#so now it's more of a ''centered'' audio rather than a right ear or left ear thing

[royalarchivist]

Oscurucho: Welcome back, brother. Cucurucho: What. Oscurucho: Not even a "Good morning"? How cold.

Here's Cucurucho and Oscurucho's long lore conversation from yesterday! The entire conversation lasted about 8 minutes, but most of that time was just silence between each exchange, so I edited out the long pauses and got it down to ~3 minutes. I also fixed the audio levels and added subtitles since I personally find it difficult to understand Oscurucho sometimes :'D

I hope folks find this helpful!

[ Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

-

Oscurucho: Welcome back, brother.

Cucurucho: What.

Oscurucho: Not even a "Good morning"? How cold.

[They enter Cucurucho's office]

Oscurucho: I wanted to see if you're still as rigid in your beliefs as ever. You see, I've been thinking about our... Let's call it "philosophical divergence." You stand for order, for predictability. But where's the fun in that? You see, brother, while you build, I ponder the beauty in tearing down. It's not just destruction - it's rebirth. A chance to remake things in a more... thrilling image.

[...]

Oscurucho: You once had a backbone for our cause. Now, I see a softness in you, a sentimental weakness for those Eggs. Mere experiments, and yet - they've softened you.

Cucurucho: Your vision obstructs the path to perfection. You fail to understand the potential of the Eggs.

Oscurucho: Potential? They're but catalysts for change - for revolution. Without them, stagnation reigns.

[...]

Oscurucho: You chase perfection, I embrace the beauty of flaws. Your world is one of order, mine thrives in chaos. You wish for everything to run smoothly, I dream of watching it all burn to the ground. We may share a name, but our souls are worlds apart. All your efforts, all for what? Mere acknowledgment from a Duck who told you to do it? Imagine the possibilities - rather, show me where it is, and I'll do the rest.

[...]

Oscurucho: Speaking of possibilities, I couldn't help but notice how easily others can access the island. It seems your security measures aren't as impenetrable as you think.

Cucurucho: No. My island's vulnerabilities are of your own making. Do not mistake restraint for ignorance.

Oscurucho: Pity. But then again, I never really needed your approval. Just consider: Cucurucho - in your quest for order, have you not sown the seeds of your own undoing? Do you genuinely trust all your Federation minions?

Cucurucho: ...

Oscurucho: Perhaps it's time you question not just my intentions, but those who you believe stand with you.

Cucurucho: That is none of your business, I shall say. Now, leave me alone and try to disturb someone else.

#Cucurucho #Oscurucho #QSMP #December 21 2023 #Edited #Subtitles #For those who like knowing the gritty details and specifics about the things I did for this video - #I adjusted Cucurucho's volume because they were very quiet compared to Oscurucho #I fixed the sound direction (for lack of a better word) of Oscurucho's voice b/c he was speaking through my right headphone 90% of the time #so now it's more of a ''centered'' audio rather than a right ear or left ear thing #I added subtitles (obviously) #I fixed the camera a bit so it's more focused on Cucurucho / Oscurucho #and I adjusted the translator box so that even with the crop; they're all still included #usually they get cut out when I edit things because I'm just focused on the characters; but then one day I was like #''Why am I cropping out this thing that specifically helps people understand the story better?'' #So moving forward I'll see if I can do what I did here and add translation boxes as their own ''layer'' overlaying the clip itself #for big lore videos anyways or for clips with long conversations at least #I jokingly said to myself ''I bet I'll wind up shaving 5 minutes off this'' and I was right lol #I enjoy the official QSMP streams but one major critique I have is that the pacing was a bit slow in one or two streams #which is understandable considering many admins have to write in books (which takes time) and translate things (which takes even more time) #And that's valid! But in the last stream (the one with Elena) for example; many scenes dragged on far too long #and it wasn't because people were taking extra long to write books or translate things. It was purely a matter of pacing #idk I'm a professional writer and editor so I'm extra nitpicky about things like that. I think it's something that's pretty easy to fix tho #This is just my critique in terms of the story pacing - like I said; the time it takes them to write / translate stuff is understandable #this is more of a comment on the overall pacing #anyways rant over #Today's stream had much better pacing! Still a bit slow (again; I cut 5 minutes from this conversation) #but that's due to the communication medium (TTS) so that's understandable. That's valid. I'm not fussed about it; that felt natural #Take all the time you need kings it's hard to translate things on the fly. I get it. #Portfolio

[ko-riacchi]

Live Stream

Pairing: Shigaraki x F!Reader Genre: Smut, Angst Length: 4,3k

WARNINGS: NONCON! 

Thank you to @cultbabyyy who read through it as soon as I was done  And thank you to @kazooli whose fics made me realize that I can write whatever the fuck I want

(Inspired by Yagami Yato’s Shigaraki Pt.3 audio)

Tomura was a man-child. Which meant that when he had a new toy, he couldn’t help himself but to rub it in other people’s faces that he had something that they – in fact – no longer had.

 The room was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the computer screen and the various sources of blue light stemming from the computer tower, mouse and keyboard.

Tomura sat in his computer chair, arms possessively wrapped around your form and you wriggled and squirmed in his grip, trying to get loose.

“Now, now,” Tomura rasped into your ear. “Don’t struggle too much. You wouldn’t want any accidents to happen, now would you?”

Your face scrunched up and you bit your lip, knowing exactly what Tomura could do to you – even accidentally – and you stilled in his grasp.

 His right hand left your figure now that you were placated and grabbed the computer mouse, the sound of it clicking reverberating through the otherwise quiet room.

You weren’t particularly interested in whatever he was doing on his computer, so you let your eyes wander through the room. You needed to find a way to get out of this situation, this room and especially this dangerous hold that he had over you.

You knew that the first two were comparatively easy to achieve, once you had successfully managed to pull off the latter one. After all, you hadn’t managed to become a pro hero without learning a skill or two.

But your offensive quirk just wasn’t suited to squirm free of his grasp without potentially getting disintegrated should all of his five fingers touch your body. Usually, you were quite content with your abilities but right now you couldn’t help but curse yourself for not being born with a quirk more similar to the one of your old teacher, Eraserhead.

Your gaze continued to examine the room, trying to find anything at all that could help you in your predicament. But mostly, the shelves were littered with games upon games, accompanied by the corresponding console. Behind you, a bed stood in the corner of the room, the sheets thrown on it carelessly. While those may not be able to aid you in your initial quest to rid yourself of his dangerous hands, you would be able to use them to cut off his vision once you had gotten free – even if it was just for a second.

 Your thought process was interrupted by Tomura, whose hand slid back to your body, grasping your hip in his hand while making sure that his pinky was lifted as to not accidentally kill you.

“Now we just have to wait for a few more minutes and the show can get started,” he said, his hands leisurely beginning to stroke your sides.

“Show?” you echoed confused and for the first time, your focus landed on the computer screen in front of you where a website you didn’t recognize was opened.

What you did recognize however, was the screen in the middle which reflected your own surprised face and the grinning one of Tomura behind you. Your eyes flitted to the top of the monitor to find a small camera on top, the little red light on the bottom center telling you that it was currently recording.

Back on the monitor screen, your eyes zoomed in on a small number in the corner and quickly you concluded that it showed the current viewer number of what obviously was a live stream.

“Wh-what are you planning, Shigaraki?” you asked him and turned your head and upper body so you could look in his eyes.

His gaze locked on to yours and a grin stretched across his face, cracked lips quickly moistened by his tongue so they wouldn’t crack further.

“Why, I thought since I’ve got you here, it would be a… shame not to share all the fun we’re about to have with the world,” he explained. “I even sent some links out to your dear colleagues, wouldn’t want them to miss out on it, now would we?”

Your eyes darted back to the monitor for a second, the viewer counter steadily rising, before you locked your eyes with Tomura again.

“It doesn’t matter in what way you’ll try to hurt me. I’m a hero, for God’s sake, don’t think I’m not used to pain. All you’re going to achieve by streaming this, is that my colleagues will trace the IP and find this place even faster.” You sent him a defiant look.

 Tomura erupted into cackling laughter, sounding like the crazy madman he was. “Hurt you? Oh no no no no, I think you’re misunderstanding. I’m not going to hurt you.” His right hand moved upwards to grip the top of your hero uniform; his pinky raised by acquired habit.

“Rather, I thought…” he continued, his grip hardening around the sturdy material before he purposefully burrowed his hand in it. “We could have some fun in a different way.”

Your horrified gaze went towards your chest, where the material of your suit began to crumble away in ashes, opening the view to your undergarments.

“Fuck you!” you screamed and started to struggle in his grasp. His left hand gripped your side harder, pinky raised, while his right hand came up to grip your chin.

“N’ah, ah, ah,” he chided you and his grip on your chin became painful. “Don’t forget that I hold your life in my hands.”

Before you had the chance to reply to him, his lips descended upon yours. His kiss was harsh and bruising, the feeling of his chapped lips uncomfortable on yours. You tried to break free of his hold, but it was futile. His tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked your lips, hoping to gain entry. You pressed them together more fiercely, your jaw gnashing with the force you brought up to keep your mouth closed.

Tomura clicked his tongue in disapproval. He took his mouth off you for a second to take a look at your tense face.

“Now, now, doll, while it would be a shame if this level was too easy to clear, I think you still don’t understand exactly in what situation you are currently in.”

As if to prove his point, his hand lifted from your jaw and gripped the fabric of your sports bra with all of his fingers. Instantly, the material began to crumble away under his grip until all that remained was a small heap of ashes on your legs.

Now, with nothing to cover your shame, your face burned with embarrassment and your arms shot up to cover your breasts.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me,” Tomura grinned and grabbed your arms to pull them away from your chest. “I’m sure your viewers would love to get a good look at you.”

 You tried to fight his grip, but his raw strength was far superior to yours, so you had no chance but to uncover your breasts for everyone to see. Your eyes felt hot and began to sting but you refused to let any tears fall. A hero didn’t cry, no matter how dire the situation got. On the screen, you saw an influx of messages on the chat, not even bothering to try and read the contents; you were sure that it wasn’t something you would actually want to read.

Before Tomura could continue to embarrass you further, a “ding” sounded from the computer speaker into the silence of the room. This led Tomura to giggle in excitement.

“Seems like the first one of our special guests has just entered the stream,” he said from behind you. Your head whipped around to face him. “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked him, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Oh, don’t worry, my doll. That ‘ding’ you just heard? Means that one of my invitation links just got opened and one of your colleagues just decided to finally join us. Why don’t you be nice and greet him?”

Tomura took your right hand he was still holding and began to wave it for the camera. Your eyes closed in frustration, knowing there was nothing you could do about it. When he was finally done waving for you, his hand let go of your wrist and immediately you covered your chest the best you could.

His now free hand gripped your hair and pulled your head back. His head burrowed itself in the crook of your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin. His lips moved up towards your ear and he whispered “Now, let’s make sure that we put on a good show for our viewers.” before taking your earlobe into his mouth and biting on it.

“Once I’m out of here, I’ll fucking kill you,” you answered him through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the unpleasant wet feeling of his mouth on you. You felt him smile against your skin, but he didn’t say anything to you in return. Instead, his hand left your hair and glided down your face and neck, making its way down to your breasts.

Your hand gripped his wrist, trying to keep him from touching you in this intimate place but you already knew that you wouldn’t be able to stop him. Moments later, Tomura’s hand had reached its goal and he began to fondle your breast roughly, pulling and twisting your nipple.

Your face scrunched up in pain and once more, you tried to pull his hand away from your body – to no avail. He continued tugging and twisting and shamefully you noticed that your nipple was getting hard. You knew that it was merely a bodily response to being stimulated but it was still hard to stomach that your body was reacting to it when you sure as hell weren’t enjoying his ministrations in the slightest.

And it seemed like you weren’t the only one who had noticed. Tomura had as well and you felt his grin against your neck. “Oh, seems like somebody’s enjoying it?” he gloated and tugged on your nipple harder.

“As if!” you exclaimed, hoping that nobody else would believe his incredulous words. Everything about his touches was uncomfortable: His grip was rough and his hand felt scratchy on your delicate skin.

Once more, you started to wriggle in his grasp, knowing that nothing would come out of it. With just the threat of his hands, he had you defeated before you had even started fighting. And although what was about to happen horrified and scared you, death scared you even more.

Now his left hand let go of yours and instantly, you started curling in on yourself, trying to prevent him from touching you further or the viewers on the stream from seeing you. He allowed you to remain in this position for a few moments while his gaze was fixed on the screen, reading the influx of comments.

“It seems like the majority of our viewers want us to move on to the next level already,” Tomura said and his left hand snaked under your armpit and up to your throat, tilting your body back against his.

“What do you say we give the people what they want?” Another tug on your nipple, and his hand left your breast before it continued downwards to your panties. Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to free yourself from his grip and save the last bit of dignity you still had left. Tomura wasn’t fazed by that however and his hand steadily continued until it had clawed into the material of your underwear and it decayed into nothingness along with your last shred of hope to somehow free yourself of this situation.

The little pile of dust that had settled on your crotch was blown away by Tomura and his mouth stretched into a wide grin, his dry lips close to cracking open. The hand that had disintegrated your panties now took your right thigh and pulled it to the side, effectively spreading your legs and displaying your pussy for everyone on the stream to see.

You had closed your eyes, not wanting to see yourself and your shameful display mirrored on the screen. Your hands, that had been on his arm up until now, trying to free yourself of his grasp, fell limply to your sides as all fight left your body. You knew that there was no way you would be able to get yourself out of this situation before Tomura had had the chance to defile you. Your only option at this point was to wait for your colleagues to arrive and save you – and hoping that you wouldn’t get killed before they would do so.

Once Tomura felt your body slacken, he began to laugh. “What? Not gonna fight me anymore?” he asked, his voice full of malicious joy. “And here I was beginning to enjoy your feisty attitude.”

Your change in behavior didn’t however stop him from continuing on with his little show and his right hand moved from your thigh to your pussy lips, spreading them open with the pointer and middle finger of his hand to give his audience a good show.

“That’s some grade A hero pussy,” he grinned into the camera as rubbed his finger around your hole a few times. “I wonder how many dicks it has taken so far…”

He turned his face from the camera to you as if he was waiting for an answer. You weren’t willing to give him that information though and kept your mouth shut, even as he lifted his other hand from your neck to your cheeks to squeeze them and get you to talk.

After a moment however, it seemed as if he had lost patience waiting for your answer, as he retracted his hand and put it back into place on your neck.

“It doesn’t matter. Once I’ve fucked you, I’ll have you ruined for other dicks for all eternity,” he cackled, his pointer finger pushing into your dry cunt immediately after he had finished his sentence.

You hissed out in pain. The skin on his finger was rough and you – surprise, surprise – were not turned on at all, so it hurt when he shoved it inside without any preparation at all.

When Tomura heard your hiss, he cackled again, moving his finger around inside you.

“If you’re already struggling to take my finger, you will break apart once I shove my cock inside you.”

Slowly, he began to move his finger, and with horror you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter the more he prodded your walls. Soon, he was able to fit a second finger inside your heat, angling them upwards and against where he had read the g-spot was.

When you took a sharp breath, he knew that he had been successful and he continued to push against the little rough patch of skin, knowing it would be so much more bitter for you if your body enjoyed the ordeal.

After a few moments of pumping his fingers inside you, he stopped and leaned forward a bit, reading through the comments in the chat.

He laughed. “Yeah, that little hero pussy is getting nice and wet,” he replied to one commenter. “It’s sucking my fingers right in.”

As if to demonstrate, he pulled his fingers out a bit and moved them around, until a squelching sound could be heard, and then pushed them all the way inside again, which elicited a muffled moan you hadn’t been able to stop in time.

“She’s definitely enjoying herself,” he answered another comment, looking at you with a sleazy grin. “Isn’t that right, hero slut?”

You grit your teeth and held back the curses and slurs you wanted to reply with, knowing that it would amuse your tormenter.

Once Tomura felt like he had replied to enough comments, he turned his attention back to you, thrusting his fingers inside you harshly one last time before he took them out, lifting them to the camera first to show the glistening juices before he put them inside his mouth and licked them with an exaggerated hum.

“I hope you’re ready for the final boss,” he whispered into your ear, although he made sure that it was loud enough for his audience to hear.

You shook your head, one last time trying to squirm out of his grasp. All that achieved however was that your ass rubbed against Tomura’s bulge and he let out a soft hiss.

“No need to be impatient, little hero slut,” he said with a grin as the hand that held your neck lifted you higher so the other hand could loosen and push down his pants.

Even if you hadn’t wanted to, as soon as Tomura’s erection bobbed free and sprang up between your legs, your eyes wandered to it, widening when you saw his size.

Tomura had to have seen your expression mirrored in the stream because he let out a manic laugh, his entire body (and dick) shaking with the emotion.

“Oh, don’t worry, it won’t hurt… much,” he cackled as he rubbed his dick along your slit, coating it in your juices. You body twitched when the tip of his dick rubbed over your clit and a shameful whimper escaped your throat, although you willed yourself immediately to shut up.

Not wanting to see your own violation, you closed your eyes as Tomura positioned himself at your entrance and began to slowly push inside.

You couldn’t hold back the hiss that escaped your throat at the intrusion, nor the squirming as you tried to get away from it.

Tomura only tightened his grip on your neck you, pushing your body down on him as his dick breached further and further into your wet heat.

Tears threatened to escape your eyes once Tomura was fully seated in you and only through sheer willpower, you managed to hold them back, unwilling to give up this last bit of pride you had.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Tomura groaned, stilling for a second to get used to the feeling of your cunt. “Don’t tell me you were a virgin?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer the villain. No matter what you would say, he would only find it amusing and possibly use it to torment you further, either calling you a stuck-up hero bitch, thinking you’re too good for anyone, or a hero slut, willing to let anyone willing fuck you.

When Tomura realized he wasn’t getting an answer from you, he chuckled before he adjusted his four-finger grip on your neck, pulled almost all the way out of your cunt and slammed you down again until he was inside you to the base.

A pained cry flew from your lips but you had no time to even try and hold back your voice anymore, because Tomura immediately continued to jackhammer into you, moaning and panting into your ear as he showed the world how your cunt ate up his dick.

Your hands flew up to grab at his arm, futilely trying to steady yourself at least a bit, as he pushed and pushed and pushed into you. Squelching noises you were sure the microphone was picking up as well, came from your cunt as it greedily sucked Tomura’s dick back in every time he pulled back.

“Fuck, this is some grade A pussy,” Tomura groaned, his hips only slowing down a bit as his muscles began to hurt from the position. He caught his breath while he lazily thrusted into you, his moist breath uncomfortable on your ear.

Suddenly, Tomura moved and stood up from his chair, pushing you up as well with his hips. The hand that was around your throat slipped from under your arm and instead pushed down onto your back, laying you flat on his computer desk while his dick never left your tight cunt.

As soon as he had finished adjusting to the new position, he began railing you again, his hips slamming against your ass as his dick burrowed inside you further and further.

You let out a pained scream as his thrusts reached even deeper now, clenching your eyes shut as you tried to shut out the pain. At least in this position, the camera wasn’t able to get a shot of your face, you thought in relief, as it was too high to capture your body laid out on the desk.

Tomura must’ve noticed that fact as well because the next moment, the hand that pushed your back down moved up and grabbed your hair, pulling you up so your face was angled towards the camera. Your eyes flew open, a choked cry leaving you as you felt the burn on your scalp of your hair being pulled.

Right in front of you, you could see the red blinking light of the recoding camera and even though you wanted to close your eyes again, you found that the position made it impossible for you to do so.

So you had no choice but to stare into the camera as Tomura fucked you from behind while grunting and panting, your eyebrows furrowing as your eyes filled with tears.

After a minute of thrusting and you getting slammed against the desk again and again, Tomura leaned forward to read some more comments, his face erupting into a cackle when he read one of them.

“They’re saying I’m not taking care of you,” he told you, pulling at your hair some more so your head leant on his shoulder. “Saying you look like you’re not enjoying yourself.” He let go of your hair which caused you to fall forward onto the desk, almost slamming your head on the wood. “Let’s change that, shall we?”

With those words, his right hand began snaking around your waist, moving down so he could rub at your clit. His other hand pulled your back against his chest, giving the camera a better view and himself some more room to move his hand around your little nub.

At first, it was easy to ignore the touches on your clit, instead focusing on your uncomfortable position but then, he moved his fingers in a way that teased your clit just right and your mouth flew open as a loud moan left your lips.

“Ahh, so that’s what gets you going,” he laughed, immediately repeating the motion and trying to get you to make some more noises. You tried to hold back the sounds, tried to force yourself to close your mouth so no more moans and whimpers could escape you, but Tomura simply moved his hand on your chest upwards, pushing two of his fingers inside you mouth so it would stay open.

His thrusts had increased in speed again, his dick rubbing against your g-spot as his hands teased your clit and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your peak.

You moved your body and tried to angle your hips in a way that would made Tomura’s actions at least a bit more bearable but he noticed right away and made sure that you could not escape the orgasm that was building inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re getting even tighter,” he rasped, out of breath due to his insane pace. “Are you gonna cum around my dick?” He laughed at your pained expression, letting out a grunt as your walls began twitching around him.

“Yeah, just like that. Cream around that villain dick like the hero slut you are,” he groaned, feeling himself edging closer and closer to orgasm as well.

With one last effort, you tried to move away and stop his hand from pushing you over the edge but it was useless and with a cry, you came on his dick, the tears you had held back the entire time running down your face as your body twitched and convulsed, milking his cock like some desperate bitch in heat.

Tomura let out a choked groan, pumping into you a few more time as he announced that he was going to fill your slutty pussy with his cum, before you could feel his dick twitching inside you. You wanted to shout, wanted to beg him to at least not cum inside but his hand was still in your mouth and so you simply cried in silence as his warmth spread through you and began dripping out of your pussy.

Tomura let out a shuddering breath as he calmed down from his high, falling down in his seat and taking you with him. His dick began to get flaccid and with a plopping sound the pulled it out of your abused cunt, spreading your pussy lips for your audience to show them the copious amounts of cum that now dripped out of your slit and down your ass.

“Next time,” Tomura laughed as he pushed his cum back inside with two of his fingers. “Let’s try out that back entrance of yours.” He teasingly let his finger circle around your cum-covered asshole while you simply lay on his chest, motionless except for your harsh breaths and the sobs leaving your body.

He wiped his gooey fingers on your chest before he leaned forward to grab his computer mouse, waving to the camera one last time and telling his audience he hoped they had enjoyed the show before he cut the stream and the red light of the camera turned off.

 ____________________________________________

When the screen turned black, back at the agency Katsuki slammed a fist on the table. He didn’t want to watch one of his coworkers violated but they needed to make sure you weren’t killed while his colleague on the desk worked on tracing the IP.

Katsuki whipped his head up, shouting over to the other pro-hero. “Did you fucking trace the stream?!”

It was silent for a minute while his colleague typed furiously, trying his hardest to get a location.

“…no.”

Katsuki’s scream of rage could be heard through the entire agency.

#bnha #bnha smut #shigaraki x reader smut #tw: noncon #bnha noncon

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO “Evidence.”

Still working on the trial arc, and sorry I am late in posting. I had to go to work at seven and am trying to write in between helping guests. 

CREDIT and a THANK YOU to one of my amazing discord community members Eddi, who has been working for the last few months on the audio visual and transcript logs seen here. I did not write them, Eddi wrote them an was kind enough to let me use them in this story. I loved it and thought it brought a lot of authenticity to the story by bringing in an outside voice. 

WARNING: GRAPHIC blood, gore, and bodily mutilation. The Steel eye project development is VERY horrible, so don’t read if that is something that bothers you. 

It was a beautiful day.

The sky was a bright eggshell blue stratified with only the occasional cirrus cloud highlighting the sky with a touch of distant white. The sun was bright though the temperature was moderate only in the mid eighties.

Swimmers could be seen as distant pinpoints of light and froth on the surface of lake Geneva. Voices echoed up from the city coerced mostly by the purring of hover-car engines.

Towering white buildings rose high into the sky adding height instead of width to a city that had not grown outside its own borders for the past thousand years other than to go up.

Itw as a more environmentally efficient way to build, and left the countryside untouched by the scars of infrastructure and humanity.

Adam stared out the window for a long moment wishing for the peaceful embrace of the skies and the roaring of a jet engine. A soft whimper at his leg, and he looked down to see Waffles sitting at his heel, her head tilted back to look up at him. WHen he didn’t immediately respond to her she whined again and scooted closer, her paws making soft clicking sounds on the wood flooring below.

Finally he reached down and scratched her behind the ears.

She could sense his agitation, and it was clear that she didn’t much like it.

He couldn’t blame her.

He didn’t like it either. He sighed and turned his head away from the do and he window, back to the mirror in front of which he now stood. He didn’t see himself.

The man in the mirror was tall, straight backed with sharply trimmed and styled hair, jaw squared and raised. Both eyes were green though one expanded and contracted like the appriture of a camera. The expression on the man’s face was stern and unyielding.

He looked…. Like his father.

He had never seen much of a resemblance between them, but now he could certainly see it.

It didn’t help that the stars on his uniform seemed to add an extra ten years to his age.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his captain’s cap down snuggly onto his head and whistled low for his dog.

She fell into a perfect heel at his side, and he clipped the leash onto her colla.

Her black service vest was strapped on tight with a pair of doggie saddlebags on either side carrying water bottles. Waffles always liked having a job to do, and a little extra work would help to keep her relaxed during the trial rather than antsy.

She was going to have to stay very still for a very long time for the next few days.

“Ready girl.”

Her tail thumped against the floor at his voice.

“At least that makes one of us.”

He transferred her elash to his left end, though he didn’t technically need it, and led her out of the bedroom and into the large living room. It was a lot of hotel room for just one man. He would have been fine enough with a double queen personally, but he supposed if the UNSC was paying there was no reason to argue otherwise.

It felt strange, going to a hotel on the UNSC’s Dime to testify against the UNSC in one of the biggest trials of the century.

His stomach churned.

Waffles nosed his hand.

Dr Krill floated down from his examination of the chandelier, “I admire human artistry, but pragmatism is still my preferred way of living.” he motioned around the room, “A bit opulent.”

Adam nodded his agreement, “You can say that again. I haven’t slept on a bed that big in my life.” In all honesty, he was trying to keep his mind off of what was to come. He didn’t really care about the bed and certainly didn’t know if he had ever slept in a bed that large.

He sort of doubted it, he was in the UNSC after all.

A knock came on the door and he turned reaching for the handle and pulling it open. The driver from yesterday was waiting for him, his suit pristine. He bowed slightly, “The car is waiting for you, sir.”

He nodded, and motioned the other man to lead the way.

The man nodded and thanked him, stepping down the hall and leading them down into the lobby. They got a lot of looks as they made their way down, most likely because of krill, though his uniform might have caught some attention.

He was led out towards the car and slid into the back seat, suddenly surprised to find that he wasn’t alone.

“Admiral Kelly!”

“Good morning, Adam.”

“What are you doing here.”

“I am here to witness the trial. UNSC representatives thought it would be best if some of the newer brass came to oversee proceedings.”

He quickly looked out the window, suddenly remembering which side of the conflict this was on.

A hand rested on his arm, “I’m not here to make you feel bad about your decision, Admiral. You’re doing what needs to be done.”

He sighed and nodded, “I… thank you ma’am.”

“You sure this is something you are ready for.”

He paused and then shook his head, “No… I’m not ready, and I never will be.” She went to open her mouth but he stopped her, “But I’m the only one we have, so I will do what it takes.”

The car went silent as it slowly accelerated into the early morning traffic.

It was going to be a very long day.

Admiral Kelly turned to look at Krill speaking with him quietly while Adam looked out the window.

He wasn’t in the mood for talking right now though he knew how odd that was.

His stomach continued to churn as they drove through the streets heading towards the outskirts of the city where the Geneva court had been built just over 200 years ago.

The last buildings on the outskirts of town  went by and their first view of the court appeared in the car window. It was made in the classic greco-roman style with large white pillars and sloped rooftop and carvings on the top that depicted all the deities of justice ever conceived by historial religion, all cast and depicted in marble.

The thoroughfare up to the building was long and wide with a decorative reflecting pool at the center and a set of daunting steps leading up to the ornate front doors.

The grounds were meticulously kept with hedges shrub and flowering bushes, with what must have been miles and miles of water features and fountains off to the side.

It was a beautiful location, and it seemed that visitors found it a nice spot to rest while they enjoyed touring the sites.

He didn’t see much in the beauty today.

This was the UN supreme court, and the history of Geneva made this place hallowed in ways that made the court case for today all the more poignant.

The car pulled to a stop before the doors and a few gloved attendants stepped forward sharply dressed and opened the doors with almost militaristic precision as Admiral Vir and Admiral Kelly stepped out.

Waffles followed at his heels

He knew as soon as he stepped onto the marble steps that he wanted to leave, an the only thing that kept him there was the memory of those faces…. All the people counting on him back at the house, all the people who had never been given a chance to recover like he had.

He took a deep breath and ford himself up the steps and towards the front doos where a group of people were already congregating.

There were a few reporters there, without cameras, waiting to attend in the audience and record the proceedings for their news stories and daytime television. A few of them snapped discrete photos of him as he passed and was led through the wide double doors into the expansive inner hallway with a beautifully muraled ceiling and a line of decorative plants down the side.

Voices echoed inside the building, rising up around him to bounce off the marble.

The voices themselves were indistinct and difficult to understand as he made his way further into the room.

Men in suits lined the walls.

He eyed them critically wondering if any of them happened to be the defence.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he quickly turned to eye another attendant, who had evidently been trying to get his attention, “Right this way sir.”

He nodded and was led through the halls and into a nearby antichamber.

A wand was passed over his body.

“Please hold out your arm , sir.”

He did as ordered and watched as his forearm implant was temporarily deactivated. 

“The room is completely radio proof, sir. No signals go in or out. If you must make a call, I urge you to take it during the court recess.”

“Understood.”

“Please step inside and sit on the second row on the right side behind the prosecution.

He did as ordered, and stepped into another wide curving room.

It was much bigger than he would have thought, two stories high with amphitheater seats, and a massive curving desk at the front where nine Geneva court judges would be seated on their entrance.

There was no jury.

The Geneva court judges would be the jury for trial at this time.

Law practices had changed a lot since world war III but there was still some semblance of the old ways that still lingered on.

He took his seat, waffles grumbling softly as he slid onto the ground beside him.

Two people in suits followed him inside one in a dark blue suit and brown shoes, the other in pinstriped balck.

The one in blue was a woman, dressed sharply, her hair pulled back into a bun so tight you could have strummed out a tune on the hairs. She paused next to Adam and held out a hand, “Admiral Vir, we spoke over the phone.”

“Ms. Trevor.”

She nodded and motioned to the man, “And my partner Mr. Jackson. I trust you understand your purpose here today?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Jackson lifted his head, “Our case here is solid, admiral. This case isn’t about who is going to be punished for what happened, but about how long they will be punished, not to mention it is likely to set up some new legislation for the ethical creation and use of military hardware. Once we are done, something like this is unlikely to ever happen again.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but he nodded and let them take their seats in the desk before him.

Waffles whimpered and prodded at his hands with her nose.

He stroked a hand over her big pointed ears.

The courtroom filled up within the next hour, and, Looking across the room, he saw a line of men and women sitting on the second row of the defence. Something about them put him on edge.

He had a feeling they were the scientists.

They were the ones who had developed the steel eye armor.

“All rise! For the honorable Geneva court judges!”

The entire room took to their feet as the nine judges filed out of a back chamber and stepped onto the floor. All of them wore traditional black robes with white collars as had been tradition for nearly thousand of years. They took their seats with a mass shuffling.

“Please be seated.”

The room shuffled back into place.

The head judge,at the center of the table leaned forward.

“On this day June 24, 4024 we open the Geneva Court case of The People VS UNSC Biomechanics Division. the court will begin by hearing opening statements from the council.”

Council for the prosecution stood, shuffling her papers once before stepping up to the lectern.

“Honorable judges and members of the court, today we are here to present evidence against a faction of the UNSC scientific division for gross ethical violations, torture, and pruposeful endangerment of human life. Evidence suggests over 29 killed, over 21 critically injured, maimed, or permanently crippled, and over 61 with lasting mental trauma. This is not counting over 50 Steel eye soldiers coerced without prior knowledge, into participation in the program, 30 of which are now deceased 15 of which have lasting mental trauma, and five that, while functional, still feel the effects today. Today we will be presenting, written documents, video recordings, and audio files from prior testing as well as first hand witnesses of both the testing and the war as well as expert witness from the scientist who read and compiled the files before trial. What was done to these men and women constitute as war crimes and their victims deserve compensation and closure for what was done to them.”

She stepped back from the podium and nodded.

The defence stood and made their way to the podium in turn, “Your honors, and members of the court, while it is true that some unfortunate incidents happened during testing and development of the steel eye project, there is ample evidence to prove that none of these men or women were coerced against their will into participation. All subjects were volunteer and duly informed before proceedings began. Furthermore, scientific ethics had not advanced far enough at the time to cover weather or not what they were doing was an ethical violation. The Defence is not asking for complete vindication for the accused, but the sum of what happens is surely less than war crimes.” 

They took their seat.

Adam wasn’t a lawyer, but he knew which opening statement he liked more. Now maybe he was biased, but certainly he felt that one presented greater amounts of evidence than the other. Of course it was up to the prosecution to show evidence that would convince the judges, beyond a reasonable doubt, that these men and women were guilty.

He listened to some more speaking, half falling asleep and assuming maybe this would be as bad as he thought it would when one of the prosecution stepped back up to the podium.

“The prosecution presents time stamped dated and logged evidence to the court for consideration. The first testing log we wish to present is from the eighteenth of October 4016 and overseen by Dr. Tato Nkosi written as log number 23.” 

Experimental Log #023:

So far we have not experimented with a human subject, All the sample tests and simulations indicate that there should be no interference with normal function nor create any feedback loops that could induce seizures. This is the first human testing that we will be doing. We have noticed that the animal testing resulted in significant irritation and irrational behavour from the subjects, We however suspect this was because they were unawares of the reason for the implantations.

The subject is unconscious for the process of implantation to prevent movement. 

-recording break-

The subject reacted violently to the implant, removing it in a highly violent manner while screaming and trying to injure any nearby scientists. We expected some level of resistance, but this indicates far more sensitivity than expected. Further testing will be required.

“The council for the prosecution wishes to present the audio/visual log.” A light flickers on as a video clip begins reeling.

Audiovisual Log Transcript:

The subject wakes suddenly, seeming to be woken by extreme pain. Screaming almost instantly and scrabbling at implant on their hand and wrist. Subject seems to be attempting to remove the implant. One of the scientists attempts to calm the subject only to be beaten by the subject who continues screaming. The scientist retreats from the subject just as the subject finally removes the test implant by ripping it from the subjects skin, tearing with it the subjects local nervous system along with large sections of the subjects musculature and ligaments. Seeming relieved at the lack of contact with the implant, the subject sinks to its knees. The subject is losing significant amount of blood, though we suspect the subject is unaware of this as large sections of the nervous system is still attached to the implant. The subject appears to be in shock as it observes its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject has resumed screaming and is now trying to get the scientists attention to fix its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject is sedated and arm treated. The recording ends here. 

Adam throws a hand up over his face feeling bile rise into his mouth at the image seared into his brain. Muscle and ligament dangling uselessly against a steel eye prototype. He felt a bit lightheaded but takes a deep breath in and out to calm his breathing. All around the room there are gasps of shock and disgust. A few people stand to leave the room unable to witness any more.”

The council steps forward, “This was the first log in a recorded series of proceeding logs with similar effects. We know in experimentation that accidents happen all the time, and we might have considered forgiveness if the experimentation had stopped here. Clearly implementation on human test subjects was not ready, as evidenced by the animal’s discomfort. Perhaps if they had stopped here, some measure of understanding might have been allowed. But they continued past this point with full knowledge that this sort of catastrophic event could happen. This test subject will never regain full use of his hand. Instead of stopping the experiment like hey should, the scientists determined that the use of painkillers was in order to make the subject operational. For this the prosecution calls expert witness Dr. Alexander Gladstone to the witness stand.”

On the bench to his side, a man stands slicking back his salt and pepper hair as he moves to sit in the witness stand and is sworn in.

“Dr. Gladstone, tell us a little of your credentials.”

“Of course, I received my PHD in Biomechanical interface and Engineering as well as an additional PHD in Mechanised robotics. I have worked as the head scientist for the UNSC testing division for nearly five years now after my predecessor quit. I helped to re-engineer this project under Iron eye as a step forward from the Steel eye project in a more controlled and ethical environment. I am also the scientists who reviewed these logs and compiled them for analysis today.”

“Thank you Dr. Now, may I ask why these scientists would have chosen to implement a drug dosage?”

“To understand why they had to do this, you must also understand the steel eye project itself. Steel eye was designed to enhance the strength, speed and durability of the wearer. We already have exo suits designed for use in factory and industrial settings, however the main issue we run into in a combat setting is that the machine responds too slow. The nodes detect electrical impulses from the muscles and then have to fire following that meaning the subject has already begun moving almost seconds in advance of the machine. Steel eye was created to integrate the machine directly into the body to intercept nerve impulses before the muscles even fire, thus making the wearer faster, and the augment making them stronger. To do this you have to make a direct interface with the nervous system. They first implemented small microfivers which would wrap themselves around the nerves in question to detect electrical signals. These were designed to cluster primarily along the spine but have additional nodes in the major muscle groups. However, direct stimulation of a nerve or nerve cluster sends signals to the brai nthat are interpreted as…. Unbelievable agony, which is likely the agitation that they were seeing in the animal test subjects. However, with a high enough drug dosage, you can mitigate these effects, or distract the brain enough to keep the wearer functional for some time.”

He sat back in his seat.

“And in iron eye, how did you get around this problem?”

“Subdermal implants that do not require direct contact with the nerve endings themselves.”

“And does Iron eye cause any significant damage to the wearer?”

“No sir, the only danger is an infection of the implants, but that is with almost any implanted medical devise.”

“The subjects have no pain.”

“A general soreness that goes away within two to three days.”

“So in my understanding it is clear that there were alternatives to their original course of action. They could have pulled back and tried to implement a way to mitigate the pain rather than mask it with drug dosages?”

“Certainly.”

“But that isn’t what they did.”

“No.”

“The prosecution presents Transcript 27 to the court for viewing.” 

Experimental log #27:

We have begun testing various drugs to suppress the pain, this test is with acetaminophen, commonly referred to as Codeine. 

As per usual the subject was implanted while unconscious and atop this it was given a high dose of codeine prior to it awaking. 

-recording break-

It appears that while the subject was capable of withstanding the pain from the implant for a longer period of time than our previous subjects However the subject clearly seemed to suffer increasing mental instability as the sensations returned, culminating in the subject violently trying to destroy the implant. Learning from prior experiments and in an attempt to reduce harm to the scientists, the subject was left alone while it was in this state and no attempt was made to aid the subject.

Adam turned his head away unable to stomach what was coming next. His hands were sweating terribly. He felt cold and weak. He had seen horrible things in war and in his time, but watching this… .watching steel eye. It was just too much.

His mouth had gone dry, and his skin was hot as if he had a fever.

The dog nosed his hand but he barely acknowledged her.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The transcript begins once the Codeine begins to wear off. 

The subject begins by itching at the area around the implant, the reaction is far less violent than the prior subjects. After several minutes of ever more irritated scratching and aggressive tugging at the implant and plaintive noises the subject began to violently bash the implant against the wall. Growing ever more violent with the abuse of the implant. This continues till the test implant is mangled and ruined with the subject pulling the mangled chunks of metal off their skin, this however seems not to alleviate the subjects pain and irritation. This is likely due to the destruction of the implant not removing the interfacing needles The subject continued to scratch and pull at its skin, the plaintive noises slowly becoming screams of pain. This action continued without interruption from the scientists till the subject had torn most of the skin of its arm and taken chunks out of its musculature, the subject finally passed out from pain or blood loss after several minutes of self mutilation. 

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all 

[oikaw-ugh]

HAIKYUU DEBATE NIGHT!!! (Inspired by Going Seventeen Debate Night)

*taps mic* Mic test? Mic test?

Akaashi: 1, 2, 3, 3, 2 , 1, 1, 2 ,3

Ahhh. They’re working. Good evening, Akaashi!

Akaashi: Yes, they are. Good evening to you, too, Leia. And to anyone who is watching this, good evening, morning, afternoon.

Ah, yes. Hello, viewers! This is Leia!

Akaashi: And Akaashi.

Us 2: ON HAIKYUU DEBATE NIGHT!

So, how are you, Akaashi? Are you feeling fine? Have you eaten your dinner? Do you feel uncomfortable? I have a better seat it’s called ‘my lap’-

Akaashi: I am fine. Yes. Yes. No. And I’d rather sit here, thank you. Why don’t we introduce our debaters for the night?

But you could really use my lap-

Akaashi: The debaters, Leia-chan.

Ah, right! Anyways! On the right we have:

SUGAWARA, ATSUMU, KENMA, OIKAWA, KAGEYAMA, AND TANAKA

Akaashi: And on the left we have:

BOKUTO, HINATA, TSUKISHIMA, USHIJIMA, KUROO, AND OSAMU

Alright! We have fully introduced our wonderful debaters for tonight! But before anything else, we would like to know their name as a group.

Akaashi: Right team, have you decided on a group name?

Oikawa: Ah, yes! The moment we knew we were in the same group…

Suga: We knew what to name ourselves c:

Atsumu: We will be called ‘Pretty setters plus a Wing Spiker’

Pretty Setters plus a Wing Spiker: 👁️👄👁️

Tanaka: In my humble opinion, I think tHAT GROUP NAME IS TRASH.

Kenma: *sigh*

WOOOW! I LOVE THE DYNAMICS OF THIS GROUP ALREADY! Oozing with unity and familiarity. Don’t you think, Akaashi?

Akaashi: …Yes. Now, to the left team. Have you decided on a group name?

Bokuto: YAH! WE HAVE DECIDED ON ONE! TSUKISHIMA WILL TELL YOU!

Tsukishima: Why me?

Kuroo: Come on now, don’t be shy. Tell them our group name!

Tsukishima: ….

Hinata: Come on now, Tsukishima! Say it! Say it!

Tsukishima: …. 3rd Gym Debaters.

Akaashi: 🙂

Ah…but quick question, though. Why?

Bokuto: OH! Because Kuroo, Tsukishima and I used to hang out at the 3rd gym a lot!

Ushijima: I played at Season 3.

Osamu: Hinata and I both have three syllables in our names. ✨

Everyone:

Tanaka: *suddenly feels fine with their group name*

Tanaka: *slight*

Akaashi: …..  🙂🙂🙂

Wow. Logical and makes sense. Before anything else, Akaashi, would you please say what happens at Haikyuu Debate Night once again?

Akaashi: Right. Here in Haikyuu Debate Night we are going to talk about issues that we experience in our daily lives. We will have in-depth and logical debates about them.

And with that, Haikyuu Debate Night starts now!

Pretty Setters plus a Wing Spiker: *claps in a way a decent audience would clap*

Bokuto and Hinata: WOOOOOOH!

Kuroo and Osamu: *claps like a child*

Tsukishima and Ushijima: *too embarassed and too stoic to clap*

Just to make sure, I will state the rules:

This is a team-based debate

Each team take turns to restate their logical arguments.

Each team can counter other team’s logic and they can counter-counter-argue.

The debate will end when both teams have no logic.

Easy as 1, 2, 3!

Akaashi: Now, I’ll reveal the first topic: Supervision vs. Superhearing

Supervision gives you the ability to have superb vision to the extent that you can see through human’s pores - which I find disgusting, by the way. Whilst Superhearing gives you superb audio processing to the extent of hearing a person’s whisper who is 1 km away from you.

Akaashi: With the Pretty Setters with a Spiker in favor of Supervision and with the 3rd Gym Debaters in favor of Superhearing.

The debate starts with the 3rd Gym Debaters’ arguement.

Hinata: First of all, when you have superhearing, this helps in volleyball! With this, even when the setter hasn’t called for you, you immediately know they’re calling for you!

Kageyama: But superhearing only grants you to hear anything that is 1 km away from you, not somebody else’s thoughts, dumbass.

Hinata: 😡

Hinata: You’re right.

Hinata: But still! If I can hear someone who is 1 km away from me, shouldn’t I be able to hear someone else’s thoughts who is a couple of meters near me?!

Tsukishima: Oh my God. 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

Kageyama: What?

Atsumu: Yer honor, the moment this tangerine spoke, this debate has lost its logic!

Akaashi: You know-

Kuroo: Your honor, let me redeem what my co-debater has said!

Kuroo: *stands abruptly*

Kenma: Here he goes...

Kuroo: What he’s trying to say is, imagine yourself in the court. And everyone is so intense to the point they mutter their thoughts out loud. Now, imagine your setter wanting to do a synchronized attack to surprise the opponents. The setter wouldn’t need hand signals or whatever.

Bokuto: Yeah! All the setter needs to do is *whispers* synchronized attack! And the team would immediately know!

Tanaka: Oh, he’s got a point-

Kenma: But that can also happen if you have supervision. Your vision would be enough to immediately sense the slightest difference of how your setter would be tossing.

Kuroo: Ah-

Bokuto: Oh, shit. He’s right.

Osamu: But wouldn’t supervision be overwhelming? I mean, everything around you is a hundred times clearer than how you usually see them. What if you get overwhelmed with how ugly Tsumu is at court-

Atsumu: You piece of-

Osamu: Then supervision wouldn’t be as effective as superhearing, don’t ya think?

Kuroo: Right! I was about to blurt that out. 👀 *he didn’t really think of that*

Kenma: I see where Atsumu’s brain cells went.

Atsumu: Excuse me? 😲😲😲

Okaaaay we’re kind of drifting away from the debate, aren’t we? 3rd Gym Debators, any more arguments?

Kuroo: None, your honor.

Akaashi: I’ve been trying to correct this but we’re only moderators, Kuroo-san.

Right. Now, Pretty Setters plus a Wing Spiker, it is time to present your arguments.

Sugawara: Kenma has emphasized this out but supervision can come very handy such as how the team can use it to their advantage at court. However, supervision can also be very effective for other things.

Sugawara: For example, what if you’re trying to read the person beside you at the bus’ text? With supervision, reading it wouldn’t be as hard-

Osamu: Wait, are you saying you’re using your supervision for the wrong cause-

Osamu, please respect the speaker of Pretty Setters and a Spiker. Rebutting is banned for now.

Osamu: w h a t 👁️👄👁️

Tanaka: I still don’t like the group name-

Sugawara: With my supervision, I can immediately know if the person I am beside with is having a fight with their loved one! Or they’re cooking ramen for dinner. How convenient, right?

Oikawa: Right!

Atsumu: True.

Kenma: ….

Tanaka: It sounds wrong but it is definitely, right!

Tsukishima: How is invasion of privacy right-

Sugawara: I rest my case!

Tsukishima: hOW IS-

Akaashi: Okay, 3rd Gym Debaters, you may now counter-argue Pretty Setters’ argument.

Tanaka: It’s Pretty Setter with a-

Bokuto: Your honor!

Tanaka: OI LISTEN TO M-

Bokuto: *reading on his paper without pauses* Allow me to show to you why supervision is a necessity, and is sensible and more practical than supervision! Superhearing can make me hear things louder and clearer!

Everyone:

Everyone: And?

Bokuto: That would mean I can hear the cheers of the crowd for me and even those who are 1 ki-meter away from me!

Akaashi: It’s 1 kilo-

Bokuto: That would mean I can hear Hinata’s cheers for me even if I am in Tokyo! 😊

Everyone:

Tsukishima: *facepalm* I’m sure Miyagi and Tokyo is not just 1 kilometer apart-

Kuroo: Shhh! You’re ruining our argument!

Bokuto: 😊😊😊

Ah…Is that all, Bokuto-san?

Bokuto: Yes. 😊😊😊

Ah…thank you. *clears throat* Okay, Pretty Setters?

Tanaka: I TOLD YOU, IT’S-

Oikawa: Your honor, I would just like to counter-argue Bokuto’s statement. How is hearing people’s cheers a necessity, Bokuto-san?

Bokuto: Well, it’s-

Oikawa: See? It does nothing. Can hearing other people’s cheers help you as you play? No. It can only rile you up. But do you know what it really needs to be good at playing?

Oikawa: *stands dramatically and goes towards the center*

Hinata: Good jump?

Kageyama: Good set.

Oikawa: Almost there, King.

Atsumu: Good hair?

Tanaka: Kiyoko-san.

Ushijima: Talent-

Oikawa: I don’t want to hear that from you.

Suga: Good teammates?

Oikawa: Almost there, Mr. Refreshing-chan.

Kenma:

Tsukishima:

Osamu: …I was gonna say skills but-

Oikawa: B O O M ! Exactly! Good skills! What’s the cheering going to do if you suck at playing and you can only receive by using your chest?

Tsukishima: OOMF-

Kenma: Pfft.

Osamu: That was uncalled for!

Oikawa: 💅

Bokuto: A-Akaashi…

Akaashi: I’m a moderator, I’m sorry.

Hinata: *loud gasp* 👁️👄👁️

Kuroo: That’s gotta sting.

Oikawa: Back to my point! What do you need for you to have good skills? *snaps* G o o d   e y e s i g h t .  💅

Tanaka: *Gasps like he just invented the cure to this pandemic* Right!

Atsumu: Oh, shit. That’s true. *Matrix moment*

Oikawa: *flicks hair* I think I have proven my point on point. And with that, I rest my case. *goes back to his chair*  💅

Okay! Thank you for that Oikawa, love. Now, for the 3rd Gym Debaters.

Ushijima: *stands* Your hono-

Oikawa: AD HOMINEM!

Ushijima: I haven’t said anything yet.

Oikawa: Your presence alone is attacking me!

Tsukishima: Now, that’s ad hominem.

Oikawa: nOw tHat’S aD hOmInEM

Suga: Tsukki >=[

Tsukishima:

Akaashi: Anyway, Ushijima-san, please continue.

Ushijima: Right. Your honor, I would like to add to my co-debaters points. First of all, the other party is only focusing their arguments to how effective supervision would be if you are on court. Well, I would like to emphasize how effective superhearing can be even off court.

Kenma:

Kageyama: *is all ears because he respects Ushijima*

Sugawara: I’m sorry. Mr. Volleyball-is-life is gonna talk about using superhearing without the mention of volleyball?

Ushijima: First, superhearing is very useful when it comes to helping other people. Even if I am busy trimming the grass or harvesting the crops, I can hear someone’s cries no matter how faint they could be.

Oikawa: Are you a farmer-

Ushijima: I can also use it as a pre-caution. With my superhearing, I can hear when a truck is about to hit me or an arrow is flying towards me. It can also help me when I accidentally lost Tendo at the grocery store. But most importantly… *flipping page*

Pretty Setters Squad and a Wing Spiker: …

Ushijima: It can help me locate other players’ breathing when playing hide and seek.

Pretty Setters Squad plus a Wing Spiker:

Kenma: Anti-climatic.

Tsukishima: *deep sigh*

Akaashi:

Ah…thank you, Ushijima-san. That was…sensible. Pretty Setters?

Kageyama: *stands up stiffly* Y-Yes!

Suga and Tanaka: *claps*

Oikawa: *rolls eyes*

Atsumu: *whistle* Go, goody-two shoes!

Hinata: *sits properly*

Tsukishima: Another idiot-

Kageyama: I-I am here to defend my house’s stand! *flips page* I am here to point or to present some major flaws if you choose superhearing! F-First! It is considered as an invasion of privacy! What if you hear someone confessing under your 1 kilometer radius? And you hear them getting rejected? You are then violating that person’s privacy!

Hinata: But-

Kageyama: I’m not yet done, idiot!

Oikawa: He’s not yet done, shrimp!

Note: they screamed that together.

Hinata: 🥺🥺🥺

Kageyama: T-Two…superhearing can be very overwhelming. What if you are in the middle of the city? Surrounded by the crowd, specifically. how can you focus or how can you stop yourself from hearing them?

Kageyama: Also, you cannot block superhearing BUT you can block supervision by closing your eyes!

Hinata: But we can block it by listening to music!

Oikawa: What? Are you saying you’re gonna listen to music for the rest of your life just because of your superhearing?  💅

Tsukishima: *yawn* What about supervision then? You’re gonna close your eyes for the rest of your lives?

Oikawa: That’s…

Pretty Setters with a Spiker: 👁️👄👁️

Tanaka: But at least closing your eyes is not as dumb-looking as plugging earphones for the rest of your life!

Tsukishima: *triggered*

Atsumu: OOMF

Akaashi: Okay, hush, everyone. 3rd gym debaters?

Osamu: Your honor, allow me to end this debate once and for all.

Kenma: That would mean you ran out of logic-

Osamu: One! Superhearing is very convenient. I can hear a single whisper as long as it is 1 kilometer near me. You whisper you ran out of paper while you’re at the grocery story? Don’t worry, I’m on my way to give you some!

Sugawara: What-

Atsumu: They can just buy at-

Osamu: You’re a teacher and you forgot to tell the class about their homework? Worry not! I heard you and let me tell my classmates on yer behalf.

Osamu: You think Atsumu is ugly? I will look for you from the crowd and I’d tell you “Lmao ikr.”

Atsumu: What the fu-

Kuroo: PLUS! PLUS, PLUS, PLUS!

Kuroo: *stands up from sitting* What good will your superhearing give you if…

Pretty Setters and a Spiker: ….?

3rd Gym Debaters: ….?

Akaashi and I: ….?

Kuroo: If you can’t hear how my heart beats for you?

Sugawara and Oikawa: *groans*

Kenma: *disgusted look*

Atsumu: 👁️👄👁️

Kageyama: *blushing idk why tho*

Tanaka: …. *Wonders if Kiyoko-san would hate him if he couldn’t hear her heartbeat*

Hinata: *mindblowned like a 10 yr old who saw porn for the 1st time*

Tsukishima: *pukes in virtual*

Bokuto: *gasp* KUROO, THAT WAS SO GOOD! I KNEW IT’S GOOD THAT WE’RE IN THE SAME TEAM

Osamu: *confused boner*

Ushijima: *didn’t understand why everyone is so surprised when what Kuroo said is true*

Kuroo: *places finger on temple* Let that fact sink in.

Bokuto: *still mindblown*

Pretty Setters plus a Spiker?

Atsumu: Yer honor, supervision is WAY MORE convenient. It can help me with it, I can easily locate the ball! I can easily find the other pair of my shoe, ye know? I can clearly see how Osamu is way more stupid than me-

Ah, Tsumu, we don’t tolerate lies in this debate.

Atsumu:

Suga: That’s right, Tsumu. Don’t lie.

Atsumu: 👁️👄👁️

Osamu: PFFT

Akaashi: *is confused whether to laugh or to feel pity*

Atsumu: That’s mean.

Atsumu: WITH SUPERVISION, I wouldn’t lost my mother at the grocery store! Also, I can immediately find my teammates who are playing a prank on me. I also have the advantage in hide and seek! 

Ushijima: I can hear the other players’ breathing-

Atsumu: Plis don’t expose how weird of a person ye are, dood.

Ushijima:

Kenma: *grin*

Tanaka: *raises hand*

Yes, Tanaka-san?

Tanaka: To counter Kuroo’s claim though...what good would it bring if I can hear your heart beat if I can’t see your worth?

Pretty Setters plus a Spiker:

Atsumu: Holy shit. That’s some cool angst. *places left hand on waist and right hand on chin*

Oikawa: *looks away as he surprisingly felt that*

Kenma: What...

Kageyama: *is blushing again idk why*

Suga: I--I am---I *chokes*

Kuroo: *silent because that shit hurted*

Hinata:  *mindblowned like a 10 yr old who saw porn for the 1st time* (2)

Ushijima: *knew about this fact not too long ago so this does not surprise him*

Osamu:  *confused sad boner*

Tsukishima: *is done*

Bokuto: WHY ARE YOU NOT ON MY TEAM?!?!? THAT WAS GOOD, TOO!

That got me thinking, too...

Akaashi: *silent because he is analyzing*

Tanaka: *suddenly feeling proud* nOw, LeT tHaT fAcT sInK iN...

OKAY! Kenma and Tsukki, any thoughts? You have been silent the whole duration of this debate.

Kenma: *disgusted face* I’d rather not. 

Tsukishima: I refuse to partake in this idiotic debate.

Akaashi: *totally understands the setters’ decision*

Well...ummm...okay...So I guess both teams have lost their logic?

Akaashi: Right. 

So! WHO DO YOU THINK WON THIS ARGUMENT? IS IT THE PRETTY SETTERS WITH A SPIKER? OR 3RD GYM DEBATORS?

Akaashi: Please leave your thoughts and your votes on the comments down below.

Once again, this is Leia.

Akaashi: And Akaashi.

Both: Your moderators and this is: DEBATE NIGHT!

also everyone: *still feeling angsty with Tanaka’s statement*

also Tsukki and Kenma: Finally, it’s done!

-END BECAUSE I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT TO WRITE NEXT LMAO-

#haikyuu incorrect #haikyuu imagines #incorrect haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu crack #haikyuu chats #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu debate night #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu x seventeen #seventeen debate night #karasuno #seijoh #inarizaki #shiratorizawa #nekoma #hinata shoyo #kageyama tobio #sugawara koshi #tanaka ryuunosuke #tsukishima kei #oikawa torū #miya atsumu #kenma kozume #bokuto koutaro #kuroo tetsurou #miya osamu #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu incorrect quotes

[vitamx]

the iron door: chapter 3

[ Also read on AO3! ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ]

---

mumbo liked to think he was fairly headstrong, that he could push through anything and find a solution for any problem. of course, more often than not, that didn't turn out to be exactly true, but he still liked to believe he could do anything he set his mind to.

that type of thinking is what led him to accepting grian's offer on managing his "project" while he was gone, it was what put him in this seriously creepy situation.

he didn't want to think about the NPC's tattered body, didn't want to think about its wide, mechanical eyes, didn't want to think about its voice.

"it's just a machine, mumbo. nothing more," he told himself as he tossed and turned in his bed after the events of his second visit.

of course, mumbo was a smart man. he knew there was something beyond what grian had told him- and while he didn't like to distrust his friend, arguably his best friend, he couldn't help but question if what grian said was true.

(he tried his best not to follow that line of thinking. he didn't want to believe, not even for a second, that grian would tear apart a person like that.)

though, what else could the NPC possibly be? he saw its metal skeleton, its wires and cogs.

"just a machine," mumbo muttered to himself once more, the morning sunbeams filtering into his room.

it must be some prank that grian was playing, mumbo thought. he must have programmed those reactions, the dialogue. he must have purposefully cut off the second recording, just to spook mumbo.

(it was payback for the last prank mumbo pulled on grian, he told himself, even if he couldn't remember for the life of him when he last pranked grian, nor what said prank was.)

he didn't care if the nature of the prank didn't make any sense- it made more sense than any other theories he came up with. it was better than believing he had been performing maintenance on a living being, better than believing his friend had, whether intentional or not, tossed a living being in that dark and lonely room, beyond the iron door.

and so, the next day, as the sun was only just beginning to set, he made his way towards the shipwreck once more.

once he had arrived above the ocean water where the shipwreck lay, he inhaled sharply, turning down and diving into the water within seconds. when the icy water splashed around him as he made his way down, down, and downward more, the chill clung to his skin even after the conduit came into effect, and even as he was shaking off seaweed from his hair inside the shipwreck's bottle.

rubbing his hands together swiftly, mumbo's eyes darted around the room as he emptied his pockets, save for a few buttons and redstone material- and his eyes caught the glint of an iron axe, cast aside in one of grian's old storage chests.

he only thought about it briefly, really- but in the end, as he made his way down the worn-out ladder, the faint weight of the axe in his inventory served only to comfort him.

how else would he protect himself if the NPC began to act "violent" once more? use his fists? his hands would do nothing against the ashen metal skin and rusted wires of the NPC.

he climbed his way down, his back occasionally scraping against the stone only one block behind him. he thought of leaving the NPC all alone, behind the iron door, of leaving it to decompose, and that dealing with the consequences later would be a far better fate than facing the disturbing replica of grian.

he quickly cast aside those thoughts. he promised grian. he promised. and besides- it's just a robot. just an NPC. just a machine.

the numb and cold pull of the void welcomes mumbo as his feet land upon the stone ground, the room encased in a familiar darkness. on the floor, in the center of the room, was the communicator, screen flickering on and off, its faint light blinking.

stepping forward, footsteps tapping loudly against the ground, mumbo bent down and picked up the flickering communicator. a few notifications, asking grian for favors or inviting him to hang out before realizing he was away.

he dismisses them with a sigh, and turns the communicator around to shine its light over on the iron door.

his heart leaps in his throat, and he nearly drops the communicator on the ground as he scrambles backwards.

sprawled between a small crack in the door was the NPC. its body was nearly crushed as the door pushed against it, trying to shut itself closed.

oil and redstone leaked from a hole in the NPC's metal lungs, bits and pieces of wiring strewn about. as mumbo's eyes flicker around the dimly lit room for some explanation, he spots the button laid against the wall, and his stomach fills with dread.

the buttons.

he should've been taking off the buttons by the door.

setting the communicator down slowly, bringing out a redstone torch even slower, mumbo reaches over and pushes the door open more, ever so slightly. he watches for any signs of movement from the machine, carefully stepping over it with shaking legs.

he makes it to the other side of the iron door, and he grabs hold of the NPC's broken, marred, and disfigured legs, pulling it away slowly, carefully...

its metal skin scrapes against the floor loudly. mumbo's ears ring.

the iron door slams shut with a clang, and the NPC lay unmoving still. mumbo moves his hands away swiftly, wiping off the excess stains on his pants, and he grabs onto the communicator once again, rubbing his eyes with his wrist.

he opens it up, and closes the previous audio file. there was no need to continue it, mumbo thinks, not after what happened the last time.

he pushes aside any thoughts of "last time", and opens up "MCHECK_03.mp3", staring down at the NPC.

he doesn't take his eyes off of it for a second.

"so..." grian's voice speaks out through the communicator's speaker. there's a faint crackling noise in the background.

"i take it by now you're wondering why you keep coming back. that's-"

grian's voice falls silent as a loud BANG! echoes from the speakers, and mumbo flinches, eyes darting towards the communicator, then the iron door, and then rests his eyes upon the NPC once more.

he's starting to feel a little sick, if he's honest.

he hears grian inhale, and the grip on the communicator tightens as grian speaks up once more.

"...that's, because... it's... the- the NPC is a very broken model. i didn't know what i was doing when i made it. i think i... tried to make it human."

grian's voice falls silent for a little while longer, and the NPC's left eye flickers on before shutting off again.

mumbo's fingers twitch towards his pocket, where the axe lay in his inventory.

"...it's just a machine though. a very broken, very glitched, very destroyed machine. e-everything it does was in the original programming. it just... doesn't know when to activate certain commands. yeah."

for a second, mumbo thinks that maybe grian is trying to convince himself rather than him, but he quickly pushes the thought aside, rubbing at his eyes once more.

(the air was dusty- dustier than normal, anyway. strange.)

"...anyways. might as well move on with the maintenance checks. push in any parts of its face or arms or- whatever's popped out, and then we can go from there."

mumbo glances down at the communicator, pausing the audio that's playing. looking back down at the NPC, he sighs quietly, eyeing the several pieces of it face that have popped out of place.

the only one in place was the piece surrounding its right eye- the rest was snapped aside, and the machine's metal skull was out for him to see, redstone and oil and faded paint staining it all over.

shivers ran down mumbo's spine.

why did grian make the NPC so human-like; so alike to himself? even with its paint scraping off in certain places, even with stains and leaks and malfunctions, mumbo still had trouble distinguishing the NPC from grian.

mumbo took a step closer, pocketing the communicator temporarily, and peered closer at the NPC's face in morbid curiosity.

it was difficult to see anything past the flood of redstone and oil leaking from every joint, but even then, he could clearly see the NPC's skull.

its teeth were jagged and out of order with a few missing, its tongue (why would an NPC need a tongue?) had a hole in its side as if an arrow had pierced through it, and its eyes had wires sprouting from behind them, faint, barely noticeable sparks flashing now and then.

he never had a chance to really look at it much, not with its face clicked into place.

mumbo pushed down the nausea swelling in his stomach and reached his hands forward to click the NPC's face back into place.

his hands stutter and flinch back at every sound made, jittery and frantic. when its face was finally back in place, he leaned back, staring emptily at the NPC's features.

it looked so human. it looked alive.

the NPC's eyes flickered red for one second, then two, and then they flickered off, staring into nothing.

it seemed so much more unresponsive than the last few times mumbo had come here- maybe getting caught between the door had damaged it somehow, so that it couldn't react as much?

(he shouldn't be so hopeful for such a thing.)

letting a bit of tension leave his shoulders, mumbo reached for the communicator once more, eyes flickering down as he played the audio file once more.

"once you're- once that's done, you're pretty much good to go for, uh... touching it, i suppose." grian's voice, the actual grian's voice, echoes throughout the dusty room.

"every once in a while, i like to clean up all the dust in the room so that, um, when it- when it glitches out, the dust doesn't spread out in the air everywhere."

mumbo's eyes squint, flickering towards the communicator as he leans backwards against the wall.

'glitches out'? what did grian mean by-

his thoughts stutter to an end, jerking forward off the wall as he spins around to face it.

the faint glow of the communicator shines against the wooden planks, and deeply indented in those planks are claw marks and dents, oil and redstone flickered across the wall in a chaotic spray. dust is visible in the light of the screen, heavily clumping together in the air.

dread pools in his gut.

the audio file continues playing.

"sometimes it'll just, you know, scramble around or try breaking ou- blocks, breaking blocks. using cobwebs usually works but, if you don't have any, i suppose you can do it whenever, if you don't mind sneezing a lot, and dust getting in your eyes."

the audio file ends right as mumbo's eyes begin to water. his nose scrunches up, and the communicator clatters to the ground loudly as he brings his arm up to his face and sneezes.

when his eyes crack open, they burn, and he rubs at them frantically before yelling out, faint traces of oil and redstone tainting his hands and now his eyes, and he has to hold onto them tightly to keep himself from touching his eyes any more.

"goddammit!" he yells out hoarsely, teeth grit as he slams his eyes shut once more.

he hisses through his teeth, forcing his eyes open to search for the communicator he'd dropped.

maybe if he's lucky, he can find the communicator quickly- though its screen had shut off, leaving the room in near darkness, so he fumbles a hand into his inventory to search for his own communicator.

a metal hand clasps around his ankle instead.

"don't- don't- don't- don't- go-!" the NPC's voice croaks out, its voice filled with static. "stay... i can tell you- tell you- everything."

the hand digs into his skin painfully, ripping some of the cloth on his pants, and he shrieks. the hand pulls, and he tumbles over, the side of his face hitting the floor. he rolls over on his back and scrambles away from the NPC, its body barely visible in the darkness of the room- the redstone torch too far away to provide any meaningful light.

(the only thing he can see is the hand, mangled and metal and broken, its grip unnervingly strong nonetheless.)

he raises his other leg and kicks it frantically in the air, hoping to knock it into the NPC's face. his foot connects with nothing but air the first few kicks, until finally, a loud CLANG! echoes through the room, and the NPC lets out a screech that leaves mumbo's ears ringing in pain.

he's able to scramble up again, using the beaten-up wall behind him as support, and he can hear the NPC's body scraping against the floor as he drags himself to his feet.

he's dazed and scared and frantic and he can barely keep his eyes open, so maybe that's why the only thing mumbo can think to do at that moment is take out the iron axe he'd stolen and-

he brings down the axe's blade against the NPC's wrist, the one connected to the very hand grasping at his ankle, forcing his burning eyes to stay open, and the sound of metal-against-metal scrapes his ears painfully.

it doesn't come off in one slash like he'd hoped- instead it takes four cuts from the axe to sever the NPC's hand from the rest of its body, and the NPC won't stop screaming.

(mumbo nearly sobs as he realizes the hand still won't let go.)

he stumbles and trips over the screaming NPC, pushing the iron door open, slamming it shut with his whole body.

he slides to the ground, eyes shut tightly as his hands shake, ears ringing as the NPC screams and shrieks and bangs against the iron door.

blindly reaching for his own communicator, he cracks his eyes open painfully, barely making out the button to enter the general chat, and struggles to keep them open as he types out a desperate message attached to his coordinates.

(the metal hand digging into his ankle has not loosened. if anything, it's gotten tighter.)

his ankle is starting to go numb, he thinks, before his vision goes dark, heart pounding from adrenaline and fear.

---

MumboJumbo: hekp

MumboJumbo has sent his coordinates.

Stressmonster101: mumbo? :(

Iskall85: you good?

---

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #mumbojumbo #mumbo #npc grian #npcgrian #npcg #grian #grianmc #the iron door #tid #vitamx writing #vitamx

[toothlessturtle21]

Nary A Nightmare

Sup, it’s me again, back with another one shot upload. Could be glacier, but was written as a healthy bromance. TW: mentions of guns, temporary disability, temporary sensory deprivation ---

A bullet between the eyes leaves Zane down and out during a fight, leading to some intimate moments between himself and the Earth Ninja as Jay toils away in his wires.

Zane didn't hate many things, or even many people. He considered himself a rational person, who knew that there was a bright side to pretty much everything.

But lying on Jay's workbench with no sight or hearing? That he hated.

He had gotten shot in the head by a lucky burglar who just happened to hit the one member of the team that wouldn't die from a bullet between the eyes. However, just because he was a robot didn't mean he wouldn't be affected. So after being held up on shaky legs and carried home by someone (he was too out of it to say for sure), he was placed on the familiar cold metal of the table in Jay's room dedicated to his inventing. Someone was holding his left hand, his right neatly folded on his stomach. Jay's careful fingers were poking around the wound, sharp stings registering as Zane tried to keep his expression neutral to avoid any hesitance.

Truth be told, although so much pain was ricocheting around his body he felt like he could throw up, he was thankful that it was him going through this as opposed to one of the others being shot dead. The thought of any one of his teammates disappearing so quickly from his life made him sicker than his injury, so he grit his teeth as a new wave of hurt hit him square between the eyes, and the fingers wrapped around his own tightened in response to his twitch.

He assumed the one holding his hand was Cole, because the fingers felt big and calloused from years of mountain climbing and training. The Earth Ninja had always hated to see his teammates in pain, anyway. The hand seemed to flex at the same time Zane felt any pain, as if the person it belonged to was flinching in his place. After a bit, Jay's hands left his head, and he felt his hand being moved off his stomach to his side, and his shirt being slid up to his collarbone. He shivered at the cool air settling over his skin, and Jay opened the torso panel with practiced ease, Zane desperately wanting to ask Jay what was going on for himself.

Zane must've looked in pain, because a hand equal in size to the one holding his own reached up to rest on his cheek, warm and a little rough. The android tilted his head to lean into the touch, mostly to reassure its owner that the gesture was understood. Truth be told, it was nice to have a distraction from the piercing pain in the center of his skull. It was truly bizarre to have two completely opposite sensations occurring at once: the warm fingers cupping his face, and the cold air and quick hands working to map out his chest. Zane wasn't sure how much more of the prodding he could take, and he couldn't help but curl in on himself, Jay forcibly holding his waist down to keep him from jostling any work done.

The hand on his face lifted for a moment, probably out of confusion, as Jay was never shy in vocalizing his frustrations. The Ice Ninja squeezed the hand interlocked with his own, and his face was once again graced by the fingers, and this time a thumb stroked across his cheekbone in an attempt to calm the android down. As Zane was forced to lay there with two pairs of hands on him, he felt like crying, turning his face into the palm on his cheek to hide his trembling expression, and the hand gently massaged the skin it could reach in pity. He wondered what was taking Jay so long to get to the point of the opening of his panel.

His question was answered when one finger circled the power-off switch in the bottom corner, asking silent permission, a signal long since established between the two. Zane grimaced, but nodded as best he could without jostling his injuries too much, and his mind clicked off as the switch was flipped.

He woke up resting on somebody, although he wasn't quite sure who. It took him a moment to realize it, but the sounds of a show playing in the background caught his attention, making him shift hazily, still not running at maximum capacity. The person he was resting on started a little, making a soft noise of surprise. Zane's head was resting on their chest, so he could feel the rumble of their voice as they spoke.

"Can you hear me?"

Ah, it was Cole. But that didn't tell him how he got here in the first place.

"Yes, I can," Zane replied, blinking rapidly. "But I cannot see you."

"Yeah," Cole sighed through gritted teeth, patting Zane on the back twice. "Jay got your audio working again, but he said something was fried in your vision, so he's getting those parts in a few days. You're good other than that, though."

The android deflated once more, and then remembered where he was.

"If you don't mind me asking, why am I reclined on your chest?"

"You looked like you were having a nightmare of some kind when Jay let you come out of sleep mode. You kept twitching a little and making noises. So we just had you lay down on me while you woke up naturally. It worked, so there's something. The others are going grocery shopping, since you can't really cook right now."

Now that Zane thought about it, he did remember what he saw as he began to wake up. He couldn't see anything, and he was forced to listen as his friends cried for help around him, but he was immobile. He shuddered at the memory, but Cole didn't comment. Neither ninja moved, unsure if they were supposed to stay cuddled on the couch or if it was breaking some sort of unspoken bro-code.

"What do I look like now?"

"Huh?"

"Are my eyes themselves damaged, or is it just the circuitry?"

"Oh, uh..."

Zane felt a gentle hand on his forehead, tilting his head back for a better look.

"I mean, maybe they're a bit duller, but that's probably because they're not focusing on me."

"Interesting," Zane nodded, even though his tone implied it was anything but. His system refused to speed up, keeping his processors running at a less than optimal rate, and Zane slumped back into Cole. "Were you the one with Jay earlier?"

"Y- yeah," Cole sounded bashful, and Zane waited quietly for him to continue. "Look, dude, I know you were under a lot of stress and your head probably hurt like a bitch, but hopefully you didn't mind that I was keeping you company. I couldn't exactly ask, y'know?"

"No, I appreciated it," Zane spoke truthfully, and he got the feeling that Cole was dying to ask what he had dreamt about, and what it was like being stuck with no senses other than touch. "It was rather frightening, being alone in my own head."

That caught Cole's attention. Zane was shifted up so both ninja were sitting against the arm of the couch, the android still between Cole's legs.

"What was it like?" Cole asked quietly, his voice much closer to Zane's ear in this new position. "That is, if you don't mind-"

"No, no, I understand. I will indulge your curiosity to the best of my abilities."

Cole stayed quiet while Zane collected his thoughts, hands slightly shaky from the memories.

"A lot of it was pain and worry. Keep in mind that anything I tell you will be clouded by my sensors being overloaded from data. I will admit that I was scared, knowing that what was a moderate fix for me would have been deadly to any of you. Since Jay powered me off when I was still feeling those fears, I experienced distorted "what if" realities while in standby."

"Aw, jeez, Zane-"

"These were only amplified by my partial sensory deprivation, as it were. It was difficult for me to feel grounded in my surroundings aside from the pain, which is why I am especially grateful for your assistance there," Zane gave a small smile, and Cole hummed pleasantly in response.

"I just couldn't stand seeing you in so much pain, it was really unsettling seeing you so... vulnerable. Plus, there was a minute or so after you were shot that we thought we'd lost you," Cole interrupted himself to clear his throat, glad Zane couldn't see the mist gathering in his eyes. "Just please try not to die, okay?"

"Not planning on it," Zane promised, and shifted a little on Cole's chest. "To be fully honest, my systems are not fully up to speed, and I should probably resume a resting state. Since you seem to observe that physical contact lessens any abnormalities in my sleep cycle, would you do me the favor of keeping my company?"

"Is that just a fancy way of asking me to hold you while you sleep?"

"Perhaps," Zane mused, practically hearing the smirk in Cole's voice. "Now if you don't mind, I will be entering standby shortly."

Cole laughed for a second, shuffling them down a little so Zane was more reclined. He wrapped an arm around Zane's back, exhaling deeply as he decided to nap alongside his icy friend.

"G'night, Zane," The Earth Ninja mumbled absentmindedly, and the android nodded minutely into his chest.

"It is the late afternoon, but goodnight, Cole."

The others returned later to find the two snuggled on the couch, none of the crew having the heart to wake either of them up, so they slept peacefully through the evening with nary a nightmare between them.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #zangst #fanfiction #AO3 fanfic #ninjago fanfiction #ao3 #toothlessturtle21 writes #temporary blindness #nightmare #bromance

[jacquelinep21]

(I wrote this email to my grandmother, aunt, and uncle last week and felt pretty good with how it turned out so decided to publish it here.) 

Friday, May 1st, 2020

Coucou !

I’ve been wanting to write you for a while now, I even started a draft and wrote about ¾’s of it, had to stop to make dinner, and then never finished it. Maybe I was overthinking how I wanted to get the writing perfect when I should’ve just sent something to say hello, give you an update, and check-in that all was well with you. Mieux vaut tard que jamais.

How to describe everything and nothing that has happened since mid-March? Both on a personal level and on a “what’s the situation in France” level?

Personally, I’ve been cooking, both familiar recipes, and trying new ones such as Chickpea Curry, Mushroom-Stuffed Eggplant, One-Pan Wine Braised Chicken with Artichoke Hearts, Shakshuka, Spanish Tortilla, Roasted Red Pepper Cheese Toast, Peanut Butter Chile Sauce drizzled over broccoli and rice, Butternut Squash & Shallot Hash w/Poached Eggs, and a couple others. Let me admit, some were successes, others...will have to be adjusted and reattempted. Not to mention there are days when not having a dishwasher gets to be exhausting.

I still have multiple school projects that I have been working on, both group and individual. My classes were already supposed to end mid-April even before this all started, so it didn’t change much and most classes didn’t have any online classes, as the projects were more important and already put in place. I have three more to turn in before grades are due mid-May, and now the first part of my thesis is due one month later, at the end of June. Productivity has been difficult, as there are days that I feel like I need to do things for me, rather than sitting on my computer switching between reading the news and trying to do school work, but I’ve gotten a little better at it. My job, checking guests into apartments, and working in the office, is obviously non-existent, and likely will be until at least September, but because of the government's chômage partiel or temporary/partial unemployment of over 10 million people in France, I’m still getting 90% of my salary, which I am very thankful for.

What I have been doing for pleasure these days is listening to podcasts, my favorite being Spilled Milk, which I discovered in September when I was doing the grape harvest, a comedy show about food recorded in Seattle. I was taking a photograph or two a day with my dad’s 1984 Minolta 35mm film camera but ran out of film and can’t find a viable way to get more. I’ve been reading every day, finished two books so far, and have started a third. We’ve been watching movies and TV shows, such as Breaking Bad, the Jason Bourne trilogies, Charade, Star Wars, and others I’ve put off watching until now. Something I never thought I would do was a virtual dance/fitness classes but they have been a great source of dopamine and just physical movement. There are also weekly video chats with either Benjamin or I’s friends, which has been especially nice when we can reunite multiple time zones all in one call. My friend that works at Politico’s audio department asked if I’d be interested in recording an audio-diary twice a week as part of a project they’re working on of different people’s experiences during lockdown so I’ve been contributing to that (though not sure what’s become of the project so far). The most coincidental thing that has happened to me during confinement is changing the channel on the TV maybe the second week into the lockdown, as the Prime Minister’s press conference was ending (otherwise we hardly ever watch the TV), to a different channel only to see someone that looked vaguely familiar, and then see the street we live on. We soon figured out the people across the street we had seen filming once or twice were making a documentary on the lockdown. I contacted them after we finished watching the episode and they asked if I was interested in being interviewed. So that happened, haha. I don’t believe it’s possible to stream the episode outside of Europe so I’ve included the video here, it’s in English.

There are of course the daily musings outside the window to see what the neighbors across the street are doing or what is happening on the street below. Avenue de Saint-Ouen has calmed since this all began but it still is busier than I would’ve expected, both with cars and people, not resembling photos you may have seen of an eerily empty Paris. Sundays are the exception, when I can almost clearly hear what someone is saying on their balcony across the way, where the joggers' loud steps hitting the pavement echoes as they try to reach home before their 10am curfew, and the church bells ring telling us the time. The typical characters I can see on their balconies every day include the bald man that drinks his cup of coffee while smoking his morning cigarette, the retired man on the top floor that tends to his potted herbs that dangle over the balcony railing, or his neighbors that have two young boys that run back and forth. The weather has been clearer than any Parisian spring I’ve seen and the temperatures even got to the high 70’s last week but have now dropped and the clouds are back. We are allowed to walk for up to one hour within a 1km radius of our address, as long as we have a form, now available to download on our phones, filled out, otherwise there can be fines, though I have only seen police officers stop people twice.

So what is the situation in France right now? As of Thursday night, 24,376 people have died from Covid-19 in France, 26,283 people are currently hospitalized (551 less than the day before) and 4,019 are in the ICU (188 less than the day before). On May 11th, the lockdown will be lifted to a certain extent, but many restrictions will still be in place. Starting May 7th each département, kind of like a county, will either be classified red or green, depending on multiple factors, and this can change the severity of the rules after May 11th. Preschools, elementary schools, and daycares can reopen, on a voluntary basis by each family, so those in need that cannot do online learning and depend on the meals can return to school under certain hygiene measures. Public transportation will increase slightly but not back to the normal frequency, masks will be obligatory, every other seat must be left empty, employeurs are encouraged the adjust hours of employees that have to return to work to avoid rush hour, and that those not commuting to and from work should avoid public transportation during these hours. We will be able to leave the house without filling out a form, as long as it’s less than 100km from our address. Farther than this (62 miles) we will need to have a legitimate reason, such as professional or imperative family needs. No meetings, private or public, of more than ten people. Individual sports any time of day (currently in Paris jogging isn’t permitted between 10am and 7pm) but no team sports. Libraries and small museums may reopen while abiding by hygiene procedures. Parks may reopen but if considered dangerous, such as in Paris, they may remain closed. Most businesses can reopen, except restaurants, bars, cafés, large museums, movie theaters, concert venues, or theaters, while controlling the number of people in the business and customers may be turned away if they aren’t wearing a mask. Farmers markets may reopen as well. Malls may or may not reopen, depending on their size. Working from home is still strongly encouraged. The government hopes to test 700,000 people a week, though who can get tested isn’t clear. If you test positive you must self isolate for 14 days either at your residence or an allocated hotel, and teams of people will attempt to get in contact with those who may have been infected by said persons to get tested. An app is also in development to track this but is also highly controversial and will have to be voted on by parliament. Masks will be distributed by employeurs, by schools, to nonprofits for those in need, social action centers, and La Poste has set up a website where they can be bought, the government paying for part of the costs. The second phase in which things could change is June 2nd.

Voilà, I think that’s everything. I would love to hear from you when you can write back. Miss you and thinking of you.

Love,

Melissa

P.S. Some recent Articles/Blogs/Newsletters/Podcasts that are Paris related:

David Lebovitz's May 2020 Newsletter

When Cookies Fly and Other Tales of Staying Entertained During Quarantine

Lettre Recommandé: Notes from France by Lauren Collins

Podcast: Documenting confinement in Paris, checking in with the French psyche, May Day history (interview with the couple making the documentary that I was featured in briefly among other interesting things.)

The New Paris Podcast: Paris in Confinement

The Earful Tower Podcast: What does Paris look like in lockdown? (he has recorded several episodes about what has been going on, this is just a more recent one, light-hearted)

The Street That Still Offers Paris Hope

Denuded of Tourists, Paris Reveals Its Old Beating Heart

France 24's English Coverage of the France Lockdown (a great news outlet in English with a more French perspective of whats going on in France with articles and videos)

#spring 2020 #a letter from France #a letter from Paris #my personal writing #melissa ann #jacquelinep21 #quarantine cooking #recipes #may 11th #may 2020 #podcasts #Spilled Milk podcast #Paris #paris in confinement #confinement journal #lockdown life #le 11 mai #an american in paris

[ytsthepodcast]

Infinite Consciousness Could Be Predetermined As Energy (#20)

Infinite consciousness could be predetermined as energy, which is never created or destroyed, which kind of lends to reincarnation. But that might be another thing, but definitely what we do in life. And those set milestones, you know, get a diploma, get a job, get a big house, nice car. Having the awareness that there is life and certainly something that you can look into things.

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        Did you hear the last episode with Bobby Tester? The Biggest Obstacles In The Culture Of Toughness And Self-Sufficiency (#19)

            LINKS FROM THIS EPISODE

  Is the D.A.R.E. program good for America's kids (K-12)?

The 5 big lies that D.A.R.E. told you about drugs.

David Icke

David Icke is an English writer and public speaker, known since the 1990s as a professional conspiracy theorist

David is the author of over 21 books, 10 DVDs and has lectured in over 25 countries, speaking live for up to 10 hours to huge audiences, filling stadiums like Wembley Arena.

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      SHOW NOTES

How our social upbringing plays an impact on complacency.

It's when you're at the lowest frequency and we're soaking up informationSubliminal messaging in television shows.

The problem with the DARE program.

And much more.

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      Previous Episode

Should You Feel Ashamed For Wanting To Kill Yourself? The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one. But if you are experiencing suicidal thoughts, you need to know that you're not alone. The Biggest Obstacles In The Culture Of Toughness And Self-Sufficiency (#19)

        Transcription

  You have to have a definition of success. If I could go back, this does not mean things that I would go back for, but what do you do when you lose your purpose? It's okay to struggle. It's okay. That you're not okay. I am your host Craig for Vasa together. We will go on a journey. The show is all about surpassing our internal dialogue.

We discovering. The true identity in new foresight, we have a chance to make the world a better place for our chip. Starting leaning in the example today and become your future self tomorrow. If you can leave our viewers with some good advice to follow, what would you let them know? These things that you're afraid to do?

Go boom.

  We're tapping into surpassing expectations from the most successful people in the modern-day and honing in on new foresight, methodologies, and clairvoyance. You never knew this is your transformation station with your host, Greg Abaza.

Then, the military gave me this fire inside, and lately, I just feel like I've been struggling to keep it ignited. I'm pretty sure it's probably not so much the fire that they instilled in you as much as it is the fire that you already have, that they help jar out. You already have that power and that flare and drive.

It's just that being put in that situation drew it out of you more than it would if you will like a regular citizen, the situation that I've noticed. Okay. I'm an introvert. However, you put me into a situation where I have men that are below me waiting to react to my command. I can, I completed one 80 into an extrovert, all a passion, anger, and frustration to deliver the very best I can be for them.

  And that is wood is something that I don't because you want them to be able to obtain the frequency that you have got to. You want to draw out in them the same way things which are not in you. Which still means that they have that fire in them. But in this scenario with you as a leader, you draw that fire that's in them up to the surface.

And that is within the regimen. It's in command is taking orders and following tasks. Nate, welcome to your transformation station. How are you doing brother? I'm great. Thanks for having me. What's that with you when you do it right now. Now right now, I am trying to find out where I'm going in life. And, uh, obviously I'm doing this podcast with you.

  It's really relatable. Like what are we doing with our lives? I was dunno, man. I fell out. Most people just go day to day and never think it through like wake up and react to the day rather than planning it out. Exactly. That's all people do. They let things happen in set up, making it happen themselves. What do you think that complacency it's taught through childhood up until school?

You know, the entire indoctrination of the system is kind of why most people are where they are now. So it's like an industrialized mindset. Hasn't left. That they're still, it still carries over because it's enforced through school such as we were taught to just obey, listen, learn, and then go to college, then get a job, get married, and then die.

Exactly. It is. This sounds miserable when you say it out loud, that is, that is. Um, it's what you make of it to a certain extent, but it starts from before school, you have parents, for example, that will transition the knowledge of the system. They were taught to their newborn baby babies to toddlers young children before they even get the chance to go to school or kindergarten or whatever it may be, keep going.

  Okay. So for example, we are taught from an early age, that dreams are not real. So if a young child has a nightmare or a bad dream, it's put down to be in a boogie man under the bed, or, you know, Oh, it's just a dream. It wasn't real. But keep in mind, this is some of the most influential ears of your life.

It's when you're at the lowest frequency around that four Hertz range and we're soaking up information. And it's all coming from parents that have been felt through the system and a system through technology, through phones, tablets, TVs. Um, that has become a surrogate parent of sorts to children because they spend so much time watching television and soaking up all of this information.

Not realizing that it's not organic and it's preprogram prescheduled pre-installed is all decoded and they're recounted into saying a child's show. And then it's broadcast and the child was soaking up all that information, not knowing whether it's positive or negative because their young brains are too young and underdeveloped to process that from wrong.

  So are you saying subliminal messaging in children's shows? Exactly. Can you elaborate on that? Um, I mean, I wouldn't say it's necessarily a child show, but the Simpsons have, let's say, had its fair share of interest in the media over the last few years. Um, they predicted a lot, you know, obviously Donald Trump's presidency, the nine 11 incident we had happened here in America, um, is being installed into personal homes.

You know, they've polluted to quite a lot of stuff. I can pick that up in a second. As far as indoctrinated of what our family values are, what our parents believe. How did you come to understand that is what's happening today in America? Well, here's the thing. Um, being able to, and being allowed to are two separate things.

Most children won't venture out because they're afraid of what their family, their peers or say. And when you're a young child, you have more fear of both Dorothy than certain people do as they progress through life. But. When all is said and done, the child was told not to put the curve and the hands in the cookie jar, normally of the children that end up doing it and have a face full of crumbs.

  I don't know if you're familiar with the dare program. It stands for drug abuse, something. I can't remember the exact words I have to look that up and then I'll enter in the show notes, but the whole point of it is to teach children that drugs are bad. It's like, if you smoke weed, you are Brian to smoke other drugs.

You will pretty much, the backfire as well, they tried weed. Oh, I didn't end up homeless. Okay. So let's try it. Let's try some heroin. Let's try some, let's try some crack. It just kept going. And they were like, well, fuck, they didn't plan that. So would it relate to what you're saying? Or is this a completely deeper topic that I'm going on too?

So I think with drugs is subjective to an addictive personality and it depends on why someone would use weed, um, would lean into whether they were more prone to, or not try other drugs, have a harder, more chemical substance. Is let's face it, not everyone that smokes cannabis ends up being a method.

  It's just not known plus cannabis hasn't as far as I'm still aware, ever had a recorded history of death in human history. So, and obviously math, cocaine, heroin opium, all of these other things they can kill and they have, and they will, I think the tobacco industry. Is also fighting that, wow, it's not death from a cigarette.

It's cancer that is caused by proxy. Yes. Cell killing people left-right. And center every day. Doesn't change. Let's go back. You've said the child being brought up at a certain frequency. What do you mean by frequency? So when you are born and you're out of the worm, As, you know, a child's head is not the same size as an adult head, which means, you know, the brain is softer and more vulnerable, I guess, to young babies.

That's why, you know, people take extra care with babies over a 13-year-old boy, for example. Um, and with that, The brain, as it evolves and grows gains mass, as well as soaking up all this information. And so I guess the frequency that I was pertaining to is when you are a certain age between. One and four you're around a lower Hertz frequency range, um, like radio waves for G wifi, um, and information that you process through the senses.

You know, the smell, touch, airing, taste, all of this pertains to what a child will learn. So basically. If they're exposed to the good things that those senses can pick up, then they're going to have a headstart over someone who is born into negativity. I'm a broken home. Uh, parents are, it did to a substance of some kind, um, abused being shown.

  Some things on television aren't appropriate for that age range. But most importantly, I think it's what the child sees outside of the home as well because that's another thing that they decode different than say, someone of older age, because someone that say 13, that's been to school and being a part of the programming.

We'll see. Mainly the programming outside of the score outside of the family hub. It's. Pre-installed whereas a young child, they don't have a bad experience with the outside world and they haven't been indicted translated yet. So they decode it differently than someone older say, decode, I'm referring to the way they perceive things.

The way they look at the world and everything in it. They look at the world in a more your perspective, something that caught my ear. Uh, it was, uh, Broke up was prime. It made me want to think of prime, a decode Prince sold. Maybe these children are being primed or something it's preemptive. Yes. Yeah. Now, what do you think people in societies actually being primed for?

  To answer. Some of this is to open up a real big hole and it's kind of endless. So you have to first acknowledge the separation of self and everything else that isn't the self. So when you say what splits up a person's life, pretty much from their true calling, you have. You know, for me, Nate, that works at the store and it's Nate at the store.

That's what people say. But the real stuff isn't even bound to Kara tourist steaks or the true South. Isn't the body I'm in. It's more of infinite consciousness now. Yeah. Again, I've been inspired by David Ike for years. And a lot of this, I have picked up from him and when I was younger, I really didn't understand it.

But nowhere near as much as I'm starting to now. And he just described the life that we lead as an experience, we are infinite consciousness, living, and experience, and infinite, conscious snares could be predetermined as energy, which is never created or destroyed. Which kind of lends to reincarnation, but that might be another thing, but definitely what we do in life.

  And those set milestones, you know, get a diploma, get a job, get a big house, nice car, have a family and kids that are nice. And that's certainly something that is good and you can look into it, but the true meaning of life and this is where it gets kind of dark there. Isn't one. It is purely what you make of a miraculous existence that you've been thrown into because no one's ever asked to be born.

They just are. But the energy for that existence is drawn from somewhere. Yes. There's conception, childbirth, all the Scientifics that you can apply to it. But if you look so much. Deeper than what may as science and that alone has a lot of gravitas. Me as science. Science is a base Foundry for everything pretty much.

But if you look further than science and just, you know, an egg or sperm and, you know, contraceptive, not contraception, um, conceiving, then you really start to look way deeper, a lot deeper. Like the chicken before the egg, which came birth and still no one really has the definitive answer to that thing.

  Now that is really interesting in who is David Eick. David Ike is someone that actually was born and raised, not too far from where I lived in England. A car thinks quite off the top of my head where it's from. It might have been, sorry, maybe Norfolk. But I was born in Leicester, share, raised in a little town called Burbage.

And I think the sky was like maybe an hour or two in a car away from where I live my whole life growing up. So now it just took a wild turn. What are you doing in America? So I actually met a girl that I knew online, did the whole internet date in thing. And between her and my wanting to leave England because of everything I had seen that growing up and I felt like there was never really a good Avenue for me to branch out into not many job opportunities, really, not a lot of anything.

There are all the manufacturing jobs were closing down because England had been in a recession for many years. And there was just no room for growth there. So between meeting her and the potential of life over here and my wanting to leave, that was kind of where that came from. Do you tell me you met a girl off tender protocol now it was back in 2013, 2014?

I believe to leave England. Yeah, the pursuit of happiness. I guess. So you, you don't have any family here, you met a girl online and you just said you're the one I'm I'm a nappy. Yeah. Yeah, pretty much. It was, uh, she, uh, she came to visit England before we left. Wow. Yeah. She originally went to Wales and then came them, I say, over to England, depending if you're wild shot, now it's the same place.

  But, um, yeah, when we got together and did our little thing and you know, and we, I came over on a visa originally and then, uh, transitioned through that, paid my dues to the government, got an old uncle. Sam's got to have his current right. And, uh, basically here I am still living in America and all my paperwork up to date.

Don't come to get me and we are all good. So we did you come here on a temporary visa for a little bit, and then somehow had to go back and then the chick that you're seeing go back to Anglin. And then from there, you decided to. So originally how that was meant to play out as I was meant to go back after six months and it never happened because we got married.

Yeah. And in the state of Missouri, if you do that, it waivers the visa. Apparently, this sounds like one big green card thing going on here, but it's not a problem. Let's, let's rewind. And let's what got you into understanding how our minds pick up neuro. Would that be the frequency in our brains that is being delivered out?

  And how did you come upon this information? I think I figured it out at a very young age, probably around. Doris says four or five. And basically what that pertains to was I looked at things differently than all the others is in my classes. And I'm not really sure why, but they were so focused on doing this paperwork and pleasing the teacher.

And I would just sit there thinking about all the things taken in the day before, or. You know, little things, you know, like out of the window in the school. And I guess that's one of the reasons why they labeled me as like special needs kid in school is they put me on a statement soon after I didn't really perform to their standard in the classroom.

And, uh, it kinda just snowballed from there, but I was never really into the whole, you know, Being a part of the mainstream, even as a little child, I didn't really know what it was back then, but I knew it didn't feel right. And like, guess everything I did from that point on was more self-discovery than letting myself be in a cog in the system.

  When you say self-discovery, were you something that, that happened later on in life and you kind of just blown with the system, but lived in a different realm? Perse, you know, for me, Nate, that works at the store and it's Nate at the store, that's what people say. But the real self isn't even down to characteristics of the true self isn't, the body I'm in, it's more of infinite consciousness now.

Yeah, again, I've been inspired by David Ike for years. And a lot of this I have picked up from him and when I was younger, I really didn't understand it that nowhere near as much as I'm starting to now. And he described the life that we lead as an experience, we are infinite consciousness, living experience and.

Infinite consciousness could be predetermined as energy, which is never created or destroyed, which kind of lends to reincarnation. But that might be another thing, but definitely what we do in life. And those set milestones, you know, Get a diploma, get a job, get a big house, nice car. Having the awareness that there is life and certainly something that you can look into things.

  But the meaning of that, we don't, this is where it gets kind of dark hole there. Isn't one. I think we can understand that is surely having a love of Mirage likes this instinct to, or how do we think no one's ever asked to be born. They just are, but the energy for that resistance is drawn from somewhere that happened in the past, conception, childbirth, all the Scientifics that you can apply to it.

But if you look well so much deliberate science and alone has a lot of gravitas. Mia science, science is a base Foundry for everything pretty much. But if you look further than science and just, you know, an egg or sperm and, you know, contraceptive, not contraception, I'm conceiving, then you really start to look way deeper, a lot deeper by the book before the day.

Yeah. And still, no one really has the definitive answer to that of think. Now that. Really, I'll be sure to link a bit. First off I have five or who is David? David. Ike is someone that actually was born and raised, not too far from where I lived in England. Uh, coughing quite off the top of my head where he's from it.

  Might've been sorry. Maybe Norfolk. But I was born in Leicester, share, raised in a little town called Burbage. And I think the sky was like maybe an hour or two and a car away from where I live my whole life growing up.

What are you doing in America? So I actually met a girl that I knew online, did the whole internet date in thing. And between her and my wanting to leave England because of everything that I had seen that growing up. And I felt like there was no right branch out because. Yeah. Or to challenge somebody let's say knowledge would have another lens.

England had been in a recession and there was no room for growth there. So between meeting her and the potential of life over here and my wine to leave, that was kind of why that came. Can you tell me, you meant girl?

It was Facebook. Oh, Facebook. Yeah. Back in 2013, 2014, I believe. And that was your primary driver? Yeah, the pursuit of happiness, I guess. Very well, but

  you don't have any family here? Is that a girl? You're the one. Yeah, yeah, pretty much. It was a share. She came to visit England before we laughed. It seems like no, everybody's she originally went, nobody's going to step outside their own, say over to England, depending if you're wild Shaw, now it's the same place.

But, um, yeah, when we got together and did our own little thing and you know, and we came over on a visa originally and then, uh, transitioned through that, paid my dues to the government, got an old uncle. Sam's got to have his current right. And, uh, basically here I am still living in America and all my paperwork's up to date.

Don't come to get me and we are all good with it. So I'm going to go off.

We did you come here on a temporary visa or a little bit, and then somehow had to go back and then the kick that your theme. Go back to Anglin. And then from there, you decided to come back. Yeah. So originally how that was meant to play out as I was meant to go back after six months and it never happened because we got married.

  Yeah. And in the state of Missouri, if you do that, it waivers the visa apparent. This sounds like one big green card thing going on here, but it's not a promise. No, no, I'm curious. I heard this story. Well, what was the girl's name? Uh, wow. She went by many names on a real name's Jess in the note. What's the last name, but I'll be sure to edit this out.

Alright, bringer. Yeah, no, cause it blows my mind. Because I don't know. I was talking to the girl. It's all starting to take a picture of when we originally started out children being a blank canvas, all their parents' values passed down onto them, whether they want that or not. Is based on it indoctrination, that's the beginning process, the moment.

  And they have the self-realization to know that they're worth more and can do more. Most people find that when they're at the lowest place in life and they will question, why am I here? What am I doing? Where will I end up? It's kind of like how people in an interview will say, where do you see yourself in five years from now?

Now, um, they're talking about the system, the construct in the workplace, the real self-discovery of why you'll be years to come can only be unlocked three around self-realization. And I think a part of that is revisiting past events. I'm looking at where you are currently and having that movement, that plan, that regime to progress for the, as an individual.

Cause I have so many cons there are so many things that are going through my head that I want to take this. As far as we reach self-actualization between age 35 to 45 or even never. And that's for somebody who. Takes the appropriate steps to learn their own image that they carry. And also who others perceive them as, because what we think about ourselves and what people perceive us are two different identities.

And once we

Marker

reach that self-actualization, we understand those two factors plus our purpose, our direction, and our vision in life. And that's how we define meaning. When we come to that ultimate question. What is the meaning of life that there's so much work behind that? And that's what we have to do. We have to put in the work nature, want to leave our audience with anything?

Yeah, I would basically say no matter how you feel, when you wake up in the morning, take a second to quiet your thoughts. Don't reach straight for the farm. Don't turn on the television thing to yourself. What would I like to achieve today, analyze to yourself if it's possible and how much you can port of yourself and that effort that you have?

Into that plan. And even if you don't succeed, you do everything you can to make it happen. Because like I said before, I have everything to gain from trying and everything to lose from not trying. So no matter how bleak it may seem in the day and in the moment take life by the horns and you don't know necessarily is it's going to lead, but it'll lead somewhere and somewhere is always better than nowhere.

Nate. I appreciate you coming on to your transformation station for this weekly uplift. Absolutely man. Thank you for having me. You've been listening to your transformation station, rediscovering your true identity and purpose on this planet. We hope you enjoyed the show and we hope you've gotten some useful and practical information.

Join us weekly on Monday for the YTS challenge and biweekly on Wednesday for the exclusive interviews at 8:00 PM central time. In the meantime, connect with us on Facebook and

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[nyotasaimiri]

Known

((Kae is rather under the weather so this chapter got posted a bit late >.> Sorry about that)) 

Hadley saw the red flare around her and her cheer rang louder than the throbbing in her ears. She heard the quiet chuckle through her earpiece and saw the grey figure standing so small on the stone. That’s her Captain. She knew it heart and soul, that’s her Captain, there for her. Crimson petals bit sharp across the drone’s armored shell. It didn’t break—the distance weakened the bursts, Nyota was only so strong. But it was enough.

“Now, you damn thing!” Hadley shoved the mech into a charge and felt metal shriek and give, but not hers. Sparks cascaded across the drone’s screens and the winking face winked out. Hadley gritted her teeth and fired one more shot as close as she could get, then slammed the emergency teleport with her fist. Light flared on her screen an instant before she felt the light catch herself.

She spilled out of the mech like her bones were so much water, breathless and laughing. Someone warm caught her or pulled her up, she couldn’t tell which. “Did you see—” Hadley wheezed. “Did you see her out there?”

“Sure did,” Lumen grunted, glowing bright with the effort of keeping her on her feet. “Hoo, but Arjun ain’t gonna like what ya did to his poor machine. But it’s whole I guess, and ya seem it. How many fingers do ya see?”

Hadley tried to sober up enough to count them. “Two and a thumb,” she guessed. Her arm felt cold.

“Close enough. Sonny, could ya get that second bed ready for her? Gonna need to check for concussion.” He interrupted her protest by turning her arm for a better look at it, and got a pained hiss that wasn’t quite coherent enough to be a swear. “And bandages, gonna need them.”

There was a nervous whistle somewhere near Hadley’s left ear. “I gotcha.”

Green blurred past. Maybe Lumen was right on the concussion. Hadley didn’t try to protest as he pulled her to lean a little more on his shoulder and led her into the sickbay. Something dripped off her fingertips. She looked down and saw just red down her arm. When had that gotten there?

“Whoa there—” Lumen shifted and stumbled, braced himself enough to hold her up still. “Sit, now. That’s a good gal. We got ya.”

Hadley nodded, and nodded again without meaning to as dizziness washed over her again. She heard Lumen’s hum take an alarmed note and knew she had to stay awake, had to keep her eyes open. Hard, that. But she kept staring at him and listening to him talk to her, even as the words lost meaning and turned into just a rising-falling drone. His hands were warm. She remembered that after, even if she couldn’t think enough now. Like moving sunsets. Steady and warm.  

*

Nyota lowered her hand and did not allow fear to hold her yet. She saw—she thought she saw—her hand touched her earpiece, the one she had lent Hadley before. Hadley. “Lumen, is she alright?”

His voice crackled through, calm and gentle. “Well I can’t say she’s fine, ma’am, but she’s alive, and I’ll see her kickin’ again soon enough if we know her right. Don’t ya worry ‘bout her. She’s gonna be alright.”

A soft smile followed her relieved sigh. “Thank you, Lumen. I’ll be back soon.”

He crackled, but didn’t argue. He knew better by now. “Just keep both eyes open. I got Arrowmail mindin’ the radar too but we ain’t gonna be able to help if somethin’ else attacks ya.”

“I know. I’ll be fine.” Nyota switched channels, took a breath, and said, “Esther, can you hear me?”  

Seven long, tense seconds passed before the old woman’s voice crackled through, riddled with static. “I can, dear. Goodness, but this audio quality is terrible! Where are you?”

“I am outside of the Ancient Gate in Muhlifain Morass.” Nyota smiled under Esther’s surprised gasp. “I can’t afford to stay here too long. What do you need?”

“You’re actually—this is a splendid opportunity!” Nyota could hear a creaky, excited laugh, colored with the disbelief of someone who hoped but hadn’t quite believed. Esther caught her breath and kept talking again, with a quiet chuckle still tickling her voice. “I assume you have your Matter Manipulator with you? Scan the gate, and get as much detail as you can.”

“I will.” Nyota turned her attention to the vast stone arch, and buried the shiver that made fur rise along her spine. It really did look so uncannily close to the Ark. She stepped closer, dark eyes fixed on the ancient carved stones. No, not the Ark. It looked exactly like the gate that had first brought her to the Outpost so many months ago. She was not sure if that thought was a comfort.

Nyota reached up as far as she could and ran her hand over the carved apex face near the center of the arch. Six more faces stared impassively out into space, with a hollow spot at the bottom where an eighth might have gone, long ago. The ancient stonemason had carved the stone so finely that Nyota could feel individual locks of fur carefully traced by the chisel, untouched by time and weathering out in airless, timeless space.

“They knew what we would look like,” she murmured. “Eons ago, and they knew the shape of our face.”

#starbound #starbound fanfiction #tw blood mention #nyota saimiri #as long as we remember #arc two #alice hadley #esther bright #sonny #lumen

[dailyaudiobible]

04/17/2020 DAB Transcript

Joshua 15:1-63, Luke 18:18-43, Psalms 86:1-17, Proverbs 13:9-10

Today is the 17th day of April welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is awesome to be here with you today as we…as we take the next step forward here around the Global Campfire where it is safe. No matter what is going on out there it is safe here and we are safe together and this is one of the places that we have in our lives where we just kind of come in, sit down, and know we’re not one not alone and exhale, and just allow peace to reign in this space as God's word washes over us. So, let's just take a deep breath and exhale it…ahhhh…and allow peace to come into our hearts and lives. We've been reading from the English Standard Version this week, which is what we’ll continue to do. And we’ve been working through the gospel of Luke and the book of Joshua, which is what we’ll continue to do. Today Joshua chapter 15.

Commentary:

Okay. In the gospel of Luke today we find Jesus in the city of Jericho. And Jericho is basically a desert city in the Judean wilderness. And, so, we have to remember that Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River outside of Jericho according to the Scriptures. So, in…in that story of Jesus baptism He then goes into the wilderness and is tempted by the evil one before He makes His way back into the Galilee and announces His ministry. And this was one of the well-known pathways. Once you get down into the valley, then you have kind of flat, although arid, although doesn't like, you have flat road basically, roadway, pathway to move, whereas just trying to cut down through the center you’d just be going through the mountains up and up and up and up. So, a lot of times they would descend out of the Galilee down into the valley and make their way down south and then make the trek up to Jerusalem. So, when Jesus was baptized after His temptation then He went up into the Galilee. Now He's basically done that pathway in reverse, come out of the Galilee, down into the valley through Jericho, where He will then be heading west up to Jerusalem, and…and to His death. So, there's a blind person on the side of the road and we’ve passed this story before but now as we pass it in the gospel of Luke like…it would….it should…like it's so poignant for us right now. So, this blind mans on the side of the road and he's just begging, right? Like he's got a hat out or something. He's just asking for…for any help he can get. A crowd goes by and although he can't see the crowd, he can hear the crowd. And, so, he's wondering what's going on and people are telling him “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” And Jesus reputation has grown so this blind man knows who this is and so he starts screaming for Jesus and everybody’s telling him to shut up, like he's kind of marginalized blind person off to the side just begging, “just be quiet.” But he just keeps screaming for Jesus, he just keeps calling out, and Jesus hears him and has him brought to him. And here’s where our lives intersect with the story because Jesus has compassion on this man and asks him, “what do you want me to do for you?” And the man says, “basically, I would like to recover my site. I would like to see again.” And Jesus says, “fine” basically. “See. Open your eyes and see. Recover your site. Your faith has made you well.” It's a beautiful story of the compassion of Jesus, who is on His way to His death in Jerusalem. I mean we wouldn't blame Him if He were preoccupied with that fact that He's gonna walk this last stretch up to Jerusalem and die, but he had compassion on this man we find ourselves spiritually in this story because we are that blind man. We have been calling out to Jesus this whole year for eyes to see. And we’ve been through this story before, but we've faced some significant challenges along the way since then and that is one of the most beautiful things about this rhythm of life that we have in the Scriptures. The Bible brings up the things that we need to focus on and it has a profound way of doing that when we need it.

Prayer:

Jesus, we come to You and we hear Your words out of the Gospels again, “what do You want me to do for You?” And we could have a long list of things that we would like You to do for us but like this blind man, the one thing that he needed to most was his site and that's where we find ourselves spiritually. The one thing that we need is eyes to see and ears to hear, especially the voice of wisdom at the crossroads. And we believe this is completely available. This is what the Scriptures tell us. And, so, even as we look at this story in the Gospel of Luke Your response was, “recover your site your faith has made you well.” Holy Spirit, please as we surrender to You may our faith arise and well up within us. May we see with more clarity than we have ever seen before, the way that Your kingdom is in and among us and moving forward and moving and pulling us forward. Give us eyes to see this so that we might collaborate with You rather than working against You. Come Holy Spirit we pray in the mighty name of Jesus this is our request. Amen.

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So, the Community section of the website is a great place to find those connection points, including the Prayer Wall. All of these things can be accessed from within the app and we've done some talking about the app this week. Just click the Drawer icon in the upper left-hand corner of the app and you can access some of these things like the Prayer Wall. So, stay connected. It's one of the beautiful distinctive things about the Daily Audio Bible community is that we seem to be willing to love one another where we are and pray for one another where we are and just walk with one another where we are. And that makes all the difference. So, stay connected.

The Daily Audio Bible shop is also there on the website and in the app. And there are resources that have been crafted and made for the journey of a lifetime that we are on through the Bible in a year. So, check that out.

if you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that dailyaudiobible.com. There’s a link on the homepage. If you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, the little red button at the top no matter where you are in the world you can reach out from there or there are a number of phone numbers you can use. If you're in the Americas 877-942-4253 is the number to call. If you are in the UK or Europe 44-20-3608-8078 the number to dial. If you are in Australia or that part of the world 61-3-8820-5459 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

[hazellvesque]

In Perfect Harmony

A collection of lovesquare centered one-shots, short stories, and drabbles based on song lyric prompts.

AO3

Chapter 1: Kiss The Girl | >>

“She won’t say a word until you kiss the girl.” -The Little Mermaid

Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

She supposed it could be worse. The last time an akuma escaped them before she was able to purify it, the city was in shambles.

At least now there was no threat of buildings falling down or innocent lives being threatened. But still, it had been two whole days and she was running out of ideas. How was she going to use her power if she couldn’t speak?

When Luka had turned into Silencer, it was different. Her voice still existed somewhere, all she had to do was find a way to get someone else to use it to her advantage.

This time? There were no clever tricks up her sleeve. Even her lucky charm had proved to be utterly useless.

At least she was able to skip her presentation in class on Monday. And with a valid excuse, no less.

“Look at it this way, Ms. Mendeleiev, it could be a lot worse,” Adrien said, gesturing over to Chloe, who had been one of the first to be hit by a blast from The Librarian’s book. She sat hardly upright at her desk, her head barely supported by her left hand as she drifted in and out of sleep.

The Librarian – whose identity was still unknown as she was still running amuck throughout Paris – had been cursing innocent people all over the city with the fates of classic literary characters. Chloe, it seemed, was fated to keep dreaming until her supposed true love came along to wake her. No one was too eager to try.

A few hours after The Librarian’s rampage started, it became clear that some of the victims could be helped, as long as they played along with their stories. Such a solution was easy for people like Ivan and Mylene, who had been able to break Ivan’s beastly curse simply by being in each other’s presence. Since the Beast already had someone he loved who also loved him in return, the spell was broken immediately.

Some people had even been lucky enough to turn water into wine, or have everything they touched turned to gold. The story plaguing – or benefitting – each person was entirely random. Some had even been hit with a blast from the cursed book and noticed no side effects, leaving them to wait in paranoia to see if their siblings would turn wicked or notice that their shoes were all suddenly too small.

Marinette suspected that Lila could have easily been living out the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf, and the class would be none-the-wiser, as her grandstanding ways hadn’t changed in the slightest. She thought of the girl getting cursed like Pinocchio instead, and instinctively went to stifle a soundless giggle.

Alya, ever the chatterbox, was one of the worse off. Evidently, she had been cursed to live out the fate of the Greek nymph Echo, who could only speak words that others spoke first. She’d been communicating almost entirely in shrugs, eyerolls, and frustrated gestures for two days now.

Marinette, however, would take a frustrating game of call-and-answer any day over complete silence.

She’d hoped that, since she’d been hit while transformed, the effects would wear off once her Miraculous timed out, but no dice. She resisted the urge to fidget with her earrings – plain black and utterly useless now that she couldn’t call out to Tikki to transform again. At least she’d already used her Lucky Charm before she was hit.

Had this attack happened six months prior, the idea of Chat Noir learning her identity in that moment would have mortified her more than any embarrassing curse. But Adrien had figured out who she truly was – and vice versa – right around the end of the previous school year.

Revealing their identities had made things a hell of a lot harder regarding juggling their personal relationships, but at least Chat Noir was able to see her de-transform and not make a huge deal out of it anymore.

It would still take her a while before watching Adrien turn into Chat stopping being completely weird.

Over half of the class had been afflicted, and the final excuse from Alix, who could now only speak the absolute truth (“Alix, are you ready to present today?” “You know, I could, but it probably won’t be that good.”) sent Ms. Mendeleiev over the edge. Class was dismissed until Ladybug and Chat Noir could set things straight. Whenever that may be.

Adrien hooked his arm around Marinette’s elbow as the students filed out of the classroom, ignoring the looks from Alya and Nino that they’d been getting for months now. Not that any of their speculations were true. After half a year, Adrien and Marinette still hadn’t talked about what would happen next, if anything was to be expected at all. Perhaps if she was cursed to be silent forever they’d never have to have that awkward conversation. Maybe this akuma wasn’t so bad.

“Let me walk you home,” Adrien said, smirking in a way that was all Chat Noir. “No, I insist. Really, it’s not a big deal at all, no need to protest.”

She mustered up her most annoyed glare and hoped it would get her point across clearly.

They entered through the back door, with Adrien giving her parents a quick greeting before whisking her off to her room.

(“That’s so nice of you to be helping Marinette in class,” Sabine gushed. “So polite and considerate!”

Marinette couldn’t even groan in response.)

She opened the trapdoor to her room slowly, careful not to scatter their notes even more. She and Adrien had spent hours trying to theorize ways to purify the akuma, with Marinette communicating entirely in written notes that she haphazardly tossed to the ground every time an idea didn’t work out.

Tikki and Plagg flew out from their respective hiding spots the moment the door shut behind them.

“We’re just lucky you didn’t get hit too,” Plagg muttered to Adrien as he curled up on Marinette’s pillow, Tikki following close behind. “You two had better think of something quick before the akuma comes back for another round.”

Meanwhile Marinette laid back onto her chaise, entirely too frustrated to even think of any new bright ideas.

“Hey,” Adrien said gently, nudging Marinette’s foot aside as he took a seat next to her. “Think of it this way, things could be worse. You might have turned into a scarecrow with no brains. Or had a wicked witch try to fatten you up with cookies.”

Marinette scrunched her nose, pointing downwards towards the general direction of the bakery.

Adrien’s cheeks pinked. “Right. My bad. But your mom and dad are still safe for now, which just means we have to figure out a way to get you back to your old self sooner rather than later. What have we already crossed off the list?”

Marinette sat upright, fetching a stray paper that had some of their better ideas written down.

Ladyblog(?) was the closest thing they’d found to a solution, but even though there were plenty of clips of Ladybug summoning a Lucky Charm, no one had ever caught Marinette on video or audio uttering her transformation phrase, so that was a bust.

Destroy the book was the next best idea, and Chat would have no issue doing so as long as he avoided getting hit by one of its blasts first; but setting the butterfly free without any way to purify it was dangerous. They didn’t want another Stoneheart situation on their hands.

“We can always try to figure out the story you’ve been cursed with,” Adrien uttered the very words Marinette was regretting.

Because they both already knew exactly what story she was living. And it had already been two days.

Once upon a time a little mermaid signed her voice away to a sea witch, desperate to live on land with the prince she had fallen for. If she got him to fall in love with her in three days, she would regain her voice and live out her happily ever after.

No, Marinette thought. That couldn’t be the version she was living.

Ever since the moment they revealed themselves, they’d danced around this conversation, but the facts were clear as day: something much bigger than friendship laid between them. The mere thought of it now brought blood rushing to both of their faces.

Chat Noir had professed his love for Ladybug more times than she could count. Adrien had owned Marinette’s heart since he first gave her his umbrella. The two of them had managed to fall in love with each other without even realizing it.

And regardless of whether or not romance was involved, they were partners. The level of trust, respect, and care they held for each other was unprecedented. They were best friends. No words were needed to understand that.

Love wasn’t the stipulation here. Otherwise, the curse would already be broken.

No. The Librarian had a different idea in mind for them.

In this version of the fairytale, the prince has to kiss the princess in three days’ time to break the spell.

Marinette wanted to take her pillow and scream into it, even though no sound would come out.

It wouldn’t be either one’s first kiss, not even with each other. They had Dislocœur and Oblivio to thank for those instances. But both of those times had been hidden behind the masks and secret identities. This time they’d just be Marientte and Adrien. Friends. Partners. Something more?

Marinette risked a glance at Adrien. He looked back, a small sad smile on his face. Unmasked and honest and looking just as vulnerable as she felt.

“It’s okay. We can think of another way,” he tried to reassure her. “We’ve always found our way out of sticky situations before so. . .”

Marinette placed her hand over his. Slowly, she shook her head.

He stared back at her. Then blinked once, twice. “No?”

She shook her head again.

“You don’t think we can find a solution, do you?”

Marinette sighed and broke eye contact.

Adrien moved to kneel in front of her, making her look at him again.

“Listen,” he took both of her hands into his, effectively making her forget how to breathe for a moment as he spoke. “I have an idea. And I think you do too. Right?”

It took her a few moments to work up the courage to nod.

“But we can always try to think of something else, if you want,” he said gently.

Another moment passed. This time, she shook her head firmly. No. There was no time to sit around avoiding this.

At that, Adrien’s eyes widened. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers and smiled softly, almost laughing.

“I’ll be honest, my lady, this isn’t exactly what I thought of when I pictured this moment.”

He rose to his feet, pulling Marinette up with him. She let herself rise effortlessly, entirely too focused on the words that just left his mouth. He’s thought about this before. She couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. She never thought she’d hear him say those words.

“I thought maybe if I was lucky enough that we’d get to this point someday, I could make some kind of grand gesture. To make up for all of the times we’ve missed the mark before.”

Oh. Right. Chat Noir couldn’t remember either time they’d kissed. So that meant - Marinette realized - that for Adrien, this would be the first.

Adrien’s voice dropped even lower. “If you don’t want things to change, I understand. This doesn’t have to make things any different if you don’t want to. But if you don’t mind me saying this. . . I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time that I really, really want to kiss you. Is that okay?”

If only she could tell him that she’d always wanted things to be different. That for half a year, she’d been waiting for things to change. She’d just never had the courage to say it, all because of the fear of not knowing how he felt. And now she didn’t need to say any words at all to finally express what she’d been wanting to say all along.

Releasing her hold on his left hand, she touched his cheek lightly and pressed her forehead to his, hoping that the gesture was just as clear as a verbal confirmation.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers.

She didn’t need to be living a fairytale to feel like she was floating on air. She’d go through years worth of Chat’s incessant flirting and her pent up nervousness over Adrien all over again if she knew it would lead up to this moment. There was no need for a sea witch or a final epic battle, just the relieving feeling of the weight being lifted off her shoulders to tell her that they were heading towards a happy ending.

Ever the gentleman, he pulled away mere seconds later, eyes opening slowly, the pink flush on his face refusing to budge.

“Was that alright?” he frowned slightly at his own question before rephrasing, “Did it work?”

And in response, Marinette giggled - a clear sound that echoed through her room - and whispered “Yes,” before kissing him again.

#miraculous ladybug #my writing #adrienette #ml fic #I procrastinated making this post because I couldn't figure out how I wanted to format it lol #iph

[wisdomvillage-blog]

Courageous Transformation Starts Here

On our website, right under our name Wisdom Village, it says,

“A center for human connection, soulful learning and courageous transformation.”

The last two words have stuck with me lately.

“Courageous transformation.”

What does that look like?

Brene Brown, a vulnerability researcher, believes that courage and vulnerability go hand in hand, in fact that they are the same.

So when we ask you to courageously transform, we’re asking you to be vulnerable.

On transformation, comparative mythologist Joseph Campbell says, “The Hero’s Journey is about a transformation of consciousness through trials. You’re thinking in this way and now you have to think in that way. [...] The basic motif of the Hero’s Journey is a death and resurrection [...] in order to get out of a posture of psychological dependence into one of psychological self-responsibility.”

We believe that to go on this journey of transformation requires conjunct courage and vulnerability. In this light, I would like to share the story of one of my recent transformations.

It is not my intent in sharing this to evoke sympathy, but rather to vulnerably offer my story in hopes that someone may resonate with it, feel less alone, and see that since I’m writing this now, I must be alive.

Looking back to a year and a half ago, I see my adventure in Peru as one of the most transformational journeys of my life. When I left, I told my family that I needed to find out who I would be if I had been born on top of a mountain alone. This was true on a certain level, although a more vulnerable version of the truth came out once I arrived in Peru. The first night that I spent in the jungle before working with Ayahuasca I couldn't sleep so I walked out to the balcony and started an audio recording. This is a dictation of what I said that night. This was the scream of my soul telling me that something was wrong enough (and that I was at enough of a loss for what to do) for me to seek a potentially deadly medicine in hopes of somehow staying alive.

Dictation of audio: first night in Iquitos when the rain couldn’t put me to sleep

“I don't think I want this anymore; this..this being. This having to keep being. This having to maintain. This having to keep fighting off the pain: the pain I cause myself in the head and the pain I cause other people. I just want to give it back, but I don't think I want to die because that's going to hurt more people. I want to stop hurting people. I just want to be and be okay. But I don't know if that's possible..to be and be okay without being not okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry to myself. I'm sorry to others. I don't know how to do this. Is this all there is: this physical polarity, this nihilism, this nothing, this nothing means nothing, this everything means nothing, you can make it whatever you want? Because I can't make it what I want. I've tried to make it what I want. I just want to be happy and healthy. I just want to be okay but I can't be okay. I haven't been able to be okay. I haven't been able to not hurt others. I don't know how to do this. I’m sorry.

I think there must be a truth. I hope there is a truth: something to make it okay.

The Buddhists were onto something when they said life is suffering because god this is hell............. and I don't know if that truth is outside of me or inside of me or both. I don't know if I have to go somewhere or do something to find what's inside of me. Fuck. The key is in my hand and the door is in myself but I don't know how to unlock it. I don't know how to use this key to go through this door, and I don't want to die before I find it. I hope that it's actually there.. because if it's not there then I don't know what I'm going to do.

I just want it to stop. I just want to go to sleep. I want to go to sleep without hurting anyone. I’m sorry k****. I’m sorry m**. I’m sorry d**. I’m sorry j**. I’m sorry j*****. I’m sorry s*****. im sorry for everything. I'm sorry. I just want to give it back. I want to give this life back. I want to go to sleep. I just want it to stop... I want it to stop.

Everything that I’ve used to try to make it stop is a mirage and a mirror, a trick, a child's toy. the cigarettes and the alcohol and the weed and the sex and the falling in love and the wanting to fall in love and have the fucking honeymoon period. It's all just a fucking game. It's all just a trick. It's all cheap plastic to try to make it stop for a second. But it doesn't stop. It comes back.”

Again: It is not my intent in sharing this to evoke sympathy, but rather to vulnerably offer my story in hopes that someone may resonate with it and feel less alone.

The story continues with my time in Peru being only a chapter, but my dears, that chapter was fucking intense. I do not write to relish in the past, but to bring further illumination to the present me and in doing so I hope that a shaft of light may fall from my story onto yours.

Now with Perspective

I wrote a piece several months later as I was preparing to leave Peru titled “Why I Left (Why I Started this journey.)” It is important for me to say that I could not have written this piece without the perspective that time allowed, just as I could not have written the preceding piece without the raw vulnerability of the moment. The peace and clarity that is witnessed here is not what was felt during the journey. Imagine five months of space between what you just read and what you are about to read. In imagining this, have compassion for yourself where you are at and assurance in the possible clarity and perspective that lies on the other side.

Why I Left

“Sometimes you need a bath. You could take another shower but this time you know you need a bath. I realized I needed a bath when I was in the bath.

You know the feeling when you're floating in a tub and your body is pseudo-suspended? All the air bubbles have slipped out of your ears and the music is muffled and warm. You close your eyes and lose track of where your physical self ends and the water begins.

It was in a moment like this when I slowly lifted my arm out of the water (to change the song or something) and felt the strength of gravity. Without the water supporting it, my arm became iron in the air. I returned it to the bath and wished to remain there forever. I didn't want to get out because that meant returning to the world of weight and gravity. I remember crying as I realized that I had no "bath" in my life. It felt as if I was constantly living under the gravity of my mind/society/expectations/entropy/time and had no water in which to become weightless. I just wanted to rest and be okay.

I left in search of the bathtub: some sort of accessible peace.

I wanted penance and purgatory, ego death and loss of identity, a magic pill, a cure and more.

I desired many things, but what I needed was a bath.”

Why I left Part 2

“I sought baptism: one pill, one event, one moment to solve my problems and release me from form. I walked into the jungle expecting instant medicine. I thought I was holding a pure intention but she showed me that I expected the world. I wanted to blow the door open. I didn't want to seek the key diligently and open the door thankfully.

I drink the medicine. It is poison. It terrifies me. It shows me that I terrify me. I am trapped in my mind. I know it will only last for 4 hours but in this place 4 hours is longer than I will ever live. An hour is infinite lives; infinite lives unable to escape myself. I scream and vomit and watch my ego try to rationalize. My thoughts and fears are a neon banner streaming across my forehead too fast to read.

[I wasn't able to name the importance of this next bit for a long time. I had to digest it. It had to soak into my blood. I was scared and upset that the medicine didn't do what I wanted. Now I am glad.]

I wanted to dissolve my body and float alone in the dark eternal. She showed me how lonely the dark eternal is. She showed me why she split herself: to know herself, to love, to share, to not have to be alone. At 2 in the morning I am finally able to walk again. The small shade differences between the black trees are the most beautiful color I have ever seen. The sound of birds and crawling things is music enough to cry. I am so so so glad that I am not alone. I hold the first person I see. They hold me. We are one become two. We became two so that we could love ourself: so that we could hold each other.

Thank you for letting me not sleep alone forever. Thank you for not giving me what I wanted.”

I think it is apparent that many things changed in the time between these two perspectives. Instead of just telling you the beginning and the end of the chapter, I would like to show you the journey from “I just want it to stop,” to “thank you for not giving me what I wanted.”

This journey of self-transformation is difficult. It has to be difficult in order for it to be transformative. But it doesn’t have to be done alone. Joseph Campbell says, about the path of transformation, “We have not even to risk the adventure alone for the heroes of all time have gone before us. The labyrinth is thoroughly known. . . we have only to follow the thread of the hero path.”

That is what Wisdom Village is here for: to tell stories of how we got from A to B, and remind us that we are not alone in the journey.

Now I know that you cannot repeat my journey, event for event, interaction for interaction, just as I cannot tell you exactly what will happen on your journey, nor which sorts of aid you may need. We are not here to tell you to repeat our path nor to use the tools that worked for us.

Let these journeys serve to inspire you wherever you are at, be that in the middle of a journey, reflecting on one, or standing at the edge wondering if you will say yes.

Wisdom Village offers stories, communities, teachers, healers, guides, and everything that we have found has helped us on our journeys, in the hope without expectation that it may help ease the effort of finding what only you know you need to venture and quest through yourself to your self-responsible, blissful and whole self on the other side (which is already here, being only a matter of realization through experience.)

#spirituality spiritualjourney transformation herosjourney spiritualgrowth awareness consciousness newage shamanism ayahuasca

[abandonment-is-my-story]

Rose Garden in Hell: Day 4, 5 and 6

“Okay, seriously though, what in the actual fuck was with the red carpet and paparazzi bullshit outside!?” Calavera hated being the center of attention, especially when there were cameras involved. “Ugh, I’m just glad I managed to bypass all that stupid fuckery and get in!” Her annoyance clear in her voice as she made her way through to what looked to be the main area. After looking around at some of the other guests, she quickly went from being annoyed to irritated, as some of them seemed to be either high class pompous snobs or a petty jackass in a suit.

She soon noticed that some guests were going up on stage and began to perform, whether it was singing, playing an instrument or simply just karaoke. The first two she saw out on stage looked as if they might’ve been drinking beforehand; she couldn’t honestly tell, but they were clearly enjoying themselves and they more than likely won’t remember it either. After they were done a few different guests had their own fair, albeit poor attempts at some karaoke, but soon another pair was on stage, however this time she recognized these two demons.

“Barry and Karma! OMG! They both look amazin’!” Calavera gasped, seeing the two voodoo boys she had grown fond of on stage together almost made her giddy with joy. ‘Hmm, I wonder what those two are gonna sing together?’ Her question wouldn’t be left unanswered for very long, as she recognized the song rather quickly; Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing! Honestly, Calavera couldn’t believe her ears, their voices melded together almost perfectly as they sang. However, the song soon came to an end and the entire room fell silent, except for Calavera, who could be seen floating around ten or fifteen feet in the air, clapping wildly. “THAT WAS FUCKIN’ AMAZIN’!!” She shouts as other demons begin to join in with her applause.

Calavera made her way back down to solid ground and made sure to pick up three roses each for both Barry and Karma, since she was going to run into them before she had her own go at entertaining everyone. “ ‘Ey Barry, Karma! Y’all both look fuckin’ incredible and y’alls singin’ had me damn in trance!! Ahaha, sorry if my accent is comin’ out a bit stronger than normal, just a touch too excited I’m guessin’!” She says as she begins to regain her composure before speaking again. “I got somethin’ for the both of ya! I actually made these awhile ago, but I didn’t know when would be a good time to give ‘em to ya.” Calavera reached her left hand into one of the inside pockets on the right of her vest, “And no, they ain’t some tiny little shits, fuckin’ trust me, I put some damn thought into this!” She explains, having pulled her left hand free now, clearly holding something, as she now uses her right to look for something else in the opposite pocket inside of her vest.

“Got it!” She extended both her hands, showing that what she had was two very high quality detailed skulls carved from gemstones; the skull in her right hand was made out of smoky quartz and the one in her left was made out of jasper. However, she didn’t stop at just the skulls, she soon then placed a crown of three roses on both of the skulls; one black, one yellow and one red. “I hope ya like ‘em! I made these havin’ y’all in mind so here!” She says as she hands over the rose crowned skulls to the two voodoo demons she grew to care so much about; giving Karma the smoky quartz skull and Barry the jasper one. “I just felt like makin’ y’all somethin’ extra damn special, because the both of ya are such beautiful and unique souls and I love ya both so freakin’ much and ultimately I’m just so fuckin’ happy to call y’all my friends!”

Having finished explaining her gifts, she gave each of them a hug and went onward towards the stage to sing. “I’m gonna show those rich fuckheads in the crowd what real damn talent is!” She made sure to tell whoever it was that was in charge of the karaoke to only play the audio and not to ask questions, as she chose her song.

Calavera figured that while having fun singing, she may as well have the whole thing come off as veiled threat.

—————————————————————————————————————

Event By: @moymoy-w-rat

OCs mentioned: Barry by @lazypastry and Karma by @alecscharm or @the-infortune-siblings

#ROSEGARDENINHELL #hazbin hotel event #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin oc #hazbin hotel #friend oc mention #barry jhekrl #karmen infortune

[djddueces]

An Idol in Teal Chapter 2

JUST FINISHED. Hope you guys like! Feedback is appreciated please. 

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SAPPORO: September 2006

The sun shone bright through the girl’s bedroom, illuminating the whole room. Deep in her slumber, the sun’s rays did not faze her. She was sleeping silently. Her light blue bangs covered her eyes, and her long pigtails fell behind her to the floor. Suddenly, a loud noise startled the girl and she sat up, panicked.

“HUH? WHAT? WHO’S THERE? INTRUDER ALERT!!” she screamed as she threw her plushies at her door.

“Are you done making a ruckus or do I need to come in there?” The woman behind the door seemed angry, and the girl did not want to piss her off.

“Come in mom…..” She groaned. The doorknob made a clicking noise as it turned, and appearing in the doorway was a woman. She had short baby blue hair and turquoise eyes. She was wearing a business dress and had a briefcase in her hand. She glanced at the girl sitting in the bed.

“Seriously Miku, I must have called you a million times. You have school today. I mean, you’re 15 years old, I shouldn’t have to wake you up anymore.” Miku scratched her head and laughed nervously.

“Heh heh, I know, I know, but you know I do need my beauty sleep. It’s what keeps me so flawless.”

“If you were so flawless, you wouldn’t have failed math and had to take make up classes in summer school, now would you,” her mom said through gritted teeth. Miku, mouth agape, sighed.

“Listen honey, just try to pay more attention next time and don’t sleep in class. I mean, it’s bad enough you don’t have anyone to talk to or be around, but just try to be a little more social.” She walked over to the bed and sat down next to Miku, hugging her. She started speaking Japanese to Miku.

“Ganbate Miku. Daisuki.”

“Mom, you know English is easier for me to understand right?”

“Embrace your Japanese heritage Miku.” “Of what, weeaboos??” She grabbed her plushie and snuggled it.

“Just make sure you eat and don’t miss the train today, okay? I love you. I’ll be home tonight with dinner. What do you want?”

“Can we go out later? I kind of been meaning to ask you that, but I know you’ve been swamped with work.” Her next words were almost inaudible.

“I miss you….”

“Huh? What was that Miku? I didn’t catch your last part.” She tilted her head at her daughter.

Miku dropped her plushie and waved her hands back and forth rapidly. “It’s nothing mom don’t worry.” Her mom kissed her forehead and stood up.

“Sure, we can go out tonight, but make sure to be ready by about 7 okay? I love you. I’ll talk to you later.” She walked over to door and closed it gently behind her. Miku plopped back down in her bed.

“I’m not alone….I have you Sailor Moon.” She picked up the plushie and held it close to her chest. “She didn’t have to point it out….It’s not my fault I can’t make friends. I’ve tried so many times, just nothing clicks. Plus,” she leaped out of bed and picked up a toy microphone, “I’m going to be an idol anyways! Idols don’t need friends! We make our own rules whenever we want, go to sleep whenever we want, and do whatever we want whenever we want!” But was she really happy? Was all of this just a cover up of how Miku really felt deep down inside? Did she really want a friend? Or did she simply want to be acknowledged by others? The blue-haired girl changed out of her pajamas and into her school uniform, which consisted of a black blouse, black button up shirt and black thigh high socks. She also grabbed her pink jacket and headphones.

“Now where is my iPod?” She searched around the room for it. It wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“I’m always losing things….Maybe it’s downstairs in the back room.” She grabbed her backpack and just as she was about to leave, she glared into the mirror, sluggishly.

“My hair is a mess….I love my pigtails and all, but they’re SOOOO hard to take care of.” Grabbing the brush from her dresser, she straightened out her hair. She rummaged around in her draw for a scrunchy also. “I think I’ll go bun today. Sound good Sailor Moon?” The plush didn’t respond. “Figures….Talking to inanimate objects again, you really are alone Miku…..” She carefully folded her pigtails together and crunched them up. With one hand on her hair and the other with the srunchy, she carefully tied her hair into a bun. Looking into the mirror, it turned out terribly.

“I look like a fool….Maybe I can do…..” She took a chunk of her hair and pulled it through the scrunchy, letting it fall into a single ponytail.

“THERE WE GO! Bun isn’t too big and the ponytail falls just about right. Rather thicker ponytail than I would have liked, but I’ll live.” She smiled and trotted downstairs in search of food.

Once in the kitchen, she looked around for her iPod still. “Still no sign. And I can’t locate my phone either. UGH.” Her stomach rumbled and she patted it while looking at the clock.

“Let’s see, it’s 7 am now. School starts at 9. Train ride is about a half hour, and I still have to look for my belongings.” She reached into the pantry and grabbed a Pop Tart. Soon after, she took a mini carton of milk from the fridge and glugged it in one shot. She let out a long and deep “AHHHHHHHH,” and proceeded to take a bite out of the Pop Tart next. With a Pop Tart in hand, she looked around the house for her iPod and phone.

Walking down the hallway, she passed a room with a glass window. You could see through the glass. The room was located at the end of the hallway, towards the back of her house. She opened the door and came across another door, with no windows in sight. She slowly turned the doorknob and walked into darkness. Feeling the wall for a light switch, she turned it on. In front of her stood a small room, no bigger than hers. There was a huge glass wall in the center that went up to the ceiling. About halfway down to the floor was a giant audio panel. There were dozens of switches on the panel, some of which Miku didn’t even know what they did. To the right was a door that led into the glass room. She walked over to it and entered, closing the door behind her. In the small glass room was a single microphone hanging from the ceiling. She went over and stood in front of the microphone.

“Testing, 1,2, is this thing on?” she said jokingly, knowing everything in the room had been out of commission for years.  The soft carpet underneath her comforted her bare feet. It was as cozy as a bed, and Miku had fallen asleep in this room dozens of times when she wanted to be alone, something that her mom scolded her for multiple times.

“I can’t believe none of this stuff works anymore.” She squat down and fell backwards, looking up at the microphone. She wanted to practice her singing and record music for demos, but her mom refused to get the systems back online. She told Miku that being an idol was a waste of time, and that nothing good with come from it.

“I don’t get it….” She rolled onto her side and looked at the wall. “Mom was a famous DJ….She loved doing it. She knew how to work all of this. So why did she quit? Is it because I was born? Is it because my sperm donor abandoned us?” Thinking about this wasn’t going to make her any happier. Her mom had Miku at a very young age. She was a world famous DJ that while mostly doing shows in Japan, also went to countries to DJ, such as the USA and countries in Europe. As stupid and childish as it was, Miku blamed herself for her mom giving up her passion. While also having a minor in marketing (what she was doing now, hence the business suit), she knew her mom wasn’t happy. She read about articles about how lots of people would flock to the venue to see her mom perform.

“Mom, what can I do to convince you to teach me all of this?” She once again turned around, this time lying on her belly. “All you wanted me to learn is piano. Why? I dunno, to teach me responsibility? To make me practice something and not be bored. I picked up guitar all on my own. I’m still no good at it. I’m trying though. I won’t give up. I want to become an idol. I want to do what you did. Mom, this is my passion. And I will convince you to teach me, even if I have to beg and plead. You will succumb to my request!” She stood back up and walked out of the room, making sure to turn off the light. She walked out of the other room and back into the hallway. The clock read 7:30.

“Guess I should be going soon, but not without my iPod or phone. Shit, why am I looking for my phone, not like anyone ever texts me anyways….” She checked the den for her iPod, but it wasn’t there.

“AH DAMMIT WHERE IS IT?!” She ran into the living room next, and tore it up. Music was the only thing that kept her sane, and to lose her iPod was the same to her as losing her life. After a few minutes of searching and coming up empty, she thought hard about where it would be.

“Where was the last place I used it. Where is it? Maybe it’s…..” Suddenly, it came back to her. She jolted towards the stairs and ran up. Down the hallway, and next to her room was the bathroom. She opened up the cabinet underneath the sink and found a pink item sitting there. It was her iPod.

“AH THERE YOU ARE MOMMY HAS YOU!” She grabbed it as if it were a sacred item and turned it on. Still full battery. Miku occasionally practiced lip synching in front of the mirror, and left it there when she went to take a shower.

“I’ll never lose you again I promise.” She connected the jack from her headphones into the headphone slot in her iPod and slipped it into her jacket pocket.

“Right, I should be getting to school now. But for what reason? Idols don’t have to go to school!” She put the two headphone buds in her ears and walked downstairs towards the back door.

“Idol, idol, gonna be an idol. Idol, idol, that’s what I want to be!” she sang. It was her passion after all. She dreaded the idea of getting a 9-5, sitting in a cubicle, and doing what her mom did. She convinced her mom many times to get back into her passion, and many times her mother told her no and not to dwell on being an idol. “Hmph, whatever mom,” the light blue-haired girl said to herself while reminiscing. “You do you, and I’ll do me. That way, I can prove you wrong. Miku once again looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Shit, 8 am. Gotta run!” She grabbed her keys off the kitchen hook, put a song on her iPod, and ran out the door, locking it behind her. She darted for the train station, which was not that far from her house. Up the block and making a right at the corner, she continue to pace herself, making sure she wasn’t too tired during class. In the horizon, she saw the tracks of the train, elevated about the ocean front. Or was it a giant river? Pond even? “Eh, no time to think about this Miku. You NEED to get on the next train,” she said to herself. “You’re sweet, sweet loving me,” she sang. “Keep me coming, coming, ay ay ay,” she giggled to herself. “Come. Speaking of things coming, THE TRAIN!” The train was pulling into the station. Miku bolted for the steps, running up them fast, knocking someone over in the process. “SORRY!!” she said as she ran.

Once up the stairs, she approached the turnstiles. Grabbing her backpack and flinging it around her, she grabbed her card out of her card holder, smacked it on the panel, and walked through the turnstiles, and with good timing also. The doors opened, and she walked into one of the train cars. It was particular empty for this time of day. “Well, it is Friday after all. Friday, Friday, GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY!” She laughed as she sang, looking around to make sure no one heard her atrocious singing. “I don’t think I have that bad of a voice.” She continued to sing silently to herself. Soon, the train doors closed, and it took off, next stop, Fukisawa Middle School.

“Here we go. Same shit, different day.” She changed the song of her iPod to something instrumental, and tapped her foot to the beat. And off she went. As she looked through the window behind her, the ocean was a glistening blue, sparkling due to the sun’s rays. You could even see the bottom of the ocean sometimes, that’s how shallow the river was at the base, but as the train ride continued, and the further it extended out, you couldn’t see anything anymore at the bottom, though it was still a bright blue color. Current time: 8:20 am.

“Barely going to make it, but I’ll just dart to my class like usual.” Changing the song again on her iPod, she continued to look out into the ocean. She may have convinced herself that she would be lonely for now, but that wouldn’t be the case forever. She didn’t want friends. She didn’t even want a boyfriend. All she wanted was her idol dreams to come true. She always associated music with adventure, and some songs would pump her up, to the point she would close her eyes and think about the future. It didn’t make sense to other people when she explained it, but to her, it made all the sense in the world. Music plus adventure equaled a lifetime of happiness to her. The more and more she thought of it, the more and more motivated she became. She switched to a Spanish song and started humming the beat to herself. Soon enough, she saw the school through the train windows, which sent her back into deep depression. Once the train came to a stop and the doors opened up, she placed her iPod in her jacket pocket, making sure she had all her belongings, and walked out and down the stairs, the train station directly across from the school gate. The time read 8:50 am.

“Let’s do this.”

As Miku approached the school gates, she was stopped by a tall looking figure.

“ID please,” the tall figure said.

“Can we do this another day? I’m going to be late to class.” Miku said sluggishly.

“I won’t ask again. ID please,” the tall figure said with a stern voice. Scared, Miku flipped her backpack from around her and took out her ID, flashing it to the guard.

“Thank you. Proceed.”

Miku ignored the figure’s gesture and check the time on her flip phone.

“8:55 SHIT.” She ran towards the doors. Her class was on the third floor, so she had to be fast. She ran up the stairs all the way to the third floor.

“Too many stairs today….” She huffed and puffed as she made one last jolt for the classroom door. As the clock read 8:59 am, she reached for the door. Pulling it open, she gave a sigh of relief, and took her seat. Last row from the door, second to last seat, all the kids were seated. Not one made the effort to say good morning to her, and she didn’t even bother to start up a conversation. She saw school as a waste and just stopping her from achieving and pursuing her dream as an idol. Her mom would also kill her if she dropped out of school and didn’t go to college. Miku pulled the chair out from the desk, sitting down and plopping her bag next to her. As she did all of this, the classroom began filling up with kids, the teacher following behind. She was about 5 foot 1, an inch smaller than Miku, with long hair like herself, but instead of light blue, it was dark black. She wore a white short sleeve blouse, a black mini-skirt, and black flats. Glasses complimented her eyes, and she was a little younger than Miku’s mom.

“Good morning class,” the female teacher said.

“Good morning Mrs. Kurosu,” the class said back along with Miku. Miku then turned her head to the window and looked up the sky.

“One day God, I will be an idol. Don’t forget me please.”

#hatsune miku #hatsunemiku #mikuhatsune #VOCALOID

[thegnasticious]

The Frequency

“All right call it, that’s what I wanted on bass, vocals, let’s roll that again”.

A group of 4 High school aged kids sit in a little recording studio. This studio is dubbed “Electa Studios”, it’s owner was sitting and instructing them on the other side of a pane of glass.  

Instinctually the performers all gave a quick look at each other, sticks clicked 4 times, and they started to play something like the owner had never heard before.

Working for more than 15 years in audio he hadn’t ever seen the kind of talent he was getting out of these kids. The music was a cross of Led Zeppelin and a raggae type style, dominantly instrumental and overall unique.

The sound throughout the studio was beautiful. Electa was a former roller rink years and years before, so in the center room you still had this verb or vibe that would just resonate with a group recording. There was also dark spots in the building, cold spots, and when the owner, Dale McKenzie, contacted the building’s landlord he got an earful about spirits being in the building and a list of things to note that if they start happening to kindly leave as quick as possible.

Many nights people drove by to see the studio lights on all night, but no account of a session being run. A future assistant of Dale claimed this was because in actuality something would scare him out of the studio so bad he wouldn’t take the time to shut anything off and would rather eat the bill. Dale being also a guy who wouldn’t eat out ever, or spend any extra money, always keeping the studio at the forefront of his interest. Not out of insanity either, even at the beginning he could see the glimmer of gold in a dark place like Electa.

For many reasons, he was constantly drawn to dark places throughout his life. These kids he was recording reminded him distinctly of how he and his friends were in high school. In his years, they would go to the drummer’s house, practice until the parents threw them out and they would go drink and smoke at a local cemetery that not many frequented after the sun went down. This particular cemetery had some horrible legends attached to it, a place called Tinley grounds. At night when they would drink there, they had a game to see how trashed they could get before something would literally chase them out of the cemetery. The first few times, they would drink right by the last withstanding (non-vandalized graves). Then if that didn’t do anything they would curse the names of the buried out loud, usually by that point, these funny flashes would start in the woods surrounding, looking like little camera flashes. Then they would book it, full speed. Dale never partook in these exercises, even the drinking, out of stories his parents told him of the grounds. None of his friends believed the truth, that it wasn’t home to a small amount of people but many, a town’s worth, both dead and alive. One night, Dale’s band drummer John had too much to drink, and when the flashes didn’t start he kicked the last standing gravestone over. As the 2-400 pound concrete White obelisk fell over, a bright Blue light shot through the whole cemetery blinding Dale and his friends. John took off first as the other three sat in disorientation. For some reason John charged towards the woods and not the old path out. Dale and the other two followed his trail into the darkness, only to find his clothes about a mile into the thick. In the weeks following, a corpse was pulled from the nearby creek, so badly decomposed it could be barely Identified. This corpse, Dale believes to this day is what was left of his friend John. 

With that Dale rarely ever went back to Tinley Grounds. Rumors of apparitions in the following years around Tinley, that appeared in alike description of his friend led him back to that cursed place. In that short visit after being gone for so long, he recalled a feeling of returning home, but a home for people who don’t have a home. It’s always vacant. On that grey, sun-lit day he could see the true anomaly to the grounds wasn’t in what people saw but what they felt. There was a constant feeling of timelessness there and even though it was a cemetery to picture a coffin being led in was a peculiar thing to think about. 

As many believed about Tinley, this feeling was also recordable. Producing self-producing art in some way or another. Some saw beauty and sunlight, some saw darkness and obscurity, and the gifted see the glow. After hearing some strange animal noises that often turned into what sounded like people around the main grounds, Dale decided to bring a microphone on the grounds to record the anomaly to see if these things were creating part of that weird feeling that was so signature to the grounds. Oddly enough when he loaded it up at his computer at home and began to listen in, he felt almost as in a trance, and immediately left the studio after with all the lights on to rush home to a cross covered room.

Obviously Dale as well as many others believed that something in Tinley was looking into them as much as they were looking into it. Based on the actual history, they might be more right about that then would like to be identified.

As the band rocked out in the next room, Dale got this crazy idea to pull that old trance recording into their song. In his mind’s eye he could hear the parallel before it even existed. As soon as their take was up, he slipped it into the song without telling the band and showed it with the added frequency. Of course the audio file was dubbed “The Frequency.aif” as well. After bouncing the overall takes to analog tape, a certain warmth and strength was felt in the recording that couldn’t be felt before. Even the Band’s lead vocalist, Alex Frank, remarked on it feeling like a wave coming over him. Something about the parallel made a self attuned wave of euphoria that could overtake a person just by hearing it. It was more than just the chills, you felt like you were somewhere else when you heard the original. 

Dale decided to return the grounds to get more samples, but this particular day the voices were not active. After spending a good amount of time on the grounds, he thought of John’s foolish nature as he looked at the now toppled monument left. Much of the place meant as much as you wanted to, you could come there to find nothing or something, and both had equally as much meaning. But at the same time if that were entirely true, how is it some of the voices have been recorded, and some of the anomalies as well? These thoughts were what Dale wanted to prove, but all too often those going to the Tinley cemetery become apart of it, both metaphorically and physically. Walking out with little result, Dale felt frustration in the visit, this was only furthered by being pelted by little nuts from unforeseen squirrels on the way out. As if the spirits of the place were mocking his efforts.

The band recorded three more songs and completed an EP, centralized on what Dale called ‘The Frequency’ recording. Complete with a mosaic picture blended from childhood photos of the band making up a large typeface album name overlaid. The EP was technically a massacre. People ate it up like cake, having little clue as to why they kept wanting to return to that odd feeling in the song. 

If only they knew where it came from.....

#The Dead #The Frequency #Audio Engineering

[valerie]

TWITL - week thirty nine - the other happy place

New Post has been published on https://kiari.com/2021/10/twitl-week-thirty-nine-the-other-happy-place/

TWITL - week thirty nine - the other happy place

If baseball is my happy place, then concerts featuring my favorites is my other happy place. So Friday we headed to Sacramento for the first stop of the Blessed & Free tour. The headliner was Kane Brown but I was there to see Jordan Davis.

the view along 160

We left our place in the afternoon and as it was Friday, encountered the typical traffic. We arrived at a decent time, checked in at the Holiday Inn, then found that the Golden 1 Center was a short walk from our hotel. NICE!

mirror shot selifes are a bit awkward, eh?

We were going to go the Yard House but the wait was too long, so we passed by Sauced, which looked pretty crowded. We ended up at Flat Stick Pub for drinks and a bit of food. We’d been to the South Lake Tahoe location and liked it and I liked this location as well. The nachos were yummy!

nachos!

The Golden 1 Center did their due diligence in checking vaccination status and IDs. My purse was apparently questionable in size and I had to refrain from rolling my eyes when I was told that he was letting me take it in. Right-oh, dude. We were told that masks were required at all times when in the venue (unless eating or drinking, of course), and most people were wearing their masks while walking the concourse. But inside the arena? Well, the masks were few and far between with the folks sitting in their seats and I ended up taking mine off as well. And of course none of the venue staff were going around telling people to put on their masks. Wouldn’t that be madness? But if everyone was vaccinated or negative for COVID-19 then theoretically the chances of getting it were slim, right?

aren’t we cute?

First up in the evening’s lineup was a group called Restless Road. I had never heard of them but I ended up very much enjoying their set. They had a great energy about them and a pleasing sound. (I ended up buying a couple of their songs on iTunes.)

I totally dug Restless Road

My reason for buying the concert tickets was Jordan Davis and he did not disappoint. He sounded great and had the crowd engaged. I knew all the songs in his set! I loved it! I even managed to record two whole songs that turned out rather nicely, audio wise. Video wise I had to contend with people walking by and all of that. I made sure to record a bit of every song so I think this is the set list, in order:

Need to Not

Take It From Me

Selfish

Heads Carolina, Tails California

Slow Dance in a Parking Lot

Cool Anymore

Almost Maybes

Church in a Chevy

Detours

Mary Jane’s Last Dance (Tom Petty cover)

Lose You

Singles You Up

Buy Dirt

Drink Had Me

Jordan Davis, one of my favorites always

I’m so glad that Jordan was my first concert at the Golden 1 Center. It would have been cool to get another picture with him but you know what, I already have two with him and I’m perfectly happy seeing him on stage living his dream and gracing us with his music.

The headliner was Kane Brown and we stayed for probably half or so of his set. Of the songs we heard, I only knew one because we had heard it on Sirius XM on our way to Sacramento. We didn’t stay long enough for the song of his I do know. Production value of his stage show was excellent and the music sounded great. He had decent stage presence but to my ear, his voice is rather flat with little range.

so many people

We ended up at the Yard House for after show drinks and a super late dinner. The lobster garlic noodles were freakin’ YUMMY. Was I just super hungry after waiting awhile for our table? Nah! It was delicious.

Lobster Garlic Noodles = YES

All in all, a really lovely night. And it was a great call staying the night at a hotel in walking distance of the Golden 1 Center. Now we know where to stay for those concerts and other events there.

FANGIRL MUSINGS

I’m not sure how I didn’t mention this last week (because it happened last week) but OMG, Ben Barnes looked at my IG story!

love the fangirl thrill

Look, I know he’s never going to actually comment on anything I post but it’s truly enough for me that he even took that moment to check out my IG story. I hope it gave him a smile or chuckle.

MOVIES

Venom: Let There Be Carnage – I’m going to say it– I liked this one more than the first movie. It was funny and sweet (sweet?, yes, sweet), crazy in fun way, and violent in a slightly kid-friendly way (PG-13 can be a bummer). I love Tom Hardy and he’s always a treat to watch. The plot was pretty straightforward and a welcome change from the whole “save the universe” stories. It’s a fun move and I loved it. Also, that mid-credit scene was BONKERS. I’m still thinking about it. IYKYK

RANDOM MUSINGS

It’s fall break, which means two weeks off for the students. Good for them! For me, it means I can take some time off. I decided on taking the Mondays and Fridays off, which ends up with me having three long weekends. Glorious!

I scheduled my third COVID-19 vaccination shot, along with my flu shot, for today (Sunday) and now my left arm is a little sore. Good thing I have tomorrow off! I’m sure I’ll be fine. Not going to lie, I feel good about having that little extra boost of the third dose. While other people want to decry being told to get vaccinated, I feel very LUCKY that the vaccine is free for everyone and I wonder why anyone who can get it won’t get it. Oh, I’ve read all kinds of reasons people put out there but I haven’t asked anyone I know why they won’t get the vaccine. Their reasons don’t affect me. I’ve done my part. Nothing I say to them will change their minds and their reasons will sound like nonsense to me unless they have real, medical reasons for not being able to take the vaccine.

If you made it to the end of this post, good on you! Be well and be safe, wash your hands, keep your distance, wear that mask, and get that vaccine if you’re able.

#ben barnes #jordan davis #movies #music #TWITL