I need for know. Thank you for taking the time to talk. R: Of course. I look forward to seeing your application soon.

It was an odd call. I found myself almost nodding off as he spoke, though I was sure I'd gotten a full night's sleep. I came away from it believing that things couldn't be as bad as Emily made them seem. Sunda was a good company determined to do good in the world.

Right?

But as I logged into my computer, I noticed the little light was on that signals the webcam was active. I checked through all my open windows and nothing should have been accessing the camera. And as I stared at it, confused, it blinked off.

I guess it could have been a glitch, but just in case, I got a small piece of electrical tape and covered the webcam. I left the light exposed, though. Better to know than to blind myself, too.

It was such a little thing, but it was enough. Emily's letter. The weird job listing. The call that made me feel so strange. And now the mysterious webcam activation. It was too many oddities to write off.

It was time to start investigating in earnest.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 22 Thoughts: Couples Therapy

A really great episode. Everything about this one was so well done and I don't think I've got a single complaint. Not that I often have those but still. It'll be interesting to see how much of this is deeply plot relevant and how much is just a fun spooky time too. This is another belated post on account of a hospital visit, and a half-written draft getting deleted. Hopefully we'll be back to our regularly scheduled posts for next week.

Spoilers for episode 22 below the cut.

Lena is just the best, isn't she? Unfortunately we just learned that she's married and so I've got no shot, but still. Lena is great in every scene she's in and I'm really glad we get so much of her and Gwen as they have stellar chemistry. I'd be interested to see if this ministerial visit goes anywhere. I'm not 100% whether it was a plot hook or a convenient way to not fire Gwen. She's obviously not in Lena's good books so she this could be a way to explain away not firing her so she can leverage that position for something and avoid the firing.

Augustus incidents are always such a treat. This one probably wasn't maybe my favourite of them for the incident itself but it was for the sound design and the music. They really hit it out of the park for this one IMO. Unfortunately this is likely the last Augustus statement of the season if it's sticking to the 1 per act cadence. Of minor note this does disprove that .JMJ errors herald Augustus in some way.

Okay, onto the statement proper. Hans Berger and Dr. Richard Caton are both real people, and the information within this statement is largely factual. Berger did invent the EEG in 1924, held off on publishing his research due to the reaction he presumed it'd received, and when it was later published a lot of the scientific community at the time was ready to discount it. It took quite some time before what he'd managed was really appreciated. But don't feel too bad for him as he also worked with the Nazis. So coercing a patient into getting their brain ejected from their skull isn't the only sin of his. Caton is similarly accurate here and the two of them had similar fates with their research. Without Caton's work Berger likely wouldn't have been able to create the EEG and Berger was one of the few people to give Caton's research much attention at all. It came very close to being forgotten about. Ursula was very real too and did start as Berger's assistant before they got married. Although not mentioned in the incident is that she was a baroness.

Okay, so the big thing in this one is obviously the experiment itself. I've heard quite a few theories on what's actually going on here. Lots of talk about it being Freddy or JMJ. I generally think that's a massive stretch that doesn't really mesh with anything in the text of this, nor the historical context of Freddy and JMJ. The incident predates both Freddy as software and JMJ appearing as voices by not insignificant margins. It's obviously entirely possible that something was floating in the void waiting for a host PC but in context to the text of the incident I don't really see how that's a logical conclusion. The incident was about a secondary or true self within a person that can be accessed through the hemispherical bridge. Which is sort of exactly what we see here. It's also generally how it works IRL, split-brain is a fairly well researched topic for what it is.

Which is all to say I think this one is fairly literal. Herr Schmidt isn't a psychic gateway to Freddy but that's not to say I don't think these things are related. I very much do but I think it's foreshadowing and metaphor rather than literally the same thing. But of course I think that because I've been talking about this idea of a homunculus JMJ for a bit. You can read about it in an essay entitled JMJ: Frankenstein; or, the Modem Prometheus. It's a short read for my standards and my favourite pun of all my essays, so check it out. The dream is a little more likely to be a psychic event but it's also pretty literal for a dream as the imagery goes so there isn't much to say on it.

A very fun incident all around. As mentioned the main subject matter of callosal syndrome (split-brain) is a very real phenomena. I'm not going to get too into it but if it's something you want to dig into I'd suggest looking into the research of Michael Gazzaniga as well as Roger Sperry. The latter won a Nobel Prize for their work on this too.

I don't have much to say on the last to sections. Both conversations Sam has with Alice and Celia, respectively, are pretty explicit. Although Sam's mention of Alice being controlling does give us some insight into a likely reason they broke up. He's also very right that Alice has made a pretty quick turn around on all this and is now actively working against it despite not buying it at all.

Then it was something about a Marvin and Jason, I think?

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

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4488 sounds about right. Not a load to say on that one IMO.

CAT# Theory: 13 is somewhat interesting from the Person/Place/Object theory. Mostly because it's another that's a really big stretch and also doesn't help anyone know anything. There wasn't really anything out of the ordinary here as far as people and objects go, and in either case flagging that doesn't really impart any useful context. So it's just another one of those largely redundant data points.

R# Theory: Another old letter by an old man at BC. Love to see the consistency as it lines up very well with my ideas here.

Header talk: Experiment (Brain) -/- Imprisonment (Existential) is a somewhat interesting crosslink assuming it's correctly filed. Your second self being literally imprisoned in your head at all times is pretty wild.

[groochi-gang]

Clinical trial by homie. Parallels, analysis, brain dump. Unrefined and incomplete

Massive spoilers, don’t read until you finish the game

A: “You talk as if your life is as good as over”

L: “I can see it. The rest of my life.”

L: “Someone was meant to die here. Not me, him.”

L: “You should leave in 10 seconds.”

>>This is more foreshadowing and backstory than parallel

foreshadowing:

A: “Why have I felt like I’m constantly being watched?” Lee immediately shows up.

This is week 6, already he’s collected the blood tissues, knows their schedule, knows where they work because they arrived in uniform and probably took the pictures at this point.

motif:

“1, 2, and…”

>blood and drug inject

>brandon

>>suicide countdown

abusive codependency:

You NEED me, what are you going to do?

He lies and keeps a lot of secrets, purposefully misleading people to his advantage.

>brown recluse being reclusive >specifically doesnt mention that theyre infamously fatally venomous— this is another animal parallel to him positioning himself as lonely instead of dangerous like with the fire shrimp being “good at hiding” and not about them being “opportunistic hunters” to the point other fish had to be taken out of the aquarium.

1)>Midlevel grunt work >Not respected among doctors >Im not a doctor. i thought you read my jacket? // all of angel’s self depreciation

2)some things he expects to be seen and doesnt keep a secret (You dont even know what time it is), but on top of Angel’s natural obliviousness they trust him to be honest and open

Lee lying parallels

L: “Please dont go to work. He might be there” He is dead. And he knows he has been dead for a day and rotting in his hole for 2. And that’s also why this week was so much better and normal for Angel

L: “Please stay. It might rain” It is drought season.

>Reminiscent of baby it’s cold outside

>Angel specifically walked to the bus in the rain after second incident w Brandon

BLUFF: L: “Be quite or I’ll shoot.” “That wasn’t a gun.”

>>More of a bluff than a lie. Still a lie though. Actually, a drill without a needle is closer to harmless than an unloaded gun.

the abduction was 5 days before the discovery, the day after the missed appointment, and the day before he was pronounced dead

He lies about things he knows arent true

The wifi router, saying it's in the garage when really it's the modem

He had bought and installed and hid a Jammer in the case -- He bought it while going grocery shopping for Angel, and installed the jammer after going upstairs and giving them the phone charger.

Lee keeping things purposefully hidden

Doesnt mention the jacket

Doesnt mention brown recluse

Doesnt mention the killing/stalking lol

Doesnt mention the jammer

Lee bluff? Lie?:

REJECT: BLUFF(?): “Youre heavily implicated in this. Your phone pinged a signal to your location after you turned off the jammer.” <- Angel didn’t say they turned it off. Either Lee is bluffing and assuming they did that, or he already knew they did when he went to the closet to get to the dungeon.

(But there’s another door leading from the bathroom (the other door is the one he used after leaving the master bedroom to wash the jacket) to the rest of the house, like the storage room, that is also off limits. In the REJECT route he doesnt take a shower, he goes straight to washing the jacket, and disappears. No explanation. It’s commented bow weird this is. In both routes the bathroom and storage room are off limits, and because he’s only ostensibly using the bathroom in the one route, that leads me to believe he isn’t actually using it in ever.) It is always commented on how weird it is that we haven’t see Lee.

He disappeared a after washing the jacket and came back after we found the body. Where did he go? He wasn’t anywhere in the house or shown in the backyard. Only place unavailable in the house was the bathroom. That narrows it down… he had to have been there, or is it a red herring? There’s nothing in the bathroom. Or is there, and Angel overlooked it.

What’s up with the storage room? You can play the whole game without ever going in there. It doesn’t serve a purpose other than that Lee got his pajamas from there offscreen.

When you go in, nothing is really inspected, just general statements. No reason to snoop… but that’s just what Lee wants

A: “That was quick.”

L: “Was it? I only knew what I was looking for.”

We don’t know what we’re looking for. We don’t know anything about what’s in the boxes, the duffel bag, the plastic containers, the quality of the tools. Why there’s a (presumably) blank CRT in ther when there’s a flatscreen in the room over? The whole room is overlooked due to an unreliable narrator, it’s a mystery. There is literally nothing important of note, other than on twitter the containers are used to bury a body. It’s all tucked away in boxes. What happened to the gloves, hat, and green jacket im the brandon flashback? Canonically there’s clothes kept in there, the middle school pjs. Assumedly the reason why there’s no coat on the coat rack is because it’s all in boxes. Why? Why hide something so trivial? Why hide the clothes you wear in your own house? This room, which is a dead end, tells us more about Lee than sny other part of the house. This room says “stay out” “this is private” “don’t look” “i don’t give you permission to be here.” I guess because he wore it the day of the abduction, he didn’t want to have it anymore. Or maybe he kept it and put it in the boxes. What each room says about him personally, this room rejects. You learn nothing at all about him in this room. This room is a complex about privacy and metaphorical sanitization

The shrine is the polar opposite, and the critical change in getting to know him. Mr cleans everything or he’lll get in trouble ejaculated on a jacket and left it stuffed on the floor to crust. This room, of all rooms tells you the most you need to know about him. It is the most impure, repressed part of him. Hidden. A secret uncovered. Terrifying. He is a scary creep. He is bad. Do you accept him and all his flaws, after seeing him at his worst? (The murder isn’t him at his worst, the only good rapist is a dead one!)

Was there something that only he knew where to look for? What was he doing?

Why did he leave Angel in the room where everything would be discovered? Such a glaring oversight, means that something even more important had to be dealt with, probably in the tool room. Something he “got rid of” and now we the viewer permanently can’t know. What could possibly be more important than the shrine and body? There was nothing important in the boxes. Or was there, and Angel just didn’t know where to check.

ACCEPT: MISLEADING(?):

L: “The jammer meant you wouldn’t have signal for days.” <- talking as if Angel doesn’t know what it was

A: “I turned it off.”

L: “And what happened?” <- Talking as if he didn’t know Angel turned it off.

Lee lies and cover ups:

On Monday Lee first lied about fixing the car. He wasnt anywhere near the car. He disappeared.

COVER UP: REJECT: He showed up at the shrine and said he needed “30 minutes”, no reason. Clearly trying to do something secretly.

LIE: ACCEPT: He said he NEEDED TO THINK IT OVER, and that he got sweaty and needed a shower. The water was running. The room is off limits.

CANON: Lee’s guessing and covering up

A: “Why didn’t my work message me? Why didn’t my roommate call me?”

L: “Maybe this happened, maybe that happened.”

A: “So you don’t know. You don’t know anything.” <- Angel addressing Lee is guessing

L: “It’s probably better if I didn’t give you any details.”

What Jade represents

>backstory of Jade >Him pacing around and looking at Jade >Jade being Theory 1 Angel “beauty drove him to madness” > Theory 2 Brandon (parasite buried together) >Theory 3 Lee “the only thing i wanted consistlently as a child was to die” “he was psychotically depressed”

Balancing rock

>mormon

biggest red herring is how it’d be about the medicine.

>the description

>the premise

>the control group, placebo

>going against policy, texting, leaving together

it breaks down the premise, breaks down your understanding over time

[lukino94725764]

I wanted to tell you that last Friday there was a national blackout, it is not the first time it happens, I think it is the third, but like the previous times, my mind shuts down and I become unable to tell you what I did that day, (yes, it's weird) so I drew something that I remember doing,

Enter the dark wizard's room and see that he glued the modem to a car battery, I still don't know where the fuck he got the battery from, Black magic, maybe.

I made brownies, it sounds silly, but I have the habit of making something sweet in this kind of cases, either I make them or they ask me to,(yes I also did it when it was the elections)(and when I broke my face).

At one point I was left alone in the house and it was getting dark, I had the rechargeable lamp in my hands but I was not sure if it was dark enough to turn it on, I was like this and walking around the house for about half an hour, to my luck, my mother arrived and returned the light.

Another thing, I think the blackout this time lasted 20 hours, from 3 in the morning until 7:30 at night, but I know there was one that lasted about 5 days (what I can remember ferza that time is to see me in third person in fetal position on the bed, high dissociation lmao).

[robotabc773]

math asks! 18, 19, 23, 40, 56, 59 (or ofc some subset, like you said)

18+19: Can you share a good math problem you’ve solved recently? How did you solve it?

I was recently several tangents down a research rabbit hole and discovered that CC: Tweaked (the modern fork of the minecraft mod ComputerCraft), instead of allowing its computers to simply know where they are in the world, instead has a built-in gps library that works on top of the rednet networking system which is itself built on top of the built-in support for wireless modems to communicate between computers. It works because sending messages via modem tells you the distance between the two communicating computers, so with a set of 4 computers that all know their own locations and are setup in the right configuration, any other computer can talk to them and trilaterate its position. Which then of course got me thinking about the amount of information you gain from knowing your distance to a particular number of fixed points and how that generalizes to multiple dimensions. I believe what we get is both our position as projected onto the space spanned by the fixed points as well as our distance to that space. I don't have an actual proof for this but I'd love to know if anyone has one or knows the name of this concept so that I can look one up!

23: Will P=NP? Why or why not?

Well for the sake of cryptography working I really hope that P≠NP because otherwise we're kinda screwed on that front. Intuitively it seems like that should be the case, like I'd expect that there should be some problems that are hard to solve even if they're easy to check.

40. What’s the silliest Mathematical mistake you’ve ever made?

I really wish I had a good story to tell here but I can't think of one sorry :c

56. Do you have a favorite sequence? Is it in the OEIS?

I often find myself with favorites in considerably less categories than I am asked about. This is one such case.

59. Can you recommend any online resources for math?

Ooh this is a little sideways from what I'd normally think of as just math (in the direction of CS of course), but I'd highly recommend The Natural Number Game, an interactive introduction to formalized proofs in Lean! If you enjoy it, Software Foundations is a great (and free!) series of textbooks to learn how to apply these techniques to the task of formalizing and proving properties of programming languages (using a similar but separate language called Coq)

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

"It is worth saying something about the social position of beggars, for when one has consorted with them, and found that they are ordinary human beings, one cannot help being struck by the curious attitude that society takes towards them. People seem to feel that there is some essential difference between beggars and ordinary 'working' men. They are a race apart--outcasts, like criminals and prostitutes. Working men 'work', beggars do not 'work'; they are parasites, worthless in their very nature. It is taken for granted that a beggar does not 'earn' his living, as a bricklayer or a literary critic 'earns' his. He is a mere social excrescence, tolerated because we live in a humane age, but essentially despicable.

Yet if one looks closely one sees that there is no ESSENTIAL difference between a beggar's livelihood and that of numberless respectable people. Beggars do not work, it is said; but, then, what is WORK? A navvy works by swinging a pick. An accountant works by adding up figures. A beggar works by standing out of doors in all weathers and getting varicose veins, chronic bronchitis, etc. It is a trade like any other; quite useless, of course--but, then, many reputable trades are quite useless. And as a social type a beggar compares well with scores of others. He is honest compared with the sellers of most patent medicines, high-minded compared with a Sunday newspaper proprietor, amiable compared with a hire-purchase tout--in short, a parasite, but a fairly harmless parasite. He seldom extracts more than a bare living from the community, and, what should justify him according to our ethical ideas, he pays for it over and over in suffering. I do not think there is anything about a beggar that sets him in a different class from other people, or gives most modern men the right to despise him.

Then the question arises, Why are beggars despised?--for they are despised, universally. I believe it is for the simple reason that they fail to earn a decent living. In practice nobody cares whether work is useful or useless, productive or parasitic; the sole thing demanded is that it shall be profitable. In all the modem talk about energy, efficiency, social service and the rest of it, what meaning is there except 'Get money, get it legally, and get a lot of it'? Money has become the grand test of virtue. By this test beggars fail, and for this they are despised. If one could earn even ten pounds a week at begging, it would become a respectable profession immediately. A beggar, looked at realistically, is simply a businessman, getting his living, like other businessmen, in the way that comes to hand. He has not, more than most modem people, sold his honour; he has merely made the mistake of choosing a trade at which it is impossible to grow rich."

— George Orwell (Down and Out in Paris and London)

[feeling--pink]

what's your phineas and ferb episode rating

Oh boy I’m so glad you asked this with 0 prompting!!

Decidedly the infodumping is going to go UNDER the cut lmao

Since sometime in late May (I don’t have my notebook to check when exactly) my brother and I have been watching every episode of Phineas and Ferb in order to score each individual episodes to rank them!!

We just watched We Call it Maze // Ladies and Gentlemen, Meet Max Modem! last night and have ranked a little over 100 episodes total!!

The scoring system works like this:

We score each individual plot of the episode (usually A, B, C) and then average them for the “Plot” score. We do it this way because it is of my own personal opinion that the best Phineas and Ferb episodes have 3 distinct plot lines that are all equally focused on and overlap in how the episode is resolved. The plot score makes up a total of 50% of the final score making it the most important.

Songs get their own category that is worth 30% of the final score. This is the second most important because songs are a significant part of every episode (especially if it’s 11 minutes) and also very important to the show as a whole. For the most part of there are multiple songs then we average the score. Exceptions being if the songs are noticeably different lengths (Secret for Success comes to mind. For that episode we took the ratio of how long all terrain vehicle was compared to the other song in the episode (I don’t remember what it was)). This hasn’t happened very much. For episodes without songs that 30% is redistributed to the other 3 categories because we didn’t think it was fair to give those episodes a 0 (especially rollercoaster which would have gotten a maximum of 7/10 if not done the other way).

The next category is “Rewatchability” or maybe more appropriately named the bias score. My brother and I watch a LOT of Phineas and ferb and there are episodes we gravitate towards a lot. Additional points can be considered if the episode is “iconic” for one reason or another and even if we don’t personally rewatch it as much as another episode the score won’t suffer too much. (Iconic in this case meaning an episode that you would maybe show someone who hasn’t seen the show so they get a good feel for it or understand a common reference). Rewatchability is only worth 10% of the final score.

Final category is Bonus points! Also worth 10% my brother and I both take note of any bit/detail we particularly liked (or didn’t like) and assign a positive or negative value to it. We then take the ratio of positive to negative and that’s the bonus score!!

I’ve been taking hand notes in a journal I got for my birthday that I’ve barely used since and my brother takes digital notes! I keep the overall ranking digitally though :)

We also sometimes have different opinions and so far have just been averaging our two scores if that’s the case.

Since we’ve finished season 1 I do have statistics for that season and plan to do that for the whole show!! I also have separate rankings for just season 1/2 and the whole show.

Uhhh I’m not going to put the ranking here (I’ll do it in a reblog) because I’m worried of I get out of the app this whole post will delete itself so I’ll post this part but I have more to say SJFJFJDJK

[awingedllama]

Hey! I saw you were open to suggestions for your nostalgia series and I'd like to float dad's computer room that you used to sneak in to play games on and cringe while the dial up sound screeched or sit with your cousins and watch them play doom. idk if that's too specific/niche but that is one of my strongest memories of childhood! And I just want to say, I absolutely love your creations, you're such a wonderful and positive part of the community and I'm grateful you're happy to share your creativity with us all :D

with the words "dad's computer room" you have summated 90% of my childhood

i thought this was niche too!! from the ages of four to about eight i practically lived in there. tapping away on the dusty white 1990s Gateway computer. there was the old slow printer, the bookcases everywhere. the big rolling chair it was a privilege to spin in. not to mention, a million wires strewn across the floor as the biggest tripping hazard in the universe. he ditched dial up for broadband really early so I don't remember the sound (fortunately), but i definitely remember what both modems looked like!

i would love to make this a set but i don't know if i could do it justice!! it does feel very specific. and it's so personal i'd feel like it was never good enough or evocative enough of the time and place. maybe i could like... sneak little pieces/references in here and there