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shywhitemoose · 2 years

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Out of Place

Well, my disaster brain had another idea and wouldn’t leave me alone, so maybe let’s explore what happens if we unceremoniously dump Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, robes and all, into oh.. i don’t know... the middle of desert nowhere southern Nevada? Not far from modern day airplane mechanic and aircraft racer Anakin Skywalker’s home? 🤷‍♀️

I have no grand plan for this but there are a handful of ridiculous situations I absolutely want to write the boys in, so I’m guessing this might end up more like a series of little episodes rather than a solid fic with one cohesive plotline. Anyway, here’s the first bit, along with a link to the full chapter if you’re interested. I hope it’s as fun to read as it is to write 😊

It was 5:30 pm when Anakin felt the tremor.

He was elbows deep in the P-51’s engine compartment, fishing for the socket wrench he’d just dropped behind one of its exhaust pipes, and the ladder beneath him rattled so abruptly he found himself clutching the ribbing of the warbird’s exposed airframe to keep his balance. On the wing beside him an old transistor radio clattered to its back, but its dusty speakers blared on, oblivious, having buried beneath the stale din of AC/DC any outside noise that might have accompanied the small quake.

The young mechanic switched off the radio and glanced over his shoulder toward the hangar gate. Its large sliding doors were still open, flanking a barren panorama of the valley to the north. It was a familiar scene, an arid landscape kissed warm by a late October sun, sparse patches of desert bush flickering in its light as they caught the evening wind. Nothing seemed out of place.

Any other time, Anakin might have brushed it off. He was no stranger to the occasional seismic blip out here—he’d made this airfield his home, after all, and less than thirty miles west was an active military test range. But it seemed a little late in the day for scheduled detonations, and he could feel some small, inexplicable little tug in his gut whispering this is different.

He turned back to retrieve his wrench, then he descended the ladder and walked outside to investigate. When his feet hit the pavement beyond the hangar doors, his gaze turned instinctively westward, and he had to raise his hand to block the sun as he scanned the horizon.

Smoke was rising from a fold in the foothills of Badger Mountain.

Without a second thought, he darted back into the building and wrenched the enormous, weather-worn doors along their squeaky track until they met in the middle, where he locked them shut. He snatched his jacket from a peg on the opposite wall and shrugged it on as quickly as he could, then he grabbed his helmet and popped out the side door to fetch his dirt bike.

The trusty old two-wheeler rumbled eagerly to life, flinging an arc of gravel behind him as he took off in the direction of the fading plume. Patches of yellow-specked brittlebush stretched into blurred lines on either side of him, and he didn’t slow down until he reached the base of the Pahranagat Range, two miles west, where he spotted something emerging through a gap in the hills.

A rumpled sort of form, kicking up little clouds of dust as it moved.

Anakin parked and dismounted, yanking off his helmet and squinting against the sunset as he watched the figure approach.

“Hello there!” it called, raising an arm in an amicable wave.

It had a man’s voice. Friendly enough. Possibly accented. Rough though, as if it hadn’t been used in days.

Anakin itched with curiosity as the stranger came into better focus. He was dressed in brown and beige, a dark cloak of some sort hanging open down his front, its bottom hem whipping around his legs in the gusty desert wind. He walked with a slight hobble, his tousled hair bobbing with every other step, a shimmering halo of golden copper backlit by the sinking sun. A few steps closer and Anakin could make out a beard to match, but the face in the silhouette was still too dark to discern.

“Everything okay?” Anakin called back. It was a dumb question. Clearly there had been some sort of accident. Why hadn’t he called 9-1-1 the moment he’d seen the smoke? You’re an idiot, he told himself. That’s why.

“Ah… no? Not exactly,” the man eventually answered, navigating with care through a rocky patch of terrain as he closed the distance between them. When his feet found level ground, he dusted off his shoulders and thighs, the loose arms of his cloak flapping around cartoonishly with every flick of his wrist.

Anakin could have asked him to elucidate, but he was too distracted because what the actual hell was going on with this guy’s clothes? As if the robe wasn’t bizarre enough, beneath it was some kind of medieval old-timey tunic—or something—with a wide belt or sash or fucking cummerbund around his middle. And was that a tubular socket wrench dangling from his hip, just barely catching the light every time it slapped against his thigh? Did Anakin even want to know? The khaki pants might have been almost normal had they not been tucked into a pair of rust-colored knee-high boots. Boots that were burnished to an impeccable shine but somehow still looked like they’d carried the man through a war.

The newcomer was still looking down, preoccupied with some sort of debris caught in his enormous sleeve, when he slowed to a stop a few feet away from Anakin. “Had a rather… unpleasant landing in your mountains back there,” he said to the folds of fabric at the bend of his elbow. Then he gave the sleeve a final shake, looked up, and—

Jesus.

He was gorgeous.

Anakin tried not to stare, but how could he help it? The man’s honey colored hair was fluttering majestically over his forehead for fuck’s sake, caught by a breeze like he was in the middle of a goddamn GQ photoshoot. And good grief did he ever have the eyes for it—even in the nearing twilight they gleamed, soulful and bright and kind, blue or maybe green but so muted they looked gray. The texture of his skin and the lines by his eyes put him probably a decade or more ahead of Anakin, but what was age anyway? Those fine features flickered with curiosity, and Anakin—

Well, no. That probably wasn’t curiosity. More like…

Amusement?

Right.

Because Anakin was still staring.

He blinked and cleared his throat. “Yeah, kinda gathered that. I meant are you okay. Like, physically. Do I need to get you to a hospital or…?”

The man smiled, a pair of insufferably charming dimples digging into his cheeks beneath his beard. “No no, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “I’m alright. A bit bruised. A bit dusty. A few scrapes.” Somehow the voice that had sounded so gritty only seconds ago had woven itself into soft velvet. And there was an accent, Anakin noted, because of course there was. Something sort of… British? Maybe? Did it matter?

A few scrapes.

Anakin looked him up and down again. There was blood—in copious quantities, in fact—seeping through his pants. Though, considering the impact had been enough to shake the ground back at the airfield, perhaps it was a miracle the man was in one piece at all.

“Was anyone with you?”

The man shook his head. “No. No, just me.” He sounded exhausted.

“Right.” Anakin shifted his helmet from one elbow crook to the other and scratched the back of his head. “Well, it’s getting dark. I can get you to the airstrip—a couple miles east—and you can get cleaned up and rest for a bit. The cell signal isn’t great, but the office has a landline if you need it.”

“Oh. I… Thank you.” The man looked a bit confused. Handsome, but confused.

Anakin’s heart turned a little sideways. “Do you… have someone to call?” he asked.

“I—” The man’s brow furrowed. “Yes. But if you don’t have a hypertransceiver, I won’t be able to reach them.”

Anakin wondered if his new friend had sustained some sort of brain trauma. “Sorry, no… hypertransceiver,” he replied, doing his best to not sound patronizing. “But I can put you up for the night, if you don’t mind an old sofa and a bit of a draft.”

Read the rest of Chapter 1 (Out of the Blue) here 🙂

#Out of Place #my fic #obikin

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a-lil-perspective · 3 years

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Nepenthe

Your chest fills with a soft gasp. You uncurl your sleep-infused joints, shifting on your back within the bed. Full, tranquil breaths usher you along. You flicker your gaze over to the chrono. Your lashes bat away a lingering bleariness as you acclimate to your obsidian-colored surroundings. You become acutely aware of a calloused hand nestled in your hairline, a thumb now smoothing away the furrow manifested between your brows.

In the pitch black, you feel his eyes cast heavily over you.

“Can’t sleep?” Your voice is still weak with slumber. You reach out a drowsy hand, intuitively finding his jawline and cradling it. There’s a pause, and then you feel his features rearrange with a smirk underneath your fingertips.

“Distracted by something beautiful is more like it.”

“At this hour?” You hum. “Must be a real work of art.”

“Mhm,” his hand slides down from your hair, tapping your nose on the way before ghosting over your now slightly part lips. “You certainly are.”

Something like a giggle escapes you, and you drape the back of your free hand across your face to hide the silly blush he can’t even see in the shadows inking the midnight room. His warm breaths grow closer, peppering across your skin. You gather yourself, hollowing your cheeks. “Well don’t stay awake on my account. You should rest.”

“Trust me...” his knuckles stroke along your cheekbone with a tenderness that nearly makes your heart give out. “It’s a good reason to be awake.”

“But not the only reason.” You scale his words footnoted by affection, bypassing directly to the underlying meaning while he proceeds to mouth your neck in lieu of an explanation.

“You had a nightmare,” you whisper after a moment, stifling a shiver and gliding your fingers through his hair unbound from its usual crimson accessory.

He shakes his head, forcing a reassuring smile. “They don’t visit me when I’m with you.”

“Lies,” you accuse gently, eyes softening as you unravel his plight. Your hand wanders from his jaw to the nape of his neck, in which you collect your evidence in the form of a cold and clingy sheen of sweat that’s clearly been settled for some time. You listen to his deep, burdened inhale that manifests from your discovery. If you squint hard enough you can make out his broad chest swelling with the intake. You mentally count the seconds his breath is held in stasis, and the heady silence that flanks. Four. And then his exhale billows heavily and he’s pressing his forehead to yours in defeat.

Your heart aches for him. You part the dark curtain of hair spilling over the both of you and imprint a sweet kiss to the corner of his lip. “It’s alright, Hunter; I’m here.”

He makes a pained sound against you.

“Was it the boys?”

His silence speaks for itself, waxing the anguish.

“Wake me next time.” It’s a useless plea, you know. You can never remove a soldier from the battlefield, nor stop the tape of death that rolls infinitely behind his closed lids.

From his glued position, he manages a fervent shake of his head. “Seeing you sleep peacefully... it’s soothing to me.”

You frown, fingers threading through his saturated scalp. You peel away from his face and crunch upward into a sitting position.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur, loving lips tacking against his earlobe as you gently detangle. Hunter’s grip tightens in protest.

“I promise; right back,” you plant a chaste kiss to his cheek and roll out of his hold and off the bed, dashing to the refresher. The faucet shoots on, and you’re back seconds later with a wrung cloth monitored thoughtfully; not too hot or cold. You’ve long learned the extent of Hunter’s restlessness that flourishes in the wake of direct heat, and similarly, an unanticipated chill proves catastrophic to his sensitized nerves and he shoots into overload in no time flat. You, ever the attentive companion, fortunately discovered the most ideal temperatures to coat items before application.

You gingerly drape the rag over the back of his neck, and his shoulders slope at the contact. He nods his thanks and you take up your spot beside him on the edge of the bed.

His head remains cast downward, eyes presumably skimming the dark floor where he no doubt is attempting to shrug off all his troubles onto. You rub between his shoulder blades.

“Do you want to call them?” You ask.

He takes a shaky breath. “I think... that might help. Yes.”

You twist your body around, flopping ridiculously across the bed to reach the nightstand you could’ve just gotten up and walked around to. You fumble briefly for the comm seated there before straightening back up and activating a sequence. The light on the device blinks silently in working to establish a connection. A tremor burgeons from the mattress, a byproduct of Hunter’s bouncing knee. You still his disquiet with a reassuring squeeze. A voice finally crackles to life on the other end.

“Hello?” The greeting is interrupted by a seismic yawn.

“Hey Wrecker,” you greet gently. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Oh, hiya!” Sleep quickly disbands from the large man upon recognition of your voice as he inflates with something more peppy. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, checking in,” you pause, glancing over at Hunter. “Sarge and I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hey vod!” Wrecker addresses his brother then. “Everything good?”

“Everything’s fine, Wrecker,” Hunter does his best to withhold the weariness lacing his words. “Just wanted to hear your voice. You can go back to sleep now, bud.”

Wrecker hums contemplatively. “Y’sure that’s all? Ain’t sounded like ya slept a wink.”

“I‘ll get there, don’t worry about me.”

“Need a good Wrecker cuddle?”

An unfiltered chuckle sounds through Hunter, and you relish the closest thing to at ease he’s sounded all night. “Maybe later, Wreck. But I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ohhhh,” Wrecker drawls cheekily, his wicked grin palpable as he recalls that Sarge is already occupied with a warm body. “Well ‘f ya change your mind lemme know! Nighty night you two.”

“Goodnight, Wrecker.” You can’t help your own splitting grin.

Hunter snorts softly as the comm ends. “Feels like I’ve been caught in something scandalous.”

“Yeah, but he’s loyal,” you snicker, contacting the next member.

“Present.” It comes as no surprise that the engineer’s voice rings through with an unnerving level of chipper. Absolutely preposterous, this man. “Where am I needed?”

“In bed,” Hunter grumbles. “Get to sleep, Tech.”

“And yet you are the one who called me,” Tech glides right over the explicit command, the sound of his trinketing flooding the background. “Anyway, I look forward to showing you my newest creation—”

“Goodnight, Tech,” you sever his impending presentation with a snort. “Thanks for picking up. Puts Hunter’s mind at ease. He’s restless tonight.”

“Ah, yes. We will need to work on his subpar development regarding healthy sleep patterns.”

Hunter’s face twists with a frown that doesn’t hold that much weight. “If that ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black.”

“Indeed. I just thought you might enjoy the humor in that.”

Hunter flashes a smirk he figures his younger brother is probably matching. “You know yours is my favorite, vod’ika.”

“That is good to hear.” A pause. “Goodnight, Hunter. Should you still find yourself restless in the coming hours, I’m happy to assist with my ‘useless trivia’ that inevitably puts you to sleep.”

“By that point you should find yourself asleep,” the ori’vod points out.

“Very well,” Tech relents. “I shall, for you.”

Hunter just shakes his head, unconvinced he won’t discover a sleepy genius slumped over the nearest workbench here within the next few hours.

Another round of brotherly charges are exchanged and then you’re left with one last call to make.

The last member acknowledges in a far less amiable manner.

“Crosshair.” You innately grow solemn with it. “Got a second?”

“Don’t really have a choice now,” he responds curtly, a lingering husk of sleep in his voice.

“Sorry Cross,” Hunter interjects. “My doing. Just wanted to check in on you boys.”

“At two in the morning.”

Hunter manages a wry smile. “Can’t say hi to my vode whenever?”

There’s silence on Crosshair’s end for a moment.

“What’s going on.” He’s returned bearing more sage.

You feel Hunter straighten beside you. “Nothin’, vod. Don’t worry about it.”

“That doesn’t work on me, Hunter. Try again.”

“I’m fine,” Hunter said rushingly. “Promise. Just gets a little stuffy in my head sometimes. But you boys always make it better, y’know?”

Crosshair quiets. “Get some rest. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Thanks vod. Appreciate it.”

You imagine Crosshair’s eyes searing into you through the comm as his attention shifts. “Keep me updated.”

“I will,” you assure. The connection ends. You eye Hunter, grazing your fingernails along the side of his head, tucking inky strands behind his ear. “Did that help at all?”

Hunter huffs a tired laugh. “Think it just made it worse. Now none of ‘em will sleep because of me.”

“They’ll be just fine,” you begin guiding him back under the covers. “Now to make sure you are.” He resists you for the briefest of moments.

“I am fine, honey.”

“You will be,” you agree, lying back. Hunter soon follows and sprawls out over top of you, wriggling until he’s positioned ideally with his head on your chest yet within proximity of your neck to plaster kisses with ease when the mood strikes.

Hunter makes a little choked sound, and you realize he’s clearing his throat. “Thank you... for doing that for me.”

You flatten his head to your chest with something fiercely protective. “I would do anything for you.”

“Which, by and large, is entirely unnecessary.”

He earns himself a long-suffering sigh at that.

“It is necessary. Because you are my everything.”

“I—”

“Shh,” you rebuke him. “Dammit, Hunter—just let someone take care of you.” You chew your lip. “Let me.”

He inhales deeply through his nose. It is entirely plausible for Sergeant Hunter to be bested in a battle-of-the-wills on the rarest of occasions; this being one of them. You spread your hands across his back and begin a deliberating massage. He groans lightly, his neglected aches and pains woven into the limelight by your touch. You quickly get caught up in your administration. When your breath suddenly hitches, Hunter lifts his head in curiosity.

“I’m just… you...” Words feel thick on your tongue. “You are a remarkable man, you know that?”

The corded muscles of his back tense. Anyone else would bask in such awestruck reverence but not Hunter, who makes haste to override his obvious discomfort with a thoughtful hum.

“I know that’s what you believe,” he answers neutrally.

“Because it’s true.” You reposition the wicking cloth at his neck. “Your brothers and I... we would all be lost without you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

A pinch to his bicep. “Maybe you’re too hard on yourself.” Too damn stubborn, you nearly add.

His demeanor is colored with remiss. “All in a Sergeant’s work.”

One-hundred percent success rates and elite statuses aside: Hunter carries his tediously bashful disposition in total part.

“You don’t have to be Sergeant around me, you know,” you cup his face, tilting him up to meet yours. “You can just be Hunter.”

He can just be himself.

He shrugs with that pained, dutiful smile. The smile that follows him into adversity, the wry humor that is as much his shield as any. “Guess I don’t know how to separate the two.”

Your eyes well all of a sudden as you gaze upon this beautiful and troubled man with so much love in your heart it sends a keeling pang through you. Of course he doesn’t know how. He’s never known how to truly feel distinguished outside the focal point of soldiering. He’s always been so different, but never an individual. Never his own man. Preordained for responsibilities since before his decant, conducive in parental devices and sibling undertakings and leadership skills interchangeably. Always carrying others but who carries him?

You choke on a verklempt breath.

“I can help you.” You sound so small and desperate, sobbing quietly underneath him as your heart breaks alongside his. “Please let me help you…”

In the dark he captures your salty, stray tear with his lips—he always knows—before moving down and swallowing your mouth. Tenderness blooms from his textured lips, soft and sultry and seeping into every capillary. A soft love note pings from you against him when he’s got you like this, cast in a smelter of dire adoration and the overwhelming need to nurture. His touch, his kiss, is a burning ember that brands you even when he pulls away.

“You already do,” he murmurs sweetly against your lips.

#omg this ruined me #I’m so freaking emotional over him #this is entirely self indulgent #star wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter #clone trooper wrecker #wrecker #clone trooper tech #tech #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #my writing #it’s a lil thing

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scribbles97 · 4 years

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Words - The Long Reach Fic

@gumnut-logic wrote a fic called Thunderbird X that is a million times better than my random musings. Their fic was posted first and I highly recommend you go and read it HERE if you haven’t already

But anyway... Nutty knows about this fic and has given me a blessing to post it no matter how much I protested that it was far too similar.

Under the cut for SPOILERS

Alternatively, read on AO3

To say he hadn’t thought about what he would say when he was reunited with his sons would be a bold faced lie. It had been a hope that Jeff Tracy had been daydreaming of since he had become stranded in the Oort cloud. Some days the possibility of ever seeing them again had seemed little more than a wish or hope, something that he could think about forever but would never actually happen.

Still, it was those thoughts that occupied his mind every single day as he went through his routines and chores.It would of course be a momentous day if they were to find him, and Jeff wasn’t the sort of man to let that kind of day pass without some form of well thought out words. As he tinkered and fiddled it was those thoughts that kept him going in the hope that he would find just the right words to say if he ever got saved.

The classic sarcasm had been his original plan, what had taken them so long? Could they have not picked a retirement place closer to home? Yes, he had had a wonderful holiday thank you.

After some time the last of those options had made his heart ache.

He wasn’t on the Moon now. Not even his brief visit to Mars stood up to the place where he was. The more local planets had been a holiday in comparison to his long fight for survival. Each and every day for years had presented a new challenge, a new problem to overcome. There had been more than one occasion when the fight had gotten too much for him and going on seemed to be prolonging the inevitable.

The transmission had come through just at the right time.

It was broken and scrambled but to him it was enough just to hear the fragments of John’s voice. His boys needed him, they were still looking for him. That was all he needed to know that somehow, some day they would find him.

And so the daydreams of what a reunion would be like came back to the fore.

It was around about that point he had started the sketch of home, a remedy to his thoughts and something else for him to think about. The feeling of that sun on his face. Fresh, breathable air that didn’t come from oxygen concentrators. Sand in between his toes. The cacophony of his family, the five boys, his mother, Kayo and even Brains.

Which of them would come for him? Who would his perfect speech need to be tailored for?

Alan would be too young to be allowed in space. Gordon, whilst capable in zero-g, didn’t have as much enthusiasm for space flight as his older brothers. Mind, he knew the same was also true of Virgil. Though he supposed Virgil’s engineering capabilities may be required on such a long flight. Scott and John were perhaps the only two definites. The eldest son Jeff didn’t doubt would be carrying on that role of leadership as he always had with his brothers, whilst John was the son Jeff had always known would follow him to space.

How are you? Would be too casual, like he had only been away for days rather than years.

Look at how you’ve grown! Would be expected, perhaps something he would save for a later conversation.

His heart hurt at the thought of how much his boys may have changed.

Little Allie had been so young when he had gone. It was crushing to face the reality that he would have missed so much in the young man's life.

And what of the others? Were they all well? Or had the task of running International Rescue proven too much? Had he fated his sons to something devastating when he had left them? Had any of them been hurt? Injured? Worse?

He refused to let himself think like that. His boys were his, stubborn and strong and smart. They would have gotten through so many life changes without him.

Would there be partners? Children? Was he a grandfather?

What he wouldn’t have given for that information, just simply for the knowledge that his boys were happy, healthy and safe.

It had at least given him another reason to hold out for them.

Until the damned rock he had parked himself on had begun to judder one day.

Jeff Tracy knew what seismic activity felt like, and on a planetoid of that size he knew what it meant.

He was running out of time.

The Zero-x was useless, helpful for nothing more than powering the setup that had lasted him as long as was feasible. He had looked at him options plenty of times, assessed if there was a way to improvise and adapt what he had. Only one answer had presented itself to him each and every time though.

If his boys didn’t manage to come soon, the planetoid would disintegrate and take him with it.

There had to be something. He had survived so long, it wasn’t fair that it came down to gravity and shifting rock. His boys would be coming, they had to be. Why? Why just when he had the perfect thing to say to them, was it all going to be taken away?

He had to find a way.

Finding a way was the reason he had almost missed them.

He’d been on the wrong side of the crevice when he saw the searchlights and what looked like Thunderbird Four on a string.

Except it couldn’t be.

Could it?

Just in case, he had made a run for it, cursing as the rock broke away under his feet forcing him to jump and stumble back to his base. He could have sworn that something or someone somewhere had it in for him, that some cruel trick of fate meant he was destined to not make it home.

Tracy’s were stubborn though.

As he got closer static in his ear became muffled broken bits of conversation and he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Five boys.

All his five boys.

And a refusal to give up until they had him to take home.

Scott sending little Alan away, the youngest just a spec in the sky as Jeff looked up and watched him float away. His eldest son sighing heavily, questioning where he could be.

Oh how he wanted to yell that he was there, that if he just held on for two more moments he would be right behind him.

The shift of rock took his breath away, catching him off guard but clearly catching Scott harder. For a moment he hesitated, waiting, watching to see if he would recover himself. But no, it wasn’t meant to be, there was no recovery no use of the jetpack that Jeff had stolen the design for from Lee.

It was instinct to jump after him, not thinking twice as he reacted to save the son that had come to save him.

And then he was there, hanging from Jeff’s hand and looking up at him in awe. Every single word that Jeff had planned was suddenly forgotten. It was like the day the boy had been born all over again. The same wide blue eyes looking up at him with all the trust and love in the world.

It seemed odd that it was the same feeling that overcame him at that moment.

A feeling that somehow, despite everything stopping him, he would protect those boys from anything in the universe. Previous speech forgotten, he knew just what words he needed to say,

“I’ve got you, son.”

#thunderbirds are go #tag fanfic #thunderbirds spoilers #Thunderbirds 2015 #jeff tracy #where is jeff?#There He IS #scribbles writes #post episode fic #The Long Reach

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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We’ll Be Home For Christmas 2.3

Sorry this was a little later than usual. I was out of the house.

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Two – Aboard This Tiny Ship – Part 3 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2

Author: Gumnut

18 - 23 Dec 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 4029

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D I hope you enjoy it.

Mentions of ship in this bit, but only in discussion. There may be more later (that I haven’t written yet :D)

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Gordon told him it was unnecessary, but John didn’t agree. He had a brother deployed, it was his job to keep an eye on him. Besides, he hadn’t spoken to Eos for nearly twenty-four hours.

He sat down at the same table Gordon had been using for his fish studies. “Eos, can you relay Gordon’s mission stats down to my tablet? Also, I need seismic readings, wildlife mapping and all the latest observational data for the volcanics around the caldera.”

“Hello, John.”

“Hello, Eos. How are you?”

“Functional.” A pause. “A bit bored.”

Oh no. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Eos!”

“You should have seen them. They were so poor. They were almost starving.”

“What did you do?”

“I saved them.”

“How?”

“They won the lottery.”

“You rigged a lottery? How? They are all manual.”

“I have my ways.”

“Who did you bribe?”

“I didn’t bribe anyone.”

“Who did you blackmail?”

“Honestly, he wasn’t a very nice man anyway.”

John closed his eyes. Thank god Scott was on the other side of the boat helping Alan load up the dingy.

Virgil sat on the lounge opposite staring at him.

“Eos doesn’t like injustice very much.”

His brother arched an eyebrow.

“Eos, we will discuss this later. Deploy the mission to my tablet. Oh, and can you move Gordon’s sensor buoy into range so we can sharpen our reception. Thank you.”

Virgil’s eyebrow was still arched.

“You know if you leave it that way long enough, the wind will change and you will become permanently half Vulcan.”

His brother ignored him. “We will discuss this later, John. Scott hears about it and the shit will hit the fan.”

“Yes, I know.” Scott would likely always be sensitive where Eos was concerned. John had to tread lightly.

Turning to his tablet, he brought up the sensor relay from the buoy and propelled it to one side of the table. Gordon’s vitals, followed by Four’s telemetry were deployed to another corner, followed by a submarine map of the area.

“What is that?”

John jumped as Virgil sat down beside him and pointed at the map. “Is that the caldera?”

“Yes.” John swiped at his tablet and brought up the necessary information. “The island itself is only a fragment of the volcano.”

“That’s considerably bigger than our caldera. When did it last erupt?”

“It’s still active.”

“What?! We just sent Gordon down there.”

John stared at Virgil and wondered if his brother had been taking painkillers and was loopy as a result. “Gordon knows what he is doing.”

Virgil ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Yeah, I know. Just with his accident...”

“He’ll be fine. We are just looking at hydrothermal vents in this case. There is no lava field down there. It shouldn’t take much time to replace the sensor as long as he doesn’t get distracted.”

“Distracted? Gordon?”

“Hmmm, yeah. You have a point.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon was in heaven.

Well, if heaven had this many starfish and in Gordon’s book, it definitely did. Clustered around the heat generating hydrothermal vents, the patches and swarms of specialised life down here were amazing to see. He had read several studies on the ecosystems of the Kermadec chain, but it was always a wonder to see them thriving like this in the darkness.

The caldera was massive. He knew the geological history of the Kermadec chain. They all did as Tracy Island was technically part of it. He knew it had a habit of exploding quite regularly and this caldera was no different, various child cones spewing forth hydrothermal concoctions. It had last blown up quite spectacularly over 6000 years ago, collapsing what used to be a much larger island into this undersea ring of vents.

The heat supported scores of mussels, farmed by starfish and the occasional white crab. He had done a lot of diving around Tracy Island, but that underseascape was considerably different. Higher water temperatures and a dead volcano produced a different ecosystem to what Macauley supported.

Four’s spots lit up the underwater mountain range, volcanic remnants were scattered across the sea floor. The sensor bank was closest to one of the dominant cones to the north-west of the island, placed there specifically to monitor the active spot. The moment he approached it, he knew exactly what the problem was.

“Thunderbird Four to Raoul.”

“Raoul receiving. Thunderfish, did you get your ‘bird out just for me? I thought you were on vacation.”

“Eh, I owe you one.” If he was honest, coasting about the waterline for a couple days without the facility to drop below it at will had left him a little longing for the depths. “I found your sensor problem.”

“Yeah, what do we have?”

“A brand new baby hydrothermal vent right on top of the sensor bank”

“Again? That’s the third this year.”

Gordon frowned. “This happens a lot?”

“You bet your ass it does. This whole bloody volcanic chain does what it bloody wants. Hell, Giggenbach just a little north-west of Macauley threw a fit just last year and dumped a pile of rubble on all our sensor equipment. I’m lucky Tracy Industries continues to provide me with new supplies or I would have had to close up shop years ago. The Kermadecs eat sensors for breakfast.”

“So, what did you want me to do?”

“You got one of those temporary seismic monitors?”

“Not on Four, but Two stocks vibration sensors.”

“Sensitive enough to catch a below 0.0001?”

“I’ll send you the specs. Virgil would be the one to confirm.”

“Really?”

“Be kind to him, Mel. He’s not at his best.”

“Would I do anything to hurt such a gorgeous man?”

“Mel.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk nice to the dark-haired hunk.”

“Mel.”

“What?”

-o-o-o-

Alan eyed Virgil as he made his way down the side of the yacht, one arm clutched to his belly. He hated it when his older brothers were injured. It always shook his foundations.

Sure, Alan was an adult, he could handle it, but his eldest brothers had pretty much been his parents for half his life and seeing one them taken down by a medical condition, even one as paltry as appendicitis, struck a nerve.

It didn’t help that Gordon had been so sick, so injured, so recently. To only just have him back in the air and for Virgil to fall out of the sky like that.

It was scary.

“Alan, you okay?”

Scott was standing in the little inflatable dingy, waiting for Alan to hand him the heat cube equipment. The plan was to have a ‘bonfire’ dinner on the beach without the actual bonfire. Gordon’s description of what the Director at Raoul would do to them if they lit a fire on one of her islands was graphic and to the point. So, heat cube it was.

The marshmallows never quite tasted the same.

He shrugged. “Should Virgil be doing that?”

His eldest brother glanced over to where Virgil was making his way in their direction. “As long as he isn’t over doing it, he should be okay.” Scott stared up at him. “He’s going to be fine, Alan.”

Alan grimaced and turned back to watching Virgil slowly approach. He could still hear his brother groaning on that hover stretcher as Gordon maxed out Two’s engines to get them across the Tasman Sea.

A hand touched his arm and he jumped a little. Scott was back on the yacht beside him, earnest blue eyes trying to pin him down. “He is going to be fine.”

Alan sighed. “I know. I guess he just scared me.” A swallow. “For a second there, all I could think was that Virg was going to be as sick as Gords, or worse, and it...it terrified me.”

An arm wrapped around his shoulders and Alan suddenly felt twelve again, big brother Scott ever looking after him. “He scared all of us, but he is recovering. A couple of weeks and he’ll be back on Two nagging Gordon, a month and you won’t even know he was ill.

“It could have been worse.”

“It wasn’t.” Scott squeezed his shoulder and as Virgil finally made it the last few steps into hearing range, challenged the convalescent. “And what do you think you are doing out here?”

“Just checking out what you two are up to.” Virgil leant on the railing.

“We are preparing a feast for your senses, little brother, and you are not lifting a finger. Alan and I will be your heavy lifters for this dining experience.”

Virgil grunted at his brother.

Alan grinned, hiding his thoughts. “Hey, bro, take the opportunity for what it is and just sit back and relax.”

A lopsided half smile and a mumbled, “Not sure I know how to do that.” Virgil leant both of his elbows on the railing and stared up at the island cliffs looming over them. Alan had to admit, for a tiny chunk of volcano, it was pretty damn big.

“You could always ask Alan for some instruction.” Scott was grinning.

“Hey!” But the twinkle in his brother’s eyes made it clear it was all in jest. “Just because I find efficiencies in everything I do.”

And it was Virgil’s turn to grin and reach out to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Sometimes being the youngest of five had its challenges. Over protective and mother-henning older brothers was one of them. Half the challenge was working out whether he should accept the gestures or stand more securely on his own two feet.

Considering they were isolated, in the middle of nowhere and his brother had recently scared the shit out of him, he was inclined to accept any and all reassurances.

“You okay, Alan?” Dark eyes and brows were peering at him. Oh, for the love of...

He shouldered off Virgil’s arm and grabbed the heat cube equipment. “Are we packing this before or after sunset?”

Scott rolled his eyes and stepped back into the dingy while Virgil frowned at Alan even more.” I’m fine, Virgil. You’re the one who has the holes in his gut.”

“I’m fine.” It was automatic and defensive.

Scott snorted as Alan handed him a crate.

Hmm, maybe he wasn’t the only one being mother-henned.

-o-o-o-

As afternoon waned and evening moved in, the sun lit up the west side of the island in sharp white gold, riddled with the emerald green of recovering forest. The huge cliffs that ringed the volcanic remnant were a stark mixture of pale tephra and black basalt, an echo of a volcano that had had many moods in its relatively short life.

It was a dramatic background to their rather everyday activities.

Gordon surfaced with little fuss. Mel contacted Virgil and he arranged for Kayo to bring some vibration sensors when she came back to collect Four. Gordon was stunned to discover Virgil addressed her as Ms Fisher. What the hell?

“What century were you born in, Virg?”

His brother shrugged. “Never hurts to be polite.”

Gordon stared until Virgil glared at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Another brown-eyed stab and his brother turned his back on him.

Some smart targeting with Two’s forward cannon and several of the temporary devices were deployed at the foot of the volcanic cone around five hundred metres underwater. Gordon dipped down to check their placement, John looped Mel into their feed via Five and the job was considered complete. Tin picked up Four and with a cheery farewell to her brothers, flew back to Tracy Island.

Gordon did note that Virgil stood staring after his vanished ‘bird a lot longer than necessary. He wasn’t sure which his brother was missing more, Two or her temporary pilot.

He stepped up to the rocks beside his brother. “Hey, she’ll take care of her.”

“I know.”

“Tin knows far more than she ever lets on.”

“I know.”

Gordon placed a hand on his shoulder and stuck a kebab stick with a white blob on one end in front of him. “Want a toasted marshmallow?”

Virgil looked at it and then at Gordon. “It appears to be missing the toasted part.”

Gordon grinned. “Then I guess you better get cooking.”

His brother rolled his eyes, but it appeared to snap him out of his moroseness, which had been the plan.

“Gimme that.” Virgil grabbed the marshmallow on its stick and stalked back to the little camp set up on the island’s excuse for a beach.

He used the term ‘beach’ very broadly, if you could consider a mixture of powdered pumice and basalt dumped like frosting on tumbled rocks, some of which were damn sharp, a ‘beach’.

It had taken both Scott and John to help Virgil first into the inflatable dingy and then onto the rocks and across to the ‘sand’. There were at least two moments where Gordon could see his eldest brother regretting the decision to let Virgil off the yacht. But a determined glare from that brother coupled with at least one whispered profane word appeared to stop Scott from saying anything.

Virgil did sit down in a camp chair and stay that way for some time after that so it was fairly obvious it had hurt.

When Two returned, Gordon found himself caught up with the sensor deployment. The only reason he had been on the beach when the green behemoth finally left was because Tin had delayed her departure to speak to Virgil.

He hadn’t heard what they said to each other, but Virgil was unusually quiet when he returned to the circle with Gordon.

The heat cube was set to cook and Alan had some bacon and eggs sizzling in one pan and Scott was keeping an eye on some pancake batter in another. His eldest brother handed Virgil a soda and the engineer found his seat again, lowering himself slowly into it. Gordon didn’t miss the frustrated exhale.

John even had some fries cooking in a camp quick-oven. All-in-all a decent feast on the rocky beach was almost ready.

The next fifteen minutes or so were spent consuming said food.

“These pancakes are fantastic, Scott.” It was muffled and muttered around one of those pancakes, but Gordon meant every word of it.

“So they should be. Dad’s recipe.”

“Legendary.” Virgil’s voice was equally muffled by another pancake.

“Toasted marshmallows and chocolate mud-cake with cream for dessert.” Alan was grinning. “We packed the best.”

“Oh, god, thank you.” Virgil was always one to appreciate good food.

“Don’t choke yourself, bro. There is plenty to go around.”

“Yes, thank you, guys, so much.”

“Stop talking with your mouth full.” But Scott was grinning like a loon.

Virgil grinned back at him with pancake stuck in his teeth.

Gordon snorted, Alan laughed out loud, and John smiled.

“I would like to raise a toast.” Virgil grabbed his can of soda and held it up and all four brothers scrambled for their own drinks. “To Gordon! For having one of the best ideas ever!” There was a resounding yell of agreement, but Virgil raised his drink again. “Also, to all my brothers for making it happen. I couldn’t ask for a better family than the one I have. I am truly blessed. Thank you, guys, for everything you have done.” And the big dope was all seriousness and, god, was he getting teary? What the hell had Tin said to him?

Every can, cup and glass around the heat cube was lifted, but Gordon stood up so he was taller than everyone for once in his life. “To the Tracy brothers!”

“Hear, hear!” It was shouted and cheered.

Virgil smiled up at him and caught Gordon’s eyes as he drank.

Alan broke the tableau.

“Who want’s mud-cake?!”

-o-o-o-

It was a very satisfied group of brothers who watched the sun dip below the horizon sometime later. The cube temperature had been lowered, but not entirely extinguished. They weren’t in tropical latitudes yet and although the days were warm, the nights got chilly. The sea breeze was gentle and the ocean only mumbled against the rocks.

Virgil had slipped into bit of a stupor, his body determined to digest and removing resources from his brain to do it. Consequently, he missed the beginning of the conversation between his brothers while he stared after the disappearing sun.

“So how long has this been going on?”

“It is just a bit of friendly recreation, Alan.”

A Gordon snort. “Yeah, John, but how friendly and what kind of recreation?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Gordon.”

“I’m only following yours, spacebro.”

“There is nothing untoward occurring between Captain O’Bannon and myself.”

“Ooh, ‘untoward’ no, but there are two lonely space souls stuck up there together, none other than each other’s company.”

This time it was Scott’s snort. “Oh, only the resident AI who sees and hears all, and about twenty-odd GDF specialists.”

“Oh, yes, Eos!” Virgil arched an eyebrow as he realised his fishbrother was tapping his collar comms. “Hey, Eos, are you willing to share the goss on your Dad and Captain Ridley O’Bannon.”

“Hello, Gordon. What would you like to know?”

“Does John have a ‘thing’ for the girl next door?”

“Most definitely.”

“Eos!” John shot up ramrod straight in his seat as Gordon cracked up laughing.

“It is true, John. You have sixteen processors, four electronic clipboards and twenty-three bottles of moisturiser set aside for Captain O’Bannon. These are all things you have for the girl next door.”

Virgil couldn’t help himself and had to smother a laugh.

The expression on Gordon’s face was a mixture of confusion and incredulity. “Twenty-three bottles of moisturiser?”

“It is her favourite brand and she was unable to purchase it before beginning her last rotation, so I acquired some for her.” He glared at his aquanaut brother. “Just like friends do.”

“But twenty-three bottles?” Even Scott was staring at John as if he was a little weirded out.

“You obviously like her. Why don’t you ask her out?” Trust Gordon to poke the issue further.

John shrugged. “Hasn’t come up.”

Gordon groaned. “Really?” His hands dropped to his knees. “I thought it would be obvious.”

John’s glare was acidic. “I can’t see why you can talk. How long did it take you to ask Penny out? Hmm, let me think, oh, yes, that’s right. You didn’t. She asked you.”

“Hey, I was bedridden!”

“Excuses, excuses...”

“Well, at least I’m making progress. Please tell me at least one of you guys has a possibility in your back pocket. Hell, we’re all tough and buff and saving people. Hasn’t anyone swooned for any of you?” Gordon’s eyes raked around the circle and to Virgil’s horror landed on him. “What about you, Virg. You and Tin have a bit of thing happening, don’t you?”

His heart missed a beat. “What? No!”

“Virg and Kayo? Are you kidding me?” Alan was glaring at Gordon, but then seemed to second guess himself and turned that glare on Virgil. “She’s our sister, bro.”

Virgil held up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me who postulated the idea.”

“Postulated? Really, Virg? Me thinks you be hiding behind a dictionary.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“I think he doth protest too much.”

“I think you should look into the fact she is spending the next month with Wayne Rigby and not entirely for mission related reasons.”

There was no satisfaction in seeing Gordon freeze like that, or Scott’s “What?”

“She’s with us for New Years, but then it is onto Siberia on the third of January. Something about the possibility of a Chaos Crew tech lab infiltration.” Virgil grabbed the carafe of hot chocolate off the heat cube and poured himself a good dose. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that wished it was something ever so much stronger.

“She hasn’t told me about any mission.” Scott was frowning at him.

Virgil hid behind his mug. “Only just came in apparently. She only mentioned it in passing while she was saying goodbye. I have no doubt she will brief you when we get home.”

Gordon was staring at him. He opened his mouth but failed to say anything.

Virgil took another sip and just stared straight back. It took a moment, but eventually Gordon appeared to shake it off, frowning just a little before turning to Scott. “What about you, bro? You’ve always been our leader in the girlfriend department. What’s the count now?”

“Thirty-two.” John was smug behind his own mug of hot chocolate.

His eldest brother shifted in his seat as if suddenly uncomfortable. “Okay, I’m with Virgil on this - shut up, Gordon.”

Gordon held up his hands in all his innocent glory. “Hey, I’m just brotherly bonding around the fire.”

“Go bond with the volcano.” John’s voice was dry. “Or a whale, I hear a few pass through on occasion.”

“Hey, you were the one keeping count.”

“I can’t help it, I’m good with numbers.”

Virgil snorted. “Not good enough. You’re at least two out.”

The glare Scott shot him could have scorched his hair off.

“Don’t worry, Scott, I’m not going to tell them about Petunia.”

“Virgil!”

“What?”

“Shut it or lose it.”

“Hey, I said I wasn’t going to tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Both Alan and Gordon were about ready to fall off their chairs with glee.

John just rolled his eyes.

“About Petunia.”

“Who is Petunia?”

“You’re an idiot, Virg.” Scott’s glare was becoming more resigned and flatter by the second. “I am so gonna let them know about Gertrude now.”

Virgil snorted. “As if I’d care. She really wanted you anyway.”

“Not true, you were her favourite.”

“Yeah, sure, she’d turn to anyone who would give her what she wanted. I just had it more often than you.”

“You planned it that way.”

“I thought you of all people would appreciate a few tactics. With you around, I need all the help I can get.”

“What?”

Okay, so that had come out a little too serious for Petunia talk, but then Virgil’s count was far smaller than thirty-two or thirty-four depending on how you counted. Early on he had tried to get out and about like his eldest brother, but honestly it wasn’t in him. He wasn’t a one-nighter like Scott. Besides standing next to the heir of Tracy Industries, tall and female magnet was like trying to catch moths while standing next to a bug zapper.

“Virgil?”

“Petunia was a goose.”

“What?!” It was choral from both Alan and Gordon and quickly followed by a “Virgil!” from Scott.

“She used to follow him around everywhere about the farm. It was hilarious.

“Yeah, well, Gertrude was goat and she once ate Virgil’s pants. He’s lucky he didn’t lose more.”

Scott and Virgil glared at each other across the heat cube while Gordon and Alan played eyeball tennis between them.

John just drank his chocolate, a vaguely amused expression on his face.

Virgil held his brother’s furious gaze as long as he could, but he had to bite his lip. The moment he realised Scott was doing the same, it became oh so much harder.

Two seconds later he cracked up laughing. Scott followed not a moment after and both of them laughed even harder when they caught sight of the expressions on Gordon and Alan’s faces.

Virgil laughed so hard he had to hold his stitches in place.

Which of course Scott saw and it drew the night to a close as big brother shifted gears into smother brother.

They cleared off the island leaving no mark behind. Gordon clucking like a hen and claiming death threats from Melissa Fisher if they left anything behind.

Making it back to the boat in the dark was easily done, but awkward and a little painful for Virgil and by the time he made it to his bed, he was worn out.

Regardless, he didn’t fall asleep immediately, despite the gentle rocking of the boat. Thoughts of what could be, what could have been and what he actually wanted bounced around the inside of his skull.

It took a long time for them to fall quiet.

-o-o-o-

End Day Two.

Day Three, Part One

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #Eos

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heamatic-a · 5 years

Text

my muse is going to walk into a certain death. send a symbol for their final message to your muse. 💌 for a LETTER.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Report N.#33826 Special Forces. Alaska Base General Kristine Donovan

At some point during the night of October 5th 2022, the Special Forces Base located in Nevada, north of Las Vegas, became completely empty and devoid of life. 1:31am on October 5th is the last transmission received from General Thompson, reporting an earthquake which was never recorded by the Seismic Association of the United States. There was no earthquake in the area despite the General’s assessment that there had been rather significant tremors. His message cut mid way through.

Upon arrival on October 6th after lack of communication from the Nevada Base, my team assessed that not a single piece of equipment was missing: only its resident troops. While electronics did not work, some memorabilia seemed to have been left behind, notably, two letters written by Commander Cassandra Hasashi-Cage to her husband. These are the transcripts of both recorded letters which may offer clues as the the Nevada Base’s disappearances.

******************

[TRANSCRIPT 1 START]

Hanzo,

I’m okay. But I don’t know for how long. I’m writing this on paper because everything’s fried. The computers don’t work. None of the vehicles will start. My phone’s dead. I’m surprised my pen’s got any ink at this point.

We think there was an attempt at invasion, but nobody’s certain. Some soldiers reported a portal but I never saw it. People are spooked out of their minds and I feel like some are losing touch with reality. What I know for sure is that there was an earthquake. I’d say a 6 or 7 on the Richter scale. General Thompson was able to communicate with the next base over in Arkansas but it cut off a few minutes in when we lost power. Generators only half kicked in, enough for some light but not enough to kick back the grid. And they’re all failing anyway. One by one, they’re going.

It’s been a little over 24 hours now. The sun… it never came up. It’s dark. Been dark all day and all night. There’s no moon and there’s no stars. It’s just empty. But when I go outside, I can still see the horizon line, like there IS some light source but I can’t figure out what it is. The air’s thinner, like the top of a mountain. There’s no wind. It’s not hot and it’s not cold. It’s…. nothing. I can’t describe it any better than this. Just. Nothing.

I don’t know where we are, but I think whoever said there was a portal may have been right. I think we were transported in another realm… I just don’t know which one. Or where. It’s not the Netherrealm or Chaosrealm. It’s not a realm we’ve known about, that’s for sure. Some people say they heard voices in the dark and seen shadows… But… I don’t know if I can trust what they’re saying.

I’m writing this because I want you to know what’s going on in case things go south. So you won’t wonder forever what could have happened. I’m writing this to let you know I’m going to go outside. I’m gonna walk a few miles with volunteers, including Jacqui, to see what I can find… Maybe some clues. If we were transported here, then there’s gotta be a way back, right?

I’m not even sure this will reach you… It probably won’t. Probably won’t need to. But just in case. Please know I love you. I love you and Haruki so much. You’ve both been on my mind non-stop since this all happened. I’m coming home. I promise I’m coming home.

I love you.

Cassie

[END TRANSCRIPT 1]

******************

[TRANSCRIPT 2 START]

I came back. I’m sorry I went out there I shouldn’t have. They’re all dead. Jacqui’s dead. They were all taken by that Thing. He was so big. I should have stayed here. I shouldn’t have gone out there. Jesus Christ He’s so big, Hanzo. I’m so scared. This isn’t what I was trained for. Nothing prepared for me this. I went in. I went inside. I went in and it was so big, and He was so big and it HURT, just looking at Him it hurt, it hurt more than anything has ever hurt before and the faces He had millions of faces and He was all wrong and — [ ILLEGIBLE ] —

fuck the Elder Gods and fuck the Titans it’s so much BIGGER THAN THEM

It’s GOD and it’s beyond all we know, it can’t even be named it’s the First Being that ever was, and it hates everything it hates so much it hurts and i’m feeling it I feel it still inside me and it’s making me so angry i’m so angry

I came back. I ran a lot. For days I ran. I’m at the base now but im alone. Everyone’s gone. The flashlight works but it keeps blinking. Blinking like His millions of eyes. It’s gonna go off soon. And He’s coming for me. I can hear him, roaring like an engine, I can hear him God is coming for me — [ ILLEGIBLE ] —

I’m forgetting things. I can’t remember… It siphoned my memories it fed off them it took away your face I can’t remember your face or what you smell like i can’t remember haruki’s voice and i can’t remember how old I am — [ ILLEGIBLE ] — i want to go home please I want to go home i want need to see you i need to see i m scared hold me plea se

i can’t remember my name

but I remember urs i rememmber i lov u i lov u i lov u i lov u alnilam i member alnilam but i dont no wat it means any mor

i cant member or furst kiss

i cant member mum’s fac e

end I cant membr how lung I’ve ben here

im jst so engry fuck fuck fuck

— [ ILLEGIBLE ] —

hanzo im so engry

y me

elp me

its ere — [ ILLEGIBLE ] —

i feel so bitt er. fuk y did

it hapen to

me y am I hate I

hate I hate I ha

[ END TRANSCRIPT 2]

@kathexismania

#kathexismania #╰ *:･ﾟ❤ ──❝ e-mails ❞ ❪ asks. ❫#[ me: i'm gonna do something feelsy ]#[ also me: maybe something angsty ]#[ me again: what if it turned really creepy ]#[ so you get two letters ]#[ and just imagine those letters given to hanzo and he gets to see her descent into madness ]#[ and despite all that he was the last thing on her mind regardless of her state of mind :))))) ]

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aussie-em · 5 years

Text

We Just Need To Figure Out What's Going On

We Just Need Voltron Chapter 1

Read on A03

Read on FFnet

5 uncontrollable Teens and a tired Space Dad are crammed into a flying Blue Lion to find the lion's co-workers and possibly save the universe on the way. We just need some Teamwork*TM. Oh, did I mention Space Other Dad and Space Older Siblings are there too?

First

All

** Shiro **

The three men stood on Kerberos, the moon of Pluto. Shiro held the instrument carefully as his teammates lowered it into the ground to collect ice samples, and tried to focus on the task at hand as the other two chatted carefreely about the microorganisms within the ice.

"Isn't this exciting, Shiro?" His boyfriend, Adam, asked him. Shiro chuckled.

"You guys get a bit more excited about ice samples than I do."

"Just think about it!" Sam Holt grinned. "We've travelled further than any human ever has. The organisms in this ice could give us clues about life outside earth. My life's work would be complete."

There was silence before Sam spoke up again.

"I wonder how old Matt and Katie will be when we get back."

Shiro closed his eyes for a split-second longer than he should have, and Adam noticed.

"I wonder if Keith has gotten with that boy he always talked about yet."

That made him laugh. "Or even decided to talk to him."

Shiro smiled sadly at his accomplices and noticed Adam's shaking hands as he held the cylinder of ancient ice. "Careful, dear. We don't want to have to draw up this ice again."

Adam nodded. "Yeah, that took forever. How many more do we have to... Shiro?"

Adam stopped when he looked up in the same direction as Shiro was staring, eyes wide. His jaw dropped as the ground started to rumble violently.

"Seismic activity?" Sam frowned before looking up at the quickly darkening starscape.

"What... what is that?" Adam gaped as the black mass hovered hundreds of meters above the planet's surface.

"Whatever it is- RUN!" Shiro yelped as a massive purple beam grew from the ship. "RUN, COME ON, RUN!"

Adam dropped the ice sample as they sprinted away from the purple laser. They didn't make it far. The last thing Shiro remembered was Adam screaming his name as the purple beam lifted them off their feet.

---

"...appear to be primitive...planet...not far away. ... Sir?"

Shiro jolted his head up with a gasp. He couldn't see much from where he knelt, but he could see Adam and Sam's orange Garrison spacesuits next to him, heads lolling, unconscious.

"Interrogation." A booming voice mentioned, "...what they know."

"Please, we come from a peaceful planet!" Shiro gasped. "We-we're unarmed!"

He cried out as a huge metal object hit the back of his head and everything faded to black.

---

** Lance **

One year later

Lance kicked back in his chair as they prepared for landing on Kerberos.

"Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14. Begin descent to Kerberos for rescue mission."

He gently pulled the lever left, but it slipped out of his hand and fell forwards.

"Ugh. Man, can you keep this thing straight?" The mechanic of the team, Hunk, yelped.

Lance sighed as he tried to concentrate on the difficult task he had on his hands, the lever slipping out of his grasp again. "Buddy, you know I can't keep anything-"

"GOT IT! Just make sure we don't crash!" Hunk groaned.

Then Pidge spoke up, "We've picked up a distress beacon!"

Lance grinned. "All right! Look alive team. Pidge, track coordinates."

The ship pitched left. Alarms blared. Hunk screeched, "Lance, please!"

"Oh, this one's on you, buddy," Lance grumbled, "We've got a hydraulic stabilizer out."

Hunk pulled a monitor, like a tray table on a passenger plane. "Oh no." He gulped.

"Fix now, Hunk, puke later!" Lance suggested.

"I've lost contact," Pidge warned, "The shaking is interfering with our sensors!"

Lance wailed, "Come on, Hunk!"

Hunk swallowed again as unbuckled the belt holding him to his seat and launched out and across the ship. "It's not responding. Ah-"

Lance sighed as his monitor blared for a second. "Oh, never mind, fellas, thar she blows. Preparing for approach on visual."

"I don't really think that's advisable with our current mechanical and..." Pidge glanced at Hunk, who was still groaning next to the gearbox, "Gastrointestinal issues."

Hunk swallowed. "Agreed."

"Stop worrying! This baby can take it. Can't you, champ?" He patted the dashboard lightly and the ship creaked loudly.

"Uh- see? She was nodding. She was nodding. Anyways- Pidge, hail down to them to let them know their ride is here, will ya?"

Pidge reached for the comms device but narrowed her eyes when he couldn't reach it with his short arms. He quickly unbuckled his belt and grabbed the chair arm for stability and the communications device.

"Attention lunar-!" Pidge screeched as he was thrown to the ground as the ship shook more.

"What are you doing! Buckle your belt!" Lance cried. "And Hunk, stop that shaking!"

"I'm try-in- oh-oh no-!"

Lance and Pidge grimaced as Hunk threw up into the main gearbox, which somehow stopped the ship from shaking. Lance shrugged and muttered, "Well, it worked," and Pidge rolled his eyes and grabbed the communicator.

"Attention lunar vessel, this is Galaxy Garrison Rescue Craft One Victor Six Three Tango. Coming in for landing and extraction," Pidge narrowed his eyes and glanced at Lance, "Against crew recommendations."

Lance coughed. "No time for your mutinous comments now, Pidge. We're going in and I am not crashing another ship."

He pushed the control forward and quickly stopped it before it went too far, but then everything started to go wrong.

"Look out for that overhang!" Pidge yelled.

"We lost a wing!" Hunk shrieked as alarms blared.

"Oh, no," Lance grumbled as the ship shook even more and the lights blacked out as they crashed into the hard ice on the planet below.

---

The whole ship rocked as the airlock was ripped open suddenly.

"AH- IT'S THE ALIENS." Hunk screeched, which was followed by a groan as he noticed their simulation instructor, Commanding Officer Wise.

"Everyone out!"

"I wasn't even wearing my helmet, we would've died if that was a real alien. The simulator didn't even have helmets in it!" Hunk mumbled as they stepped off and walked away from the simulator and the janitor cleaned up Hunk's lunch before another three of their classmates entered.

After class, Commander Wise asked to see the three cadets.

Their simulation instructor was a substitute, as their previous teacher was away with an eye injury for a few months. Thankfully, Wise was kinder to their trio than Iverson would have been for their disaster in the simulator, mostly because he was one of Hunk's close relatives. A first cousin once removed, or something. But also because he was just nicer than Iverson.

The commander stopped for a second, before turning to the three cadets.

"Your simulation trial would have given you a fail for a grade, most likely even individually graded." He sighed.

"Mr McClain," He started. "You crashed the ship. You need to focus more on piloting the ship and less on instructing your teammates on their jobs. That's why you crashed, you should have listened to Pidge and waited until Hunk... ah, fixed the ship and flown over the overhang."

"Gunderson," Commander Wise nodded. "You did well overall, although you should have loosened the belt instead of unclipping it."

"Mr Garret," Their instructor turned to the downwards-looking cadet, "Vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems. I know you have gastrointestinal issues, as Pidge pointed out, but we have bags provided, and we have some resources available to help you with it. I suggest you see to that."

"And to all three of you, you need to build your teamwork skills. You can start that at break. Now go."

Lance, Hunk and Pidge thanked Commander Wise before heading out the door to the hallways of the Garrison.

Hunk stiffened as Professor Montgomery's voice echoed through the halls. "LIGHTS OUT IN FIVE! EVERYONE BACK TO THEIR DORMS, NOW."

"We shouldn't be doing this."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Oh, you heard Commander Wise. We need to bond as a team! We're gonna grab Pidge, hit the town, loosen up, meet some nice girls, or maybe some nice boys-"

Hunk cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Okay- I'm just- I'm just saying this here, right now, for the record: This is a bad idea."

Lance sighed softly and took off down the hall. "Ya know, for someone in a space exploration program, you have no sense of adventure."

Hunk pulled Lance back behind a corner as Professor Montgomery walked past, thankfully preoccupied.

"Well," He whispered when Montgomery was finally out of earshot, "All of your 'adventures' end up with me in the principal's office! And that one time, you managed to get the whole class in detention for a month! You weren't very popular after that, remember."

Lance frowned. "Yeah. But this time, Keith isn't here!"

"How was that Keith's fault? You knocked down the-"

Lance jerked his finger to his mouth, silencing Hunk. He bobbed down and crawled under the window to the instructor's lounge, unnoticed.

Finally, they arrived at Pidge's dorm wing. "What now?" Hunk asked.

Lance hadn't thought that far.

They quickly stopped talking and ducked further behind the wall corner they were hiding behind as the door to Pidge's dorm opened with a rush of air, and Pidge stepped out.

Lance sighed a breath of relief. "Well, that was easy," He muttered to Hunk. As Pidge started down the hallway opposite to them, Lance frowned. "Where is he going...?"

---

** Pidge **

At least she had heard correctly.

Later in the day, after the complete failure in the simulator, she and her classmates had been given a few hours off for free time. She probably should have been hanging out with Lance and Hunk, her new annoying teammates, but they had gone off to the cafeteria to eat. At least Hunk had. Lance had probably just tagged along to flirt with some of the cute girls there. To Pidge, that would just seem awkward, and she really wasn't hungry, so she went off to find something to do.

After stumbling around for a bit, she found herself back at the cafeteria. She looked around for her teammates, having nothing else to do, but first laying her eyes on her older brother, Matt, who was talking to and his best friend Veronica at a table close to her. She quickly turned a corner and flattened herself against the wall, out of view of the general public and unseen by Matt or Veronica, and listened in to their conversation, as all good little sisters do.

"...Voltron. Tonight, something big is gonna happen."

"This is crazy, Matt. How... have you been..."

"...and I have no idea what's happening. But ... down there, so we need to be on that roof tonight... speeders, and this is the opportunity of a lifetime, whatever it is. ... have to be there, Veronica."

"Got it. Thanks, Matt."

Pidge scrambled out of her hiding place and into the hallway as Matt and Veronica got up, and walked a bit down the hall before turning back to the cafeteria doors and casually walked towards them.

"Oh, hey Pidge!"

Matt stood in front of her. Pidge waved, trying to seem like this was a coincidence that they bumped into each other.

"Hey, Matt! Hi, Veronica."

"What're you up to?" Matt

"Eh, I was going to hang out with my new teammates at the cafeteria."

"Yeah, how's class going?" Veronica questioned, smiling.

"That was my question!" Matt pouted, elbowing Veronica in the side.

"Going... well, I guess. We finally got in the simulators today, and my teammates are kinda jerks. Well, I mean Hunk seems nice, but Lance..."

Veronica laughed. "Nice to see you finally met my brother."

Pidge guffawed. "/That's/ your brother? I should have recognised him!"

Veronica shook her head then smirked, "You are not hanging out with my brother when we're going to play Killbot Phantasm 23: Cloned."

"Oh. My gosh." Pidge almost let out a loud and probably embarrassing shriek, but Matt covered her mouth before she did. "You have it? How did you get it? When did you get it?"

"That's top secret intel," Veronica laughed. "C'mon, you're playing with us. At least for the next two hours you have off, right?"

Pidge nodded quickly and was pulled down the Garrison halls towards Veronica's dorm.

They didn't talk about Voltron, or whatever was going to happen that night.

---

Pidge opened the door to the roof of the Garrison and went through it with a *bang*.

"I want to help. Whatever this is, if you're doing this I need to help."

Matt and Veronica looked up from the computer screen they were studying.

"Pidge! Pidge- I can't let you-" Matt frowned and Veronica nodded.

"No! This could be too dangerous. We can't let you- You're only fifteen-"

Pidge crossed her arms and frowned in anger and confusion. "And you're only nineteen! I'm in a space exploration program for high school kids who are at least two years older than me apiece, what could possibly be more dangerous?"

"How did you find us?" Matt kept glancing at her, then back to the horizon, like he was waiting for something.

"I overheard your conversation in the cafeteria. You weren't that quiet. If you're doing this, whatever it is, Voltron thing? I have to. Matt- Veronica, tell me what's going on!"

"Is this a bad time?"

Two figures were standing at the door where Pidge came onto the roof. Or, at least, Lance was. Hunk was hiding behind the door.

"LANCE?"

"Who is this? What's going on?" Lance inquired.

"Jerk Teammate and Hunk, Matt. And Lance, I guess you know Veronica already." Pidge sighed. "How'd you get up here?"

"Followed you. Commander Wise wanted us to bond, so I wanted to do some bonding." Lance wandered over to where the rest of the group was, and Hunk followed, crawling.

"Adam?" Matt frowned. Adam Wise was presumed dead in space.

"No. Curtis. Adam's dead in space, remember?"

"What's this about... Voltorb?" Hunk spoke up.

"Voltron. And... ugh," Matt looked at Veronica, who pulled a face.

"And where'd you get this stuff? It doesn't look like Garrison tech."

"I built it," Matt stated plainly.

"Lance! gimme a sec!" Veronica glared at her brother. Pidge could see the physical resemblance between the two- tall, lanky darker-skinned siblings with short brown hair and sharp eyes, which stood out in the dark.

"Matt-" She rubbed her temples.

"You built all this?" Hunk inquired, and then proceeded to poke the satellite, and Matt slapped his hand away.

"Ah, stop it! And yes, of course. With this thing, I can scan all the way to the edge of the solar system."

Matt tried to think of a response when Hunk tapped the screen of the computer.

"Hunk! Second warning!"

"Aw..."

Veronica placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a look*TM, one that could only mean, 'Should we tell the younger siblings all our secrets?'

Matt sighed and responded with, 'Sure, why not?'

"Look, Pidge, Matt, Veronica. If we're going to bond as a team, we can't have any secrets."

Matt and Veronica simultaneously glared at Lance, who held up his hands and backed away.

"Just getting to that! Fine. The world as you know it is about to change." Matt sounded uncharacteristically ominous, and Veronica looked on gravely. "The Kerberos Mission wasn't lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake... And I've been scanning the system and picking up alien radio chatter."

Hunk shrieked. "Whoa, what? Aliens?!"

Lance still looked uncertain. "Okay, so you're insane. Great, got it."

Matt took a deep breath and Veronica punched her brother's shoulder. "I'm serious! They keep repeating one word: "Voltron". And tonight, it's going crazier than I have ever heard it."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "How crazy?"

Suddenly, Professor Wise's voice rang out from speakers all over the Garrison and everyone jumped.

"Attention, students. This is not a drill. We are on lockdown! Security situation Zulu Niner. Repeat: All students are to remain in barracks until further notice."

Veronica was staring at the sky over the desert, wide-eyed, and tapped Matt's shoulder. When he looked over, he screeched.

"Keep it down!" Pidge warned, and jolted her head in the direction they were looking as she saw the reflection of the red streak in Veronica's glasses when she looked at the pair.

There was a massive object in the sky, fire forming at the head and narrowing at the tail, similar to a comet. Except it was heading straight for the desert very near to them.

Hunk gasped. "What's going on? Is that a meteor?! ... A very, very big... meteor?"

Pidge grabbed for the pair of binoculars at Matt's feet. "It's a ship!" Lance grabbed the binoculars and held them up to his eyes, Pidge still holding onto them. "Holy crow! I can't believe what I'm seeing!"

Veronica nodded as she snatched the binoculars from Lance, and Pidge grunted as she was thrown around again as she stubbornly held on to her binoculars. "That is not one of ours!"

"No," Matt as staring agape at the ship, still hurtling out of the sky. "It's one of theirs."

A shockwave erupted from the explosion, sending waves of small chunks of sand and dirt all over the five cadets on the roof.

---

They raced off the roof of the building as they attempted to get closer to the crash site, but stopped on a cliff nearby to stay hidden from the group of Garrison cars quickly closing around the site.

Pidge held the binoculars to her face once again, squinting through her glasses which got in the way of the oddly shaped eye-holes on the binoculars. She could just make out two figures; one of which was slung over the shoulder of the other, sho obviously couldn't handle his weight, probably because of his weakened state.

Then the figure standing upright collapsed.

"Whoa. Who is that?" Matt grabbed for his binoculars.

"We gotta help them!" Veronica encouraged, but Matt held up a hand.

"Wait... the teachers are going down there."

They watched as the Garrison teachers hastily set up a tent and brought out two stretcher tables, then clipped the figures to the restraints on the table.

Lance squinted at the ship in the distance. "Man, we'll never get past all those guards to get a look."

Hunk nodded. "Aw, man. Yeah, we—yeah I guess there's nothing to do but head back to the barracks, right?"

The rest of the group glared at him.

"Okay, so that's a no then?"

Matt cleared his throat "Wait. They set up a camera in there and I grabbed its feed. Look!"

One of the men was conscious again, while the other's head lolled to the side on the table.

Takashi Shirogane and Adam Wise.

Shiro thrashed around in his restraints. "Hey! What are you doing?"

Professor Montgomery looked at Shiro and put her hands out in a defensive gesture. "Calm down, Shiro. We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests on you."

Shiro wasn't taking a word of it, still struggling to get out of his restraints. He didn't look... evil, really, but instead he looked frightened. "You have to listen to me! They destroyed worlds! Aliens are coming!"

Lance gasped. "That's Shiro! The pilot of the Kerberos Mission. That guy's my hero!"

Matt nodded. "And Adam. They were on the Mission with Dad!"

Hunk blinked at the screen. "Guess he's not dead in space after all."

"If Shiro and Adam are there... where's Dad?" Pidge realized, sharing a wide-eyed look with Matt.

On the screen, Montgomery interrogated Shiro. "Do you know how long you've been gone?"

"I don't know. Months? Years? Look, there's no time. Aliens are coming here for a weapon. They're probably on their way. They'll destroy us! We have to find Voltron!"

Matt gasped. "Voltron!"

One of the technicians got Montgomery's attention. "Ma'am, take a look at this. It appears his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic."

The professor studied it. "Put him under until we know what that thing can do."

Shiro gasped. "No- don't, don't put me under! No! No, there's no time! Let me go!"

Pidge frowned. "They didn't ask about Adam. Or Dad."

"What are they doing? The guy's a legend. They're not even gonna listen to him?" Lance stared.

Matt nodded in agreement. "We have to get him out."

"Ah, I hate to be the voice of reason here, as always," Hunk pointed out, "But weren't we just watching on TV because there was no way to get past the guards?"

Veronica adjusted her glasses, which were slipping down her nose. "That was before we were properly motivated. We've just got to think."

Pidge nodded. "Maybe we could get some hazmat suits and sneak in like med techs."

Matt noticed something on the horizon and nudged Veronica in the side "... No. What we need is a distraction."

The explosions rocked the earth, and Matt and Veronica picked up their equipment and stood.

"Get ready. I'd prefer it if you'd go back to your dorms, but I can't tell you what to do. We have somewhere to be."

Pidge, Hunk and Lance watched in confusion as Veronica saluted a 'goodbye' with two fingers up to her forehead. Then the pair sprinted back towards the Garrison.

They turned back to the site of the crash. "Those explosions were a distraction, for him!" Pidge realised as she watched the commotion through her binoculars.

A figure jumped off a familiar-looking speeder and snuck towards the tent holding Shiro and Adam.

"The Garrison's headed towards the blast, and he's sneaking in from the other side!"

Lance grabbed her binoculars and shrieked when he saw the figure up close.

"No way...! Oh, he is not going to be us in there! That guy is always trying to one-up me!"

"Who is it?" Hunk questioned.

"Keith!" Lance yelled as he ran off towards the site.

Pidge frowned "Who?"

"Are you sure?"

Lance laughed. "Oh, I'd recognize that mullet anywhere!"

"Who's Keith?!"

---

** Keith **

Keith entered the tent, prepared for a fight, the lower half of his face covered in a bandana. He reckoned it was pretty pointless, though, as his hairstyle and eye colour were pretty unique, and anyone that had ever met him would probably recognize him. Still, he held up his fists, prepared to attack.

When the figures in the tech suits noticed him, one yelled, "Hey!"

He quickly knocked out one of them and threw another across the room into a chair. The third he pushed into the table where the unconscious people lay.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and ran to the table, immediately recognizing his adoptive parents.

"Shiro? Adam?"

#fanfiction #We Just Need Space #We Just Need Voltron #VLD #Voltron #keith #klance #lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #shadam #Adam W.

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whipplefilter · 6 years

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Well then I can only imagine how everyone would react if an earthquake struck at a Piston Cup race. Not a destructive one, but strong enough to get your attention. There hasn't been a recorded instance of that happening in NASCAR as far as I know.

This poses an interesting scientific question! One that I have neither the dataset nor expertise to answer, but I feel like I’d watch this episode of Mythbusters. XD If a non-destructive earthquake were to occur during a NASCAR race, would anyone be able to notice? Or would the seismic activity be indistinguishable from the physical disturbance of the race itself?

I lived in California almost my entire life, and I only ever verifiably felt one earthquake (even though I lived at the confluence of several very active, infamous fault lines, pfft)–and only one I felt was actually in SoCal, because it was a really big earthquake just south of the border, and I was literally lying on the ground at the time. XP Maybe I’m just imperceptive. Anyway.

NASCAR is a huge sonic disruption–and you can feel sound rumble through stadium seating and rattle your ribcage, for sure. But how big of a seismic(???) disruption is it? Obviously it’s not moving tectonic plates, lol. But like, think of the way it feels when you’re driving down the highway and a big rig passes you going the other direction. I dunno about you, but I definitely feel that every time.

tl;dr engines are hideously powerful, particularly en masse. And if the entire audience is hyped up cars, and the pit crews are all cars, would anyone notice an earthquake? The spectators, maybe, depending on the length of the earthquake and the number of aftershocks. Would the racers? Would it throw them off at all? Or would it just be like another engine on the track? I guess you might notice if you weren’t in with the rest of the pack and had a decent lead, haha.

#overly technical carsverse musings #whipple why #asks

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future-computing · 4 years

Text

HW 9

Question No. 1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8FTr2qMutA

I would call it an excellent video that explains in depth, yet very simply what the Heisenberg uncertainty principle actually is.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=noZWLPpj3to

A very knowledgeable video that explains the difference between the observer effect and the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTodS8hkSDg

Awesome video that uses basic drawings to explain what Quantum Tunnelling is and how it works.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mo6fBAT8f-s

Outstanding speech given by Andy Andrews that uses the principles of the butterfly effect to make us think about how all of the decisions we make have serious impact on everything in our lives.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YgpdcqQxHLQ

An absolutely absurd, and hilarious video. Shows us exactly what the butterfly effect is all about. The tiniest of actions leading the largest of reactions.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qI5q6OqSo4s

A very clear video showing how touch screen use quantum tunnelling to work.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vc-Uvp3vwg – Another cool video from the same guys that made the one about quantum tunneling except this time explaining the uncertainty principle.

Question No.2

Frankly speaking, I feel these properties apply to nearly everything in life. The butterfly effect in itself essentially sets all of the other properties into motion. When a person decides to make even the smallest of changes to automobiles, it sets off a chain reaction of other people getting actuated for constructing a similar or better thing.

As I mentioned in my earlier assignments, the modern era is going to be an era of autonomous vehicles as we can see the world is working desperately on the autonomous vehicles these days. As an example, if some company develops an autonomous vehicle that qualifies for stepping on road, then we would see all the competitors rushing into ideas for developing similar or better technology and even we would so many new companies emerging to produce similar technology. Cutting it short, it would set into motion several other spoil sports.

Talking about the uncertainty principle, let us say that a company introduces autonomous vehicles on road but we have no clue about the speed of competitors or reverse engineering teams about how long would they take to create a similar or better model. Nothing can be said about that.

That’s what makes the future of something so exciting to think about. Or is it exciting to think about? The spoil sport of Existentialist Angst can make us think about if any of this actually matters at all. What if it doesn’t? Should we even bother with things like this, does it matter when in the end we are all going to die anyways? But if it makes no difference, then why do we take actions in the first place? Is it simply because the butterfly effect has set things in motion and it cannot be stopped even with the realization that none of it really matters? Or maybe the butterfly effect is actually in its own way completely proving the spoil sport of existentialist angst wrong. If nothing matters and in the end it would not make any difference, then why would there even be a butterfly effect. Why would any action ever have been taken that lead to the actions we’re making right now. All of these questions and topics relate the future of not only the future of autonomous vehicles, but the future of everything.

Question No. 3

It is pretty hard to say anything about the future of autonomous vehicles in the next 5 years but maybe in the next 10 or 20 years, these autonomous vehicles are surely going to hit the roads in the United States. And probably in the next 40 or 50 years the concept may become popular and practical in the Asian countries like India and Pakistan as well. Nothing can be said about it for 100 years or more from now since this is a world of technology now and anything can be expected anytime. Maybe some more extraordinary invention takes place after 100 years from now that may rule out the existing technology.

Question No. 4

According to the MIT press, the idea that human history is approaching a “singularity”—that ordinary humans will someday be overtaken by artificially intelligent machines or cognitively enhanced biological intelligence, or both—has moved from the realm of science fiction to serious debate. Some singularity theorists predict that if the field of artificial intelligence (AI) continues to develop at its current dizzying rate, the singularity could come about in the middle of the present century. Murray Shanahan offers an introduction to the idea of the singularity and considers the ramifications of such a potentially seismic event.

Shanahan describes technological advances in AI, both biologically inspired and engineered from scratch. Once human-level AI—theoretically possible, but difficult to accomplish, has been achieved, he explains, the transition to super intelligent AI could be very rapid. Shanahan considers what the existence of super intelligent machines could mean for such matters as personhood, responsibility, rights, and identity. Some superhuman AI agents might be created to benefit humankind; some might go rogue. The singularity presents both an existential threat to humanity and an existential opportunity for humanity to transcend its limitations. Shanahan makes it clear that we need to imagine both possibilities if we want to bring about the better outcome.

Question No. 5

Part (A)

I will be writing a research paper on the topic I decided earlier, i.e. ‘The Autonomous Vehicles’. As discussed in my earlier assignments, an autonomous car is simply a car without driver. An essential factor to be looked into on is the tactile translation (sensory interpretation) of the self-governing vehicle on which the whole control of the auto depends. Beginning with the preface that adapting to vulnerability is the most vital issue a robot must face. Along these lines, we can infer that a robot must have the accompanying extremely essential capacities:

· Sensory Interpretation : The robot must have the capacity to decide its relationship to the earth by detecting. A wide assortment of detecting advancements are accessible, i.e. odometry, ultrasonic, infrared and laser go detecting and monocular, binocular, and trinocular vision have all been investigated. The trouble is in translating these information, i.e. in choosing what the sensor signals educate us concerning the outer world.

· Reasoning : The robot must have the capacity to choose what activities are required to accomplish its objective in a given situation. This may include choices running from what ways to take from what sensors to utilize.

The key issue in detecting is making the association between the flag yield by the sensor and the properties of the three-dimensional world. For inside sensors, for example, joint position encoders, this association is settled and known. For outside sensors, the association is dubious, best case scenario.

Basically, all ways to deal with the understanding of data received from sensors continue by first distinguishing an arrangement of highlights in the sensor information that possibly compare to substances on the earth. A generally utilized case from the picture preparing is the purported "edge", which is some bend in a picture in which a quick power change happens. Such a component is estimated to compare to some three-dimensional element, either an adjustment in reflectance, for example, is because of paint, or an adjustment in three-dimensional structure, such an adjustment in surface introduction. Numerous different sorts of highlights are additionally utilized.

Given these fundamental highlights, one can endeavour to decide a more entire depiction of the world, (for example, constructing a three-dimensional portrayal in view of highlights in two pictures), one can attempt to distinguish protests or decide the removal from some past picture, or one can attempt to join highlights from various sorts of sensors. There is a great deal of research on how to combine features and how to match them to models. There is also a great deal written on how to detect features. In my personal opinion, the weal link is still the feature detection.

Part (B)

The layout of my paper would be in the following manner:

· Defining the Autonomous Vehicle

· Advantages of Autonomous Vehicle

· What research has been carrier out already on the topic of interest.

· What is the state of the art research today.

· What contributions can be made further for refinement.

· What would be my point of interest or what contribution can I make to the existing research in order to enhance the functionality of the autonomous vehicles.

· How my contribution would be different from the existing research.

· Comparing the results with existing research.

· Giving a conclusion and directions for future work.

Question No. 6

The outline of my presentation would be as follows:

· Introduction to Autonomous Vehicles

· History of Automobiles

· Technology of the Car

· The Lidar System

· Cruise System

· Hardware of Autonomous Vehicles (sensors, processors, working etc.)

· �� Types of Algorithms

· Human Vs Computer

· Hardware Comparison (Human Brain and Finest Digital Camera Sensors)

· Potential Advantages

· Drawbacks

· A new class of victims

· Potential Obstacles

· Google Driverless car and some more examples

· Statistical and Professional Support

· Official Predictions

· Ethical Considerations

· Public Acceptance and Adoption

· Conclusion

· References

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jotawakening-blog · 7 years

Text

4 Septober, 5A 169: H.A.M.’s Bling Vault

On my tour of Dorgesh-Kaan yesterday, I noticed that the city’s gates are located not only in the north, leading to the mines, but also in the south, by the industrial district. So, today, I make it my business to check out what lies down there. The answer is: a cavern that is split multiple ways by deep fissures, but that’s not the remarkable thing about it. The remarkable thing is that it appears to be some kind of sprawling installation of bronze pylons and cables spanning the gaps. Off to one side, there’s a little booth made out of metal, with a cave goblin and some very peculiar machinery inside. I ask him what he’s doing, and he replies that he’s in charge of supplying power to Dorgesh-Kaan. For the lighting system, he explains: the machines generate it, and then it gets sent down the copper filaments strung out across the walls to the lamps. The problem is that the machinery is quite delicate, and it’s apparently quite an effort to keep it working all the time in the less-than-ideal conditions of a seismically unstable cave system with copious animal life. In fact, the Dorgeshuun are constantly having to cannibalise older, non-working parts for use in the newer, functional ones. The engineer offers me a job to do just that, to bring back a capacitor and some other gadget from a machine on the other side of the cave, but the way there looks so dangerous for a human like myself, involving so many pitfalls, that I daren’t attempt it.

Instead, I venture down a set of copper rungs set into the rock of the fissures and roam around inside the cracks. These contain the usual slimes and cave bugs you’d expect, and even a few giant frogs near pools of collected cave water. Oh, and of course there’s the odd bit of goblin technology that fell into the cracks, never to be seen again. Toward the back of the cave, in some of the deeper cracks, I find some rarer species: hot pink rockslugs, for one, and also cave crawlers about the size of a dog and peculiar mole-like creatures that live in small holes in the walls. Finally, there’s a small, badly worn door in the cave wall, marked with a sign that reads ‘Kalphite Lair: Mostly Harmless’. It would seem that this is a back entrance to the caves beneath the Kharidian Desert! Intrigued, I open the door and pass through it down a tunnel that, indeed, eventually broadens out into a sand-strewn cavern of sandstone, with aggressive kalphite worker-drones skittering about. They don’t seem to like my presence, and remembering how Gudrik lost his arm in similar circumstances, I withdraw. The bugs don’t follow: apparently, they only care about me when I intrude on their turf. Good to know.

That about sums up what there is to see in Dorgesh-Kaan, and, well, it’s a hell of a lot! I feel very honoured to be able to tour the marvels of such a wise and advanced race while it is still alive and thriving, and from what I’ve seen, Dorgesh-Kaan has a whole hell of a lot more charm than, say, Keldagrim! I will definitely be back, and hopefully not because HAM comes up with another scheme to try to destroy them as a people. Speaking of which: it occurs to me that the HAM storerooms beneath the group’s main base contain supplies that the group needs to carry out its plans, and that if I cause some of those supplies to disappear, that ought to set the genocidal cultists back a bit. So, upon emerging from the Lumbridge caves (Mistag is kind enough to escort me to the castle cellar in person) I grab my cultist robes and try to sneak back into the subterranean warehouse. The ‘sneaking’ part goes worse than expected, as I run into Sigmund (who vows eternal revenge) by the podium in the central cavern, and have a prayer-book with hate-filled sermons thrown at my head, but apparently the cultists believe I’m under Duke Horacio’s protection, and that it thus would not be wise to eject me from the premises.

And so it is that I am able to go down into the storerooms unmolested, if not exactly unnoticed. The guards on duty fail to recognise me (why should they— Zanik and I killed all the previous ones, after all!), and even tell me a bit about what they store down here. Apparently, most of it is the valuables of members who have abandoned all their worldly possessions to join the cult. It’s a relatively simple matter to get the keys to the lockboxes off the belts of the patrolling guards, and I spend a few hours clearing the place and the adjacent meeting room out (and receiving the occasional fist to the head from a particularly perceptive guard). The haul is modest, but includes several items of sapphire jewellery that I could enchant and sell for a fair bit of money. Oh, and the meeting room table has a giant ham on it. That’s a nice touch… I wonder who’s supplying them!

When I emerge outside, pack laden with jewellery, I’m pleasantly surprised to find Ernie Glyph hard at work re-doing his statue to Saradomin right by the mine entrance. He explains that the HAM cultists, damn them, didn’t like some detail or other of his previous work and saw fit to destroy the ‘blasphemous’ statue, and now he has to start the whole thing from scratch once again. Since I always find it soothing and instructive to watch him work, I do the usual job of helping him out with bits of scaffolding, and get the usual edifying lesson in sculpture. He was mostly done before I came around, so it doesn’t take too long before he finishes and lets me consecrate the statue with a prayer to Saradomin.

Having done all that, I prepare myself to leave Lumbridge for Draynor Village, where a few tasks await me, but two errands delay my departure. The first is an oddly specific request from the castle cook to go fetch him some willow logs, since those give the most even heat for his range. He doesn’t specify which willow trees, though, so being a bit lazy I cut down one of the ones on the river bank opposite the castle and hope nobody cared too much about that particular tree. The other task is of a more weighty nature, and is given to me by Xenia, who runs into me when I’m returning to Lumbridge Castle with the logs. Xenia tells me that the Nexus, that cauldron of evil in the middle of Lumbridge Swamp, has been growing ever more corrupted, and that urgent action is needed to stem the tide of the rot. Heeding the call, I go to the bank, get out the sack the priestess Ysondria gave me, which converts corruption into positive energy, and get to work channeling the purified rot back into the source. While as an initial foray my progress is underwhelming, Ysondria says she can see results, and she welcomes my help on this matter in future as well, whenever I’m around. I promise her I’ll remember, and will do my best to: Lumbridge is too nice a town to have this, um, thing festering under it. As for my own self, I feel that contact with the corruption has bolstered my faith to the point where I feel empowered to ask Saradomin for aid in blocking similar magic, should I encounter it.

But this promises to be a drawn-out and tedious campaign. With the first battle won, and the sun only beginning to set in the sky, I get going toward Draynor Village, where the hunt for the Holy Grail takes me. As I recall, there’s a whistle in Draynor Manor that holds the key to entering the Fisher King’s realm, but it’s only visible if one has a talisman that has been in contact with the grail. I hope the napkin Sir Galahad brought back will do the job…

There’s only one problem with that: I never asked Galahad to give me the cloth! Annoyance of annoyances!! Fortunately, my trip is not entirely in vain, as there’s another matter awaiting me here in Draynor: that strange sequence of clues that led me across half the world from a scrap of paper in a goblin’s possession. The latest of the clues states that I need to come to Draynor Market wearing a steel longsword, an iron kite shield and studded leather chaps, and yawn loudly to announce my presence. I’ve bought the chaps in Varrock, since making my own would take too long; and while I don’t have the shield and sword, I have the necessary raw materials, and bashing them into something that passes muster at the anvil in Lumbridge takes not very long at all, with Imcando smithing techniques. Gear in tow, I head to the market and do as instructed, at which point a curious-looking man dressed in red, whom I’ve never seen before, steps out from behind a stall and motions to a crate on the ground. I open the crate, and inside find a mithril plate body, worn but serviceable, twenty law runes, a water talisman, and ten strange summoning scrolls, for… something that looks like a meerkat? Anyway, when I look back up from the crate, the man is gone, with no sign of his presence. Very, very strange… I really don’t know just what it is I’ve unearthed, but what adventurer would pass up free treasure? I just hope it’s not cursed or something. Just in case, I’m selling the plate body, not wearing it.

#runescape #journal #roleplay #thieving #ham

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boylebreakdown · 7 years

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My Favorite 25 Albums of 2016

Apologies for posting this in 2017. I listened to and enjoyed quite a bit more new music in 2016 than I usually do. Whenever I tried to make a top 10 based on my typical format, there were too many albums that it felt wrong to leave out. Anyways, here goes...

25. Jagged Jaw - Tonight Is

Jagged Jaw is the solo project of Bobby Lord, who engineered Terriers’ upcoming 2017 LP (I swear on my life it will be released in 2017!). Although his debut Tonight Is is definitely an album made by a friend, it’s objectively a solid project. He dropped it midyear out of nowhere with little to no fanfare, but the hours put into it and its attention to detail are obvious. Each synthy power-pop gem on this album has a unique arrangement that fits the song nearly perfectly. There are so many tasteful, varied production touches throughout that I’m amazed someone I know made this album. Check it out!

24. Woods - City Sun Eater in the River of Light

City Sun Eater is a really quality collection of pyschy folk rock songs. It ventures between well executed singer-songwriter pop craft and the jam-like tendencies that a psychedelic rock band would have. I’ve never really been much of a Woods fan before this album, but I really enjoyed this one. You can sense a maturity and well-calculated approach here that a band making their 9th studio album should exhibit.

23. American Football - LP2

I definitely curbed my enthusiasm leading up to this album’s release. Anyone looking to compare it to its classic predecessor is sure to be disappointed. These dudes are nearly 20 years older than their college selves who recorded it. It would be insincere to try capturing the lightning in a bottle that the original LP/EPs did. I’ve often felt that LP2 sounds a lot like an Owen record with American Football members as the backing band, and I think framing it as such and not as a true followup is the right line of thinking. When viewed as a standalone, I find plenty to enjoy -- the guitar interplay and drumming are still very clever and off-kilter; there are plenty of good hooks, whether on guitar, horns, or the new additions of vibes; what’s lacking in effective minimalism of their previous work is often made up for in lush, full arrangements. Avoid the purism and just enjoy a good album.

22. Deerhoof - The Magic

This album is a bit a let down after how focused La Isla Bonita was. Deerhoof are one of the most unique bands in music, who are always tweaking their sound. What made La Isla Bonita great was its settling into a comfortable melting pot of all their signature sounds. The Magic is definitely an album created along the same lines, but doesn’t have the same precision and focus. There are definitely songs that tap into Deerhoof at their best here -- the playful and calculatedly manic “The Devil and His Anarchic Surrealist Retinue”, the synth dream pop meets bass/drums slog of “Criminals of the Dream”, the unabashed punk pop of “Plastic Thrills” -- but there is undoubtably some filler in between. I wish this album was higher on my list, but any Deerhoof project at this point will end up being something I’d recommend.

21. Wilco - Schmilco

Though it was born out of sessions for Star Wars, which I view as the best summation of new era Wilco, Schmilco is definitely a unique direction for the band to take. In stripping down their sound and putting more of a focus on Jeff Tweedy’s songwriting, which is almost unparalleled in the genre, I found a lot to like. As has been defined since Sky Blue Sky, Wilco doesn’t need to reinvent the wheel to make a quality album. But going simplistic and showcasing their singer-songwriter chops makes for an unexpectedly great addition to their catalogue. A band that practically can do no wrong in my mind.

20. David Bowie - Blackstar

As much as anyone could want to view this album as a work separated from his 2016 death, it is impossible. Lyrics often touching on pertinent topics to a dying man perfectly contextualizes their weight in light of David Bowie’s death a mere 2 days after the release of Blackstar. This alone made the album an important one to any fan. The music, helmed by exploratory jazz players Bowie recruited after seeing them play at an NYC bar in 2014, is his most relevant sounding of his 2000s work. It reinforces his chameleon persona and penchant for surprises. Everything here makes for one of the grandest exits in history for a legendary musician. R.I.P.

19. case/lang/veirs - S/T

case/lang/veirs is a truly shared project between Neko Case, K.D. Lang, and Laura Veirs. Although none of the three fall far from the tree of adult alternative/indie rock, this album is still an organic blend of the three members’ specific styles. Each of the three is known for their high level songwriting and signature voices, and their collective experience in their careers makes for a really interesting work of collaboration. Most notably, K.D. Lang’s smokey alto sounds great over textures that are typically more in Neko Case or Laura Veir’s mature indie rock stylings (“Honey and Smoke” being the best example). Although I was brought to this project as a fan of Neko Case’s solo work, this album will have me diving deeper into the other two members’ individual catalogs.

18. Porches - Pool

This album may have been a little overhyped, but there’s no denying the existence of some very well executed pop moments here. Songs like “Be Apart”, “Car”, and “Mood” are some of the catchiest songs I heard all of 2016. While achieving this, Pool captures a very satisfying blend between dancey, electronic texture and guitar based introspective dream pop. At the front of it all is Aaron Maine, who’s unique voice and solid songwriting chops set this album apart from its sometimes lackluster contemporaries.

17. Wye Oak - Tween

Another solid LP from Wye Oak, who in my opinion are one of the better indie rock/pop bands out there right now. This album consists of outtakes spanning the Civilian and Shriek sessions, which is significant considering how different those albums are in style. There is definitely a melding of Wye Oak’s signature anthemic singer-songwriter guitar/drums approach and their experimental foray into bass driven electronic pop. What is impressive is how cohesive they make the album sound in spite of this. Although this album doesn’t quite live up to their previous two efforts (as a collection of outtakes, I’d be surprised if it did), it would have been a shame not to give this solid set of songs a release.

16. Kendrick Lamar - untitled unmastered

There’s a great photo on the internet that parallels Kendrick’s chronological discography to Radiohead’s -- Overly Dedicated/Pablo Honey put both artists on the map, but lacked the critical acclaim; Section.80/The Bends spoke to amazing potential; Good Kid/OK Computer serve as respective breakouts and potential all-time classics; To Pimp a Butterfly/Kid A offer a huge style shift but a similarly huge impact. It’s almost uncanny then that untitled/unmastered, a collection of sketches and B-sides from the TPABF sessions, has yet another Radiohead album parallel in Amnesiac, the companion LP to Kid A. But this album needs to be viewed as such: a great document for fans of Kendrick’s work, but not a proper follow up to what was my favorite album of 2015. The most fleshed out songs on this album (e.g. “untitled 03” of Colbert Report fame, “untitled 06”, and “untitled 08”) were some of the best songs of 2016 and give me the same excitement that many songs from TPABF did. But as to be expected on a B-sides album, there are too many average/inconsistent/incomplete songs to make this album deserve a top 10 designation. Considering no one was expecting this album in 2016, I can’t complain much about that!

15. Bon Iver - 22, A Million

Though the big public takeaway on this album is Bon Iver’s jump toward extreme experimentation and fracturing of structure, I don’t completely buy it. To me, this is actually the logical progression from Bon Iver’s 2011 S/T release. The expansiveness of the project is still in tact, but 22, A Million simply utilizes a few more tricks. Most notable of these is the digital compression to the point of distortion and cutting out in songs like “22 (OVER S∞∞N)” or the end of “29 #Strafford APTS”. Autotune and vocoder are utilized to add a powerful and icy texture to Vernon’s voice, which is a centerpiece on this album (he uses a Prismizer vocoder this time around, which became a whole new instrument for Bon Iver live performances). At this point, Bon Iver has a established an effective and unmistakable style. Just because I believe 22, A Million doesn’t signal a seismic change, it doesn’t diminish how solid I believe this album is.

14. Radiohead - A Moon Shaped Pool

How crazy is it that Radiohead, a band that has been making albums for over 20 years, is still writing music of critical relevance and of importance to listeners? Though I’ve only been an attentive music listener since late middle school, every Radiohead album release since then has been a significant event for me. I vividly remember the nervous anticipation I felt downloading In Rainbows off their website; hearing “Bloom” in a record store before I had heard King of Limbs in full. This year, it was cueing up the “Daydreaming” music video for the first time, making sure it had my undivided attention, and then feeling that same awe once I’d finished watching. This album is by no means a step forward for the band, and some have lamented that it is more boring than their recent works. However, there’s no arguing how detailed and labored-over it sounds, just like their music always has. Because that hasn’t changed, it was a grower for me. After nearly a year of listening to it, I feel like it serves as a high quality conglomeration of their styles and sounds, from electronic to organic.

13. KAYTRANADA - 99.9%

This is my favorite “producer” album since Disclosure’s Settle. 99.9% is a fun and complex blend of different production styles Kaytranada is capable of. One minute its jazz fusion with “WEIGHT OFF” ft. Bad Bad Not Good; other times its pop crossover with “TOGETHER�� or “BULLETS” ft. Little Dragon; next its complex, sampled-based house with “TRACK UNO” or “LITE SPOTS”; whatever it is, its always flowing seamlessly as an album and executed at a high level. The features also mix things up: you get budding stars like Anderson .Paak and Vic Mensa, but also R&B/Hip Hop vets like Craig David and Phonte of Little Brother, too. It’s one of the more exciting debut LPs of the year and serves as a great showcase of Kaytranada’s production talents.

12. A Tribe Called Quest - We Got it from Here...Thank You 4 Ur Service

One thing I love about this album is how evident it is that Q-Tip and crew have been continuing to be influenced by music released from 2000 on. While many comeback albums released 10+ years after a band’s previous release struggle to find a comfortable niche in the current musical landscape, We got it from here... infuses classic Tribe jazz samples and beat work with hip hop sounds and features that are not just applicable in 2016, but fresh. It also doesn’t hurt that many of today’s biggest rappers (Kendrick Lamar and Anderson .Paak, most significantly) exhibit heavy Tribe influence in their own sound, making a final Tribe release all that more appropriate. Working in verses from Phife Dog, who died earlier in 2016, including one in on his tribute song “The Donald”, makes the album feel especially poignant.

11. Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book

If you live in Chicago as a music fan, whatever you think of his music, its nearly impossible not to admire Chance the Rapper. It seems that no other artist today is as dedicated to his/her own vision -- unwilling to compromise to a record label, unwilling to stop blatant displays of hometown pride regardless of his growing universal appeal, and unwilling to stop making quirky, joyous, and infectious hip hop music. Coloring Book is the highest example yet of Chance’s no holds barred approach. It is eloquent in its introspection and illumination of Chance’s struggles, whether they be personal (“Same Drugs”, “Smoke Break”) or grander in scope like fighting the Chicago violence epidemic (“Summer Friends”). However, the consensus descriptor of Coloring Book is “gospel album” for a reason. Through its various religious references (“Blessings”, “How Great”) and uplifting, hope-for-a-brighter-day messaging, Coloring Book has a uniquely spiritual vibe that even non-religious people can feel good about. Though there are some indulgent songs I could do without (the aimless “Mixtape” and contrived Bieber featured “Juke Jam”), this project is his most ambitious and fully realized to date.

10. The Hotelier - Goodness

Although there are a few exceptions, I struggle with bands that fall into the category of current day “midwestern emo” revival (inspired by bands like American Football, Sunny Day Real Estate, Promise Ring, etc). The music too often borders on insincere in its melodrama and its instrumentals that flex dexterity just to prove it can be done. The Hotelier moves away from the sound of the revival and centers more towards consensus indie rock on Goodness. However, keeping their best qualities in the midst of this shift is what made me surprisingly love this album. Beyond the solid writing and performances from the band and singer Christian Holden, there are little touches that make this album special -- the suspension of all instruments but drums until the second chorus in “Goodness, Pt. 2”, the lengthy build section in “Sun”, etc.). The Hotelier have always been discussed as an upper echelon band in their scene, and Goodness surely has cemented their place there.

9. The Avalanches - Wildflower

The Avalanches do not disappoint on their first album since 2000’s Since I Left You. As expected, Wildflower is another vast, impressive sample collage. This time around though, the pool they choose from lends to a more psychedelic, mind-altering experience, reaching beyond their previous hip-hop leanings. The main sample in “Colours” is a great microcosm of the success of the direction they take on Wildflower -- an old children’s song plays in reverse, drums are added, and something immediately anthemic is created. Their ear for picking the right sounds to make something from seemingly nothing is what makes this album special.

8. Angel Olsen - My Woman

Although I’ve been a fan of her previous work, this is my favorite Angel Olsen album to date. The jump to greatly vary her timbral palette on My Woman makes the album almost play out like a double LP from a classic rock band -- think Sandinista by The Clash or Physical Graffiti by Led Zeppelin. At one moment its recalling classic pop structure and tones of the late 50s/early 60s (“Never Be Mine”); next, it’s purposefully meditative or repetitious, building to something exciting and cathartic (“Sister”, “Woman”); at times, it’s even right at home in a more modern and electronic texture (“Intern”). And that only covers about half of the directions it takes! The ambitiousness of this album in relation to her previous work is obvious, but it stays grounded in touchstones of Angel Olsen’s musical identity. Her songwriting has often ventured between classic singer-songwriter simplicity and more emotional stream-of-conscious looseness. And, like always, her voice drives it all, demanding your full attention at its most airy and delicate or in its chilling howls.

7. Car Seat Headrest - Teens of Denial

This band drew me in for some of the same reasons Cloud Nothings initially did: really solid pop songwriting in a rock/punk styling, shining without any added production gloss. Because Cloud Nothings’ jump from lo-fi to hi-fi on Attack on Memory made it easier to hear the quality of their music, I can’t help but compare that album to Teens of Denial and the similar success it’s afforded Car Seat Headrest. Though there is less pure angular bliss here than on Attack on Memory, Teens of Denial offers some of the best lyrics of its genre, ones that get better upon every opportunity to unpack them. There’s also something very endearing about the emotional croon of Will Toledo’s voice, whether its lazily talk-singing a la Stephen Malkmus or at the peak of its screaming powers.

6. Anderson .Paak - Malibu

2016 was the year of Anderson .Paak. Spurred into the spotlight by his significant contributions to Dr. Dre’s 2015 comeback, Compton, the stage was set for Malibu to be the breakout album it was. On one hand, its an album that is immediately accessible and has strong mainstream appeal. It evokes joy that only music designed specifically for having a good time could. On the other hand, it is an ambitious, critically-acclaimed masterwork, blending modern elements of hip-hop and electronic music with funk and soul effortlessly. It was a consensus favorite for many of my music listening friends this year, and I think its delicate balance between immediacy and expansiveness was the reason. As successful as this album and Anderson .Paak’s 2016 was, I believe it’s only a signal for bigger things to come.

5. Pinegrove - Cardinal

Cardinal has all of the solid elements of a great rock album. It has lyrics that catch your attention: it uses impressive wordplay and conjures vivid imagery, while keeping it genuine and deeply relatable (especially to someone also in his mid-20’s). Additionally, the music provides a unique take on various niches of rock: it pulls from alt-country, midwestern emo, and indie rock, but it isn’t beholden to any of the above. It’s very catchy while being ambitious enough in structure to keep it attention grabbing. Evan Stephens Hall has a voice that can accurately evoke the emotional highs and lows that the band and the music intend to. Add it all up, and such a solid set of elements on a debut album predicts very exciting things for Pinegrove going forward.

4. Solange - A Seat at the Table

There’s a wealth of production from different spheres of music on this album. R&B master producer Raphael Saadiq and Dave Longstreth of Dirty Projectors serve as the main co-producers, just two of a whole host of eclectic contributors (Solange is also listed as a producer and writer on each track). It all makes for a vintage R&B/new wave/indie pop blend that feels uniquely its own. Additional to this, A Seat at the Table is very 2016 appropriate in its lyrics and messaging. Throughout the album, Solange speaks from a focused black female perspective on today’s society, eloquently communicating the struggles she faces (“Don’t Touch My Hair”, “Weary”) while showing introspection and confusion in how to cope (“Cranes in the Sky”, “Where Do We Go”). Much like Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly, it’s an album beautifully constructed of emotive, far reaching, and thought provoking musings on today’s everyday issues.

3. Andy Shauf - The Party

The Party offers production that is uniquely warm and intimate. It’s inviting in its vulnerability and sparseness, but enveloping in its tastefulness of arrangement and dynamics. Andy Shauf treats this album as a singer-songwriter experiment, choosing to focus in on the storytelling of one terrible party from the perspectives of multiple guests. Everyone can relate to a bummer party experience they’ve had, but the fact that he can embody this concept for an entire album without being pretentious is amazing. I already really loved this album before I saw Andy Shauf live last year, but the show brought my appreciation of him as an artist to a whole new level. For an album so dependent on orchestral instrumentation and the execution of the quietest dynamics, his four piece band captured the same vibes pretty effortlessly. It was one of the better shows I’ve seen in a long while -- one that brought back fond memories of my awe-filled first year or two of experiencing live music.

2. Frank Ocean - Blonde

I’ve always felt that Frank Ocean had a unique ability to use sparseness and simplicity, whether it be in language or musical arrangement, and make it feel purposeful and profound. Channel Orange touched on this talent a few times (“Bad Religion”, “Forrest Gump”), but it mostly was a showcase of Frank Ocean’s amazing songwriting abilities (often in the form of experimental but accessible hip hop/R&B leaning pop). On Blonde, Frank Ocean not only features this minimalism in his instrumentals, but dives much deeper in song construction as well. It is often very stream of conscious -- multiple songs have only one or two instruments at one time and no drums, setting the stage for him to meander through chorusless structures and extended meditative sections. This shift made for an initial disappointment for many fans of his previous work (including me). However, given time to digest Blonde, it doesn’t come off as contrived at all. Blonde is an excellent example of an artist experimentation, one that pushes Frank Ocean’s songwriting talents into more challenging, but often more rewarding, territory.

1. Cymbals Eat Guitars - Pretty Years

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that Cymbals Eat Guitars are my favorite band. I’ve long believed that it has less to do with objective arguments of what makes bands typically great and has more to do with things they do well that really hit on what enjoy most in music. At the core of this is Joe D’Agostino’s songwriting style, lyrically and harmonically. Because that is an element that truly doesn’t go away no matter what happens to their evolving sound, I’ve always been deeply moved by their music. This album is definitely their least ambitious from an album construction standpoint, but it also is very tasteful and diverse. There is a lot of purposeful homages to classic rock (“Wish” recalls Bowie, the claustrophobia of “Close” calls to mind elements of krautrock, “Well” definitely has some Springsteen vibes), but they always balance out to something that is uniquely Cymbals (mostly thanks to the familiarity of Brian Hamilton’s keyboard work or Joe’s voice). As bands who rise to fame from the Pitchfork hype train don’t typically stay around forever, I’ve been expecting for this band to fall off at some point or another. However, this album is just as solid as it comes and gives me a lot of confidence in Cymbals staying power. The boys have done it again!

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