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#Christ is the prototype
dailywatchersiblings · 2 months
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okay so for the prototype au i wanted to create a design for Marle that was just really. off. it's meant to be like Tee's perception of Marle bc he doesn't really remember what she looks like. anyways to do this i had two of my friends who've never played PPT2 to look at a photo of Marle for like 20 seconds and then try to draw her
i combined their two doodles to create this design and uhh
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it worked like. scarily well. goddamn
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hausofmamadas · 2 years
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ESSENCE OF MON | Twere our sweet bb angel harvested, ground into powder & refined into an essential oil, it’d be this
From Narcos: Mexico, Season 2, episode 3 - Rubén Zuno Arce
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Look, I don’t even have anything funny or clever to say about this except that:
a) the last gif of him pointing the gun at the dude and then laughing in his face is impossible to look at without laughing in the exact same maniacal yet childish way that he does. Like seriously. Try not to. Try. You can’t. It’s okay. You’re only human.
and
b) this is such a hidden gem moment on the show like blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment. So, why does it bring me such an unhinged, irrational amount of joy, it makes me question my own sanity? Whyyyy? It’s a fuckin mystery.
taglist: @tinylittleobsessions @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @narcolini @bellinitini @artemiseamoon @mmasalva @ashlingnarcos @narcos-narcosmx @purplesong1028 @criatividad-e @mandaloria314 @thesolotomyhan @southotheborder @marvel-mars @kesskirata @carlislecullenisadilf @curaheed @narcosmx @cigarettesaftersunset
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agnesandhilda · 9 months
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the real bad guy of cobra kai is the adults, for getting a bunch of teenagers involved in their karate war
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babythegod · 6 days
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A comprehensive list of all the things Philomena Cunk’s Mate Paul has done
Write a story about a man who got a new potato stuck up himself following an ill-advised sex game. And he wrote that in the form of a limerick. No one died but it sounded horrendous.
Was driving to Winchester when a lorrie jack-knifed in front of him and he was hurtling towards it and everything went slo-mo and Paul, who’s never been religious, spoke to Jesus and said “I promise if I survive this, I’ll believe in you.” And he did survive but he fractured his skull and broke both his legs. Paul never forgave him and he says “if I see Christ again, he’s a dead man”
Got terrible diarrhea while he was doing a 30-mile sponsored walk to Harrogate dressed as Spider-Man for Help for Heroes. “One of the most noble and disgusting things I’ve ever seen.” Before the organizers intervened he raised 368 pounds
Are five ketamine brownies and thought that he could communicate telepathically with any animal he saw on television. He ended up being sectioned for his own safety.
Invented a treadmill for his fiancés pet snake, and the sketches for that were much more convincing than Leonardo da Vinci’s flying machine. And he was on mushrooms. Mind you, the prototype did pull the snakes head off. That was the worst ending to a birthday party Philomena had ever been to.
Punched a waiter in a TGI Fridays for dropping his banoffee pie
Sent Philomena a video that exposes that neither the moon nor nighttime is real
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mintsuwu · 27 days
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please how did you come up with her design I've been trying to make a design for my poppy playtime oc but it always ends up looking like rubbish please give tips😭😭
Hello, thank you for asking! Truth be told is that it took me a bit to figure out how to do LoolaLamb in general, she didn't come out too well on the first try xD I had to tweak a couple of things in her like the hair, colors or snout.
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Initially, I wasn't quite sure of what animal picking for her, but then I went with the lamb idea for a few reasons:
- When I was little, I used to have a lamb plush I used to love dearly. Sadly I don't have any pictures to show since I no longer have it with me so I tried to look for one that looked similar on the Internet- But that was the main inspiration for her character. And since the Smiling Critters have their own plushies as well, I thought it would be interesting to make one of them after a real toy. I also took reference from other characters in media that were based on sheeps, like in Pokémon (Flaaffy & Whimsicott).
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I would always recommend using references if you ever don't know where to start with a design. And in the case of a Poppy Playtime OC, you can look for references if you desire as well, or even turn a beloved toy of yours into a character, anything works!
In many cultures, the lamb is a revered symbol of innocence, purity, and sacrifice. It is often associated with religious connotations, particularly in Christianity, where it symbolizes the embodiment of Christ's innocence and the sacrificial lamb offering redemption and atonement for humanity's sins. I simply liked the symbology of this because I'm always a sucker for that when it comes to creating characters;;
This was mainly due to lore reasons, her association with Catnap, a follower of an entity, the Prototype, whom he workships and would do anything to get its blessing. LoolaLamb "sacrified" her voice for the Prototype (well, it actually was that Catnap took away her voicebox with that excuse).
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Her name "LoolaLamb" is a word play for "lullaby", given the role she was going to have in the Smiling Critters line, a replacement for Catnap who would have a similar role as his, except that instead of using a gas to make people fall asleep, she would use her voice. Sheeps and lambs are also heavily associated with sleep and dreams, given the advice: if you can't get to sleep, just “count sheep” until you drift off into a peaceful slumber.
Sheep are wanderers. It's their nature. Even in the best and safest of places, places that provide protection, water, and food, sheep are known to wander off, get lost, and sometimes eaten by predators.
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Her color pick was mainly because even if the smiling critters have more or less the colors of the rainbow and there are already two blue colored critters (Bubba Bubbaphant being more of a neutral blue or azure and Craftycorn cyan or aquamarine), I noticed that there were no dark blue or indigo colored ones. My first idea for LoolaLamb was to give her more violet colors, given her correlation to Catnap, but at the same time I wanted her to stand out amongst the others, being a little more of her own character, so that´s why I ended up picking a different color pallete for her.
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And those are pretty much the basic things I had in mind when creating LoolaLamb! Of course it doesn't always have to be so elaborated with all characters, but I'd always recommend to find references, information, symbolism, anything that might help you with the creation of your character in case you don't know where to start or are simply stuck!
I might not be the best when it comes to explaining things but I hope this has helped you and I wish you the best in your creative process, anon! 🙏🏻💖
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nova-rpv · 5 months
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rushed ass drawing of feels bc my fucking gOD MY POOR BOY
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angry rant under cut
so, recently on twitter a new sonic ship has been created: prototype sonadow or terifeels (terios x feels). and, tbh, i really like the concept but. jesus fucking christ.
the way people have interpretated terios and feels' relationship has me sick. basicaly, their characters have been reduced to "reserved protective dom" and "pure naive sub" respectively, which is gross as shit to say the least. they are CHILDREN, yet people keep sexualizing them, especially feels' cuteness and childlike behavior.
this ship has potential, i just wish the right people got to mine it.
it's ok if you like their "protective x pure" dynamic, just don't be a pedo about it.
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talonabraxas · 3 months
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Description of the Frontispiece in Magic: White and Black by Franz Hartmann.
At the foot of the picture is a sleeping Sphinx, whose upper part (representing the higher principles) is human; while the lower parts (symbolizing the lower principles) are of an animal nature.
She is dreaming of the solution of the great problem of the construction of the Universe and of the nature and destiny of Man, and her dream takes the shape of the figure above her, representing the Macrocosm and the Microcosm and their mutual interaction.
Above, around, and within all, without beginning and without an end, penetrating and pervading all, from the endless and unimaginable periphery to the invisible and incomprehensible center is Parabrahm, the unmanifested Absolute, the supreme source of every power that ever manifested or may in the future manifest itself as a "thing", and by whose activity the world was thrown into existence, being projected by the power of His own will and imagination.
The Omega (and the Alpha in the center) represent the "Son", the Absolute having become manifest as the Universal Logos or The Christ, also called Buddhi, or the sixth principle, the cause of the beginning and the end of every created thing. It is One with the "father", being manifested as a Trinity in a Unity, the cause of what we call Space, Motion, and Substance. Its highest manifestation is Self-consciousness, by which it may come to the comprehension of Man.
The spiritual man whose matrix is his own physical body, draws his nutriment from this universal spiritual principle as the physical fetus is nourished by means of the womb of the mother, his soul being formed from the astral influences or the soul of the world.
Out of the Universal Logos proceeds the "invisible Light " of the Spirit, the Truth, the Law, and the Life, embracing and penetrating the Cosmos and becoming manifest in the illuminated soul of Man, while the visible light of Nature is only its most material aspect or mode of manifestation, in the same sense as the visible sun is the reflex of its divine prototype, the invisible center of power or the great spiritual Sun.
The circle with the twelve signs of the Zodiac, enclosing the space in which the planets belonging to our solar system are represented, symbolizes the Cosmos, filled with the planetary influences pervading the Astral Light, and which are caused by the interaction of the astral emanations of the cosmic bodies and their inhabitants.
The activity in the Cosmos is represented by the interlaced triangle. The two outer ones represent the great powers of creation, preservation, and destruction, or Brahama, Vishnu, and Siva, acting upon the elements of Fire, Water, and Earth — that is to say, upon the original principles out of which ethereal, fluid and solid material substances and forms are produced.
The two inner interlaced triangles refer more especially to the development of Man. B, C, and D represent Knowledge, the Knower, and the Known, which trinity constitutes Self-knowledge. E, F, and G represent the Physical Man, the Ethereal or Inner Man, and the Spiritual Man. The center represents the divine Atma, being identical with the Universal Logos. It is, like the latter, a Trinity in a Unity. Of the three interlaced A's only one is distinctly drawn in the figure.
It is the spiritual seed implanted in the soul of man, through whose growth immortal life is attained. Its light is the Rose of the Cross that is formed by Wisdom and Power. But below all is the realm of illusion, of the most gross and heavy materialized thoughts, sinking into Darkness and Death, where they decompose and putrefy, and are resolved again into the elements out of which the Universe came into existence.
(Excerpts from: Magic: White and Black by Franz Hartmann)
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marabarl-and-marlbara · 5 months
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hi mara,
i was wondering what your favorite books are, anything you've derived inspiration from. or any books you'd recommend to others!
take care
hi anonymous, good morning;
soft promotion but i usually write a little about what i:m currently reading in my end-of-month internet-sin paywall posts on substack -- but i:d also probably just tell you if asked;
any-ways, when i was really young i:d try to read a book-a-day both because 1) i had absolutely nothing to do 2) i thought that by reading as many classic/erudite texts as i could, that i:d become super smart; but i burnt out on reading because of these two things! and because of being burnt out, i have a huuuuuuuge amount of gratitude to the book version of "howl:s moving castle," because i think i picked it up on a whim (before the movie was out, even, i think), and read it, and it just made me fall in love with reading -- and the idea of reading for pleasure, instead of trying to make myself smart and cultured. was just so enamored with that book; read it through every period in HS and in that huge dullness i:d have afterschool (i slept out in a car from 2~7 typically; no friends and no where to go)--just couldn:t put it down, felt so real. zero idea if it holds up, and i refuse to re-read it, but i /loved/ that book and it:s always what comes to mind when someone asks me my favorite book (side-note: i thought the movie was trash; i don:t like ghibli stuff though).
inspirational stuff, though, i:ll use more recent examples! (mostly because it:s easier to remember this stuff); i really adore flannery o'connor and her short-story "the lame shall enter first" largely helped me deal with some of my obsessiveness at adhering to my behavioral etiquette 'perfectly' -- there are these two characters: an older atheist who is doing his very best to behave perfectly and empathetically and understandingly; & a crippled thieving rude christian boy that has fallen into the care of the prior character; any-who, the christian boy admits he has not been saved and that his soul belongs to satan, and tells the adult that he won:t bother being saved till he is ready to live whole-heartedly clean -- and that there is no point in attempting to act perfect (as the adult were trying) as no-one is perfect except christ; the story illustrates the lesson better, but it just made me loosen up on some of my behavioral rules and etiquette in regards to bacterial will and religious law. plus, flannery is a /beautiful/ writer.
then more briefly, i:d toss in cormac and shirley jackson -- cormac:s "outer dark" just really impressed me with how excellent he describes environments and just how /real/ he wrote "the three figures" towards the later half of that story, i love the outer dark so much; shirley jackson, too, just this month i read "we have always lived in the castle" and the maturity of her writers voice just struck me with how concisely bitter it were, and i just thought: wow, this is like the prototypical femcel hiki blueprint, and wow: this story is like the deconstructed magical girl genre before it ever existed, and as it could only exist in the mind of a shut-in agoraphobic american woman in her sixties (i think she was that old at the time of writing, i forget). i:m reading "the secret history" atm and also really loving that, because donna tartt is ace at pacing a story & capturing the feeling of "being left at a dorm for winter alone," and just scene/moments in general -- just super enjoying it :-)). then for more religious stuff that:d make people groan: i like LRH, and mary eddy baker, and ellen g white, and like reading all of them, and usually am left with a sparkling feeling after reading any.
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and that:s it! i don:t want to name too many books because it:d water stuff down in meaning. take care, anonymous :-))
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the-friendliest-freak · 4 months
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The Poppy Playtime chapter 3 trailer dropped!
First thoughts:
“Find the flower” references the note at the beginning, perhaps this chapter will retroactively give a new meaning to the letter at the beginning.
I don’t recognise the male voice - new character, maybe?
Prototype reveal! Kinda wish they’d kept it hidden until the release, but still it’s cool to have:
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That seems to be the remains of one of the employees, judging by the hard hat.
Christ Huggy
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“So we can get revenge on those monsters who tortured you - who tortured us!” Is pretty revelatory - back in chapter 1 there were theories that the Player themselves might be a toy, so maybe that’s still a possibility!
KISSY!!
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“The Prototype has to die” is interesting considering recent stuff has been framing it as a more moral entity. Maybe Poppy wants him dead because he’s been continuing this violent cycle for 10 years now.
Catnap reveal! Was expecting a more bulky body. Very reminiscent of Huggy tbh.
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charturnus · 2 years
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Sign on the dotted line
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Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader
a/n: not only is this my first time writing after a 6-month hiatus, this is also my first time writing Wanda, so I'm kinda sweating it ngl. I have high hopes for this series though, and I can't wait to develop this story further.
Warnings: n/a
Summary: Chapter I; Did you get enough of love, my little dove? AU
Wanda needs a pretty girl on her arm for every event she attends, and you are in desperate need of care and attention.
━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━
The clock strikes five, just as you unlock the door to your office. You blink dazedly in the glaring overhead lights and begin your morning ritual of settling into business as usual. First hanging up your coat, then taking out the many folders you had lugged home the day before. As the kettle in the corner slowly heats up the water intended for your cup of tea, you turn on your computer. The start-up is slow this morning, and you tap your nails impatiently on the desk.
So much has to be done today, but it’s no different from any other day, really. Three years ago when you had just secured this job, you found yourself overwhelmed as you never had been before. Every day was a struggle, a fight to survive in this cut-throat business. There was always something that had to be done, someone who expected answers from you. There was a time when you deluded yourself into thinking it would get easier.
I just have to hang on until next week…
Once this deal is settled, everything will calm down…
It never got easier. You lived day to day, seemingly constantly hanging on by a thread. But you had managed it so far, hadn’t you?
The kettle chirrups, signalling that the water has finally come to a boil. Your computer too is finally showing signs of life, so you open up your inbox, awaiting the inevitable influx of emails that will have arrived since you last checked at midnight.
The first half an hour of your morning is spent answering emails as you sip a cup of strong matcha tea. As expected, two dozen emails have found their way to you once more. All from colleagues and clients, asking for help, for direction, for approval.
You’re so caught up in a particular email about what’s her name from R&D who supposedly was leaking prototypes to Weaver Enterprises, that you don’t notice the door of your office opening.
‘’Good morning’’
When Pepper speaks quite suddenly (and rather loudly for this time of day) you give a start.
‘’Christ Pepper’’ you mutter angrily. ‘’Don’t sneak up on me like that, you’re going to give me a heart attack someday.’’
She doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by your response, she merely smiles at you placidly. ‘’I didn’t expect you to be here so early after yesterday's crisis meeting running so late.’’
This is Pepper’s way of making small talk, you’ve come to learn. It seems she’s incapable of speaking of anything that doesn’t have to do with work, and she takes great satisfaction in going above and beyond with anything she does. You think she’s a workaholic and that she should make good use of the therapy coupon you gave her for last year’s office-wide secret Santa. She thinks she is the single most productive member of society and appears to believe herself capable of fighting God, fuelled by nothing but 2 espresso shots and early morning road rage.
On the whole, you’ve agreed to disagree on this particular issue.
‘’I’m here at five every morning, Pepper. And I know you know that because you make a point of getting here five minutes earlier than me, every day.’’
That seems to be precisely enough small-talk for this morning because after rolling her eyes at your remark she heads straight to business.
‘’Well, that certainly is fortunate because the boss would like to see you immediately, and you know how she hates to be kept waiting.’’
For a few seconds you do nothing but stare at Pepper, and then, the meaning of her words hits you. Wanda Maximoff has asked to see you. White-hot panic bubbles up from your stomach, instantly you feel your hands beginning to sweat.
It’s not unusual for you to spend time with your boss, but it’s always in the company of other people. Her presence is a welcome addition to the many mind-numbing meetings that you have to sit through. Your affections for her have blossomed into some sort of office infatuation. You tell yourself that this is merely a distraction from the rigour of every day life at the office, it’s not all that serious.
Yet, you find your head snapping towards your open office door whenever you hear the clicking of heels down the hallway. You take the long way to the printer, past the main meeting room, in hopes of catching a glimpse of her.
The thought of her asking for you and sending Pepper to get you… It gives you an uneasy feeling. Maybe she has noticed that your work hasn’t been quite up to your usual standard in these last few weeks. You’ve been struggling under the growing weight of your responsibilities.. Maybe she has called you up to chastise you, or worse, fire you.
‘’Save the catastrophizing for another day, will you, it’s too early for this.’’ Pepper says, as she takes in the frenzied look of panic on your face. ‘’I’m to bring you to her, so hurry up, I’d like to get this sorted before the office fills up.’’
‘’Right.’’ You say dazedly, turning off the computer and grabbing in the drawers of your desk for your keys. When the two of you are making your way down the hall moments later, you run your hands nervously through your hair.
‘’So, do you know what this is about at all?’’
Pepper allows you to step into the elevator first, before punching in the code on the keypad that will take the pair of you up to Ms Maximoff’s private office.
‘’I know, but I can’t say anything yet.’’ She says. ‘’Speaking of-’’ She flicks through some papers inside the folder she is holding and pulls out a neat set of documents. Even though it’s upside down, you can still make out the words ‘’Non-disclosure agreement’’ in bold letters at the very top of the document.
At this, your eyebrows shoot up. ‘’You want me to sign an NDA?’’
She presses the papers into your hands and unclips the pen from the front of her blouse. ‘’Yes, now please hurry up and read it through. I’d like to have this signed as soon as possible.’’
You’ve seen this document before. The standard template used for NDA’s within the company, and you know where to find the information that isn’t simply reused for every NDA. From this, you gather some basic facts. Whatever this is, it clearly has to do with the PR side of the company, which strikes as you odd since you work resolutely behind the scenes. What’s more, whatever the subject matter of your coming conversation will be, it has something to do with Wanda Maximoff’s private life.
The cogs in your head are turning at rapid speed trying to make sense of it all. But really, there is no way to know unless you sign and hear what Ms Maximoff has to tell you. So, you clumsily scrawl your signature in three different places and hand the little packet back to Pepper.
Right on cue, the elevator doors slide open, and you find yourself in a short corridor with a single large door at the end of it. You have only been here twice, once when you were hired and once when you were promoted to your current position. You felt sick with nerves then, and you feel sick right now. You lift a hand to smooth your hair, and you stare self-consciously at your reflection in the many pictures lining the walls.
The dark circles underneath your eyes seem more pronounced now than they were this morning. You wish you would have spent a little more time on your appearance, instead of slapping on some foundation and mascara in your car and calling it a day.
Pepper knocks twice and doesn’t wait for permission to enter, instead, she pushes open the door after the second knock and holds it open for you. You try to compose yourself, standing up straight and pushing your shoulders back.
Wanda Maximoff is sitting at her desk, a glass of water in one hand, the morning paper in the other. She looks perfectly polished and put together in her burgundy suit. She really is very beautiful, you think, before remembering that she’s probably about to fire you, which really puts a damper on those sorts of thoughts.
‘’Good morning, Ms Maximoff.’’ You say politely, as Pepper brushes past you to deposit the NDA on the desk.
‘’Good morning to you too’’ She says with a bright smile. ‘’I’m so glad you were able to meet me here so soon.’’
Before you can so much as think of a reply, Pepper cuts in. ‘’She already signed the NDA, Wanda.’’ She says, perching on top of the desk. ‘’I have a meeting at six-thirty, so I’d appreciate it if we could get to business.’’
Ms Maximoff doesn’t seem perturbed by this, and merely lays down her paper to flit through the document, presumably looking for your signature. Apparently, she finds no fault in it, as she drops it in front of her and leans back in her chair. You swallow thickly as you watch her take in your appearance.
‘’I have a proposition for you.’’ She says, a slight smile playing across her lips as she hands you yet another stack of papers. You take it with shaking hands, this packet is rather thicker and heavier than the NDA. She doesn’t appear to be firing you at any rate, which is some consolidation at least.
‘’You see-’’ Ms. Maximoff says. ‘’I have a problem that needs solving, and we think you’re the right person for the job.’’
You flit through the many papers in front of you, eyes darting this way and that. This job clearly has something to do with the PR side of things, you decide. Words like ‘’public image’’ and ‘’likeable persona’’ jump out at you.
‘’Pepper has made it clear to me that I need an image boost.’’ She says, turning to Pepper and giving her an exasperated look.
‘’You do!’’ Pepper cuts in. ‘’The press has been horrid lately. You need to appear more down to earth, we want you to be likeable and approachable. It would do wonders for business Wands’’
At that, Ms Maximoff snorts, but Pepper resolutely ignores her, addressing you instead. ‘’Wanda needs to be put in a good light, show the world her nice side, you know?’’
You nod, albeit confusedly, as you still don’t quite understand what this has to do with you. Your area of expertise has absolutely nothing to do with public relations.
‘’If I may ask, what exactly would you like me to do to assist you with this particular issue?’’ You ask, addressing Ms Maximoff directly.
She smiles at you, a look of amusement evident on her face. ‘’Pepper has decided that the best way for me to achieve this is to stage a relationship.’’
You feel the muscles in your jaw go slack, but before you have the time to process the implications of this statement, Pepper has already spoken up.
‘’Think about it! We need you to present your softer side, to show that you can be kind and caring and let’s be honest Wands, you haven’t given me a lot to work with and-’’
‘’I’m sorry.’’ You say, interrupting her minor lecture. ‘’You want to stage a romantic relationship?’’
She frowns at your interruption but has the good grace to answer you in spite of it, ‘’Yes!’’ she says firmly. ‘’We have explored every other possible avenue, if this doesn’t work then we can forget about ever obtaining favourable press.’’
‘’Alright…’’ You say slowly, wondering whether you’re here to help them scout a person for the job. ‘’So, who do you have in mind?’’
That makes Ms Maximoff laugh. A real hearty laugh, one you haven’t heard from her in a very long time. The muscles of your stomach contract pleasantly, and you can’t help but smile yourself.
‘’Oh sweetheart, that’s adorable.’’ She says. ‘’You, of course.’’
For a moment, all you can do is stare at her incredulously, your eyes wide and your jaw slack. You’re half expecting a camera crew to jump out at you, proclaiming loudly that you have been pranked. When no such thing happens, however, you turn to Pepper.
‘’Me?!’’ You manage to croak out.
‘’Yes, you.’’ She says with an air of annoyance. ‘’Look at the damn contract.’’
Quickly, you turn to the stack of papers in your hands. Fervently thumbing through the papers until you find what you are looking for.
This agreement establishes a fabricated romantic relationship between the following parties:
Wanda Maximoff (Hereby referred to as Party 1)
and
Y/N (Hereby referred to as Party 2)
The parties are herein referred to as a ‘’Couple’’ and are set forth for a period of 365 days. The parties hereby agree to the following provisions as conditions of the ‘’Relationship’’:
This is then followed by a long list of conditions. With your heart pounding a manic beat in your chest, you scan through the list.
Both parties must refrain from engaging in any intimate relationship with outside persons until the signified time of the contract has ended;
Party 2 is to settle into the home of Party 1 for the whole duration of the contract;
Neither party may discuss the contents of the contract with any unapproved persons;
Both parties must agree to engage in public displays of affection (see subsection 5) with the intended purpose of this being documented;
Party 2 will cease all activity within Maximoff enterprises for the duration of the contract;
On and on the list goes, the further down you get, the redder your face turns. Both Pepper and Ms Maximoff have gone quiet. Sensing that it might be best to allow you to process this in your own time. It takes you 15 minutes to read through every word within the contract, and an additional 10 minutes for you to wrap your head around what exactly is being asked of you.
Your boss wants you to pretend to be her girlfriend.
This is too good to be true, surely. Live with Wanda Maximoff? Hold her hand on the street, go out for dinner with her, visit lavish parties as her date? This isn’t real. This cannot be real. You want to pinch yourself. You want to burst out into hysterical laughter, or a fit of uncontrollable sobs.
Even after all this silence, you seem to struggle to use your voice.
‘’Ms Maximoff, you-’’ your voice sticks in your throat, and you have to cough to clear it. ‘’Let me be clear, you want me to pretend to be your partner?’’
‘’I do.’’
‘’I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand why.’’
Pepper shifts restlessly on the edge of the desk. ‘’I’ll just go grab a coffee.’’ She says with a pointed look at Ms Maximoff.
Once the oak doors have shut firmly behind Pepper, the other woman speaks up.
‘’Ms Maximoff-’’ You begin, but Wanda cuts in.
‘’You can call me Wanda.’’
You pull up short, ‘’I- Thank you, Wanda.’’ You say somewhat awkwardly.
‘’I’d like to make this less strange for you.’’ She says warmly. You get the sense that she’s attempting to soothe your intense anxiety and you give her a small smile.
‘’I don’t think anything could make this less strange.’’
‘’That’s fair.’’
You watch as she plays absent-mindedly with the rings on her left hand, turning them slowly, caressing the golden jewellery with soft fingers. Unbidden, you wonder what those fingers would feel like on your skin, cool against the heat of your cheek. You wonder how those fingers would fit in between your own.
’Why exactly do you want me for this job?’’ You ask, quite suddenly. ‘’You could have anyone. Hell, you wouldn’t even have to pretend, I’m sure you could find someone you could genuinely love.’’
She shrugs. ‘’I have no interest in any of that.’’ The hand that was previously occupied with her jewellery now moves to a drawer in her desk and pulls out a folder with your picture attached to it.
‘’Did you know I receive reports on my most essential staff members on a monthly basis?’’ She asks, casually flipping through the papers.
You feel your mouth go dry. ‘’I am aware.’’
‘’You’re not well, are you?’’ She says simply.
You falter under the gaze of her bright green eyes. What exactly is she getting at here? Sure, you haven’t felt well rested in what feels like 20 years, and you haven’t had a home-cooked meal in 5 months. Maybe you cry more than you ever have before, but that’s all a part of having a high stakes job, isn’t it?
‘’I’m fine.’’ You lie. ‘’And I apologize, but I don’t see how my wellbeing affects this situation.’’
Wanda raises her eyebrows at you. ‘’I think we can help each other.’’ she says. ‘’I need you to assist me in attaining some more favourable press, and you need a break.’’
‘’A break?’’ You repeat rather dumbly.
Wanda flicks through the papers again, apparently looking for something. When she finds it, she traces the lines with her finger. ‘’You’ve been spotted crying in your car during lunch breaks.’’ She reads aloud. ‘’You see a therapist for stress-related issues, yet you put in more hours than Pepper does every week. Do you see what I’m getting at here?’’
You shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. She’s not wrong, but hearing it like this feels invasive almost. You don’t want to know who gave her this information. You close your eyes tight, letting your head hang.
You can hear Wanda getting up, but you don’t dare to move or look up, not until you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. Heat blooms from her palms, spreading down your back, warming you. You want to stay there, want her to wrap her arms around you and allow you to stay there for eternity. Instead, you turn around to face her, mourning the loss of her touch as she lets her hands fall to her side.
‘’You need a break. This contract will give you an out for a whole year, you can rest and recuperate and if you want to return after this all then the position will be yours.’’ She gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. ‘’You take on so much responsibility and carry so much weight. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone take that over from you?’’
‘’Why would you want to do that?’’ You mumble.
‘’Let’s just say that you have caught my attention, little dove. I’d like to help you if I can.’’
You bite your lip, your heart fluttering at the pet name.
Your mind is screaming at you to sign that contract right this instant, but you still hesitate. The most rational part of you has you in a chokehold. Forcing you to get all your ducks in a row before you make a massive mistake.
‘’Why do you want me specifically, though? You didn’t answer my question fully.’’
She laughs. ‘’You are thorough, aren’t you?’’
You smile shyly and steal a glance up at her face, as she scrunches her nose at you affectionately.
‘’I like you. You’re kind and funny and honestly the only person I can think of who I could actually spend a whole year with without losing my mind.’’
At this, you blush in earnest. Sure, you have your own private affections for your boss but you never dreamed she ever spared you much thought at all. You spend plenty of time with her, but it’s always strictly business, so the thought that she holds you in such high esteem makes your stomach do a flip.
‘’Thank you,’’ You mutter quietly. ‘’That’s very kind of you to say.’’
She gives you a wink and a smile which makes you rather weak in the knees. Still, you try to steel yourself, because this isn’t over yet.
‘’I do have some concerns regarding the contract that I’d like to go over with you.’’
Wanda raises an eyebrow, but settles herself back behind her desk, pulling the contract towards her and motioning for you to take a seat as well.
‘’Let’s see then.’’
***
‘’Okay, so that’s a firm no, then?’’ Wanda chuckles as she strikes out the umpteenth condition you have vetoed.
‘’Listen, if I’m going to be effectively jobless for a whole year with nothing to do, I want to make myself useful in some way.’’
Wanda gives you an amused look over the papers as she scribbles down her notes in the margin.
‘’I’m a perfectly decent cook, I won’t poison you, I swear.’’
‘’What a shame’’ says Pepper, who has just made her reappearance with a tray of coffee cups in hand. ‘’Here-’’ she says, handing you a white styrofoam cup. I got you a chai latte, that’s the only thing I know you drink since you’re one of those anti-coffee freaks. You thank her with a laugh, and you pry the lid off, so as to allow the drink to cool faster.
As Pepper deposits Wanda’s drink on the desk, she looks over her shoulder at the many lines that are crossed out, she heaves a heavy sigh. ‘’Trust you to give me a pile of paperwork before the day has properly started.’’
‘’Hey!’’ You say reproachfully. ‘’If I’m going to sign my life away for a year, I’d like to secure some good terms.’’
‘’Smart girl.’’ Says Wanda with a chuckle.
You turn away, your hair hiding your glowing smile as you beam at her praise.
‘’Is there anything else you’d like to add to this migraine of an admin task, or will I be spared?’’
‘’Ummm…’’ You hesitate. You have been trying to bring this up for the past twenty minutes, but you didn’t know how to broach the subject delicately. ‘’About the intimacy clause…’’ You begin.
‘’You don’t have to fuck her.’’ Pepper says casually, watching with amusement as your cheeks instantly grow bright red.
‘’Pepper!’’ Wanda hisses. ‘’Behave yourself, will you?’’
With a guilty look, she holds up both of her hands. ‘’I apologize, I plead not guilty by way of sleep deprivation.’’
Wands merely shakes her head and turns in your direction, putting on a gentle smile.
‘’It’s just the basics,’’ She says. ‘’Hand holding, hugging, cuddling and the occasional kiss. That’s all.’’
A flush creeps up your neck at the mere thought of kissing Wanda. ‘’O-okay…’’ you stutter. ‘’And it will be for the camera’s? I mean- when we’re out in public?’’
She nods. ‘’We don’t have to be over the top, but we should act as any couple would in public.’’
‘’And we’ll stage some of the more intimate moments, so don’t worry about that.’’ Pepper chimes in.
‘’Stage it?’’
‘’We’ll tip off some of some paparazzi and make sure you’re caught kissing, things like that.’’
You take a deep breath to steady yourself. ‘’Alright, thank you for clearing that up.’’
This is real, you conclude. You try very hard to not get ahead of yourself, but you can’t let go of the image in your head of yourself and Wanda intertwined in an embrace. You deserve something nice, don’t you? And it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, Wanda has specifically asked you to do this for her.
Screw it, what do you have to lose?
Tentatively, you reach out for the pen Pepper had given you earlier.
‘’So, do I just sign on the dotted line?’’
━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━
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barid-bel-medar · 7 months
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I'm rereading Sticks & Stones and omg I forgot the sheer amount of pure negligence that allowed that situation to happen in the first place.
Because even ignoring Aizawa's failures as a teacher, or that a teacher as inexperienced as All Might shouldn't have been supervising a live combat exercise, jesus christ how the fuck did anyone think the gauntlets were safe for Bakugou let alone for use on other students in a live combat exercise?! Who signed off on that support gear?! Sure, the designers probably know the basics of Bakugou's quirk--he sweats nitroglycerine and can ignite it to create explosions--except we know the stuff put down on the Quirk registry or how people describe their quirks to others is rarely fully accurate and usually highly simplified. There is no reason for any sane engineer to assume they had enough accurate information to create any sort of support gear that is meant to interact with a quirk as potentially volatile as Bakugou's without it being liable to blow up and potentially take off Bakugou's arm. Did they even have a sample of Bakugou's sweat to work with or did they just assume it was exactly the same as regular nitroglycerine? How did they live-test it to make sure it would redirect the blast safely? Not to mention quirks casually defy the laws of physics so you'd need to do a lot of testing just to figure out how the quirk would actually interact with the support gear in reality.
Support gear is likely highly personalized to each individual's quirk and needs, and its development would probably involve the hero and inventor working closely together, especially for more complex or dangerous quirks. It'd be a lot of trial and error, figuring out the finer points of how the quirk works, testing how interacts with the gear and refining it. Considering the amount of intimate knowledge of the hero's quirk and access to their literal life-saving equipment they have, the folks who create and maintain support gear must hold highly trusted and respected positions in the hero industry. Something as advanced as Bakugou's gauntlets couldn't just be casually commissioned the same way you could sturdier boots or a grappling hook. It'd take time and cooperation to design which, considering how UA has a Support track likely is what second and third years do--pair up with people in the support course to create their more advanced equipment together as an act of both cooperation and networking, likely with someone from the Management course to make sure the designs are marketable. But that makes it even crazier that the first version of Bakugou's costume, which is essentially a prototype based off of the concept design submitted by the hero student, should have powerful specialized support equipment that would have taken a lot of time and a conscious decision to include for a hero student the designer hadn't even met--I'm just saying it feels like a mix-up that should've happened later in the year when stuff is being added and upgraded to the hero costumes and something that dangerous that could've more easily slipped by.
And expecting Bakugou, a teenager, to just... know how to use such dangerous support equipment safely without practice, let alone responsibly, is fucking insane. For sure Bakugou was in the wrong for multiple reasons; he showed no restraint and acted against his teacher's orders during a live combat exercise, he was aiming to hurt, maybe even kill Izuku rather than stay within the parameters of the exercise, and we know that Bakugou knew how dangerous his gauntlets were--but just as easily a different student given that sort of equipment without training could have killed someone on accident because they didn't realize how outright lethal their cool costume idea was. Even if Bakugou can use his quirk safely and with restraint, that took practice, practice he hadn't had with his gauntlets and should've had before using them outside a controlled environment. If there's a lawsuit happening from the Iidas about Tenya's injuries, the first on the chopping block should be whoever the fuck gave that sort of untested, destructive support gear to a goddamn first year.
Also did you know in canon that support gear is often inaccessible to the average civilian because it's so tightly regulated and tied to the hero industry even when it could help with disabilities both mundane and quirk-based? That's how absurd Bakugou having those gauntlets is.
I also wanted to say your take on Aizawa and his bad teaching is very refreshing. I like him in canon well-enough--I like good teacher!Aizawa fanfic even better--but he's such a horrid teacher who seems to resent the fact that the teenagers in school to become heroes need like... to be taught how to be heroes and then keeps projecting his trauma onto them. Which might be interesting if the canon narrative didn't like to pretend his shitty teaching was brilliant somehow and that it's Izuku's fault for not trusting adults for help or struggling with his Quirk.
Firstly, thank you for enjoying the universe! I'm enjoying writing it!
Secondly! Flat out the approval of Bakugou's gauntlets (and honestly of some of the other 1-A costumes) raises a lot of questions about how much effort UA actually put into checking over the kids' stuff in general. Momo's costume is the only one we know of for sure had discussion around it, and that's because the earlier (skimpier) designs she wanted literally were violating a law. The gauntlets being approved was insane. If nothing else, you shouldn't be including something like that in a prototype costume because these kids are literally just starting out in their training. You shouldn't be assuming these kids know how to use anything equipment-wise, let alone something as specialized (and likely expensive to have made) as the gauntlets. But yeah whoever approves the costumes deserves a sharp smack upside the head, especially when you realize it's likely the same person who approved Hagakure's costume basically being just gloves and shoes since I don't think we're told until *Mirio* pops up more than halfway through the school year that the DNA costume thing is a thing, and that's the only real way they'd be able to do something for her.
Also, why doesn't UA shell out that the students who's Quirk don't 'go' with regular clothes [size changers, intangibility, invisibility, etc] can still at least have gym clothes that do the DNA cloth thing? Literally the very first interaction between Mirio and 1-A involves him *flashing* everyone. Are you really telling me they can't put the resources towards giving him a few pieces of gym clothes so that's not an issue!? He's most likely ended up naked on national TV on at least three occasions (the Sports Festivals). Why is this not deemed a problem!?
There's a reason after all I had the jab in FtE over Mirio finally being able to keep his pants on.
Aizawa is interesting to write in the Sticks and Stones universe, since also how other people are now viewing him is getting fun. For one thing, as will get revealed in an upcoming chapter, some people are starting to speculate that he had a different, unsaid reasoning for his stunt; namely that he was *trying* to get himself fired from UA with the expulsion stuff, but widely misguessed just how things would go.
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rhinozilla · 11 months
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Detroit: Become Family 2022 - Prompt 4: Remember
@dbh-found-family
“Sixty?”
“Yes.”
“…Sixty?”
“…Yes.”
“Christ.” Hank swore and took a step back, turning away and running a hand over his hair in disbelief.
Connor remained seated where he was at the kitchen table, watching Hank curiously. His arm was extended on the table: the skin program turned off up to the elbow and the primary panel inside his forearm open, exposing the intricate system of wires and circuitry that lay beneath, wrapped around his thirium lines and synthetic muscle belts and metal frame. The precautionary cloth beneath his arm had proven to be a good decision, as more than few dots of thirium had dribbled out of the opening during the maintenance process.
The technician at the DPD station had removed the bullet that had gone through Connor’s arm that afternoon during an arrest that had gone…understatedly awry. The suspect was in custody now, and no other officers had been harmed. Connor had been the only person in the altercation to receive any damage, which he considered to be the best case scenario. However, it had also churned up the old protocol in his software that he thought he had deleted.
The replacement protocol.
Prior to the revolution, when he was still the property of Cyberlife on loan to the DPD, it had been determined that if the RK800 sustained damage or experienced a malfunction, that model would be immediately replaced with the next model in the prototype’s line. He was to be the crown jewel of Cyberlife’s repertoire; he could not be less than perfect and could not be allowed to walk around damaged or defective when so many eyes were on him to be the masterpiece that Cyberlife was touting him to be.
It had already taken 50 predecessor prototypes to get RK800-51 ready for the field. It was fortunate that he had not sustained any damage or malfunctions severe enough for Cyberlife to deem him deficient and in need of replacement. Fortunate yes but…even the damage that he HAD sustained had been rapidly repaired by either his own internal repair program or by Cyberlife technicians within hours of it happening.
Now Cyberlife was gone, and his internal repair program had its limits. And he had been shot through the arm today.
“Which one did I kill in that basement?” Hank asked, having stepped away from the kitchen table where Connor had been replacing the bandaging around his arm.
Hank had actually taken over the first aid aspect of this task, but he was now exhibiting clear signs of distress at what Connor had thought was a fairly obvious statement of fact.
He was replaceable. He was not unique. He was disposable. He was one of sixty models identical to himself, from outward appearance to internal mechanisms all the way down to his coding.
“The RK800 that we encountered that night was number 60,” he replied, pulling his eyes away from Hank and back to his arm, resuming the cleaning and bandaging task in front of him.
Hank breathed once. Twice.
“And you’re 51…So what happened to 52 through 59?”
Connor hesitated. “Cyberlife’s actions became very volatile in those final days during the revolution. I…assume…they had all other models in my series destroyed.”
“Jesus,” Hank hissed through his teeth. “Killed before they even had a chance to live…”
“They were never alive, Hank,” Connor said, carefully pressing his wires back into place before closing the panel on his arm. “They were empty shells, never activated, and would have become me if I was to need a new body.”
Which was…true, he supposed. That was the truth that Cyberlife had programmed into him.
“Should I have become incapacitated, my memories would be uploaded into the next model in the series, with the expectation that some data would be lost in the transference, and then I would have carried on the mission like normal.”
“Like normal…like fucking normal?” Hank’s face was reddening.
Connor could inwardly admit that it was…unnerving if he thought on the process long enough, but…it was the only process that he had ever known. You fail, you are replaced. You are still you, but hopefully better. If you fail again, you will again be replaced.
If the other models in the RK800 series were never activated, if they were never alive…then they were all Connor, all just vessels waiting for his memory upload. If they were…each themselves alive…as unique and free thinking and capable of differing opinions as Connor himself was, as all other androids were deviating to become…then Cyberlife had in effect murdered 59 of his…brothers?
“So…you would remember dying?” Hank blurted.
Connor wiped some residual thirium off of his arm, slowly looking up to meet Hank’s eyes in silent question.
Hank stood behind one of the kitchen chairs, wrapping his hands around the back of it. “Say you had been killed during our mission together. If you’d tried to go after that deviant across the highway and gotten obliterated by a car. Or I hadn’t found you at Stratford Tower before you got your…thingy…back in your chest before you shut down. If…If I had shot you in the park that night…Would those memories have been uploaded to the new you? Would you remember dying?”
Connor eyed him. “In theory…yes.” He straightened up, feeling an edge of defensiveness creeping through his shoulders. “I was designed to be continuously improving. If I failed in a previous body, then those memories would have been invaluable to studying my errors, analyzing my mistakes, and preventing their recurrence.”
Hank looked horrified at that, and Connor looked away from him, down to his arm again. He watched his fingers curl and uncurl from a loose fist. Everything felt properly calibrated and on the mend, and he resumed the skin program on his arm, watching the plastic disappear beneath a smooth projection of hologram flesh.
True, he would have remembered dying, and that would have been…unpleasant. But given that he had not been destroyed in any of those hypothetical—but very possible—ways, he was discovering an unexpected insight.
He hadn’t been obliterated by a car because Hank had nearly physically tried to restrain him from pursuing that deviant.
He had reinserted his thirium pump regulator in time to prevent shutdown at Stratford Tower and in time to neutralize the deviant before he could do more damage, but the first memory he remembered of that incident was Hank seeing the tears in his shirt and the blue blood staining his chest and the lieutenant frantically asking if he was hurt, if he needed assistance, if he was okay.
Hank had not shot him in the park that night, though Connor was sure that had been entirely contingent on the answers that Connor had provided to his questions. He didn’t want to preconstruct a set of circumstances where he would have been killed that night by his friend, only to meet him again the next day as a new Connor…prepared to resume the mission with minimal disruption.
He preferred to remember the worry on Hank’s face, the concern, the care. Connor had never had anyone look at him in such a way. Even today, despite this being a minor injury for an android of his caliber, Hank had hovered and fretted over Connor’s condition with a fervor that, while ultimately unnecessary, was deeply moving and appreciated by Connor.
In the reality where he had been disposable and easily replaced, it had been a waste of time and effort for anyone to be concerned over his wellbeing.
This new reality…while terrifying in the mortality that he was now burdened with…allowed for the time and effort of someone to care and worry about him…But it still surprised him that someone would.
The kitchen chair legs dragged across the floor, jogging Connor out of his thoughts. Hank was pulling the chair around the table, before sinking down onto it and leveling Connor with a hard stare. Connor held the stare, resisting the urge to squirm under it. Hank’s eyes bored into him for a beat longer, and then he was reaching across the table and resting his hand over the newly replaced panels along Connor’s forearm.
“That explains your lack of self preservation,” Hank said dryly, clearing his throat and patting Connor’s arm lightly. “But I need you to get it through your head that you’re not replaceable, kid. Never have been. Never will be. Not to me, all right?”
Connor frowned slightly. “It would have still been me, if I had been replaced—”
Hank shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t have been. Because if that’s true, then that number 60 son of a bitch was you, and I killed that you to protect this you,” he poked Connor’s arm, “and that you about shot me in the head while this you fought to stop him…My brain can’t handle that. He was him, and you are you, and all those others…they were them. Remember that.”
Connor opened his mouth to argue, found that he didn’t have a real counter argument that Hank would appreciate, and closed his mouth, letting the horrifying implications of that kind of mass murder settle low in his core.
He might have had brothers. Siblings. He might have had a family, if Cyberlife hadn’t destroyed them all. Now they were all gone…and he remained.
“How’s your arm feeling?” Hank asked, visually inspecting the damage site.
“Mending,” Connor replied quietly, flexing his hand again. “All functions should be fully restored tomorrow, and I can return to duty—”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” Hank snorted, kicking back in his chair. “You got shot today—”
“And I got better.”
“And you are going to take at least a few days to get over that, whether you think you need it or not, before you go gallivanting back into the line of fire.”
“I do not…gallivant.”
Hank laughed at that, standing up and clapping Connor on the shoulder. “Take it easy for a few days anyway. You’ve earned that. In the meantime, looks like you lost some more blood there. You need a top off? Got some thirium in the fridge.” He offered, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I know you prefer it chilled.”
Connor couldn’t help a small smile at that. “Yes, I…do require some additional thirium.”
Hank bobbed his head, meandering over to the fridge. “Coming right up, son.”
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orthodoxadventure · 5 days
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1st Sunday of Great Lent: Sunday of Orthodoxy
Commemorated on March 24
We venerate Your most pure image, O Good One, and ask forgiveness of our transgressions, O Christ God. Of Your own will You were pleased to ascend the Cross in the flesh to deliver Your creatures from bondage to the enemy. Therefore with thanksgiving we cry aloud to You: You have filled all with joy, O our Savior, by coming to save the world.
The first Sunday of Great Lent is called the Sunday of Orthodoxy because it commemorates the restoration of the Holy Icons and the triumph of the Orthodox Faith against the terrible heresy of the Iconoclasts, i.e. those heretics who refused to honor the Holy Icons. For more than a hundred years the Church was disturbed by the evil doctrine of iconoclasm.
The first Emperor to persecute the Church was Leo the Isaurian, and the last was Theophilos, the spouse of Saint Theodora (February 11), who reigned after her husband's death and re-established Orthodoxy in the time of Patriarch Methodios (June 14). Empress Theodora proclaimed publicly that we do not kiss the Icons as a sign of worship, nor do we honor them as "gods," but as images of their prototypes.
In the year 843, on the first Sunday of the Fast, Saint Theodora and her son, Emperor Michael, venerated the Holy Icons together with the clergy and the people. Since that time this event has been commemorated every year, because it was definitively determined that we do not worship the Icons, but we honor and glorify all the Saints who are depicted on them. We worship only the Triune God: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and no one else, neither a Saint, nor an Angel.
Originally, the Holy Prophets Moses, Aaron, and Samuel were commemorated on this Sunday. The Alleluia verses appointed for today’s Liturgy reflect this older usage.
[Text from OCA]
No one could describe the Word of the Father; but when He took flesh from you, O Theotokos, He accepted to be described, and restored the fallen image to its former state by uniting it to divine beauty. We confess and proclaim our salvation in word and images.
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myx-o-lydian · 24 days
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Newborn: A Quick Ultrakill Fanfic to Stop the Noise in my Brain :3
Buzzing. Flashes of color. Hunger.
Sensation begin to flood the newborn mind as the fuel reservoirs begin to fill- circuits sparking and mechanics whirring into action, metal body being given its first taste of life.
Blood of Christ. Cup of Salvation.
The pouches under its metal skin reach full capacity from the stream of red nectar, jolting it into some form of ecstatic bliss. This is the ideal. This is… life? It reels its head back, disconnecting the flow tubes. Its mechanical heart begins to beat.
“It’s working. It’s functional. I can’t believe this.”
The blood begins to burn. Converted into electric, pulsing power. It can feel. It feels... good.
But the reservoirs are being drained- and something else is beginning to burn.
“This could end the war. Finally.”
Somewhere deep inside, hatred begins to flow. No. It needs more fuel. It needs life. It doesn’t think, only craves.
Animalistic rage floods its mind. It NEEDS MORE.
“This… could fix everything.”
It can see now. It can sense more power. Flowing on to the ground. Draining from the tubes it disconnected. In the white sacks of fuel outside the glass. Warm. Tempting. Moving.
But the restraints. It tenses. It bends. It wants.
It has no voice but somehow it must scream.
“God, man. Look how it’s moving. It’s like an animal. Are we sure this thing is what we’re looking for?”
Need. Want. Crave. The reservoirs are empty. It’s beginning to shut down. Desperately it rattles against the shackles holding it down. More fuel. More life. But it can’t. Even the cool, dull fuel on the ground seems to taunt it. So close. So far. It’s beginning to shut down.
“Trust me. I know this blood-fuel stuff is freaky- but it’s better than what’s been developed in the past. Frankly, anyone who comes up against this thing should be thanking us- it’ll be quick and painless.”
Somehow, it growls. A mechanical revving in itself as its body ceases to function again. Newborn mind silenced. A mere object. But not forever.
“Jeez. Well, we’ve still got room to prototype, and I’m sure we could get something better. Remember, this is just version one.”
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inmarbleimmobility · 3 months
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1.1.3 Good Bishop - Difficult Diocese
augh two posts in one day because I was too busy doing my Actual Job last night to do my Fun Homework :(
I love this chapter!!! Jesus!Myriel is best Myriel. imagining all 5'5" or whatever of "his highness" rolling up on a donkey kills me every time.
in the continuing trend of "Alex wants more bishop fic," I really want Myriel And His Gals Go On A Road Trip now.
this entire chapter feels like Hugo whacking me upside the head with a hardcover brick and going "see!!! this is what Jesus meant!!!! Myriel is the only one who Gets It!!!!" and you know what? he's right. I'll let it pass.
"he preached less than he talked" because Myriel Getting It means he understands you don't change minds by literally preaching to them, you change minds by meeting people where they're at and talking to them person to person - in their dialect, using examples they understand, suggesting changes that are both actionable and beneficial for all. (as a side note, the only priest in my young Catholic life that did this was also the one that nearly convinced angsty teen Alex that maybe #NotAllCatholics, so. rip Monseigneur Bienvenu you would've loved Fr Alvaro.) not sure if I can think of another example off the top of my head of Hugo emphasizing this approach again - les amis are somewhat implied to have done this, but we don't see much of it on page; Enjolras in particular is... not exactly going to succeed at the Just Some Guy method, and Combeferre almost scares Marius away forever with his sick burn, so. I'll keep an eye out for it though!
again in his parables advice Myriel is emphasizing those Big Three - helping ensure men benefit from their own labor, providing for women, and free universal education. (and, as others have pointed out, education simply to combat ignorance, not to further an agenda!)
there's also been some discussion today about Myriel describing Queyras as "a little republic" and I've been thinking about it for hours. What Does It Mean, Hugo!!!
also Thinking about how someone mentioned how the "law" in Queyras is One Good Mayor and how that foreshadows Madeleine, as if Myriel somehow silently passed that specific example on to Valjean. Interesting too that he specifically cites the lack of judge or constable - Hugo has Lots still to say about how the Law and its arbiters and enforcers help maintain the systems that oppress people like Valjean, and here he's suggesting for the first time that good people being in power (or people in power being good, which I don't think is quite the same?) does more good than the law. Is Queyras like a little prototype Montreuil-sur-Mer? Is M-sur-M a little republic? Is this what you meant all along, Hugo?!
and then, just in case you didn't get it before, Hugo makes sure to tell you Myriel has "the very eloquence of Christ". the way he's going on I'm a little surprised he doesn't have anyone wash Myriel's feet.
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