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#Radio Matrix
carli-meows · 6 months
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im happy there's people passionate about games from my childhood that no one talks about, or at least are now getting talked about again nowadays
there's kids finding out about phantom crash, jet set radio/ future, marc echo's getting up, max payne, enter the matrix, blinx the time sweeper, toontown, voodoo vince, gta 2, mario and luigi superstar saga, kirby superstar ultra, scarface the world is yours, and pac man world 2
these are just the games i can recall off the top of my head but no one else will ever feel them exactly like a kid with the longest summer vacation ever
and it's cool that i think i have enough time in this life to collect and play them all again one last time or at least make a song or a drawing inspired by these great fuckin games
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santmat · 5 months
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Something Real To Hold On To - Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast
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Becoming Free From Illusion - Leaving the Matrix, Merging With the Divine Beloved: This human condition is a story about the limited perception of relying solely upon the outer five senses and being deceived, existing with a severely limited ability to know the full picture, to find what is Real. However, according to the mystics of all generations, there's another means of spiritual knowing, another way of seeing and hearing available to us. There is hope of finding Light in the darkness, and the Music of the Spheres playing beyond, on the other side of silence. In my soul I am free.
The true devotee has an internal focus. The human body is the true "temple of the Spirit". Thus, one closes their eyes and looks within, entering the 'door' to the temple via the Third Eye Center, also referred to as the Single Eye and, the Seat of the Soul. In other words, we have the ability to see and hear spiritually if we did but know it. Instead of allowing these abilities to remain dormant, unused, the devotee develops his or her ability to see and hear spiritually during meditation practice, as revealed in Sant Mat, the Path of the Masters. Sant Kirpal Singh: "The greatness of a Master lies in the fact that when one meets Him, He initiates him into the Mysteries of the Beyond and gives Him first-hand experience of being born anew, and then by regular practice the initiate may transcend into the Beyond at will and enjoy the ineffable sweet symphonies of the Word which no ears have heard and no eyes have seen on earth." (Spiritual Elixir) In the Gospel of Thomas, the Master said to his living students at the time, "I will give you what no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, what no hand has touched, and what has never occurred to the human mind." (Coptic Gospel of Thomas, Saying 17)
Something Real To Hold On To - Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast @ YouTube: 
https://youtu.be/UJNjyLbEtf4
Something Real To Hold On To - Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast - Listen and/or Direct MP3 Download @
https://traffic.libsyn.com/spiritualawakeningradio/Something_Real_To_Hold_On_To.mp3
@ the Podcast Website With Buttons That Go To All the Popular Podcast APPS - Wherever You Follow Podcasts:
https://SpiritualAwakeningRadio.libsyn.com/something-real-to-hold-on-to
@ Apple Podcasts: 
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/spiritual-awakening-radio/id1477577384
@ Spotify: 
https://open.spotify.com/show/5kqOaSDrj630h5ou65JSjE
@ Audible: 
https://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Awakening-Radio/dp/B08K561DZJ
@ Google Podcasts: 
https://podcasts.google.com/search/spiritual%20awakening%20radio
& @ Wherever You Subscribe and Follow Podcasts - At Your Favorite Podcast APP Just Do a Search for "Spiritual Awakening Radio" -  (YouTube, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Amazon, Audible, PodBean, Podcast APP, Overcast, Jio Saavan, iHeart Radio, Podcast Addict, CastBox, etc...): 
https://linktr.ee/SpiritualAwakeningRadio
"Do the repetition of God's Name and forget
Him not.
Fulfil the purpose of your birth
by practicing concentration.
Be steadfast in the remembrance of God...
He alone attains who is wakeful.
For the devoted disciple of the Master,
Darkness and delusion are dispelled.
He reverts not, and is well-set on the
Path." (Sant Dadu Dayal)
In Divine Love (Bhakti), Light, and Sound, At the Feet of the Masters, Radhasoami,
James Bean
Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcasts
Sant Mat Satsang Podcasts
Sant Mat Radhasoami
A Satsang Without Walls
https://www.SpiritualAwakeningRadio.com
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everythingmaxriemelt · 11 months
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rbb 88.8 100% Promi interview - Max talks about working with his Sense8 pals again on “Matrix Resurrections”:
Marion H: What about Matrix?
Max: With Matrix, it was a lot more of a family thing. Well, I got to know the Wachowskis well, i.e. Lana, in Sense8, the Netflix series. So we became friends and she actually wrote that character into the script for me. And of course it's an honor for me to take part. And there was no question whether I would do it or not.
Marion H: You were shooting in San Francisco.
Max: Yes, well, we shot in San Francisco and here in Babelsberg studios. That was a very interesting time. I also had a lot of free time because (the way it works is that) you are booked for the entire time and you have to be there, in case they spontaneously decide that you need to be on set. So you get to have a great time with many interesting people. I can’t really put it into words, it’s just the way it is. I don't want to give the wrong impression that it wasn’t real work for me, but spending a lot of wonderful time with people - some of whom I had already got to know very well before from Sense8 - it was almost like a school trip or something. So you get paid well and hang out with people with cool ideas and you go on excursions together. I really try to make good with the time we share with each other.
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thinplacesradio · 1 year
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a stone wall covered in light gray paint, a silver elevator button panel installed, two circular white buttons in black squares with braille beside. the one on top points up. but the one on the bottom is pointing to the right. the image is distorted by VCR static. text reads:
[015] THE EXPERIMENT. A CALLER CATCHES A SHIFT CHANGE. THE HOST TAKES THE ELEVATOR.
listen here, or anywhere you find your podcasts. transcript under the cut:
[static, radio tuning]
[Traveling Sales Rep: Don’t touch that dial! We’ll be right back, after these short messages.] [static, radio tuning]
[click]
Hello and welcome to Thin Places Radio. I’m your host,
and it is the middle of the night. But don’t worry. You’re not alone.
[Thin Places theme]
[low rumbling, intermittent distant clanging and rumbling]
I’m coming to you claustrophilic from my studio, which is what I like to call this ornately dark-paneled elevator I am currently trapped in, who knows how many feet above the earth. The display is out, so there’s no light to tell me which floors I'm stuck in between - my money’s on 17 and 18, because I love a prime number. There aren’t any lights overhead, either. Just the pale yellow glow of the lobby button that I pushed. Or - was it the top floor? Because that one’s lit up, too. 
I can hear a groaning down in the cavernous space below me. It sounds metallic, but not the way the elevator would creak and shudder along its own ropes. It’s getting a little bit louder every time I hear it. [metallic growl] Like it’s getting closer. 
So what is Thin Places Radio?
Well, you can call in about anything strange that you've got going on in your life - feelings, omens, premonitions, hauntings. 
Can you hear someone moving around on the floor above you, even though there isn’t a floor above you?
Are you having trouble believing what you’re seeing?
Is your house haunted? Do you kind of like it that way? 
Call in, get it off your chest. Lines are open.
[click] [voicemail:]
Uh, have y'all ever heard of a change blindness experiment? You can find a bunch of them on YouTube, if you Google - they’re either called experiments, or pranks, they’re basically pranks. They’re made to demonstrate that people just don’t notice s**t? Typically what they’ll do is they’ll have someone behind, like, a register counter, and when someone looks down to, like, open their wallet, they’ll just switch people who are at the register. And no one ever says anything, or acts like it’s strange, or notices, at all, until it’s pointed out to them - and sometimes, not even then. 
I don’t… think anyone’s pranking me? Like why… why would they… why.  Because, especially ‘cuz it’s like, the same girl, over and over again. But it’s different people every - so - [huff]. The Family Dollar behind my house. There’s always this girl in there, working the register - she’s always there. And she’s really nice? She recognizes me, and I recognize her. It’s just, every single time I purchase anything, I - it - she gets replaced? By different people? But only for that - it’s only while money is being exchanged. I’ve kept my eyes open, I’ve, like - not looked down, at all, and it’s like - frame to frame, it’ll just -  for one second, there’s a different frame and there’s a different person. But when I walk away? It’s her again. 
I think - I think I’m just being pranked, but like, again, f***ing why? I didn’t agree to be pranked, or to be in some kind of experiment. Nothing bad ever happens? It’s just that. It makes me think like - do people not notice? Do people in the videos and the experiments not notice, or do they just never say anything? You know? Maybe they just - it’s easier to just be like, well, I guess I’m wrong, or just forget about it. Anyway. I guess I’ve said something now. Yep. Thank you. 
[click]
It’s so easy to shy away from what’s right in front of us, caller. How can you trust yourself when that trust has led you astray? You must be getting pranked, you must be in some kind of experiment. How can you trust other people, either, when they haven’t been honest, or had your best interests at heart? 
You know that what you’re seeing is real, even though it can’t be. It can. It is. You kept your senses sharp. You paid attention to the cashier at the Dollar General. Has anyone else? Maybe. Anyone else isn’t your responsibility. [searching music] It’s easy to say that the cashier might not be, either. But, I lied. Everyone else is always our responsibility. Not to try to control, or change. But to share in the fabric of reality, however strange a hue that fabric takes. 
It’s so easy not to say anything. It’s easy not to pry, not to be rude, to see that crack in someone else’s armor and look away from the blood that’s coming out of it. I don’t know what’s happening to the cashier. I don’t know why she’s always there, or if she knows what’s happening to her, or how she feels about it. I don’t know how she’d react if you said something, anything. I don’t know how you would even bring something up - are you okay? How are you doing today? How was your week? At the start, that transition between someone you see and someone you know can feel impossible to navigate. Sometimes that change never happens. But something in her recognizes you. And you recognize her, no matter what she looks like in those in-between moments. It’s still her. It’s still you. 
[click]
Something weird, listeners? The current price of Power Steering Fluid at the Dollar General closest to you is three dollars and seventy five cents. It is currently out of stock. Someone keeps drinking it.
[click] [groaning and rumbling, louder] [light flickering loudly]
All the buttons are lit up on the panel, now, flickering. There’s no one to boost me up to that panel I can see above my head, slightly out of line with the other squares in the ceiling. But that’s okay. Someone in the interconnected universal fabric left a box in here. I think I can reach it myself. 
Something stopped the elevator on purpose. Some angler that swims through the earth. [clang] It’s hungry. But that’s not its fault. [rumble] It needs to eat. We all do. I just don’t think I'm going to stick around to figure out what its diet might be. 
[creaking, clanging] [the host’s voice echoes:]
Ah, f***. Floor 13. Of course it’s floor 13. [pause] Prime number though.  
Thank you for listening, callers, and thank you for calling, listeners. I hope you feel a little bit lighter. I know I do.
As always, our number is 717.382.8093. that's 717.382.8093. Until next time. [creak] I'll be somewhere around here.
[elevator dings, opens]
[static] [Traveling Sales Rep: visit us at the - diner just off -] [Various Garbled Voices: ]
Thin Places Radio is a podcast written by Kristen O’Neal and produced by Kaitlin Bruder. The voice of Your Host is Kristen O’Neal. Tonight’s voicemail was left for us by Hayes.
Editing and sound design are by Kaitlin Bruder, and the music tracks you heard in tonight’s episode are: the Thin Places theme, by Miles Morkri, and Umeed by RANA.
If you have a story to tell or a question to ask, give us a call at ‪(717) 382-8093‬. The lines are always open.
[Thin Places Theme outro]
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pendantaudio · 9 months
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WRITERS BLOCK 97: David and Rylend gleefully take the red pill, stay in Wonderland, and Tilly Bridges - author of the incredible new book Begin Transmission: The trans allegories of The Matrix - shows them how deep the rabbit hole goes. Luckily, Rylend knows Kung fu.
Available on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, iHeartRadio, Amazon Music, Samsung Podcasts, and more!
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srndpt2024 · 2 years
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youtube
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fozmeadows · 6 months
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the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?
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mangor · 7 months
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... the waiting room ...
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screamingpanda · 7 months
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From @hellgatecity: TEASER: An excerpt of Glitch 11 - Boxed In: Listen quickly, as it will only be available in the Feed for a short time💜
Available on all podcasts platforms here.
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viciouscyclesradio · 1 year
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Play It Again Sam !
MBM: 40 Year Anniversary
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[PIAS] 40 - Meat Beat Manifesto (2023, PIAS)
Essential MBM/40 years.
viciouscyclesradio.com
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A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part two)
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(This is part two; part one is here.)
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The West Midlands Police were kind enough to upload a high-rez of their surveillance camera control room to Flickr under a CC license (they've since deleted it), and it was the perfect frame for dozens of repeating clown images with HAL9000 red noses. This worked out great. The clown face is from a 1940s ad for novelty masks.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop
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I spent an absurd amount of time transforming a photo I took of three pinball machines into union-busting themed tables, pulling in a bunch of images from old Soviet propaganda art. An editorial cartoon of Teddy Roosevelt with his big stick takes center stage, while a NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo's official portrait presides over the scene. I hand-made the eight-segment TILT displays.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth
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Working with the highest-possible rez sources makes all the difference in the world. Syvwlch's extremely high-rez paint-scraper is a gift to people writing about web-scraping, and the Matrix code waterfall mapped onto it like butter.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/
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This old TWA ad depicting a young man eagerly pitching an older man has incredible body-language – so much so that when I replaced their heads with raw meat, the intent and character remained intact. I often struggle for background to put behind images like this, but high-rez currency imagery, with the blown up intaglio, crushes it.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy
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I transposed Photoshop instructions for turning a face into a zombie into Gimp instructions to make Zombie Uncle Sam. The guy looking at his watch kills me. He's from an old magazine illustration about radio broadcasting. What a face!
https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/18/the-people-no/#tell-ya-what-i-want-what-i-really-really-want
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The mansplaining guy from the TWA ad is back, but this time he's telling a whopper. It took so much work to give him that Pinnocchio nose. Clearly, he's lying about capitalism, hence the Atlas Shrugged cover. Bosch's "Garden of Earthly Delights" makes for an excellent, public domain hellscape fit for a nonconensual pitch about the miracle of capitalism.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/27/six-sells/#youre-holding-it-wrong
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There's no better image for stories about techbros scamming rubes than Bosch's 'The Conjurer.' Throw in Jeff Bezos's head and an Amazon logo and you're off to the races. I boobytrapped this image by adding as many fingers as I could fit onto each of these figures in the hopes that someone could falsely accuse me of AI-generating this. No one did.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens
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Once again, it's Bosch to the rescue. Slap a different smiley-face emoji on each of the tormented figures in 'Garden of Earthly Delights' and you've got a perfect metaphor for the 'brand safety' problem of hard news dying online because brands don't want to be associated with unpleasant things, and the news is very unpleasant indeed.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/11/ad-jacency/#brand-safety
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I really struggle to come up with images for my linkdump posts. I'm running out of ways to illustrate assortments and varieties. I got to noodling with a Kellogg's mini-cereal variety pack and I realized it was the perfect place for a vicious gorilla image I'd just found online in a WWI propaganda poster headed 'Destroy This Mad Brute.' I put so many fake AI tells in this one – extra pupils, extra fingers, a super-AI-esque Kellogg's logo.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/05/variegated/#nein
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Bloodletting is the perfect metaphor for using rate-hikes to fight inflation. A vintage image of the Treasury, spattered with blood, makes a great backdrop. For the foreground, a medieval woodcut of bloodletting quacks – give one the head of Larry Summers, the other, Jerome Powell. For the patient, use Uncle Sam's head.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/20/bloodletting/#inflated-ego
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I killed a long videoconference call slicing up an old pulp cover showing a killer robot zapping a couple of shrunken people in bell-jars. It was the ideal image to illustrate Big Tech's enshittification, especially when it was decorated with some classic tech slogans.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend
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There's something meditative about manually cutting out Tenniel engravings from Alice – the Jabberwock was insane. But it was worth it for this Tron-inflected illustration using a distorted Cartesian grid to display the enormous difference between e/acc and AI doomers, and everyone else in the world.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space
Multilayer source images for your remixing pleasure:
Scientist in chemlabhttps://craphound.com/images/scientist-in-chem-lab.psd
Humpty Dumpty and the millionaires https://craphound.com/images/humpty-dumpty-and-the-millionaires.psd
Demon summoning https://craphound.com/images/demon-summoning.psd
Killer Robot and People in Bell Jars https://craphound.com/images/killer-robot-and-bell-jars.psd
TWA mansplainer https://craphound.com/images/twa-mansplainer.psd
Impatient boss https://craphound.com/images/impatient-boss.psd
Destroy This Mad Brute https://craphound.com/images/destroy-this-mad-brute.psd
(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)
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wifetomegatron · 7 months
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You said it was more convenient to post requests here, so here it is again:
I loved the "meeting the family" storyline very much. Can we get a First Contact fic of you trying to hide your relationship from your family (since theyre robo/phobic or youre embarrassed) but one day your family spots you getting out of a car they don't recognize and you have to explain that your bf wasn't in the car... he WAS the car.
Either with Rodimus, Chromedome (and Rewind), or... IDK, your choice really
sorry for the long wait, dear ! this made me think out of the box and experiment a little so I hope you enjoy it <3 thank you for being my first official request !
rodimus meets your uptight parents. first contact au. sfw (only few suggestive themes -ish).
" I commanded a ship. I went on a quest — well, that was before Earth. But, I mean, that's impressive, right? "
" Babe."
" I killed a sparkeater. I have Drift to testify, and Magnus, and two hundred others —"
" Roddy."
" I also carried the Matrix !"
" Rodimus, please !" You huffed, placing a hand flat against the dashboard: the metal underneath was stiff with tension. Your lover slowed down for the red light, rubber crunching against the pavement. Outside, the weather was clear — sunny without a cloud, and people poured out into the streets, crossing the zebra and laughing in the distance. It made you even more miserable. Sensing this, Rodimus took it upon himself to give the seatbelt across your body a small, reassuring squeeze.
He cleared his intake, static over the radio.
" I'm only nervous because you're nervous. And you're never this nervous."
" Sorry, “ You felt guilty already, “ I didn't mean to interrupt your little crisis but I’m sure you'll talk yourself to death before the anxiety can kill you ."
" Do you blame me for being nervous?"
A cold, heavy feeling dropped into the pit of your stomach. And the silence was back again, an unusual and uwelcomed guest in the home you and Rodimus have built. The reason that you were out today was that your parents had called — rousing you from what could have been the perfect start to a lazy Sunday, courtesy of Rodimus and his very, very talented mouth — to remind you about the brunch appointment you were supposed to attend an hour ago.
Panicked and already out of your boyfriend's arms, Rodimus couldn't quite understand how this was scary enough to make you spring out of his embrace and into a pair of pants — he emphasized how disappointed he was at how you were already dressed this early in the morning, on a weekend, no less.
Until you looked at him dead in the optics and whispered, “ They want to meet you too.”
That was enough to make him run for the garage.
You had warned him about your parents earlier in your relationship — at least, attempted.
" It's my parents," You had explained then, albeit the memory was fuzzy due to alcohol. All you remembered was that it was hard to stop Rodimus from doing anything when he was tipsy and flirty and running his servos all over your body.
“I’m sure they’ll like me,” He had smirked, pushing the topic aside and already sinking on his knees, “ Everyone likes me.”
That felt like ages ago. You’ve been delaying the subject, and today it has come back to finally bite you in the ass. Now, thanks to traffic and terrible skills at reading the GPS, you were two hours late to meet your parents and might as well be on death row.
“It won’t be so bad, right?”
You winced.
It took a while for you to explain to him that ‘picky’ was just an easy way of explaining to strangers that they were painfully traditional. Having been raised in a very small upper-crust bubble within an even smaller community, their obsession with keeping the family closed off was almost archaic: your father actually has a spreadsheet as a criteria board for what counts as a ‘compatible’ match. It was Eurystheus and Hercules all over again, except you wished the challenge was slaying a nine-headed hydra. It was something Rodimus could come out of alive.
Because no one has ever lived up to the insurmountable, one hundred and thirty-five-long list of requirements that would make someone worthy to be dating his only child. What was once a fun little fact you always used as an icebreaker at parties became an actual threat to the one person who's made you the happiest in a long time — and he's not even a person. He's an —
" — aliens, I’m guessing, never made it on his list, so I'm sure I'd be in the clear. Right?"
" Hold that thought, I think I see them," You peered over the driver’s seat and out the window as Rodimus pulled up to the sidewalk. It was adjacent to a terrace filled with tables, already crowded with people. Live jazz was playing behind the curtain of conversations, and you spot your father through the glass doors, checking his watch before crossing his arms. He didn’t seem too happy, leaning forward to whisper something inaudible to your mother’s ear.
Rodimus seemed to notice this.
" Uh, just go inside. I'll...catch up with my holoform."
From time to time again, you suggested that Rodimus get tinted windows. And if he had, for a second, thought about its practicality instead of calling you rude for assuming that you implied he could get them installed by the local car dealer, then maybe your father wouldn’t have spotted you.
“He’s coming this way,” You squeaked, combing your hair and quickly trying to make yourself look decent.
“Oh. Frag.”
A cluster of lights formed next to you, pixelating themselves to create a holographic image of what your boyfriend claims to be his persona if he were human. You weren't sure how to tell him that your father would immediately recognize Michael J Fox from Back to the Future. So you placed a firm hand across the dashboard to make him stop, shaking your head and confirming: this was it.
This was the moment you finally decided to fight for the person — not a person, he'd correct you — that made you feel alive. Feel loved. And you have to fight for that, even if it comes in the form of standing up to your up-tight, silver spoon, helicopter parents in the middle of the sidewalk and attracting the attention of over twenty people and a handful of Instagram influencers trying to peacefully take a picture of their bed of smoked salmon and caviar, then so be it.
" You better have a good explanation for this."
You sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep your chin up in defiance as you duel your father in a stare-down.
" It's time for me...to make my own decisions. And that includes who I decide to love. And be with. And date."
" Does he come with the tardiness?" He bit back.
" Oh, give them a chance to speak !" Coming at your defense was your mother, wringing her hands with worry and yet already peaking to admire the vehicle behind you, " Does he… come with the car, perhaps?"
You swallowed, the metal beneath your arm humming in distress,"You can say that."
Your father almost looked impressed. Almost. Suddenly you can't even hear the background music anymore, as if even the musicians had placed down their instruments, and are now rapt in attention at this showdown.
" What does he do?"
" He was a captain," The car roughly inched forward, “Is still, a captain. He’s just not on duty…at the moment.”
There was a murmur of appreciation from the nosy spectators.
"Where is he from ?"
" He's from... far away."
" Oh, lovey. I do love to travel," Your mother smiled, stiff and on the edge of exploding like a poorly timed confetti canon.
" Yes, but I don't think it's...that beautiful at this time of the year."
You lost your voice, suddenly compressed, as if you were a bottle of coke inside a sixty-second tikTok reel, ready to be crushed under the weight of an industrial metal press machine. You can tell Dad's already trying to work out what year Rodimus was manufactured in — vintage you'd joke, but it doesn't seem appropriate to condense lightyears into a punchline. Plus he wouldn't approve of the age gap.
" Let's see him. Tell the boy to step out of the car."
You steeled yourself as the sound of metal gears grinding and transforming flooded the area. The Earth lightly shook beneath you as Rodimus stood at full height, seemingly erasing any other noise from a five-mile radius like a black hole.
Someone dropped their teacup, the ceramic shattering in the distance.
“ Hi. Rodimus, here.”
It was safe to say that your mother only started to warm up to Rodimus in the waiting room of the hospital, when she had the chance to talk to the mech as you all waited for your father's discharge from Emergency — thankfully, Rodimus was quick enough to scoop him up as he fainted, so no traumatic head injury that had a one in five thousand chance of taking out the stick up his ass.
Surprisingly, your mother was already somewhat impressed: The former title of one-year Prime, his paint job, his humor.
Baby steps, you smiled to yourself and watched your mother drape an arm across Rodimus as she laughed at his joke. Baby steps.
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santmat · 11 months
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A Cosmic Conspiracy in the Matrix of the Demiurge (Kal Niranjan) - Also, Being A Spiritual Warrior In A World Of Illusion, Studies in the Anurag Sagar (India's Most Gnostic Scripture)
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In a sacred text from India known as Kabir's Ocean of Love (Anurag Sagar) Kal Niranjan, the Gnostic Demiurge, the Negative Power or God of Illusion once said to Guru Kabir:
"I will do something there so that nobody will believe in Your Shabda [Word]. There I will create such karmas and illusions that nobody will find the way out. In every single home I will create the ghost of illusion, and deceiving the souls, I will make them forget. All humans will eat flesh and drink wine, and all kinds of flesh will be their favorites. 0 brother, Your Devotion is difficult -- Nobody will believe it, I'm telling You! That is why I say: 'Don't go into the world now!'"
Says Kabir: "At that time I told Kal, 'I know your deceptions and tricks. Making the souls firm in the true Shabda, I will enable them to remove your illusions. I will make them recognize all your tricks, and by the strength of Naam I will liberate the souls. Those who remember me in thought, word and deed, focusing their attention on the Elementless, such souls will go to the Immortal World, putting their feet on your head. Any brave and wise soul will finish your ego. And very happily that soul will be convinced of the true Shabda [True Word].'
"Hearing this Kal felt defeated and started to think of deceptions." (Anurag Sagar)
Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast - A Cosmic Conspiracy in the Matrix of the Demiurge (Kal Niranjan) - Listen/Download @ the Podcast Website:
https://SpiritualAwakeningRadio.libsyn.com/a-cosmic-conspiracy-in-the-matrix-of-the-demiurge-kal-niranjan
Listen @ Apple Podcasts:
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/a-cosmic-conspiracy-in-the-matrix-of/id1477577384?i=1000614963466
Follow @ Apple Podcasts:
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/spiritual-awakening-radio/id1477577384
@ Spotify:
https://open.spotify.com/show/5kqOaSDrj630h5ou65JSjE
@ Google Podcasts:
https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5saWJzeW4uY29tLzIwNzIzNi9yc3M
& @ Wherever You Subscribe and Follow Podcasts (Apple, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Amazon, Audible, Stitcher, PodBean, Overcast, Jio Saavan, iHeart Radio, Podcast Addict, Gaana, CastBox, etc...):
https://linktr.ee/SpiritualAwakeningRadio
On today's Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast, The Cosmic Conspiracy described by the Anurag Sagar and the way to spiritual freedom and liberation according to The Path of the Masters, The Way of the Saints.
In Divine Love (Bhakti), Light, and Sound, At the Feet of the Masters, Radhaswami,
James Bean
Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcasts
Sant Mat Satsang Podcasts
A Satsang Without Walls
Sant Mat Radhasoami
https://www.SpiritualAwakeningRadio.com
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ghostlychief · 1 year
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Hiii!! Just before I request- your Ghost fics are all so damn great :'))) youre suuuper good at writing!!
Could I please get a fem! Reader who isnt part of 141, but another taskforce, and happens to spot Ghost getting shot by a bullet from afar, so she decides to save the him by killing all the enemies (with gun, knife or martial arts, whatevs ya want, maybe all) and taking Ghost to her home and treats his wounds cause she is also a medic and Ghost just quietly falls in love with a stranger who just saved him?
Sorry if its not understandable, english isnt my first language :(
You can ignore it but have a good day ^^
omg thank you sm for reading my other ghost fics!!! <3333 first of all, your english is GREAT. there is no need to apologize sweetie. i threw together this fic for you, hope you enjoy <3
--
pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader
wc: 1.3k+
warnings: none, just mentions of bullet injuries, but nothing graphic; fluff
--
You’ve only met the guy once, and yet, you’re standing over him while he lays shirtless on your couch.
Of course, you weren’t planning on having anyone over tonight, no. You thought you would get home from your mission, albeit a bit bruised and sore. You were going to take a nice hot bath and let the steam melt away your worries. You had your self-care night all planned out. That was, until this morning when your team aka Task Force Cobra, got informed that you were paired up with Task force 141. It was to be a matrix job, something you weren’t overly used to.
Nonetheless, each group gathered in the conference room to debrief. This was your first time meeting the aforementioned 141 squad. They weren’t as intimidating as you thought, although maybe it was because you were also a skilled marksman. Nevertheless, you introduced yourselves and got the formalities out of the way before you got into the nitty gritty of today’s mission.
However, one of the 141 members caught your eye. Goes by the name Ghost. He was one of the taller ones, and you could only see his eyes. Everything else was left to the imagination.  
You quickly rid your thoughts of the man, needing to focus on what you were assigned to do. You drew your attention back to Price and Diablo, who was your supervisor for Cobra.
“Cobra’s task is to run recon. We’ll go in first unsuspected and gather as much intel as needed. Then, 141 will come in.”
You mentally groan. You personally didn’t like recon because it usually didn’t result in a lot of action, and action is what you were trained for. You had a black belt in martial arts after all, and you were pretty adept with a knife.
Though, you kept your dissatisfaction to yourself and listened to the rest of the briefing.
--
Nothing exciting happened during recon. In order to gather intel, Cobra tried to look like normal civilians in the market area; all your weapons were concealed. You spotted a few of the hitmen you were after, and radioed 141. The hitmen you were after are part of a drug trafficking group called the Ludin cartel. You really were after the king pins, but you had to start somewhere.
Once you sent the signal, 141 started infiltrating the area and the civilians quickly scattered when they saw men with heavy weaponry storming through the market.
By now, you were in the outskirts of the market, but you could still see the commotion happening within. You may have just seen Ghost get shot. Wait what?
You did a double take and sure enough, Ghost has a red stain on his pant leg. Fuck.
You know you need to get to him as soon as he can so he won’t bleed out, but there’s still Ludin men surrounding him.
Well, fuck me.
You took a breath then started to make your way over to Ghost. Your movements were swift and sharp as you cut through Ludin’s men, every once in awhile your knife made contact with someone’s skin, leaving a big gash wherever the blade reached.  
Once the hitmen were taken care of, you were left with the sight of Ghost passed out on the ground. You radioed Cobra and 141, “Ghost’s down. I repeat, Ghost’s down.”
You heard a chopper in the distance.
--
The last thing Ghost remembers is faintly seeing someone take down nearly every Ludin man that was surrounding him; he doesn’t remember much after that. Now, he’s awake but his surrounding is unfamiliar to him.
He also feels a chill, and that’s when he looks down and notices his shirt is off, but there’s also a thick white bandage covering the loser half of his torso.
What the fuck happened?
“Oh good, you’re awake.” A sweet voice cuts through the air, and he looks up to find a woman standing over him. Your face is soft, your features show compassion, tenderness, and he doesn’t feel on guard like he usually does when he wakes up in an unfamiliar place.
Maybe it’s the daze of waking up with two bullet holes in your body, maybe it’s because of you. Whichever, he can’t find himself to tear his eyes away from your sweet face. It’s been so long that you even say, “Are you alright? Can you hear me okay?”
He mentally shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry. Just wasn’t sure where I was for a moment. You’re y/n right, from Cobra?”
You give him a slight nod with a smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. He finds himself looking there, at the plush color that coats them, but quickly averts his gaze so he doesn’t seem like a creep.
“Yeah, you got banged up pretty bad. Two bullets. One in your thigh, the other grazed your abdomen.”
Jesus.
“Why am I here in this house?” His tone is only curious, wondering why he isn’t in the med house back at base.
“This is one of my safe houses, and it just so happened to be the closest to the raid. Both teams agreed for me to take you back here. Along with being a skilled martial artist, I also happen to be a medic.”
Your sweet smile turns into a smirk while confidence coats your face, and Ghost finds this extremely attractive.
He once again can’t tear his eyes from you.
“Are you sure you’re alright? You keep staring.”
Fuck me.
He stutters out the first bit of his response, “I’m fine, sorry. Just have a headache, but also it doesn’t help that I’m laying here shirtless with a beautiful, yet terrifying martial artist turned medic.”
You let out a laugh that makes his heart glow. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’ve literally only met this woman once.
“No worries, Lieutenant. Patients are usually a little discombobulated after being injured.”
You smile at him again, “This is a judgment free zone.”
Ghost nods, feeling a little bit better. A hint of smirk forms on his lips, “If this is a ‘judgement free zone’, would you mind if I ask you a question?”
You nod, willing him to proceed.
He’s taking a risk, he knows. But he has to ask. He’s already so enamored by you.
“Well, since you’ve been so kind as to take me to your home, and tend to my wounds, what do you say about me taking you out for a drink? As a thank you, of course.”
He watches as your face shifts from intrigue to understanding. Your sweet laughs permeates the air once again.
“I usually don’t accept offers like this, but for you I will.”
Ghost lets out a breathy laugh.
“Great, it’s a date then.”
--
hope you enjoyed!
masterlist
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part 6
Now we are free.
After a heady, orgiastic night, she woke up changed, feeling as if she had the power of many minds, full of energy and good humor, and when she thought about him she felt something like an electric discharge in her head. Hmm... baffling- she thought. She turned on the computer, and very strange wallpaper appeared on the screen, some animation, two red and blue balls, swirled, merged, exploded into the words "quantum entanglement" and then disappeared. oh! It's going to be an interesting day, glitch in a matrix. She turned on the radio and from the speakers came:
You were standing (you know it's true) I was there (worlds collided) Two worlds collided (we're shining through) And they could never tear us apart
-Is this some joke? - she laughed loudly.
She sat down in the armchair and was about to do her business when she heard a whisper: leave it all and write for me, I want to know how it ends.
- Damn, I need to see a psychiatrist, my dreams have been crazy lately, but the voices when I'm awake?! - she wanted to write a note in her phone, but she couldn't find it - I probably left it in her purse - the purse was nowhere to be found either. She sat on the bed to collect her thoughts, when suddenly in her mind's eye she saw a large cinema screen and on it she saw him, riding the Cybertruck and listening to music. Her heart started pounding like crazy, she could see him live! He looked happy, he was whistling a tune quietly, he was just turning a corner when a huge, terrifying fart split the air in the cabin. She saw him jump up, scared like a panda. "Oops, another tire inflated" he laughed loudly and mockingly. Then the image blurred and disappeared, probably because she was also bursting with laughter and tuned out of the signal. All in all, she wasn't too surprised, she could see remotely, but it never occurred to her to spy on him, especially since time didn't matter here, she could see any moment at any time. She relaxed again and thought "Well, let's see how you did in Baldur's Gate 3, I was lynched on the blog for that." This time, she wanted to see the scene from his perspective, she had mastered connecting with the consciousness of another mind quite well in her dreams, but would it work the same in waking life? She will most likely see the most exciting moment, such moments leave the clearest trace when new emotions occur. An image appeared, the scene flashed briefly, she didn't need to see more, she burst into laughter again, howled with laughter because she saw him having sex with a bear! She was ecstatic, he was so disarmingly human in everything he did, and for a moment she was fooled into the illusion that he was completely normal. She lay down on the bed to think for a while, she could, it was Sunday morning, nothing was chasing her. "Hey, little one, it works both ways" she heard. There was music in the room, Air On A G String, she saw him lying in his bed with his phone in his hand, he was reading part 2 of the story and thinking about her, probably quite intensely, she felt his arousal as her own, his penis was already ready, sticking out like the Washington Monument, lightly stroked by his hand, and with each movement her excitement grew. "Come to me" she heard his tender whisper. The transfer was immediate, and at the same moment she gave her inner consent, she was next to him. She was sitting between his legs, his thighs were so hot, the wonderful smell of Shalimar spread in the room "mhm... art deco even in the air..." She leaned over him, first her tongue enjoyed it, and then she covered it with her mouth, mmm... ice cream so good , yes yes yes and his rocket was ready to fly. She sat on him so thirsty, he grabbed her waist and she sucked him with her pussy. They came together. It was the most delicious breakfast you could have on a Sunday morning accompanied by a cello.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
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aloysiavirgata · 2 months
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Details of how his school works aside, tomorrow is VirgataBoy’s last day of high school classes. He won’t graduate until June, but he finishes formal classes tomorrow.
He turns 18 the weekend after this, and his sister will be 20 in June. Legally, I’m just about done parenting. It’s a very strange feeling.
I was 43 in December and maybe I should be feeling my age, but I don’t. I love my 40’s and this sort of quiet peace I’ve found in not caring about whether other people find me pretty anymore or if my clothes are cool or in performative femininity or whether I’ve done my makeup the right way.
I’m feeling a little wistful for being a teenager in the 90’s, but not because I was young and easy under the apple boughs. My closest friends and I from those days, we are all still friends. I like and love myself much better now than I did then.
Truth? I was conventionally attractive on the East coast and took road trips with my friends to DC and Manhattan and the beach. I was VERY lucky for parents who gave me a car (a Taurus of course) and a cell phone in 1997. I was lucky that my jobs were at trendy places to have jobs. (I was an Abercrombie Girl, a barista in the nascent days of the independent coffeehouse boom.) There was no social media. There were mix tapes and the mall and the Delia’s catalogue and Hard Candy nail polish and posters carefully ripped out of Tiger Beat. Kipling bags and Peace Frogs and Absolut Vodka ads that Rachael (that BITCH) collected.
And also, also.
Also.
I was super into this geeky show, and there wasn’t streaming or social media so you watched or you recorded it on VHS. You were, if as EXCEPTIONALLY geeky as I was, on ATXF on the dial-up modem. You printed reams of fanfic on a dot matrix printer because your friends worked at Kinko’s. You were a little shy about it all because it was wildly popular but somehow also not quite cool.
You eyed up the FTF action figures at Suncoast. Even though your friends bought Chanel Vamp, you bought Chanel Brown Sugar because it seemed like a Scully sort of lip color.
You realized some things about yourself, with Scully. With Gillian. With the complicated feelings being at an all-girls school gave you.
You went to college and grad school and got married and had babies and they grew up too. You shop online now and the posters and Scotch tape gave way to framed art.
Kinko’s isn’t even a thing anymore, you married a coffee shop customer, the Ford Taurus has been discontinued, is Abercrombie even cool?
But. This one funny thing remains. Remains so unexpectedly and sometimes, on a Thursday evening in March, you might be 17 again.
***
“We are not preordained, we are not predestined, and even so, in this enormous world of men we found each other, a colossal global coincidence causing earthquakes in Turkey and Mexico. We shook it up, she and I. We shake it up.
And when the dust settles it's just her, and me, in the car, shifting lanes and she reaches down to turn the radio on, quietly, just enough to distract me, just enough to warm us up. Streetlights outside, and night. Cars and children.
Wood and nails.”
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