“She moved through the glow garden like a laser sketch. A mass of static feedback in place of a go-go dress. Her heels a flash of diodes, her skin like raw photons, pulsing to the beat of the oscillators.” ― Jay Valdez
She couldn’t control her own body…the pistol in her delicate hands couldn’t have killed anyone even if she’d intended to. Mentally, she cursed herself as the firearm threatened to fall from her grasp with its erratic ups and downs, the shaking consuming her appendages.
Angela steeled herself in a corner of a dark hallway in the Gibraltar base, the only light coming from a small LED that clutched at her ear. Nothing but static and feedback filtered through it and she couldn’t hear anything but a strange, metallic thud that seemed to grow closer with every heartbeat. She reached for the communication device in her ear and pressed at it before whispering as softly as was humanly possible.
“This is Mercy… Please, someone, respond. The base has been compromised. I repeat, base has been compromised… does anyone read? Over…”
An odd silence overcame the comm and then another static filled it followed by what seemed to be snippets of Lena’s voice, “Love….that you?……….. doors are jammed….. no one can get out…… rooms”. The sheer incoherence of the response made her skin crawl. Instead of moving further down the pitch hallway, she backed as close to the wall as she could get without becoming it. It would seem that during her trip to the kitchen for a drink of water had left her disconnected from the others. Thankfully, her pistol had been laying on a counter near one of her work stations.
She waited in the dark for what seemed like hours, listening to the metallic clanking that still made rounds throughout the base, and periodically she’d hear what sounded like her friends trying their best to unlock their room doors. The one constant was always the clanking. When she couldn’t stand to listen to it anymore, she pulled herself from the wall and began a slow crawl towards her room. Perhaps her door had stayed open since it hadn’t been closed when the lights went out.
To her credit, the prediction was accurate. The heavy metal doors remained widely spaced and the only light spreading throughout her room was the moon glittering off the waters of the sea below her window. Somehow, it made her feel a little more at ease despite the situation. Angela watched the waves for a moment before something in the back of her mind snapped her to reality…. The clanking had stopped.
Before she could fully turn towards the doorway, her thin body had been shoved against the inches thick glass that covered the entire wall of her room. Her eyes widened when a familiar visage looked back down at her. The usual green visor that made her heart skip a beat without needing eyes now loomed over her with an eerie orange hue, as his hands pinned her skillfully by the threat. Breathing was difficult, but it was obvious that he was allowing her enough oxygen so as to not pass out.
“Genji… I…can barely breath…”
Both of her perfectly manicured hands had risen to clutch at the strong, cybernetic arm that held her in place and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. He didn’t respond in any capacity and she feared that the next movement he made would be the last she’d remember. As she was about to plead a second time with him, she heard a voice that usually brought joy to her. Now there was only room for fear.
“No… don’t make me do this… I will kill you…”
Angela’s heart could have burst through her chest and she would have been grateful. The amount of pain that echoed beneath Genji’s visor was palpable. She watched as he spoke, the color of his visor flickering from orange to green as he struggled internally with something.
“Get out of my head!”
She met the floor faster than she could react. The pain of metal meeting her spine sent electricity through her limbs and she gasped for air as her throat opened fully. Through tears, she peered up at the man whom she’d found to be more than just a friend and sheer panic consumed her. He gripped at his helmed head, fingers contorting as he sought to drive something from within himself. The doctor knew he was losing the battle as the orange returned to his lit shoulders and pried his hands away from his visor.
“No! No! Angela! Run from me! Escape this place!”
For whatever subconscious reason, her legs responded to his command quicker than her brain did and she was halfway down a hallway before she heard loud, angry footsteps behind her. Flashes of orange answered the questions her mind had already presented her and she knew she had to get to the suit… it was the only way out for the time being… Maybe if she drew him out, the others would be safe.
Angela rounded a corner, one that led to the armory, and pushed all of her energy into making it there before Genji. As hands met the control panel, she hissed through her teeth when she saw that the same orange color consumed the panel’s face. It was then that the static in her ear subsided and a vey clear, clipped voice echoed in her mind.
“Sorry, miha. Had to use your little boyfriend to get your attention. Gotta say, he was one pendejo to hack. Kudos to you, had lots of fun. But more to the point… you let me in that room fully, show me what you got, and I’ll let him go, deal?”
Angela didn’t respond, but the person on the other end gave her no time to respond.
“Ok then. Ya wanna do it the hard way? We can do it the hard way… Athena, turn off oxygen to all the rooms.”
To her complete horror, a robotic voice spoke loudly around d her, bouncing off every wall and sounding from every room.
“Initiating Sombra Protocol: Chokehold. Oxygen levels at 0%.”
Okay, so, my first class lecture for this course was today. Imagine my dismay when my professor turned out to have a heavy accent. Now, this would NOT be a problem, (I actually have very little problems with accents) however, his mic was crap. I DO have a hard time hearing, so when you have a heavy accent, a mic that gives nothing but feedback, static, and a low volume no matter HOW high I turn my speakers up… it makes it VERY difficult for me to understand what’s going on. After complaining to @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable about my dilemma, and discovering that I was the ONLY one who seemed to have an issue, (I even tried a different device to see if it was just my computer. NOPE) I was inspired to write this little ficlet.
So, here you have it: Killian and Emma, meeting over a shared frustration in online learning. (Rated G)
KJ: did you get all that, Swan? Lol
When Emma signed up for the online study program, she found it challenging, but helpful with her schedule. She was able to work on assignments at any time of the day, so long as she had them in by the due date.
Everything was great, until her first math class.
The first time she logged in for a live discussion, she groaned. The professor had a heavy accent. That wouldn’t have been a problem…if his mic was halfway decent.
She was in the middle of banging her head on her desk when she heard the chime of a private message.
KJ: WTF IS HE SAYING?
After a quick giggle at his all caps rage, she checked his profile, (Killian Jones, Boston.) then responded.
ES: he said we multiply the static by the feedback.
And so it continued over the weeks. They carried on their own private conversations, all while earning credit for showing up to the live discussions. It wasn’t in vain either. They’d somehow discovered that they made a pretty good team when it came to figuring out the difficult subject.
Imagine her delight when he popped up in her next class.
Summary: “This,” Katara says, “is the part of the quirky romcom where the heartbroken but plucky heroine takes on New York and meets the love of her life.” And she says it with such conviction
that Zuko doesn’t have the heart to point out that they’re not in New
York or a quirky romcom.
Notes: For @officialzutaramonth 2016, Day 2. Modern AU. Yes, I stole the title from Hamilton. It seems appropriate since people make poor life choices in this fic too.
Rating: PG-16/M for cussing, sexual content, underage alcohol consumption (by US standards), and mentions of abuse.
Zuko lets the breakup email sit in his inbox for three months.
It’s not like he means to. Every time he gets a new email from Mai—three or four lines about how bored she is and how horrible the world is—his eyes dart to Drafts (1) tab. And he means to send it. Really, he does.
Uncle’d be disappointed in him. That’s what Zuko tells himself as he hovers over the Send button. For breaking up with someone via email. For not breaking up with someone when he stopped loving her so long ago that he thinks now he loves the memories more than he ever loved her. For…well, a lot of things, probably.
“Zuko, man, we’re going to get shitfaced!”
Breathing out a sound that’s not quite relief, Zuko closes his laptop, then looks over his shoulder. Just in time to see Sokka skid through the doorway. His roommate looks tipsy already: dark cheeks flushed, manbun tangled, button down shirt halfway untucked. While funny it doesn’t bode well.
“Why’re we getting shitfaced?” Zuko asks as he turns to face Sokka properly.
Normally this question stumps his roommate. If only for a few minutes. This time, Sokka doesn’t miss a beat. “Three reasons, man. One, it’s New Years Eve. Two, it’s half off drinks at Four Nations.”
“That’s only two reasons.” But Zuko’s already given in. Anything to keep from sitting miserably in his room contemplating the ethics of a fucking breakup email. Grabbing a shirt off the floor, he gives it the sniff test, which it passes, and then yanks it on.
It’s when the shirt’s caught on his bad ear, giving him a momentary twinge of pain, that Sokka says, “Three, you’re gonna start a fucking bar fight with that asshat Jet.”
eli i have to record myself on my computer for an audition but my computer speakers r so tinny that when i try to sing soprano it makes me sound like just static feedback... ik u cant help lmao but it Sucks i have to go buy a microphone