#but being a data science nerd is definitely one of them

[xthelastknownsurvivorx]

hi lee! happy nice asks dayyyyy!

do you have a favourite statistical model or coding language? if so, what is it and WHY?

Hey Cee, thanks for the question! Had to think on this one for a bit but I'd say that logistic distributions/logistic regression models are my favorite. There's something very cool to me about their simplicity given how widely applicable and important they are, plus a bunch of nifty properties (like their connection to odds, the median being where the inflection point occurs, etc).

I've also had them pop up in lots of areas I've studied over the years, so there's definitely a sense of a familiar face if I encounter one in what I'm doing.

[lowrisemiller]

ꜰɪᴇʟᴅ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ

you can imagine whichever Reed you want ;)

reed richards x assistant!fem!reader

you're reed richards’ long-suffering lab assistant. brilliant in your own right, you handle everything from data entry to inter-dimensional rift control. you’ve been nursing a hopeless crush on him for months. the man can design a quantum field stabilizer in his sleep, but he’s absolutely blind to the way you touch his shoulder a beat too long or always bring him his favorite coffee without asking. how could someone so brilliant be so stupid when it came to people?

masterlist | 4.7k words | MDNI SMUT | reed neglecting basic things bc scientist duh, reader(me) is DOWN BAD, reed is oblivious to everything that isn’t science, finger & oral f!receiving, reed stretching things, him being a nerd while eating ur pussy😍 unprotected piv sex DONT DO THAT ! aftercare:)

The lab was quiet, except for the soft scribble of pen on paper and the low, constant hum of equipment Reed swore was essential, even if it sounded like white noise to everyone else. You sat perched at your workstation, chin resting in your palm, eyes drifting from your screen to the man pacing ten feet away—muttering under his breath, brow furrowed, fingers twitching.

You’d seen that look a hundred times.

It meant he was close to a breakthrough.

It also meant you could scream I want you in morse code and he wouldn’t register it.

You sighed, clicking your pen against your notebook. He didn’t glance up. Not even when you shifted in your seat and stretched in a way that was definitely for his benefit.

Ten months.

That’s how long you’d worked beside him—helping with calculations, organizing lab notes, fending off media inquiries, even stopping one of his machines from literally catching fire last Tuesday. You’d poured yourself into this job. You knew his schedule better than he did. You brought him his coffee the exact way he liked it. You wear that plum lipstick because he’d once said it was a “pleasing wavelength” for visual stimulation.

He hadn’t looked twice.

You weren’t just harboring a crush at this point. No, this had evolved into something much more volatile—an emotional chemical reaction waiting for a catalyst.

And Reed? Reed was… oblivious.

Gorgeous, brilliant, maddeningly unbothered Reed Richards. With his rolled-up sleeves and distracted glances, the way he chewed on pens when deep in thought, the offhand compliments he gave without realizing they were compliments—“Your spatial reasoning is exceptional,” he’d said once, looking at your notes. You’d practically melted.

Now he stood a few feet away, talking to himself like always. You watched the way his hands gestured mid-air, sketching invisible shapes.

“Frustrated with the equations?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“No, no. Just… considering variable Y’s response under quantum fluctuation,” he murmured, barely registering your voice. “Though I suppose an extra set of eyes wouldn’t hurt.”

He handed you the clipboard and your fingers brushed. He didn’t even flinch. Your heart did.

You took it wordlessly, biting the inside of your cheek. How could someone so brilliant be so stupid when it came to people?

Maybe that was unfair. Reed wasn’t cruel, or cold. He was kind in his own absent-minded way. But he had tunnel vision—for science, for discovery. He didn’t notice the things that didn’t present themselves in a neat, testable format.

Like how you lingered in his orbit.

Or how your eyes followed him when he wasn't looking.

Or how sometimes, after long days, you fantasized about climbing into his lap right in that damn desk chair and making him pay attention.

Your pen scratched against the clipboard now, pretending to read the data while you watched him from the corner of your eye. He was back to pacing, lips moving silently. His sleeves were pushed up again, exposing strong forearms, veins prominent, hands twitching like he needed to do something with them.

God, you were losing it.

You placed the clipboard down. “You ever think maybe the problem isn’t quantum fluctuation, Reed? Maybe it’s just human error.”

He blinked and turned. “Are you suggesting I made a mistake?”

“I’m saying maybe if you took your head out of the wormhole generator long enough to eat or sleep or…” You paused. Look at me.

“…notice things, you’d think clearer.”

He looked like he might ask what “things” you meant. But instead, he turned back to his calculations, nodding. “Duly noted.”

You stared at his back, silent for a moment. And that’s when the thought struck you: He’s never going to see it unless you make him.

He would go the rest of his life chasing black holes and entropy and would never realize the way you burned for him—not unless you showed him.

Your pulse skipped.

Your patience is snapping.

You were going to be an anomaly he couldn’t ignore.

It was a new day, but nothing had changed.

Reed was still buried in data, half-dressed in a rumpled button-down he probably hadn’t noticed had two buttons mismatched. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered ten minutes before walking into the lab and immediately got lost in thought again. You stood at your usual station, sipping lukewarm coffee and pretending not to glance over at him every thirty seconds.

You weren’t pretending very well.

This was your fourth twelve-hour day this week, and you’d long since passed the phase where your crush felt cute. It was heavier now—dense, loaded with tension you had nowhere to put. Not when he kept looking right through you, offering praise only when it was tied to data points or completed tasks.

Today, he barely looked up when you walked in, just said, “Morning,” like you were air and math and all the other constants in his life.

You sat your coffee down a little too hard.

“Sleep okay?” you asked, typing with one hand as you glanced toward him. His back was to you as he scribbled across the whiteboard.

“Didn’t,” he replied casually. “The formula’s been looping in my head since 2 a.m.”

Of course it had.

You nodded to yourself, refocusing on your notes—but your brain wasn't on line graphs. It was on how his voice sounded deeper in the mornings. Rough. Scraped thin. It was on how he'd rolled his sleeves again, unconsciously, like he was giving you just enough to fantasize about but never enough to touch. It was on how he’d leaned over your shoulder the day before, close enough to make you forget your own name, then pulled away without even noticing how stiffly you sat for five minutes after.

You were starting to feel stupid.

Or worse—transparent.

You tugged at the edge of your shirt, adjusting it subtly, then pushed your chair back.

“Reed,” you said after a moment, tone careful.

He glanced up.

You hesitated. You could say it. “Do you ever think about me when we’re not in this lab?” Or even just “Do you notice when I’m trying to get your attention?” But all that left your mouth was:

“…Do you want lunch?”

He blinked. “No, thanks.”

You smiled tightly and nodded. “Okay.”

A long beat passed before he added, “You should eat, though. Your concentration dips if you skip meals.”

That nearly made you laugh. He didn’t notice your new lipstick or the way you leaned closer when talking, but he noticed a dip in your concentration?

“Noted,” you muttered, turning away. Your heart was starting to feel like an overworked computer—on the verge of burnout.

Still, you stayed.

He asked you to help calibrate a device and you did, even though his hands grazed yours and he didn’t seem to feel it. You reorganized his notes for the hundredth time and he said, “I’d lose my head without you.” Your stomach flipped, and you cursed yourself for letting it.

Eventually, the day wore on. The lights buzzed overhead. He worked in silence. And you sat across from him, eyes on your computer screen but brain nowhere near it.

You weren’t going to say anything today. You weren’t ready. But you were closer.

You were watching him more intentionally now. Watching how he moved. Noticing when he forgot to eat, when his jaw clenched at a miscalculation, when he sighed like the weight of the universe had settled into his spine.

And more importantly… you were starting to plan.

Because if Reed Richards wasn’t going to notice you on his own, maybe it was time you made it impossible for him not to.

You started small.

A hand on his shoulder when you passed behind him—just a light touch, fingers lingering a little longer than necessary. A compliment you slid in while reviewing his data aloud. Your tone didn’t change, but your eyes watched his face this time, looking for any flicker of reaction.

Still, nothing overt.

But you were a scientist too, in your own way. You knew not all reactions happened in the open.

So you adjusted variables.

Today, you wore something just a touch more fitted under your lab coat. Nothing flashy. Just subtle. Intentional. Your lips were glossed in a soft cherry sheen and you had your hair tucked behind one ear, leaving your neck bare when you leaned over your notes.

You didn’t say much when you came in. Just a soft, “Morning, Reed,” as you brushed past him to your desk. He looked up. Briefly. His eyes caught on your profile, then flicked back to his screen. But there was… a beat. Just long enough to file away.

You smirked, barely.

He worked for hours, absorbed as usual. But today, you noticed something.

His eyes flicked to you more than once.

Quick glances. Measured. Like he was calculating a change in the room’s atmosphere. Like he felt something different but hadn’t yet assigned it meaning.

When he handed you a tablet to review notes, your fingers touched—warm, steady. This time, he paused.

Just for a second.

Not long enough to be certain of anything. But long enough to make your heart thud against your ribs.

You gave him a slow smile. “Thanks.”

He blinked and muttered, “Of course,” then turned away like he needed to recalibrate.

You kept working. Quiet. Focused.

But later—when you reached for a beaker on the shelf above his head—he stood behind you, offering, “Let me.”

You turned, close enough that your chest brushed his arm as you stepped aside.

He stilled.

You looked up at him, wide-eyed, like it wasn’t completely on purpose. “Thanks.”

His gaze flicked down. A flicker of something behind those eyes. He handed you the beaker wordlessly, but his jaw was set. Not tight. Just… aware.

There it is.

It wasn’t much. A subtle shift in the lab’s atmosphere. But it was enough to keep your spine humming, your thoughts racing.

You’d pushed the threshold.

And Reed felt it.

It happened again.

Reed forgot what he was saying mid-sentence. You were across the room, head bent over your tablet, pencil in your mouth, lab coat slipping slightly off your shoulder. His sentence just… stopped. Hung in the air unfinished.

And for once, he noticed you noticing.

You looked up slowly, eyebrows raised like well?

“I—” he cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. “Never mind.”

You bit back a smile.

Another day in the lab. Another carefully applied variable. You weren’t loud about it. Just present. Vivid. A little perfume on your wrist. Lip gloss again. A comment here and there, perfectly timed to stick in his head.

“Careful,” you murmured when he bumped into the desk beside you. Your voice was soft. A little amused. “You almost ran me over.”

He looked down at you, flustered. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Liar.

You knew he had near-total environmental awareness. Reed Richards didn’t miss anything. But lately, he missed a lot—because he was looking at you and then pretending he hadn’t.

You kept it casual. Calculated.

You’d brush past him with a hand on his back, stand just a little too close while looking at the same screen, ask questions in that tone you saved for only him.

He was unraveling slowly. Quietly.

You caught him watching once—when you walked away to grab a coffee. His gaze dropped to your hips and stayed for three full seconds before jerking back to the screen like he'd been slapped.

You pretended not to see. But your grin behind your coffee cup was downright smug.

Later that day, he dropped a tool and you crouched down to grab it first. When you stood and handed it back to him, your fingers touched. He held on a little too long.

You tilted your head, teasing. “Forget what you needed it for?”

He blinked down at your joined hands and pulled back sharply. “No. Sorry. I—”

He coughed. “I’m distracted.”

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t need to.

By now, you knew the exact cadence of his footsteps when he was deep in thought. The slow, uneven rhythm that meant he was pacing without realizing it, caught in his own mental spiral.

You could hear them behind you now—soft thuds on the concrete floor of the lab. Reed Richards, brilliant, infuriating man, walking through formulas with half his shirt untucked and his fingers twitching at his sides. His muttering was barely audible over the hum of the machines, but you caught bits of it:

“Non-linear increase… No, that’s not right. Unless…”

You didn’t look up. Not yet.

Instead, you sat at your workstation, half-focused on the screen in front of you, legs crossed slowly under the table—exposed just enough to draw the eye if someone were finally looking.

And he was.

Reed had been distracted for days now. You saw it in the way his gaze lingered when you bent forward to check wiring. The way his voice wavered slightly when you spoke too close to his ear. The way he’d started pausing in his work like something had thrown off the trajectory of his thought process—and that something was you.

It was working.

He still hadn’t named the tension, but it was eating at him.

So today, you’d decided: no more hints. No more tests.

You were going to prove it to him in a way he couldn’t ignore.

You stood slowly, walked to the central console where he was now bent over a string of data projections, brows furrowed. He didn’t notice you at first—not until you placed a hand lightly on the edge of the table next to his.

His voice faltered. “The waveform collapse pattern could still—”

You leaned in just enough that your shoulder brushed his. “Still what?”

He straightened slightly, blinking at the screen like it had betrayed him.

Your voice was quieter this time. “You’ve been off lately, Reed.”

He turned his head, barely. “Off?”

You tilted your head. “Distracted.”

He opened his mouth, closed it. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

You hummed. “I know. But I’m starting to think the problem isn’t in your equations.”

That got his attention. His eyes flicked to yours, guarded. “What do you mean?”

You let the silence hang for a moment. Then:

“I think the thing disrupting your work… is me.”

Reed went still. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He was computing. Processing. Trying to refute it. But his body betrayed him—his hand clenched on the table, his gaze briefly darting to your mouth before jerking away.

“I’m not—” he started. “You’re not a disruption.”

You smiled softly. “Then why do you keep looking at me like you’re afraid of what happens if you do it too long?”

He looked stunned. Then—guilty.

You took a breath, slow and steady. This was it.

“I’ve tried everything,” you said. “The lipstick. The touching. Standing so close you could feel my breath.” You leaned in, lower now, voice like silk. “And still, nothing.”

Reed was frozen in place.

“I think,” you continued, “that you’re just waiting for someone to spell it out.”

You stepped back, slowly, and hopped up onto the edge of the table in front of him—knees parted, one leg brushing his thigh. You leaned back on your hands, tilting your head like a challenge.

“Well, Reed?” you asked softly. “Do you need a demonstration?”

His pupils were blown wide. His breath caught. And his hands—god, his hands—hovered like he didn’t know where to touch first.

“You…” he said hoarsely. “You’re serious.”

You nodded, lips curled into a smile. “You want to calculate the pattern? Fine. Let’s start with some field data.”

You reached forward and took his hand—placed it firmly on your thigh.

He made a strangled sound. His fingers flexed. “This is… highly inadvisable.”

“Why?” you whispered, leaning forward so your lips nearly brushed his. “Because you’ve thought about it?”

His jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Your breath hitched.

“Every day this week,” he rasped, voice low now, broken open. “I’ve tried to ignore it. Tried to focus. But I’m… I’m failing. Every time you walk by me. Every time you touch me. I—” He shook his head. “I can’t think when you’re near.”

You dragged his hand a little higher, slow, teasing. “Good. Don’t think.”

And that’s when Reed snapped.

He surged forward, kissing you hard, like he’d been starving for air and only just found it. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, tugging your lab coat open like it was a barrier to understanding.

You moaned against his mouth, arms around his shoulders, legs parting instinctively as he stepped between them. He kissed like a man undone—like every theory he’d ever held was shattering under your touch.

“You have no idea,” he breathed against your neck. “How long I’ve been holding back.”

“Show me,” you whispered. “All of it.”

He groaned, low and guttural, and then his hands turned curious. Focused. Scientific. One settled at your throat, not squeezing, just holding—fingers spread like he was feeling your pulse, measuring your response. The other slid under your skirt, over the curve of your thigh, then—

“Oh,” you gasped, spine arching.

“I need to know,” he murmured, almost to himself, “what makes you tremble like that.”

Another touch. Another gasp. “That’s a reaction. Fascinating…”

“Reed—”

“I’m cataloging,” he said, voice filthy and analytical. “You’re the most compelling data set I’ve ever encountered.”

And then his fingers stretched.

Not just in confidence. Literally.

You whimpered as two elongated fingers traced up your inner thigh while another hand—normal-sized—cupped your breast through your shirt, thumb teasing slowly. The other hand remained at your throat, grounding you, steadying you.

He was everywhere.

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?” he whispered, pressing forward until you felt the thick, hard line of his cock against your core through layers of fabric. “You’ve disrupted every model. You’ve introduced chaos.”

You pulled him closer, panting. “Then let it consume you.”

“Consider this your field test,” he whispered against your lips.

And then he kissed you like he was sealing a pact—hands spanning your body, holding you like something he’d discovered and didn’t intend to release. His mouth was hot and searching, lips sliding down your jaw, teeth grazing your neck. You gasped, clutching his shirt, and that one sound made him groan hard, hips bucking against you without thinking.

“You make that noise again,” he muttered, “and I swear I’ll never let you leave this table.”

You did.

Just to see.

A breathy, needy gasp as he licked a slow stripe up your throat—and his hands tightened on your thighs, dragging you closer to the edge of the table until your hips tilted forward and your clothed core was flush against the bulge straining in his pants.

He cursed under his breath, forehead pressed to yours. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Then study me,” you whispered, breath hitching. “Make sense of it.”

He did.

God, he did.

He dropped to his knees between your legs, hands spreading your thighs open as he looked up at you like you were divine—something to worship, something to break open and understand. His fingers pushed your skirt higher, until it was bunched around your hips. When he reached your panties, he paused.

“Wet already,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Stimuli, minimal. Response, immediate.”

You shivered.

Then—he pressed a kiss right to the center of the damp fabric. Slow. Gentle. Reverent.

Your hips jolted, and he smiled.

He peeled your underwear down your legs, lips brushing your inner thigh as he murmured, “I’ve never wanted anything this badly.”

Then he finally—finally—tasted you.

His tongue was hot and slow, dragging a firm, wet stripe from your entrance to your clit. You cried out, and he groaned like he could feel it in his bones.

And then the muttering started.

Low. Incoherent. So Reed.

“God—taste is sharper than expected… pressure response is increasing…” His tongue flicked faster, and your head fell back. “Sensitivity peak here—yes, that’s it, I knew it—”

“Reed,” you gasped, fingers burying in his hair. “You’re talking—”

“I’m studying,” he said against your clit, tongue relentlessly. “Don’t interrupt the process.”

You moaned.

He grinned. “Good girl.”

That made your whole body jolt.

Reed caught it instantly. “Huh. New variable: verbal praise. Noted.”

His tongue circled tighter, and then—another hand slid up your torso, not the one braced on your thigh. It was soft, gentle, and a little too synchronized.

You looked down.

Another finger. Stretching from the hand holding your hip. Long and curved and perfect.

“Multi-point stimulation,” he murmured between licks. “Let’s test your threshold.”

You whimpered as his tongue lapped at your clit while that second hand slipped beneath your shirt, under your bra, pinching your nipple softly. Another elongated finger curled between your legs, circling your entrance, teasing—but never pushing in.

“I need to see you come apart,” he said. “I need to feel it.”

And then he did it all at once.

Tongue flicking. Finger pressing deep inside you, curling like he knew. Fuck, was that another?—spanning your lower back to hold you down as you arched off the table.

“Oh my god—Reed—”

“Give it to me,” he whispered. “Let me feel what I’ve done to you.”

You shattered.

Your orgasm hit like a burst of static—crackling down your spine, clenching around his fingers, your legs trembling on either side of his head.

You cried out his name, again and again, and he ate it up, moaning like it was his reward.

When you came back to yourself, he was standing again—his hands all back where they belonged, his mouth slick and shining. He looked wrecked.

And then—his belt hit the floor.

“You think I’m done?” he rasped. “You think I’d stop at one data point?”

He pulled you forward—off the table, into his arms—and turned you around until your back hit the cool surface. His cock, thick and flushed, pressed against your slick entrance.

“I’m going to learn you,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Every reaction. Every tremble. Every time you scream my name—I’ll know why.”

And then he pushed in.

All the way.

Slow and deep and perfect.

You sobbed into his shoulder as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours, cock twitching inside you like even he was shocked how good it felt.

His breath hitched. “Oh… oh, fuck. You’re…”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

He started to move.

Slow strokes at first—grinding in, pulling out halfway, pushing deeper again. His hands explored every inch of you—mouth on your neck, chest, shoulder. He whispered your name like it was a formula. He muttered observations even as he fucked you harder.

“You clench when I say your name—tight around me, just like that—fuck—”

“Your back arches when I hit here—god, you’re perfect—”

“You feel like you want me to lose control—so I will.”

And he did.

He lost it.

His pace stuttered, then snapped—hips slamming into you with brutal precision, every thrust angle to hit that perfect spot. You clung to him, moaning shamelessly, barely coherent as he fucked you like he’d been waiting years.

You came again—harder this time—and he groaned so loud it echoed in the lab.

“Gonna come inside you,” he warned, wild-eyed. “You want it?”

“Yes, yes, Reed, please—”

He slammed deep and stilled, cock pulsing as he filled you, one last ragged cry falling from his lips as he buried his face in your neck.

You held him as he trembled through it, panting, hands tangled in your hair.

It took a full minute before either of you spoke.

Then, voice hoarse, he whispered:

“…I think I need to run a full repeat trial.”

After.

The lab was quiet, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex. You were still sprawled across the console table, legs shaking, chest heaving. Reed leaned over you, both hands braced on either side of your hips. His head was bowed, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin.

Neither of you moved.

Finally, he let out a shaky laugh.

“...I think I blacked out for a second.”

You let out a breathless huff. “Welcome back.”

He looked up. His hair was a mess—curling wildly at the edges, gray hairs damp with sweat. His eyes were wide and stunned and so soft, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And then he leaned in again, slower this time, and kissed you like he meant it.

Not a theory. Not a test. Just feeling.

When he pulled back, he looked at the mess between your thighs and the growing stickiness on his abs. When did his shirt come off? His brows pulled together, equal parts concern and fascination.

“I, uh—there’s a shower down the hall. Private. It's not… state-of-the-art, but…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d like to take care of you.”

You nodded, still dazed. “Okay.”

He helped you up with this heartbreaking gentleness, hands steady at your waist like you might vanish if he let go too fast. He gathered your clothes in silence, cradled your hand in his, and led you barefoot down the corridor to a sealed side room.

The lab shower was built for function—stark white tiles, a metal bench, one glass wall—but it felt almost sacred now. Reed adjusted the water temp with clinical precision before motioning for you to step in first.

Then he joined you.

And just… looked at you.

Not with lust, not yet. With wonder.

His hands were slow as he lathered soap across your shoulders, over your back, down your arms. He was quiet now, like something had settled deep in him. His thumbs traced gentle circles into your hips, his forehead brushing yours beneath the spray.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen today,” he said quietly. “Not like that.”

You met his eyes, searching. “You regret it?”

“No,” he said instantly. Then, softer: “I regret how long I ignored it.”

You swallowed.

He washed your thighs carefully, then cupped between them—not to tease, just to clean you, slow and reverent. You bit your lip and let him.

He kissed your forehead, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

Then you reached for him.

His cock was half-hard again—because of course it was—and when you wrapped your hand around him, his eyes fluttered. He leaned back against the wall, mouth parted, not stopping you.

“I want to try again,” he breathed. “When we’re not losing our minds.”

You smiled. “You want another trial?”

His head tipped back against the tile, a low groan leaving his chest. “God, yes. Multiple. Longitudinal.”

dividers by @cyberbeat @cursed-carmine 🏷️ @zevrra @bleed-4-bey @littlemillersbaby @millersdoll @pandapetals @kellielovesmovies @rafeysgirl5 @dearstcupid @ivuravix @worhols @hoeforsirius @axshadows @aj0elap0l0gist @ladyshrike

[a-suspicious-lack-of-bagel]

afternoon Tumblr - back again with some thoughts on accuracy, precision, and data! there are 13 paragraphs below the cut; and I anticipate this to be the first of three long posts today.

First, definitions: accuracy is how RIGHT your answer is: "pi is a bit more than 3" is (technically) maximum accuracy but low precision. precision is how SPECIFIC your answer is: "pi is 22/7" is less accurate but maximum precision.

being a nerd, who likes doing the calculations more than finding the results; I'm a fan of precision. you want your answer to a finite number of significant figures? fuck you! I'm going to factor it neatly, keep the irrational numbers and surds in those forms (simplifying the surds where I can, of course), end with an answer that is maximally precise and concise, and THEN throw it at a calculator.

this is another one of the reasons why i could probably be a decent scientist but wouldnt make for a successful science student - if 4 sig figs or 2 decimal places will do; just throw the whole lot at your calculator and get the answer. it's a heck of a lot faster and if you already know what "near enough" is, that's good enough.

And again, this is why i haven't ever had much interest in anything thats applied, rather than theoretical - empirical data is only as precise as whatever you collected it with, and I HATE that. I don't want to ACCOUNT for rounding errors and factors of safety, I want to REMOVE them and then feel like I KNOW whatever there is to know!

A related concept (well, in my head at least) is discrete vs continuous data (and the storeage thereof). Discrete data has limited (though possibly infinite) permissible values; which practically means that it's countable. For example, the number of chains by which something is attached is discrete because you can't tie half a chain to something. If you have a data value; and you know what "the next value" in a direction is, or you know what the opposite is; it's probably discrete. "Quantum" is, incidentally, kinda a synonym for discrete: it means "comprised of, or relating to, indivisible (and usually infinitesimal) components".

However, you're more likely to see me using the word "digital", by which i mean "stored in a finite number of mathematical digits in a given base". "Digital" tends to get conflated with "binary", and fair enough, given computers store our information in binary digits. I enjoy reminding people that your physical digits make excellent binary digits - did you know that you can count to 1023 on your fingers? - but that's not relevant here. I tend to use "digital" rather than "quantum", because people tend to associate "quantum" with probability and subatomic particles - I don't mind the digital vs binary association as much because it's helpful for illustrating my point: a finite digital system (if designed for purpose) is theoretically adequate for storing discrete data with both perfect accuracy and precision.

Continuous data, however, can assume an uncountably infinite number of values. The tensile strength of the attachment chains from earlier is a continuous value - you can't add "one more strength", you have to specify how much strength you're adding, and there's no minimum value for that. (Well, almost. Quanta have once again reared their confusing heads, as has Planck - while some quantities have a minimum observable resolution, that resolution is small enough that it's useful in most scenarios to treat it as infinite). Continuous data can be stored with higher precision in an analog system, that represents data by analogy with physical properties.

As a further disambiguation, the SYSTEM by which data is stored is different to the MEDIUM in/on which it is stored. Both analog and digital data can be stored in either timber or electrons: the number of logs in a pile is digital but their length is analog; the number of electrical connections in a system is digital but their voltage is analog. As you can see, I'm starting to use discrete/continuous and digital/analog interchangeably: it gets complicated because representations of data are themselves data, and not always of the same type. Clear as mud? Think about it - the voltage across a transistor in your RAM represents - and "is" to your computer - the status of a bit, and therefore is STORING a discrete quantity, but is also still a voltage - a continuous quantity.

If you'll permit me another paragraph of definitions, while I'm at it I should mention that "empirical data" is data you have got by measuring something, and I'll be contrasting it with "theoretical data" that has been calculated. "Empirical" isn't particularly related to empires - it's to do with "empiricism", a theory of where knowledge comes from that I don't particularly feel like discussing right now. Data has a type (discrete vs continuous), a status (variable vs constant), and somewhere it came from (empirical vs theoretical) - all of which might affect how you store it, but which aren't necessarily related to each other.

Anyway, the reason that I tend to find less joy in doing science that's in anything approaching contact with reality, is because the real world is messy and complicated. The physical properties of a given material are definitely continuous, and (under a specific enough set of circumstances) can even be considered constant! But that doesn't mean that they're easy to calculate a theoretical value for; nor does it mean they're going to be a convenient value (for whatever convenience means to you). Frustrating, right?

And so we find ourselves needing to acquire empirical data. Analog forms of measurement are only as good as the analogy that they're using - at some miniscule level, even with the best possible design; electronics will always pick up noise, fluid-based systems leave residues behind, etc. Our analog system might be perfectly precise, but it's almost impossible to guarantee its accuracy - so given we're compromising anyway, we may as well have the convenience of digital systems.

And finally, we arrive at the conclusion that it's impossible to be both accurate and precise when one insists on mixing numbers with objects. If you strive for precision, you neglect accuracy; and if you preserve accuracy, you must compromise on precision. If you insist on having both, it's best to forget your data physically exists; it tends to get in the way of manipulating that data. And so like the pedantic little gremlin I am, I run away; content, on the whole, merely to interact with reality; rather than to study it.

And the actuaries, engineers, and technicians of our world crunch their numbers, account for error, and calculate and apply their safety factors; standards are set, objects are made, and infrastructure appears. When a stagelight loudly destroys its motor above the choir, the qualified lighting tech in our midst can assure us with confidence that it won't fall down on anyone. When accidents happen; auditors, insurers, and regulators inspect the damage, check the calculations, and find the cause. The damage is repaired, the standards get updated, and the world carries on.

Stay tuned for the next rant - it's probably on manufacturing :)

[fortheboyzzz]

Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. x Lab Rats Crossover Headcanons

(Adam, Bree and Chase are in their 20′s for this)

Davenport is under investigation by S.H.I.E.L.D. due to them finding out about the bionics.

Meanwhile Adam, Bree and Chase are in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s custody.

Chase is standoffish at first.

Adam thinks they’re meeting the Avengers.

Bree is just glad she’s not the only girl anymore.

Davenport gets arrested because he’s definitely broken some law.

The three of them end up joining the team.

Chase instantly clicks with Fitzsimmons.

And they love that they have someone who shares the same love for science and gadgets as them.

Simmons making sandwiches for both Fitz and Adam.

Adam actually taking interest in Fitz gadgets.

“Wait, I thought you said this stuff  was for nerds.” Chase said once catching Fitzsimmons showing Adam around the lab.

“Yeah, but  unlike you they’re actually cool.”

Bree and Skye being bestfriends.

Adam and Skye being a comedic duo.

Chase and Adam constantly having the Thor vs Hulk debate.

May absolutely handing Adam’s ass to him during training.

Adam for sure having a thing for Lady Sif.

Then somehow finding himself involved with both Hunter and Bobbi.

“Are you sure this is good idea?” May asked Coulson when they found out.

“I’ll have check in with HR on this one.”

Spike accidently  being triggered and May having to fight him.

Bree convincing Skye, Simmons, Bobbi and May to have a girls night out.

Adam, Mack and Trip being bros.

Chase always asking Coulson to upload the S.H.I.E.L.D. database to his bionics.

“And risk someone hacking into your bionics and stealing that data? Never happening”

“Please, Davenport encrypted my bionics. No one can hack--”

“Skye.”

“Already in” Skye says as she begins to play around with his bionics.

Adam, Bree and Chase kicking ass during missions

.And them offering to use their bionics on a mission when Fitz  really just wants to use his gadgets.

“Are you sure? It’s really not a problem. seriously--”

“Just let me use my gadgets!”

May and Coulson basically having three more kids.

Leo breaking into S.H.I.E.L.D. to try to save Adam, Bree and Chase because he thinks they’ve been kidnapped.

Then ends up joining the team as mission specialist.

[jillepathy]

5.1.23

My partner ask me to please process day 1 of code camp so I can tell them about it over dinner (without my many tangents into the mildly interesting but ultimately unnecessary details).

So this is the version with the tangents.

Initial thoughts > way newer than I thought it was with the first code camp taking place in 2018 for a primarily cust ops branch in Portland, Oregon that wanted to expand into software development after hiring a few engineers

^ literally me the first time I met a software engineer I was like huh cool and now I’m like oooohhhhh cooooolllllll the internet ! I wanna do that too

…

Anyways week 1 guy is a systems engineer (not a software engineer) seems like a fancy title for like building manager ? But specifically involving storing data… it’s kind of giving Big Query a little bit but also physical (kind of giving librarian?! )

The focus seems to be on building and maintaining relationships (my greatest struggle as an autistic person) and the idea that learning is nonlinear (knew this already!)

The learning curve is steep and you don’t need to know computer science to learn programming (I’m pretty lucky already having general knowledge of how the internet works bc of the info sci and data science classes I took)

Luckily, a lot of Barb’s friends already do programming … Henri said they know how to GitHub if I need help but the pace of the class seems kind of slow compared to grad school -not sure if I’ll need to ask them since all the instructors are very approachable plus I’m learning together with Su so I’ll probably try and brainstorm with them first before branching out

It’s all other employees volunteering to share their knowledge (it’s low key giving libraries ?! )

I feel like everyone is pretty nice. I forgot to say my pronouns I was so nervous 😩 but seems like quite a few queer people involved

We’re going to be working on a project (not sure if it’s a team project or we each have individual projects )

One of the instructors (hes giving autism for sure) said they sunsetted his hack week project but that he really valued it

We’re creating something but it’s not from nothing (history degree jumping out), it’s from the work of many many contributors who came before us

I would love to see more of an app focused on the physical experience of people especially as remote work kind of removes us from physical space (not really though since we all physical beings)

Ugh this is me going off on my many processing tangents

I Guess i would say it actually seems easier than I thought it would be (shoutout to Dr Oakleaf for giving me the WORST 2 classes of my life the bar is literally in hell thanks to you, appreciate you)

It’s like way more diverse than grad school too which is a big reflection on SQSP that I’m into

It’s way smaller than I thought which is honestly really nice I feel like it won’t be toooooo hard to remember everyone after 5 weeks working together

Yeah this is just a jumping off point

A lot of review, some bad jokes / programming humor and introductions

Me and Su are the only people from Tock but there is one guy from Acuity

Can’t believe Isa called me a nerd for this! The whole reason I wanted to break into tech was to get into software development

And they said themselves this is forging a path for a career in software development

My dreams are really coming true 🥲

It’s hard for me to acknowledge and accept

The hw for week 1 was to ask for help. I definitely already did that since I was having access issues.

For week 2…? Is it the Read Me? Idk how to GitHub … yet…but I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow

Yeah so it was nice, it was about 20 people, about 6 of them instructors/TAs but all of them other employees

Everyone seems pretty excited and it definitely FEELS pretty exciting to me.

Im excited and nervous and scared but also really happy and really proud of myself.

I am learning what i want to learn and I feel like I can be my whole self doing it.

Pretty neat!!!

I’ll tell Barb the first day was pretty abstract but overall there is a feeling of genuine care and excitement for the whole program - it’s literally run by volunteers. The instructors are senior employees who value mentorship and have been both mentor and mentee. There’s an emphasis in collaboration and partnership.

I guess at the end of the day it’s kind of like how the number one indicator for longevity in your career is having friends to work with.

Yeah basically it seems more chill somehow than I thought. There’s hw but it’s like “ask for help” like ? I can do that.

I e been so nervous since this is the first class I’m doing since I dropped out of grad school.

But I’m in a way better position than I was.

I Can do this.

Let’s gooooo!!!!!

[darkveracity]

Sexiest TLT Ladies Survey Results

About 3 months ago I ran a survey asking the locked tomb fandom to rate the attractiveness of each member of our large and varied cast of lesbians, necromancers, and necromancer lesbians on a scale of 1 to 5. Now it’s time to publish the results! The credit for most of this writeup goes to @misanthropicacegirl who applied a little of her data science expertise to analyzing your answers.

Preliminaries

The survey ran for 3 months and received 357 responses. The overwhelming majority of those were in the first two weeks but a slow trickle continued to come in over the remaining time it was open.

Section 1: Averages

One way to rate our girls is to look at their average rating.

Average Ratings

Gideon    4.25 Camilla   4.22 Harrow    3.80 Pyrrha    3.68 Corona    3.31 Alecto    3.30 Dulcie    3.28 Pal       3.20 Wake      3.15 Abigail   3.06 Ianthe    2.99 Cytherea  2.65 Mercymorn 2.61 Marta     2.57 Judith    2.32 Aiglamene 2.17

Gideon and Camilla are the only ones with an average above 4. Clear stand out winners here. At the bottom of the pack are Marta, Judith, and Aiglamene.

But it’s not all about averages. What are our other summary statistics?

Median Ratings

Gideon    5.0 Pyrrha    4.0 Camilla   4.0 Harrow    4.0 Dulcie    3.5 Alecto    3.0 Wake      3.0 Abigail   3.0 Marta     3.0 Pal       3.0 Corona    3.0 Ianthe    3.0 Aiglamene 2.0 Mercymorn 2.0 Cytherea  2.0 Judith    2.0

Gideon and Harrow both benefit from the median! The absolute middle of the road voter ranked Gideon a 5/5.

Difference Between The Median And The Mean

Cytherea   -0.651026 Mercymorn  -0.609971 Judith     -0.322581 Corona     -0.310145 Alecto     -0.298817 Camilla    -0.219020 Pal        -0.197059 Aiglamene  -0.174041 Wake       -0.151335 Abigail    -0.061584 Ianthe      0.011561 Harrow      0.198847 Dulcie      0.216374 Pyrrha      0.317507 Marta       0.425220 Gideon      0.748555

The difference between the median and the mean tells us a bit about the range of feeling, and how much outliers are influencing the average. Most people have an average fairly close to their median. Gideon, Marta, and Pyrrha all move up in the median – they have a couple of detractors who dragged them down. Cytherea and Mercymorn both move down in the median, because their average was raised by a couple of pro-lyctor fans. Surprisingly, Ianthe, who I would have thought would be very affected here is our most centrist/stable. She’s a 3 and she’s staying there.

First Quartile Ratings

Camilla   4.0 Gideon    4.0 Pyrrha    3.0 Harrow    3.0 Alecto    2.0 Wake      2.0 Abigail   2.0 Dulcie    2.0 Marta     2.0 Pal       2.0 Corona    2.0 Ianthe    2.0 Aiglamene 1.0 Mercymorn 1.0 Cytherea  1.0 Judith    1.0

What about on the low end? Whose popularity is most stable? Answer: Camilla and Gideon again. Even down to the 1st quartile, they were still getting a 4. (E.g., at least 75% of people gave them a 4 or higher.)

Standard Deviations

Camilla   0.978607 Gideon    1.017420 Judith    1.120026 Harrow    1.167082 Marta     1.182399 Pyrrha    1.216243 Corona    1.238687 Aiglamene 1.243601 Dulcie    1.274022 Pal       1.356506 Abigail   1.363070 Mercymorn 1.375335 Alecto    1.389682 Wake      1.426035 Cytherea  1.486678 Ianthe    1.491963

Looking at the standard deviation, Camilla has the lowest score too! Closely followed by Gideon, and surprisingly, Judith. No surprise that the bottom of the list features Ianthe, followed by Cytherea, Wake, Alecto, and Mercymorn – all fairly polarizing girls with a wide spread of potential takes.

Section 2: Ratings by Character

This is one more way of thinking about the distribution of answers each character got. I would have expected Ianthe to be mainly 1’s and 5’s, but she’s actually fairly neutral all the way through – nobody really has much of a bimodal distribution. Ianthe does have equal numbers of 1’s and 5’s, however. In contrast, Alecto’s 5’s outnumber her 1’s at a 2:1 ratio, and Gideon has nearly 20x the 5’s as 1’s.

Section 3: Ratings Given Ratings

Are Ianthe girls really so different from everyone else? Maybe a little. The people who rated Ianthe highly were also higher on Dulcie, Cytherea, Mercymorn, Pyrrha, Wake, Harrow, and Alecto– pretty much every morally gray girl on the list. Judith, Marta, Camilla, and Gideon don’t see much of a difference – and Pal goes down!

Here’s one way we could look at this up close to see the change.

This is the same chart from a Gideon perspective! As you can see, Gideon’s rating doesn’t really change Harrow or Camilla very much – their ratings are pretty high across the board without a lot of change. Pal has a stronger connection: if you rate Gideon a 1, chances are you rated Pal pretty low too. The reverse is true with Cytherea: the people who rated Gideon a 1 rated Cytherea more highly.

Section 4: Correlations

This is a correlation matrix! Each cell in the table represents the strengths of the relationship between the row and column character, between -1 and +1. +1 represents a relationship that totally corresponds with each other, 0 represents no relationship at all, and -1 represents a relationship that goes the opposite way. Each character has a perfect relationship with themselves, so there’s a diagonal of “+1’s” going from top left to bottom right.

Section 4A: Top Positive Correlations

They go together, like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong

Top Positive Correlations

Judith->Marta       0.63 Pyrrha->Wake        0.58 Dulcie->Cytherea    0.47 Wake->Alecto        0.44 Cytherea->Mercymorn 0.41 Alecto->Aiglamene   0.39 Dulcie->Abigail     0.34 Judith->Aiglamene   0.33 Ianthe->Cytherea    0.32 Cytherea->Wake      0.31 Abigail->Mercymorn  0.31 Marta->Aiglamene    0.31 Mercymorn->Wake     0.31 Wake->Aiglamene     0.31 Corona->Wake        0.31

Our second house girls go together! Yes, mostly people both voted them 1’s, 2’s, and 3’s, but people generally ranked them the same.

Our next strongest pair is Pyrrha and Wake. Most people put them both at 5, but people who were negative or lukewarm tended to be similar on both. Probably because they are terrifying warrior MILFs.

This Dulcie and Cytherea one is funny because we have 3 very different points happening. People who hated both, people who loved both, and a minor contingent of people who loved Dulcie but hated Cytherea. That last contingent is significant enough to show up, but not enough to throw off the correlation.

What do Gideon and Camilla look like here? There’s nowhere for us to draw a line–almost everyone put them both at a 5. True, some people rated one a 4 and the other a 5–but not enough for us to see a pattern from it.

Section 4B: Negative Correlation

Opposites…. repulse

Top Negative Correlations

Corona->Pal       -0.14 Ianthe->Pal       -0.13 Gideon->Mercymorn -0.12 Gideon->Cytherea  -0.08 Harrow->Pyrrha    -0.05 Pal->Cytherea     -0.05 Pal->Mercymorn    -0.03 Harrow->Marta     -0.02 Harrow->Wake      -0.02 Harrow->Pal       -0.02 Gideon->Ianthe    -0.02 Ianthe->Camilla   -0.01 Gideon->Abigail   -0.01 Camilla->Cytherea -0.00 Gideon->Dulcie    -0.00

Basically, this correlation exists because there are two different groups – the people liked Pal and put her at a 5 or 4, tended to rate Corona a 3, and the people who liked Corona (who put her at a 4) tended to rate Pal a 1 or 3.

Pal and Ianthe are also kind of opposites! In this case, there’s a VERY pro Pal contingent (3-5) that all rated Ianthe a 1, and a generally pro Ianthe faction (who rated her 4-5) that was pretty lukewarm on Pal.

Lastly, a totally different pattern: Gideon and Mercymorn. In general, everyone was very positive on Gideon and very negative on Mercymorn, hence our major dark spot at (5, 1). This correlation isn’t as strong, since most people loved Gideon regardless of how they felt about Mercymorn. But there were just enough contrarians who loved Mercymorn and disliked Gideon to give us a negative relationship.

Section 5: Clustering

What if we pretended to do some fancy machine learning, and tossed these into a clustering algorithm?

Two Clusters

Abigail & Aiglamene & Cytherea & Ianthe & Judith & Marta & Mercymorn

Alecto & Camilla & Corona & Dulcie & Gideon & Harrow & Pal & Pyrrha & Wake

If we tried just two clusters, we can see a split like this. I’d call this line the conventional heroines VS the meaner, more frightening and military women.

Three Clusters

Abigail & Alecto & Corona & Dulcie & Ianthe & Pyrrha & Wake

Camilla & Gideon & Harrow & Pal

Aiglamene & Cytherea & Judith & Marta & Mercymorn

We can see a pattern here too:

Supporting characters with some redeeming features and some problems

Main heroes

Mean older women

Four Clusters

Abigail & Cytherea & Ianthe & Mercymorn

Alecto & Corona & Dulcie & Pyrrha & Wake

Aiglamene & Judith & Marta

Camilla & Gideon & Harrow & Pal

Breaking this down into 4 gives us similar slices again.

Older and/or Dangerous women

Bitches horny for revenge, probably

Military women

The Camilla/Gideon/Harrow/Pal quadrilateral of friendship

Five Clusters

Cytherea & Ianthe & Mercymorn

Alecto & Corona & Pyrrha & Wake

Abigail & Dulcie & Pal

Aiglamene & Judith & Marta

Camilla & Gideon & Harrow

Last one! Rolling around 5 clusters we get:

Morally dismal lyctors

Women who’ll try killing the emperor in book 3

Friendly but dead nerds

Military women again

Our heroes

Bonus: Harrow or Gideon?

Can we bring back the simple times of the Twilight fandom? Can we be divided into team Harrow or team Gideon? We turn to the data to find out.

Gideon vs Harrow isn’t a very big divide either, as it turns out. The biggest effect it has is (drumroll)…that people who ranked Gideon higher than Harrow had high rankings for Gideon, and vice versa. Everyone else is fairly similar, and I wouldn’t put money on them being statistically significant.

Though there is a slight preference for Ianthe from the Harrow faction, and for Corona from the Gideon faction, which is definitely funny.

We can also observe some slight team Gideon preference for Judith, Marta, and Pyrrha.

[dorkacadreamia]

Science Dark Academia Things

staying up late to read one cool paper

which turns into reading another cool paper that the first paper referenced

that turns into getting to lab mid afternoon because you woke up at noon 

staying in lab late into the evening because there’s just so much to do

wanting to be aesthetic, but knowing that wearing nice clothes into lab is a bad idea (:’()

blue light glasses to protect your eyes from strain as you analyze data

going back to lab late at night to rerun an experiment because the data sucked and you have group meeting tomorrow

the wonderful feeling of finally troubleshooting that one experiment correctly

having science idols that you gaze wonderingly at when you see them at conferences

struggling through a class even but you enjoy it because sometimes learning is just hard

students emailing you with questions about the class you’re TA-ing causing you to wonder when you became the Adult In Charge who Knows Things

talking with your PI/ older grad students and realizing that you definitely are NOT the Adult In Charge who Knows Things but that’s a good thing because it means that you’re in the right place to learn

when your NMR shows your expected product and the MS shows high purity (tears of joy)

being the nerd in all your conversations with non-Science people and pulling out fun facts about solubility rules, thermodynamics, or the ultimate crowd pleaser: molecular quantum mechanics

getting really excited meeting another person your age from your field even if your projects are totally different

remembering even that when science is kicking your butt… you’re doing something cool that will have an impact and that no-one else has done yet!

[lovetenya]

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜𝐬 (𝟐)

pairing: tenya iida x gn! reader

warnings: a couple of swear words. nobody’s angry or swearing at each other.

word count: 1.5k. i’d count it as a oneshot if it was more organized. :)

author’s note: thank you so much for the love on my work! your reblogs and comments make me so happy!! this one isn’t extremely romantic, but there is some fluffy reassurance. tenya deserves so much more love than he gets.

click on the star to read part one -> ✧

Dating Iida Tenya would ALSO include...

Tenya facetiming you to tell you all about the book he’s reading and to help with homework when you can’t be together 

He’s so passionate about his books! I mean, I hope so, because he has so many of them and I can totally see him thinking reading is a “worthy” hobby because it’s productive and “intellectually challenging”

Tenya: “I can’t believe the main character dies! That very rarely happens in literature! I wonder if the author was trying to say something about...”

If you’re not as much of a reader as he is, please act interested and show him you care what he’s talking about!!! He thrives on genuine interest because he’s familiar with being used for homework answers!! (more on that later)

If you thought his nerd rambles were bad, get ready for literary nerd rambles!!! They’re so much better!! (or worse, if you’re a hater)

He will proofread every single essay you write and read draft after draft and never complain

“Hm... I see where you were trying to go with this point, but your line of reasoning needs work.” 

“Is this claim evidence based? You really shouldn’t make assumptions without studying the bias the researchers may have possessed when gathering the data. It’s really easy to use the same statistics to prove two sides of the same argument and you shouldn’t--”

“Tenya, it’s a worksheet. It’s worth five points.”

“Even so! You should always put forth your best effort!”

He will offer his help, but vehemently insist that he’s not going to just give you the answers. No, you don’t get a break just because you’re his s/o. You’ve still gotta work for your grades.

He’ll make sure you’re the one figuring it out. (He wants you to succeed, duh. What kind of class representative would he be if he enabled academic dishonesty???)(A bad one)

People seem to forget that he tried to kill someone, had a sword driven through his shoulder and never really regained full control over his arm. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s confirmed that Iidas have to rip out their mufflers in order to grow new, stronger ones? That’s so scary? I think we should discuss this more. The man is a badass. He called Midoriya the famous “Mr. House Arrest” and called Bakugo a cretin??? He deserves so much more credit for his sassiness than he gets credit for. Just let him be a bossy legend, alright?

He would snap at you to start focusing when you’re studying together 

Don’t get me wrong, he likes you a whole lot, but he also cannot stand being behind on lessons and is not gonna let someone get between him and his hard earned A+++s

He doesn’t like to be together in the common room because he doesn’t like to be teased about the relationship he’s very proud of but very protective over

You’re both surprised you manage to juggle your hectic lives, but it just makes every moment more special

So you usually end up sneaking into his dorm room while he’s making rounds making sure everyone is safe in their rooms. 

(Okay so, I lied. This is the exception to the rule of ‘you don’t get breaks’. This time, he lets it (you) slide.)

He doesn’t want to be a bad role model for the others and give them any ideas, but he also doesn���t want to be a hypocrite

So if he were to see one of his classmates sneaking into someone’s dorm…. No he didn’t. 

He’s the kind of person that doesn’t care what his classmates do as long as they’re being safe. He’s not interested in the details. 

You often end up cuddled up in his bed under his blankets <3

His laptop sits on his lap and he’d put on a documentary, probably

He would ask you whether you came to talk or to watch the movie if you asked too many questions during it HAHA

“Why are you asking me about this? Haven’t you read chapter 9 in our science textbook? It gives a clear description of--”

“Dude. We’re on chapter four. How and more importantly, WHY are you so far ahead???”

“I was bored and wanted to be productive instead of letting my brain rot from idleness…”

“Oh my god. You’re such a nerd.”

He sticks out his tongue at you and pushes his glasses further up his nose at this blasphemous suggestion.

He’d pick up (or help cook) dinner beforehand so you don’t have to leave the room and risk being discovered!! (Even though literally nobody would snitch, he still doesn’t want to break the rules further than what he’s already guilty of)

I have a feeling he really like classic movies too and when you watch them together he’ll explain how they did all of the stunts or the special effects

He’d know every single word to a movie and would DEFINITELY recite his favorite parts dramatically, while still trying to make as little noise as possible

He’d do god-awful impressions and his silly exaggerated choppy hands to make you laugh

You love that it’s a side of him that nobody else gets to see because he doesn’t have very many opportunities to let loose and be a normal teenage boy

It’s just simple fun and it’s sweet to be there with him and to see him like this, especially when he goes into theatrical mode for his bedroom performances

Again, I’m mentioning the fact that a sword was driven through his shoulder and he allowed the injury to remain untreated because he wanted to have a reminder that he stood for something once. 

He had every opportunity to just have Recovery Girl kiss it better, but he’s too determined to be the best version of himself possible. He won’t forget the battles he fought to bring him to his inevitable victory.

Since his arms never returned to full capacity and he’s still in the beginning stages of recovery, his hand and arm cramp sometimes. He’s not one to complain about his pain, so you might have to pay attention to catch the way he hesitates to grab things sometimes, or how he flinches when he twists his arm the wrong way. 

He would never ask you to give him a massage, but if you did, he would be so grateful for the way your fingers seem to ease the knots of burning muscle. His muscles feel like corded steel underneath your hands, but they’re still extremely sensitive to touch.

He needs those gentle touches to remind him that he isn’t any weaker than anybody else just because he’s in pain. If anything, he’s stronger, because he’s living and succeeding through the pain that nobody else has. He hasn’t succumbed to the pain and he never will.

Everyone gets insecure sometimes, even Tenya Iida.

He needs reassurance sometimes that his classmates respect him and don’t hang out with him as a joke.

He just wants what’s best for them and doesn’t want them to think he’s being a hard ass for no reason or that he bosses them around for the hell of it

One day, you’re studying together and he’s visibly upset. You don’t want to press him though because if he wants to talk about it, he will. He does. 

He starts, “Do you think.. No, nevermind.”

You: “What was that?”

“No. It’s silly, really.”

“Please, Tenya, tell me what’s wrong.”

He sighs, knowing it’s no use holding it in. He hesitates, uncharacteristically nervous. 

He’s usually so sure of himself. This is weird, you think.

He says, “Do you think our classmates like me?”

“Like you? Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“Well, I’m not sure. Do you think they see me as a friend? Or just as their class representative?”

“Of course they see you as a friend, honey. For example.. you and I always hang out with Izuku, Ochaco, and Shoto! We’re all still classmates even if we’re always trying to one-up each other!”

With a raised eyebrow, he asks “You don’t think they just like me because I help them with their homework?”

“No way, Tenya. I’m sure they really like you for you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, they talk about you when you’re not around--”

He blurts, “Really? What do they say?”

“All good things, nothing to worry about at all.” He lets out a breath at this (phew!) You continue, “They talk about how responsible you are--”

“They do not!” He sends a glare, but there isn’t any malice behind his eyes.

“No really! They do! They all admire you so much and they all wish they were as respected as you are!”

“Respected?”

“Yes, Tenya. They respect you.”

“Then why do they make fun of me so much? Just because I’m responsible doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”

“I know. They tease you because they’re your friends and it’s funny when you snap back at them. They’re trying to get you to lighten up a little.”

“Oh. They think I’m funny?”

“They sure do.”

“Hm…”

“I promise, honey. Your classmates like you, your friends like you, and everyone likes being around you. You’re more than just “a pleasure to have in class”, you know. And I’m not just saying that because I’m biased.”

“Thank you, my love. That made me feel a lot better.”

“Oh, good. Can I hug you now?”

“Yes, please.”

He pulls you into a hug and you both hum, content in each other’s warm embrace. You can’t help but softly smile.

thank you for reading! love, TJ ✮

link to my masterlist

[andy-the-8th]

Day Of and Day After - Night (Part 3)

Part 3 of Creatures That Defy Logic

Read on AO3

It's hard to fall asleep with so much to feel, so much to realize...

Jess's thoughts the night after the end of the movie.

Weird that for someone with a fear of the water, Jess didn't really have a problem with boats as long as they stayed safely docked.

He had decided to sleep out on the old houseboat that night. John had salvaged it after it was abandoned in the marina, and had fitted it into a sort of floating mobile workshop on the outside. Inside though there was still a small galley and cabin with two berths tucked away on each far end of the space. With everything that had happened that day and both still pent up with emotions, Jess really wasn't in the mood to stay trapped in their small apartment over the shop at the boat yard with his father. Sensing that his son was still angry and wanting to give him his space, John had agreed without question - Jess had always been pretty independent anyway when it came to getting around the yard and marina, fear of the water notwithstanding.

Jess had always been pretty independent in general - John Wheatley was not a very involved parent in most regards.

But getting out of the apartment hadn't made it any easier to sleep so far. Even with the gentle rocking of the waves, the subtle creaking of the old wood, tracing the etches and grain of the wooden eaves above his berth with his eyes, Jess couldn't manage to turn his brain off. He kept turning over everything from the day, what had happened, what everyone had said, and what all of it meant for the future and for the past.

One part that Jess kept getting stuck on was what he said when he woke up after Cody zapped him. He meant it as a joke - that Sam kissed him, that that would be something that could have happened in one of his dreams. It seemed to let the tension out of the moment, to assuage the worries of everyone looking over him, even if it turned out extremely awkward.

No one said scientists had good comedic timing.

He'd never been a stranger to making blank meta-conversational comments - he'd stopped Cody and Sean's fight by saying it was his job description to get beaten up, of all things - it was a mix of his sarcastic sense of humor and simple practicality to be understood unambiguously. Still, Jess was kind of surprised by himself thinking of something like what he said about Sam on the spot, almost reflexively.

Almost as if to cover up what he had really been thinking at the moment.

Still, he felt bad about putting Sam in that situation - what the hell kind of response would she have had? But he also felt like it was almost some sort of disingenuous, how that comment might have misrepresented his feelings, especially to one person in particular.

The seconds before that, the images of what Jess woke to as he choked back to consciousness, seawater out, gasping for breath, opening his eyes -

He may have only had 13 years' experience to go off of, but Jess was pretty sure those seconds were going to stay with him for the rest of his life. The kind of images and feelings that stay with you forever.

Cody, looking down at him, worry in his beautiful hazel eyes, fear melting away to relief as Jess coughed back to life. Maybe mermen were naturally more expressive, maybe it was just Jess's half-conscious imagination - but the power of his emotions had felt like they rippled and pulsed off him like the wind or waves on the sea - tension, then release.

There hadn't been anyone Jess would have wanted to see more in that moment - and the thought that it had been Cody that saved him, and felt so deeply for him, literally brought him back to life - it was a weird feeling. Like a kind of secret light, a warmth in his chest he couldn't really explain.

Cody was never difficult to read - his emotions showed on his face almost immediately. It was something Jess had really come to love like about him - being less-than-practiced in social cues, it helped for his first actual friend to really be like an open book, so Jess always knew where he stood with him.

Even if that hadn't always shown him something he wanted to see.

Jess couldn't help but remember weeks ago, when he'd fallen in the pool with his sousaphone (a small voice in his head always reminded him not snap at other kids and teachers that it was NOT a tuba) - how no one had seemed to care if he was drowning right in front of them, only that he was an inconvenience in the pool after everyone celebrating the success at the big meet.

Then again, Jess wasn't exactly a stranger to other kids (or even adults) not really caring what happened to him. Guess that came with the territory of his designated social job description.

And how when Cody saved him then, it was an obligation - one he was almost embarrassed to carry out in front of his friends and teammates. Even before Jess had ever really noticed Cody as any more than one of the popular guys in school, it still stung to see that adolescent contempt in his expression when he pulled him out of the pool.

Only a few short weeks later, as he stood on the side of the pool thinking of nothing but sinking to the bottom, Jess remembered the warmth in Cody's voice when he assured him that if he were to start to drown, Cody would save him. He'd of course only taken it as a simple hypothetical statement, something just to calm him down during the lesson. And Cody had huffed off when Jess was still scared then as well, going off to talk to Sean.

Jess tried not to let it bother him but he could always see how Cody's real other friends looked at them if they were together in public. Confusion mingled with contempt. Jess understood the utility of their friendship as something scientific and fantastic - something he cherished just for what it was. The other kids definitely saw that it was utilitarian - it was no secret that Cody needed the help to pass biology, to stay on the swim team - even without talking to them Jess knew that was the only reason Cody bothered with him.

So when Cody got frustrated with Jess's continued fear of the water and walked over to Sean, he'd tried to ignore the nagging worry that Cody might ultimately side with his other friends. Jess hadn't overheard most of it, but he knew from the looks he got from the other swim team guys - they all couldn't see why Cody was wasting his time with him. More than once Jess had wondered the same thing. He'd liked to imagine Cody might have stood up to Sean for him, but also told himself it didn't really matter - actions were always louder than words, and Cody's actions today couldn't have been more impactful.

The irony was almost funny when you put it side-by-side: the first time Cody had saved Jess, he'd brushed it off like it was nothing. Jess asking if he'd make it, adrenaline hyped up from falling in - in the moment it had really felt like fearing for his life. Phobias were just like that, like it or not.

The last time Cody saved him, Jess was actually dead by all accounts, or close to it. The completely opposite reaction - waking up to Cody's face, concern and care written all over it, wordlessly looking at Jess like he was everything in the world at that second, like saving him was the most important thing that had ever happened - that was one of the other main points Jess kept turning over in his head tonight.

But wasn't that still part of their agreement? Cody to teach him to swim, to keep him safe during that? Jess to help him with marine biology, both academic and sometimes scarily literal?

Maybe. But feelings still counted for something - Jess knew that right now more than anything that there was something more to their friendship than that simple transactional agreement.

He wouldn't have that light inside him now if that weren't true.

And he probably wouldn't miss him so badly, even with Cody gone only a few hours. He wouldn't feel that ache in his whole body and mind, wishing he'd get to see him one more time.

Scientific theories often relied on extrapolating data, taking what was known and applying it to other established trends, the better to understand them. That was basic scientific data analysis.

And better than anything else, Jess understood science. And what he knew right now was that that light inside him, that felt like it was almost burning in his chest, was the key piece of data he'd needed.

He applied that data to his other thoughts, his other memories, of this short chapter in his life that now seemed to be over. He found himself looking at all the time he spent together with him - reflecting on Cody, with his emotions so on display, as he'd listened to Jess go on and on about his ideas, his passions, as they talked about everything from the scientific and cultural implications of merpeople to the day-to-day things from school that day. Jess knew his sudden bursts of information usually turned people off of him - again, expected territory with being the class nerd. But Cody hadn't ever gotten scared off by it, or annoyed by it.

Doing homework together. Eating lunch. Cody's (honestly awful, if well-intentioned) attempts to teach Jess how to swim. Cody watching Jess study, Jess watching Cody practice his swim exercises. Even just walking down the shorelines together, silent but comfortable with it.

In the dark, feelings all worked up, Jess let himself realize that maybe it hadn't all been a popular guy seeking tutoring from a nerd, a subject seeking explanations from an expert, a patient looking at a hopefully-someday-some-kind-of-doctor, a merman looking at a scientist - it was Cody, looking at Jess.

Jess was surprised to feel tears well up at that realization. It was only a few hours since Cody left. It was only supposed to be for a few short months. But right then it really kicked in how much he was going to miss him.

Jess breathed heavily and gulped down the tightness in his throat. He realized how much he felt like he hadn't properly said goodbye - just the one quick wave before Cody had gone under and disappeared.

The same way he'd felt too trapped with his feelings in the apartment, the small cab of the boat now felt far too tight again. He needed some air. His feelings were going to swallow him otherwise.

"Can't believe I'm doing this" he breathed to himself. He smiled a bit thinking of the last time he'd said that today. Guess sometimes immediate exposure therapy could cure a phobia, but Jess was still a bit surprised with himself as he got up, carefully picked his way over the creaky floor of the boat, up the small ladder out of the cabin, sliding open the door as quietly as possible.

Regardless of how many times Jess had stayed on the docked boat, he'd never gone out on the deck - he amazed himself with his new courage, how the black waters below no longer held hardly any of the menace they had before. The sudden cool, salty breeze made him notice the wet streaks on his cheeks. The boat was of course still docked at the harbor, aft to the pier, so he carefully climbed up around toward the bow, leaning on the rail and looking at the rows of docked boats, the moonlight shimmering off the waves, the far-off curve of the horizon blending sky and sea in the darkness. He breathed heavily again, centering himself in the sensation, the scents of the salty air, the gasoline from the marina, the vaguely fishy smell that always hung around the boat yard.

He had definitely needed the air.

Jess looked down over the bow of the boat into the water. Some small, irrational part of him hoped Cody might pop up, that he might get one more chance to see him, now that he felt like his emotions had for once caught up to his mind.

Of course, that didn't happen. Jess already knew it wasn't going to, but still. Can't hurt that much to hope. Cody was probably far off by now - who knew where he was, who he was meeting, what he was seeing. For a second, Jess realized he almost wished he could have gone with him somehow. It felt weird to think that they had sort of started this journey together, but now Jess was left behind.

More space to think out in the night air. More memories to turn over in his head.

"That's right - why am I helping you?"

Walking down the rocks at the cove together, Cody venting how no one seemed to understand or want to stick by him. The closest they'd come to defining their relationship in any certain terms. Jess had always liked certain terms when possible.

"Uh, 'cause you're a good guy?"

Not a good scientist. Not a good lab partner. Just Cody, liking Jess for being Jess.

Jess only half remembered what he responded to that, fumbling when Cody playfully tackled him (a vicious merman attack) - he definitely remembered saying "shucks," of all the embarrassingly-nerdy things to say in a serious moment.

Maybe he'd said he loved him. Maybe he'd only said it to himself.

Thinking of that now, it felt weird. Jess hadn't had a lot of experience voicing emotions like that, at least out loud, but he definitely knew how to overthink them.

He was pretty sure he knew he didn't mean love the same way Cody and Sam had for each other - he was pretty sure that wasn't even possible.

He just knew he loved his friend. Maybe Cody hadn't said so, but for the first time as he sat looking out at the dark sea, Jess at least felt like, as a friend, Cody had loved him too.

Huh. Guess that was what that strange light in his chest was all about.

The ship's bell of the buoy out in the harbor, over across from the cove under the Griffins' house, dinged in the distance, its echo of mystery and longing, the light on top flashing as it slowly rotated. Cody had told him about the dreams, where he'd be swimming out to that buoy, where he'd finally met his mom in the ocean that night.

"But it won't be forever - she promises to have you back before school starts."

That one sentence Mrs. Griffin had said, as if she'd talked to Cody's mermaid mom telepathically (a concept which Jess still hadn't scientifically adjusted to), lingered in his mind. Swelled up his scientific curiosity, getting to hear all about whatever Cody had seen. Started to ease the ache of missing him so badly, knowing he'd see him again.

"I'll be back before you know it."

Jess looked up again at the summer night's moon, the silver and white shimmering flecks and flashes on the crests of the waves, the quiet rush of the water lapping and breaking at the cliffs and sands off on the shore.

Back before school starts.

Jess had always looked forward to the start of the school year, a return to classes and learning, back in his element, even if it meant dealing with other members of his class. But now more than ever, the summer couldn't end quickly enough. He'd get to see Cody again. So just for the summer, he could wait.

END NOTES

So you can probably guess where Jess's emotions explored in this entry are eventually going to lead.

Here though, it's very specifically about platonic friendship - that kind of love is just as important, and can exist alongside other kinds of love without ruining each other. Friendship is all Jess is realizing here - for now.

[thorne93]

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 1)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. 

Word Count: 2191

Warnings: Language,

Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if...?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once in a lifetime, and sometimes not even then, people meet someone who can be described as their better half. The person who knows them better than anyone. The person who completes them. Sometimes it can be found in a lover, or a sibling, or sometimes...once in a blue moon, it can be found in just a friend -- a stranger you cross paths with one day. A stranger that eventually means more to you than anyone else in the world. 

That’s how it was for you and Shannon. 

It was freshman year of college when she walked into your life. The two of you were set together as roommates. She had a touch of pluckiness to her, drive that you’d never witnessed, intelligence that rivaled yours, and a take no shit attitude. 

Of course, she was shy at first, so were you. But within just a few minutes, you realized that you two were destined to be best friends. Her major lied in anatomical mutation and molecular engineering with a minor in foreign language. Meanwhile, you majored in physics and engineering, minoring in Norse mythology. 

Shannon definitely teased you for that. She wondered why or how you would ever need that, but your reasoning was simply that you enjoyed it. If you were going to spend thousands upon thousands studying something for a career for the rest of your life, the least you could do was study one thing that was a little different that fascinated you, even if was just for four years. 

Your areas of study may have overlapped, but your upbringing didn’t. Shannon had parents, who loved her, and according to her “sent her to a prestigious academy to refine all skills”. And you saw these skills in the way she moved, talked, carried herself, and focused her skills. She was all things a lady should be. In fact, she did so well in this so called “Red Room”, that Howard Stark (founder of Stark Industries) caught wind of her accomplishments and decided to invest further in her. He gave her a full ride scholarship to any college she wanted, to study whatever she wanted. He thought maybe, one day, she might be of use to his son Tony. 

In fact, they became good friends too. Tony and Shannon, that is. He was a few years older than her, but he helped her with her work, and became curious as to why Shannon was always hanging around his dad’s company. It didn’t take a genius to see why Shannon was selected -- she was elite, one of a kind. 

You on the other hand, you were the nerd. The little bit dorky type. All you ever really loved was science, math, technology. You were raised by foster parents, but they weren’t the greatest. They didn’t ever give you any attention past making sure the foster money cleared for you. The only person you had was Remy, another boy that lived in the foster family with you. Kids were in and out of that house for years, but you and Remy seemed to stay, that is, until you left for college. College was where you met Shannon and her family, and ever since then, Shannon’s family was now your family, making you far closer to Shannon than you’d ever been to anyone besides Remy. You went to her house for holidays, even met with Tony a handful of times. 

Once the two of you graduated college and decided on grad school, you didn’t want to separate. Four years of living together had made you two almost inseparable. Not wanting to lose each other just yet, you grabbed an apartment only thirty minutes away from your graduate school. Graduate school was surprisingly a breeze, and when you completed it, the two of you moved into a studio apartment together. 

After being best friends for nearly a decade, you got a dog together, both of you animal lovers and you thought it might add some more character to your home. And he certainly did. 

While the both of you, yes, were involved in STEM, for the most part, your paths slightly diverged.

After graduation from graduate school for both of you, Tony Stark offered a job to Shannon at his company as his assistant. She would help oversee nearly every operation, invention, gizmo, gadget. All of it, would be under her supervision. Through this, she became good friends with Dr. Bruce Banner, and Tony, being at the labs day in and day out with them. 

It was actually in those labs that her… well… accident happened. A lab malfunction caused a chemical gas to react with her molecular structure causing a strange reaction. By strange you meant, well, unusual. She developed a mutation, but not like a third eye, or another pinky. No, she gained the ability to manipulate the weather and drain people of their powers. It was the most magnificent thing to watch. She accidentally discovered her powers at home, in the kitchen, and you witnessed it, but you swore yourself to secrecy for her. You could never hurt her and betray her like that. 

Tony knew, of course, because he had to help her figure out what was wrong with her. And Bruce was an expert in lab experiments gone wrong. Between those two helping her control her powers, and your emotional support, she was just like a normal person -- until you pissed her off. 

Just another crowning jewel on an already nearly perfect woman. She was the epitome of a femme fatale -- beautiful, genius, deadly, and powerful beyond human strength. 

As for you? Your work placed you in the field. Your physics took you to some crazy locations and you picked up work wherever you could find it. You loved physics, you were good at it, damned good. But you weren’t winning nobel prizes, you weren’t heading huge projects for Stark Industries, you weren’t getting offers from MIT for research. No, you were scrounging for contract jobs, for little pick me ups with NASA. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, or that you were desperate for work. People knew of your work, you spoke at conferences, you were in high demand. 

But by your dumb luck, it wasn’t you that ended up with the glitz, glam, and glory that came from working for Stark. 

For the last few months you’d been in the field with Jane Foster - a highly respected physicist -- with barely any funding. The two of you could barely split the research grant you’d been given and you had to hire an intern. You were all the way out in New Mexico while Shannon was still in NYC, living the dream. You missed her like crazy, but this work you were doing was important… At least that's what you kept telling yourself…

---------------------

Jane and you had set up camp in Small Town, New Mexico, you’d been out here for a few weeks now. There were these strange atmospheric phenomenon that were going on that Jane felt were connected to the research the two of you were involved with. She called Dr. Selvig out to study it with you two, seeing as he was a pioneer in this field. 

Just before you all headed out to the site, you decided to give Shannon a call, a strong case of homesickness hitting you. 

You propped open your laptop and selected her contact and called. The familiar ring only went through twice before her wonderful face filled the screen. 

Y/N! Hey!” she greeted delightfully. 

“Hey!” 

She stepped away from the computer and back to her workbench in Tony’s lab -- a very familiar sight to you. 

“What’s up?” 

“Just missing you. We’re about to go study that aurora again tonight, but Selvig is here now, so it’ll be another set of eyes,” you explained. 

“Ah, yes, the light in the sky. Any headway on that?” 

“None. Hopefully he’ll have some insight because I’m growing tired of staring at clouds each night. I’m not out here to be a storm chaser…” 

“What’s this about storm chasing?” Tony suddenly said, entering your field of view. 

“Hey, Tony,” you greeted in a friendly tone. 

“Why don’t you ditch the desert and come to a real lab?” he asked as he walked backwards, looking at the camera before spinning to stand next to Shannon and work on the tool she was soldering. “You could have unlimited technology here. I could really use someone with your expertise on physics when it comes to landing gear for my suit. What do you say, Y/N? A real job, in air conditioning, not out in the dirt…?”

“Tempting,” you said with a smirk. “But I’m gonna stick to real work for now.”

“Did she just insinuate I don’t do real work?” Tony asked Shannon, pretending to be offended. She merely rolled her eyes and laughed, shaking her head. 

“You two…”  she lovingly chided. “When are you going to come home? I miss you. I need your world famous tacos.”

You laughed. “My tacos are trash and you know it.”

She returned the laugh before becoming serious again. “Seriously though. When? Things aren’t the same without you.”

You sighed, wondering the same thing. “I don’t know. I’m trying to get all this data, but since we have to wait every night… There’s no telling.” 

“Well work hard,” she requested, sadness but understanding in her voice. 

“I’m trying.”

“Seriously. Y/N, pick up the pace, I can’t take another week of this. She is killing the morale,” Tony remarked, gesturing to her with a tool. 

“Okay, Tony, for you, I’ll try,” you said with heavy sarcasm, making the two of them smile. “Oh, shit, gotta go. Time to go watch the sky give me some pretty colors.” You rolled your eyes and told them goodbye before signing off of your laptop. 

The four of you set off about twenty miles west from your little lab in the middle of town. You sat out there for several minutes, nothing happening. Selvig started to question Jane and you, and Darcy was getting restless. Jane was pleading that he just hold on a few more minutes. Finally, Darcy saw something and drew your attention to it. 

This was no subtle aurora. This was… something else. 

Jane ordered Darcy to drive, and all of you launched back into the camper full of equipment, bumping and knocking things as you went over the rough terrain of the desert. Darcy was pushing the camper to full speed, zooming towards the odd light in the sky when suddenly a funnel of light and wind swirled toward the ground. Jane was filming it all and you were taking in what you could. 

Just as you were about to go through the tornado-like event, Darcy cut away from it.

“Darcy!” you shouted, needing to get inside this event.

“I’m not dying for six college credits!” she yelled before Jane tried to take the wheel from her. 

The two of them fought over the steering wheel for a few seconds before -- THUD. You hit something… actually, you think it was someone. Darcy slammed on the brakes and all of you jumped out of the camper. 

You ran over to a man lying on the ground as Jane said, “Do me a favor and don’t be dead.”

“I think legally that was your fault!” Darcy called.

“Get the first aid kit,” you commanded as you knelt beside him. You grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse -- there was a strong one, good. Next you looked at his face to examine any damage -- but before you could do that, you were taken aback by his beauty. He was… handsome, very handsome. Then he opened his eyes. 

He jumped up, muttering and stumbling around. Jane noticed the markings on the ground, and you saw them too, and they should’ve been important to you, but right now all you could focus on was this stranger. 

“Hammer...Hammer!” he suddenly yelled. 

“Yeah we can tell you’re hammered, that’s pretty obvious,” Darcy noted. 

Jane began trying to note the markings on the ground, telling Erik to look at them, but he was telling her they needed to get this stranger to a hospital. Your mind wasn’t exactly focused on either thing as you watched him. There was something… familiar about him, but you were sure you’d never seen him before in your life. 

“Father! Heimdall! I know you can hear me! Open the Bifrost!” the man commanded, making your hair stand on end. 

“Bifrost,” you muttered inaudibly. You’d heard that a lot. Actually you’d heard that in Norse mythology. Clearly this man was delusional and thought he was some Viking God…

“You! What Realm is this? Alfheim? Nornheim?” the man asked of Darcy. 

“New Mexico?” 

She pulled out her taser and aimed it at him. “Darcy, no!” you demanded. 

“You dare threaten me, Thor, with so puny of a weapon?!” 

She pulled the trigger and he dropped, just as a mortal man would, making some of your suspicion (and hope) fizzle out. Of course gods weren’t real, that was just silly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[queenofcats17]

So, @lady-lampblack​ came up with a HLVRAI AU too, and me, her, and @liliflower137​ talked about it a lot and I wanted to write some stuff.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chester Wayne Mallory had never expected to go far in life. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had dreams, of course he had. It was just that as he’d gotten older...things had happened. Specifically depression. So, he’d ended up dropping out of college, working at 7/11, and just...coasting in life, the only joy in his existence coming from video games.

That had been before, though. Before he’d gotten stuck in a video game for nearly a week and gotten irrevocably changed by his experience. Before he’d lost an arm and gained a strange new roommate.

He supposed it had all started with the computer. That damned computer. He’d gotten it secondhand. It had been in pretty good condition and he’d needed a new computer, so he’d bought it. He wasn’t sure in retrospect whether that had been a good decision or not. On one hand, he’d freed another soul trapped within it, but on the other hand it had taken him being trapped in there to do so.

But that didn’t change the past. He’d bought the computer and had taken it home. He’d transferred the data for the AI’s he’d been working on onto the computer and got back to work. He’d been building them because he himself was incredibly lonely and wanted some friends. 

He knew how pathetic it was to be building friends when he could just go out and make friends. That didn’t change the fact that he’d done it, though. He’d made the AI’s and set them up in a VR port of Half Life (one of his favorite games) and then he’d decided to stream it.

As far as the subscribers of his stream had known, he’d just set up the Half Life VR port to show off the AI’s he’d created. Definitely not as a reason to hang out with the AI’s he’d created. Nope. That hadn’t been it at all. 

But things had gone wrong. 

Things had gone wrong and he’d gotten stuck in the game while he’d been streaming. He still wasn’t sure how it had happened, but it had happened. That had been how he’d discovered that “Benrey” was not, in fact, one of the four AI’s he’d created, but another human who’d become trapped in the computer. 

Because of course the fucking computer was cursed. Of course. 

In any case, Chester had ended up stuck in that game for nearly a week before he and the others had managed to escape, the stream running the entire time. 

During that time he’d become....Well, he’d sort of partially turned into Gordon Freeman. Physically he’d definitely turned into Gordon, but he could deal with that. He’d gotten used to Gordon’s body. Sure, it was weird to suddenly be build like a brick shithouse, and to not have a right arm, but he’d gotten used to it during his time in the game. It was even sort of an improvement. Chester had never considered himself attractive before. He’d been a lonely nerd, with nothing to write home about in terms of appearance. Gordon was a buff protagonist. So much better than the bland Chester. 

But that wasn’t a problem.

The problem was that some of his memories had been replaced every time he’d died. Little pieces of his identity had been erased and replaced by the character he had been playing. He acted differently now, more like Gordon. He had a strange hero complex that had developed from becoming more of the character.

Evidently, that had been what had happened to Benrey. During his time in the computer, Benrey had lost all his memories. While Chester had had a character to play, Benrey hadn’t. So everyone time he’d died he’d just...lost himself. He didn’t remember the person he’d once been. 

When the game had ended, and Chester and Benrey had been freed, Benrey had woken up from his coma in the hospital with no connection or memory to the person he’d once been. He wasn’t Branden Hansen. Not anymore. 

It wasn’t much of a surprise that Benrey and Chester had ended up living together afterwards. Neither of them were the same people they’d been before and they took comfort in their shared understanding of each other’s pain.

Things weren’t perfect, but both Chester and Benrey were a lot happier now than they’d been before. Chester had even decided to go back to college. He had some memories of being a physicist thanks to the memories he’d gained from parts of Gordon replacing him so he might as well take advantage of it. Even if the fact that it had happened freaked him out. 

Benrey, being a bit of a blank slate who didn’t remember anything about his life, took up speedrunning games. Which he was shockingly good at. Chester had sat down to watch him speedrun a few times and had been absolutely blown away by the other man’s proficiency.

However, there were problems that came with living with another person. They got on each other’s nerves quite a lot.

“Goddammit! Did you eat my snacks again?!” Chester demanded, storming into the living room. 

Benrey didn’t even look up from the stream he was doing. He was speedrunning the original Metroid again to try and beat his previous time. 

“I live here too, so they’re my snacks too,” he replied. 

“I put my name on them!” Chester waved the empty chip bag, pointing at his initials written in permanent marker on the front. 

Benrey fell silent and Chester could tell from the way his posture shifted that he did feel a bit bad about it. That didn’t mean Chester wasn’t going to let him off, though.

“If you keep eating my snacks, I’m putting them on the top shelf,” Chester said, a smirk spreading across his features.

Immediately, Benrey paused his game and looked back at Chester with horror and rage in his eyes. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he whispered. 

“I would.” Chester’s smirk widened. 

Upon getting out of the game, both Chester and Benrey had discovered that the body of Branden Hansen was short. Benrey was not happy about this, especially since Chester’s physical transformation had left him a bit taller than he’d previously been. 

Benrey narrowed his eyes. “You’re a monster, Donny. A monster.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a monster who’s going to protect his snacks.” Chester folded his arms.

Benrey huffed, turning back to his game. Chester couldn’t help but smile a little. Benrey made it far too easy to push his buttons. Then again, though, he certainly gave as good as he got. He knew exactly how to push Chester’s buttons right back.

“Hey, the chat’s asking if you’re gonna stream the Science Team in Sims anytime soon,” Benrey remarked as Chester started to leave. 

Chester lit up, scrambling over to get into view of the web cam on the computer. He nearly fell over the couch in doing so. Benrey scooted over so Chester could take center stage. 

“Okay. So. I’ve been doing a lot of work with them,” he said. “Especially with Tommy and some of his science experiments. And I’m making a lot of progress too!” 

Benrey watched as Chester chattered on, a gentle smile on his face. Chester may have changed quite a bit, but he was still the giant dork he’d always been.

[halorocks1214]

the law of action

AO3 Link

Word Count: 10100

Summary: The Law of Action must be applied in order for us to manifest things on earth. Therefore, we must engage in actions that support our thoughts, dreams, emotions, and words

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | You are here! | Virgil | Scott | Gordon

these just keep getting longer fellas i dont understand how thats possible but it is. ALSO: REMEMBER IN ATTRACTION WHEN I MENTIONED THAT THESE WERE BEING WRITTEN OUT OF ORDER. HA, UH, KIND OF AN UNDERSTATEMENT I GUESS. but its here! johns pov chapter! im pretty satisfied with it, albeit a few kinks i wasnt really able to work out, so i hope you enjoy it too!

thanks again to @gumnut-logic for the prompts! "Where?" and lightning were this fic's choices. sad to see the last ones go away, but this was still a blast so thank you once more! also, just because the prompts are gone doesnt mean this series will be too ;3

Anger was a rare emotion for John Tracy.

It had to be. When dealing with the cold hard truth of data telling them something wasn't possible or dealing with annoying people who thought they knew better than him or dealing with people panicking in his ear because nobody expected the aftershock of an earthquake to be that bad, he didn’t have a choice. There were a lot of deals in life that had to be made and someone needed to play peacemaker, even if it wasn’t deserved.

It was true that he got the least angry out of his siblings, even compared to Virgil. Virgil might not get necessarily violent like Scott did, or threw caution to the wind like Gordon, or, hell, pulled off whatever John does when someone somehow manages puts him in a bad mood, but Virgil did get angry quite a lot. He just didn’t have as many blatant ways of showing it. John, on the other hand, didn’t have a lot of ticks. Pet peeves, definitely, John was no stranger to annoyance (especially with siblings like his), but not outright anger.

That didn’t mean he never got angry. He was Tracy born and bred, so that meant one the few ticks he did have surrounded the topic of family.

Specifically, his family being threatened.

John wished he was the youngest sometimes. That meant he could say things like let Scott punch the idiot already, he’d be doing the world a favor, and not get lambasted for the immature response. It also meant he could throw tantrums to hell and back and not feel like a total loser.

Like right now for example.

“EOS, I swear, if you don’t open the elevator door for me--”

“No, I won’t.”

Unbelievable.

Groaning and rubbing his face, his hands found their way up to his forehead and through his hair, holding his bangs out of his eyes for a moment. His eyes had many emotions in them, the most blatant being this shit cannot be happening right now, “EOS, do you know you’re amazing? I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

EOS whirled for a moment, “John, I’ve seen that grin on Gordon. I cannot believe you would stoop that low.”

The grin she pointed out fell flat off his face, “Yeah, okay, you’re right about that--”

“Like I always am.”

“--So thank you,” John was going to strangle whoever defined sass so thoroughly in the dictionary. It left a bad example, “For the reminder, but seriously, I need to get up to ‘Five. It’s… important.”

It’s been a week since Alan was taken.

They’ve exhausted all options.

The only thing that could possibly get him back to them had to be International Rescue’s resources.

But EOS over here wasn’t getting the memo. Her words had that hint of childish innocence behind it. In that way that said there was no innocence whatsoever and she knew exactly what she was doing, the little shit, “John, do you really need to, or do you want to?”

There’s the inflection that John taught her. An inhale through the nose and… Uuuugghh, “EOS, I know the difference between needs and wants, this is definitely a need.”

Another lens blink, another moment of disbelief, “It seems like you have a lot of needs, John Tracy.”

John grimaced and ground his jaw together, mumbling his grievances with the current situation, “Yeah, well, if there’s any trait I truly share with my siblings, it’s that we’re all high maintenance.” His next words were more clear and designed to get the point across, “EOS, I’m not kidding, unlock the door.”

EOS stood her ground, “John, you going up there is one of the most detrimental things to you’re health at the current moment. I won’t let you.”

John threw his hands into the air, “EOS, there’s are whole lotta things that are currently detrimental to my health currently happening, one more thing won’t hurt.”

EOS lens shuttered again and John felt like it was nails on a chalkboard, “You have a point, but I’ve seen you with Scott when he’s in a similar mood. Don’t you tell him he needs to take a moment and think when he gets like this?”

John groaned as quietly as possible. Not too loud, but loud enough that EOS hopefully got the point, “Yes, I do, but I’m not Scott. We are two very different people, you have pointed this out numerous times. We have different ways of handling things, this, and ‘Five is exactly how I can fix this problem.”

That was not how he should’ve worded that. Her lights flickered in sympathy, sympathy, and he knew she finally figured out what John was trying to get at, “John, there may still be a lot I have to learn, but at least I understand--”

“No, EOS!” John snapped before he could help himself. Before she could finish explaining her point of view that was most likely right, but his desperate brain didn’t want to hear it. His brain that was running on zero energy telling him this was taking too long, fix that, “You can’t understand!”

Just like that, John was reminded of why he hated getting angry.

As soon as the words left his mouth, so did the air in his lungs. Through sheer will and determination, the only thing that didn’t leave his body was the little amounts of food he ate over the past seven days, though it really wanted to. He became very pale, and EOS could detect the not-so-trace amounts of fear that fell over his eyes.

Dammit, you idiot. Months upon that past year of work were now going to go down the drain because you blew your lid just this once! First, the call with Alan, now telling the one thing that could kill you in your sleep she’ll never essentially be good enough was--

“I know, John.”

His food came back with a vengeance, but he was bullheaded as hell, and he already caused enough damage. The last thing anyone needed was to clean up vomit. It would’ve been nicer if she got angry at him. He could handle being thrown out into space. He couldn’t handle EOS admitting he was right, least of all over blatantly cruel words.

He channeled the energy his stomach wanted to use into weak words, “E-EOS, I…” What the hell was he supposed to say? Sorry surely wasn’t going to fucking cut it.

Well, whatever he wanted to cut didn’t come up, as EOS continued as if John wasn’t the worst thing on the planet, “I’ve been doing some reading. I understand that I’ll never really understand certain human-based things like you do. You, humans, have gotten close, me being one of the better examples, as long as that’s not considered bragging, but even I’m not at that level yet. But I do at least know you and your habits. I put up with them on a daily basis.”

Because if there’s anything else John needed to fail this week, it was the one promise he made to her. His promise to keep her safe, to make sure she wasn’t treated like a mindless robot by some crazy scientists ready and willing to cut her circuitry wide open like a middle-school science project. While he would never even get close to being a quote-on-quote crazy scientist, never in a million light-years, he surely didn’t follow that middle part of his promise, “EOS, listen, I--”

“Please, John,” and now she was pleading, thinking he was going to ask to use the elevator again. Thinking he wasn’t going to give up, even after all of that. John might’ve laughed if it wasn’t his fucking fault, “I’ll help look for more options if it means you’ll stay here for a little while longer. You should stay with your family. I know how they affect you in those positive ways that you currently need.”

John was abruptly aware of his heavy, almost wheeze-like breathing. If he wasn’t careful, it could delve into one whopper panic attack, which would be so great right now, “Y-Yeah, okay. They probably won’t understand the effects of gravity over an elongated period of time like I do, so I can stay and help with that, at least. Thank you.”

As John turned around, he heard EOS whisper to herself. He could blearily tell it was actually fondness that filled her vocal waves for once, but it still stung regardless, “Idiot.”

Yeah, he really was, wasn’t he.

As he helped look over his Dad’s med-scan with Virgil, when Virgil went looking for something on the other side of the room, his father whispered, “I know this is a bad question right about now, but, is there anything we can do for you? Maybe even I? You look dead on your feet.”

John could only reply to the first half of his father’s statement with a meek, “I don’t know anymore.”

---

16-year-old John Tracy was seated atop his roof, making sure he got the perfect view of the Big-Dipper.

He was hoping to spot a more exciting constellation when he first used his new telescope, but dangit! He was just so excited to get cracking right away! He just got back from his birthday party, Alan and Gordon snoozing in their rooms while Scott and Virgil secretly finished off the cake. That was okay. John was too busy focusing on his new expensive toy to worry about having any more sweets.

His dad could pull some strings when it counted.

Newest model. The only other people who have this baby are scientists at NASA. Happy birthday, John. Sorry I didn’t get you a car like Scott.

Fuck cool cars. John would be on cloud 9 for days with this thing. Scott would call him a nerd for it. Jokes on Scott, he couldn’t zoom about 10 thousand miles into space now, could he?

Right as he nailed it, the world shook. Large arms snaked around his waist and he involuntarily found himself giggling at the contact. As soon as those limbs let go, he blushed at his reaction and cleared his throat. Suddenly, the arms were an entire body sitting down right next to him, speaking with their ever-comforting burly voice, “Hiya, son, I see you just couldn’t wait, huh?”

Rolling his eyes, John turned back into his serious, analytical self once more, “Yup, this thing’s crazy. I’m glad I got out here as quickly as I did.”

Jeff simply grinned. John was always reserved, but Jeff was a good translator for all of his sons, and he could tell that John meant this is one of the best things in my life holy crap, “That’s great to hear. The look on your face when I brought this out of the closet was certainly good enough to last me a few lifetimes.”

John snorted, “I bet it was. I heard Gordon joking about it with Alan. I don’t think I need to see any pictures anymore. I have a pretty good mental image of what I looked like.”

Jeff smiled and sighed, “No kidding. “Like a goldfish with a broken jaw.” Not the most eloquent, that Gordon is.”

Laughter rang out throughout the roof, followed by a few moments of silence. Not awkward, but not really welcomed on John’s part either, “Do you…” Stop it, John, you’re asking for too much, “Nevermind, it’s dumb.”

Jeff tilted an eyebrow, “Oh, is it? I guess you would know if something were smart or dumb, so I trust your judgment.”

Dangit, Dad, why are you so manipulative, and why are you so good at it, “I don’t know. I’ve established I wanted to be an astronaut, right?”

Jeff nodded, “Mmhmm.”

John, for some reason, felt like he needed to tread carefully, “You are also an astronaut. If there was any way for you to be able to… could you… could you come up with me the first time?”

Jeff blinked in shock, and before his son could register that as disapproval, “Huh, well, that’s certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Now it was John’s turn to blink, his mouth gaped, “Wait, what? Are you serious? Aren’t there rules for this kind of stuff?”

Jeff shrugged, his shoulders clearly saying rules shmules, “I’m also one of the biggest entrepreneurs on the planet itself, and one of the most renowned ex-astronauts there are. You would not believe the lengths people are willing to go to kiss my ass. Would you feel better if I pinky promised?”

John’s nose scrunched, “You can never truly promise anything, you know.”

His father chuckled, used to his son’s antics. John was reserved, remember, “Well, you boys always credited me with doing the impossible.”

John continued challenging him, “When we were all less than 10, yeah, sure. I think Alan still thinks you can breathe in space. You. Specifically. No one else. I think he said you only wore the helmet to “protect your secret so the evil movie scientists don’t take you away.””

Chuckles turned into laughter and a clap on John’s shoulder, “Well, glad to see I still got the magic touch at least.” That same arm that playfully smacked him was now wrapped around his shoulders, “Just you wait, Johnny boy, if I can’t get on that ship with you, then you bet your ass I’ll at least be the loudest one cheering in the crowd.”

Then, suddenly, John was right, like he always was.

A promise that never should have been made: broken. A wish never fulfilled.

Dad was swallowed up by the very thing John loved.

No more space stories, no more fun moon facts, there was a void in John’s life as big as the galaxy itself, and he wasn’t sure how to walk around it, or God forbid even into it.

He tried to be the healthy sibling about it. He tried so hard. Getting through high school quicker than most so he could just worry about his family. Scott and Grandma were doing their best, and in so many ways, it was enough, but even they couldn’t bear all of the stress themselves.

But then his high school graduation came and Grandma gave him one of the biggest hugs of his and her life and he realized that he would never get one from his father again. His mom leaving this world was already bad enough, but at least his dad was there and knew how to fill in the gap after years and years of his marriage with her. You didn’t marry a woman like Lucille Tracy and not fundamentally understand how the gears in her brain turned lest you were truly insane. Maybe Dad was. Certainly would explain a lot of things from John’s perspective. Certainly would explain why she married him in the first place. Crazy attracts crazy.

Regardless, the one thing closest to his mom’s warmth and care was gone, and if he spent the night of his graduation party quietly sobbing his eyes out while the others slept, well, then he was glad they kept snoring.

Try as he might, he became just as unhealthy and unbalanced as the rest of his family, but he was more subtle about it. His self-destructive ways weren’t bad if other people had them, but when it came to him, oh, he knew it was the worst thing he could do in terms of recovery. That’s probably why the rest of the family didn’t notice (Good). John was smart, he would know better. Yes, he did, which is exactly why he dived headfirst right into it all.

Focusing on college, getting up into the star-filled void closer to his dead relatives as quickly as possible, focusing on the here-and-now to make sure this shit didn’t happen again. Making sure no family went through what theirs did.

And maybe that’s why, why he couldn’t handle the touch of others wanting to comfort him. Because it reminded him too much of what they used to have, of what they used to be. Too many hugs and kisses from others might wash away what his mom’s and dad’s felt like, and out of all the things they could potentially lose from this, those were the worst possible ones.

John was a Tracy, which meant he was stubborn.

He wasn’t going to lose the last few things he remembered about his parents if he could help it.

---

It had been just under a month, and John finally got what he wanted.

And it wasn’t working like he thought it would, if at all.

He’s been on ‘Five for three days, and for just a fleeting moment, it washed away any uncertainty. He felt back in control, if only minorly, and he held the world at his fingertips once more. Too bad the world he wanted to fix was so far away it felt like it was on the other side of the frickin solar system itself.

He promised his family four days at most. Please, just one chance. We won’t know unless we try. He wasn’t sure what cracked them first, them coming upon dead end after dead end, them finally seeing reason behind John’s argument, or if they just got annoyed with the space monitor after endless nagging and relented like tired parents.

The tiny part of John’s mind that still allowed him to joke kinda hoped it was the third option. “Easy child”, pfft. John’ll show them.

Right, right, a clear head, the most focused of IR, he can’t get unfocused or go too far off track. He’s saved many lives throughout his life, all of them thanks to his level head, but right now, he was arguably saving the most important life of all, so that meant he had even more incentive to stay focused.

In fact, he was so focused, he jumped at the sudden, feminine voice filling the room, “John, I found another article I think you would like to see about most common places criminals… John?”

Crap, he was halfway into the fetal position. Slowly uncurling, John nodded, “Oh, thank you, EOS. I’ll start reading it shortly.”

The noise of her lens adjusting sounded throughout ‘Five again, “Of course. Let me know if you would like me to start searching for a different topic, though. There has to be a limit to how many “You wouldn’t believe this” articles one can take, and I think I’m finding it really quickly.”

For the next few seconds, John was suddenly filled with a rush of determination he had been trying to get after their little confrontation in front of a locked elevator door to ‘Five.

She had been helping him out so much the past couple of weeks. Running unnecessary tests for him, searching parts of the web only she could search without getting tracked by some secret mafia, letting him know it was okay if he couldn’t get everything right the first time when two months ago she snapped at him for getting a simple algebra equation wrong due to lack of sleep. She had been especially patient with him recently, even after their little spat in the hangar, and John wasn’t sure how to process it. A tiny part wanted to resort to anger again because he clearly didn’t deserve her, but the more prevalent parts preferred something like depression or even apathy.

She had been making sure his world didn’t spin off its axis, and John couldn’t even tell her sorry until now.

“EOS, I’m sorry.”

She stopped moving, turned around and let her lights blink yellow for only a moment, “For what, John?”

The man in question waved his hands around in front of his face, lost, confusing her more. With a sigh, he explained, “For a lot of things, but mainly from a few weeks back when we had that argument. I said something that wasn’t okay, and I didn’t have the balls to own up to it until now. So, I’m sorry. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have even been near.”

For a little bit, it was quiet. John waited as the A.I. contemplated his words. Then, she spoke her judgment, “Well, I know you are. You haven’t exactly been working off your butt over nothing, right? Plus, reliable sources say one of the ways guilt manifests is anger. I’ve seen that with the rest of your family. It would make sense yours would too.”

John blinked. Part of him was expecting her to not fully understand why he was apologizing, but the other wanted her to just so he could get over this, just so he could let go of even just the teeniest amount of guilt he had, “EOS, anger isn’t a valid excuse. What I said was wrong. I don’t believe those words and you shouldn’t either. The whole point of this partnership is to show you that there’s more to life than just calculations and probabilities. It’s kind of hard to see that when the one person who promised to be different went and screwed it up anyway.”

John hoped EOS was at least questioning things now instead of letting his words go in one ear and out the other. Her next words said she was doing exactly the latter, “Okay. I don’t disagree with you, John, but I don’t know why you’re so hooked on this. I understand. We don’t have to worry about this unnecessarily anymore.”

Yes, you do understand. That’s the fucking point.

They weren’t getting anywhere, yet John didn’t even have the energy to groan in annoyance. He could even get his eyebrow to twitch.

All he could do was simply lean his head back against the wall and let his hair stick up against it like static electricity was flowing through it. The real reason it was sticking up was probably due to a mixture of Zero-Gs and grease from all of the showering he hasn’t been doing, however. His eyes had deep rings around them, and for a second, EOS thought about how relative age could be as a number while John softly spoke, “The Hood was an angry man, too, you know. He felt slighted by our family and wanted us to feel the same. It still doesn’t make what he did right.”

EOS thought about his words before coming to a logical conclusion, “Well, that’s certainly a leap in logic. There’s a big gap between simply yelling because you’re annoyed and literal kidnapping. One gives people a sour mood, the other gives them a significant amount of jail--”

“Yes, EOS, I’m aware of that,” John brought his hand to his face, but underneath it was a grin, telling the world that he was feeling fond exasperation more than anything. EOS was more obtuse than him sometimes. It was one of the few things of himself he wished she didn’t copy so easily. He sighed and brought his hand back down, “I’m just... putting things into perspective. I want you to see why my words were wrong. It would make me feel better if you did.”

EOS hung still, letting John’s admission roll over her wiring like a wave of electricity, “You have a lot of needs and wants. What takes precedent?”

More inflection. This time, John welcomed it. It gave him something to stand on. John wanted a lot of things. Alan to be home safe and sound, Dad to have not disappeared for nearly a decade, for his brothers to stop slowly killing themselves, for himself to stop, but the needs of the many, even the needs of one, outweigh the wants of a singular man like him, but, “Well, needs obviously, they’re necessary, however… it’s okay to be selfish every once in a blue moon. It doesn’t make you inherently bad.”

It was advice he parroted many-a-times to his family, some of them more often than others, seldom to himself if at all.

Scott, it’s okay if you have to tell them you can’t make this business conference.

Virgil, you can count inventory in the morning. You didn’t get any sleep last night either.

Gordon, if you can’t smile for a day or two, that doesn’t make you a bad person.

Kayo, you don’t have to patrol every night. We have security cams for a reason.

Alan, I know we tease you, but you missing a chore or two isn’t the end of the world.

Grandma, you already do enough for us, you barely cooking for us is the least of our worries.

That last one might be more for the rest of his family than not, but hey, two birds and one stone. Keeping his back against the wall, John stood up straighter against it, face suddenly serious, “In fact, wanting to be selfish is one of the best ways to tell that you’re human. You can’t escape it. It only becomes bad when you end up only being that.”

EOS sat in silence, her lens flickering in that way it always does when she was signifying she was about to pass judgment like a Goddess, which she seemed to be doing a lot more recently, “Well then… If I’m allowed one moment of self-reprieve, I suppose I should say that those words did… hurt.”

John grimaced despite very much understanding that he deserved it. The return of the inflection didn’t exactly help. Pushing himself away from the wall, he felt the metaphorical weight fall off his shoulders, “Yes, they did, and while they weren’t okay, it is okay to say that they weren’t. I still am very sorry.”

EOS adjusted her camera, probably to stall for time, “I know you are, John. I still forgive you, but am I correct in assuming I’m allowed some time to… recover isn’t the word I’m looking for, but--”

“Yes, EOS,” John helped her explain her own point, “Recover is a good word. You’re allowed that if you want it.”

John wasn’t sure how, but it seemed like EOS visibly relaxed, “Thank you, then, for letting me do that. This.”

For some reason, John did too, “Of course.”

It was a soft kind of awkward silence, where both parties had something on their mind but they weren’t entirely sure if they wanted to say it out loud. This is why EOS appreciated John more than the others, he simply let silence be silence. It allowed her time to think, unlike how Scott and Virgil kept asking questions, or how that awful duo made noises and messes only to have a chance at making people laugh. As if that was the most important thing they needed to do.

The nights the youngest called John were endless with his constant babbling that tended to grate her circuit boards. The only reason she let it happen was that John seemed to loosen up at the interaction. He became less weary, less worried-filled. He seemed to greatly enjoy the audial presence of Alan Tracy, let alone the way he lit up when the youngest actually showed up in person. It was just unfortunate that it seemed like the kid could never keep his mouth shut.

Then again… from what John said, the whole reason there wasn’t any more Alan was because he did keep it shut. At the worst moment possible. Now there wouldn’t be any more babbling period. Alan was gone, and the whole family was suffering from the new silence. EOS reasoned it was from the general idea of forced silence instead of just freely being able to leave the room or being able to tell him to quiet down, but maybe it was more than that. She could make another list of options to consider.

Plus, it was weird to think about a future where all of those video game walkthroughs she was forced to save would never be used again. John insisted that they weren’t just wastes of megabytes, so...

Hmm.

“Could you…” EOS trailed off, and before John could comprehend the unusual behavior of the A.I., she started speaking again, “Could you tell me more about Alan? I’m starting to think I judged him rather harshly.”

John took a moment to register her words and promptly snorted, “Well, most of your assumptions about him aren’t entirely unfounded, but that’s one of the joys of being an older sibling, I guess. Surprises around every corner,” there was regret in her voice and John knew he had to treat this as gently as he would a newborn child otherwise he would never hear it again.

EOS flickered, “I thought you didn’t like surprises.”

Uh, “Well, not usually, but there are a few from time to time that I could look back on and call them… quaint, in a sense.” Suddenly, a memory resurfaced, and John found himself grinning like he was doped up on nitrous oxide, “Yeah, they can have good surprises occasionally…”

It was a week before his next rotation. Scott would be back home in about three days, which allowed the second born to actually have a few moments with his only older brother. He was looking forward to it just as much as Scott was. Right now, though, he had to make sure he got the right angle.

Right as he did, he heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps come up the ladder, and when he turned around, he was met with a bundle of freckles, “Oh, hey Alan.”

Hi, Johnny, the kid squirmed out, Is it okay if I sit next to you?

At first, a list of things wanted to fill John’s head. You look dead on your feet, you should be asleep, you have a lot going on this week so why are you wasting sleep? but instead of any of those filling the void that was his brain, John simply nodded, “Yeah, sure, come pop a squat, Sprout.”

John looked away right before he could watch Alan’s nose wrinkle in displeasure. Despite the usage of the nickname (that Alan secretly liked, don’t think you could pull that wool over our eyes, little bro), the kid still toddled over and flopped himself down right next to his older brother. Sighing, the kid leaned his head on John’s arm and absentmindedly stared out into space, both figuratively and literally. Satisfied his brother was comfy, John went back to his current objective.

As John examined the night sky, he also carefully looked over Alan out of the corner of his eye. Every bruise that John could see was finally dulling out into that familiar greyish-yellow as bruises do, and the sight was enough to calm any negative emotion being created from the reminder. John refocused on his telescope to help as well.

The kid had been through one hell of a week, bullies being their typical selves. Every Tracy outside of Scott and Gordon had their fair share of their own experiences with nasty people, and it wasn’t even the first time they’ve left their special kind of blue-and-black marks, but seeing it on Alan was… worse, somehow. Virgil had unsavory anonymous notes at ‘best’, and John knew first hand that their hits bruised more than just physical skin. So to see Alan get the same treatment and not say anything...

John was starting to understand why his older brother greyed so easily.

Speaking of which, Scott was pretty peeved at the idea of not being there for Alan. Because of this, John made sure to be the sole one to call him and inform him of the awful news while the older brother was out at his designated Air Force base. John wanted to see with his own two eyes that Scott wouldn’t do anything rash and made himself liable to be put on some kind of list.

You would think he wouldn’t be that stupid, but the Tracys are known for breaking expectations over their sweet, sweet kneecaps.

(“Scott, you’re not going to steal an Air Force jet just to come and beat up some dumb kids.”

“Watch me.”

“They’re only a year older than Alan.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose, “Listen, we already scarred them enough as it is, let alone their expulsions. Grandma’s threats to the adults were liable for a government-mandated therapist, Virgil just being there had them running for the hills, the computer I was sporting sent chills down their spines and throughout the hallways, and that’s not even to mention Gordon’s threats to the kids themselves. Seriously, where would a 15-year-old even get the tools to do that?”

Scott visibly relaxed at John’s point, but he still sat a little taut, not fully accepting the idea of people being cruel enough to hurt a literal ray of sunshine, “Fine, fine, I still want to talk to the kid over a call at some point. He was the one who dealt with those idiots.”

John’s shoulders deflated, “Yeah, you got me there. He’ll be back with Virgil and Gordon soon enough, you can see him then.”

Scott smiled in a way that washed away the greys in his hair, if only for a moment, “Awesome, I--”

John wasn’t completely done, “But I’m going to be with Alan while you talk to him. I don’t trust you to not be in search-and-destroy mode, and the last thing Alan needs is an angry you with no buffer. Besides, I’m pretty sure we have the same questions. I can play the angsty-Scott translator tonight. Usual fee, 10 bucks each word.”

The groan that managed to fill the whole house despite the tiny speakers was one John would never forget.)

Too lost in thought, John didn’t catch Alan’s movements at first. Leaning away from his telescope, John focused on Alan, “Sorry, Allie, did you say something?”

The child simply shrugged and smushed his chubby cheeks against John’s side, shaking his head, followed by his hands, I just wanted to see what you were doing.

Ah, that made sense. Alan had been continuously signing for the past year because of the obvious, so John rolled with the punches. It was always funny when they talked about these years in the future. Alan talked, Alan said, Alan brought up: it was always metaphorical, and nobody could believe them when they said Alan was fluent in ASL, let alone because he could actually go half a day without talking.

It was ironic because even with no words, Alan still managed to be the loudest thing on the planet. His hands always screamed with excitement whenever he felt like ‘talking’, and no brother ever felt like shutting him up. Especially when it was so easy for Alan to simply not shake his hands to hide the fact that he was in trouble--

Right, don’t go there. John shook his head to bring himself out of his thoughts and replied to the non-verbal admission, “Just looking at the stars. Recording their coordinates and whatnot.”

A small gasp had John jerking immediately away from his scope to see Alan suddenly very worried, maybe even fearful, But won’t you lose your eyes?!

Aha, what? “Allie, you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

John almost didn’t catch what Alan was trying to explain with the way he frantically shook his hands even faster than before, Mrs. Gatsen explained to us that the sun was a star too, but we’re not allowed to look at it for too long because it’ll steal our eyes! I don’t want you to lose your eyes, Johnny!

Ohoho, the part of John’s brain that was all about the smartsy stuff was gearing up to have a full-blown seminar of sorts, but the way the kid seemed so sincere in his worry, in his fear, John felt partially bad for giggling instead, “Oh, Allie, no. Here,” John was activating his inner Virgil and Scott with the way he grabbed the youngster and placed him in his lap, “Yes, the sun is a star, but there are many kinds of stars. Most of which don’t hurt your eyes. Take a look.”

Alan gave one last sentimental look at John, who nodded again just to reassure the blonde before the boy gulped and put his eye against the tool like Johnny did. This time, the gasp that came from him was more magical, more child-like, as it always should be. John watched on as the kid became stuck to his telescope like glue.

Suddenly, Alan leaned back into John, somewhat knocking the wind out of him. Honestly, now that he was thinking about it, John realized he was pushing it by letting Alan sit next to him in terms of his personal comfort zone. He loved Allie just as much as the rest of the family, but letting them in, letting them get close, was veering dangerously close to that specific ‘hug’ territory like he and his parents had.

Before John could explain that in a child-friendly way, and hopefully in a way where the too-smart-for-his-own-good kid couldn’t pick up on the hidden message, Alan looked him directly in the eyes and confidently signed his wants, Can we do this more often? Can we?

Just like that, John’s mind blanked. Alan wanted to do something with him. Not swim with Gordon, not music with Virgil, not do, well, anything with Scott, Allie found something that he would like to do with John.

Huh, interesting, “Yeah, sure. If we can’t do it in the next week, then the first thing we’ll do when I come down is stargaze, because that’s what it’s called: stargazing.”

Alan started gripping his arm tighter and leaned more into his chest, nodding vigorously at the news and looking back to the sky with newfound wonder. Letting Alan be, abruptly forgetting his grievances with things like touch, John went back to his telescope. After another minute or so, John reached a point where he needed both sides of his body, except it looked like one of them was going to be kept immobile unless the spaceman said something to Alan.

John tried doing just that, just without looking away from his device, “Hey, Allie, I don’t mind the sitting-in-my-lap and stuff, but I do need my arm back to--”

Snoring.

Oh.

Jerking his head to physically look at his sibling, John found Alan passed out and squeezing his arm like a freckled koala bear. The ginger flinched a little bit at the drool dripping onto his sleeve, but the way Allie melted into him made him-- actually, he was very suddenly aware that this whole night he hadn’t really been thinking at all, and that thought made him continue to stare mindlessly at the dozing brother.

He always thought about, well, everything. What he was going to say, what he planned to do tomorrow, about what the future held now that they were down their second and last parent. If he didn’t think about it beforehand, he rarely did it. He had to make sure he went through all of his options before haphazardly jumping into the pits of hell.

Yet the way his younger brother looked at him like he was the world himself tonight made John throw all of his training to be as cautious as possible out the window in a need to comfort and care for the small thing in front of him.

It was shocking to his mind, yet he didn’t resent just being able to do without worrying too much. Was this how smother complexes started? Did he ever drool on Scott’s arm? Still staring at Alan, John’s mind continued to be robotic as he simply let his younger brother be and went back to his telescope. Alan had been needing to get a little more sleep lately anyway.

Yeah, it was fine. He could figure out how to follow up on his words later. It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out a way to squeeze Alan into some of his already-planned stargazing nights while making sure the kid still got sleep. Also, John’s used telescopes wearing a cast and sling before, he might prefer two arms, but he has been okay with only one.

If Grandma yelled at John for spending too much time on the roof again, well, she would have to get over it. Alan got an extra hour of sleep and that was all that mattered.

EOS watched as John finished the story. Once he was done, he continued to be quiet while grinning at nothing. All he was doing was simply staring at the floor… It was slightly creepy, and EOS cleared her nonexistent throat, “Huh, I didn’t realize he got a lot of his interests from you. Maybe… maybe you could show me why he did. He can too. More perspectives always get more data.”

John blinked and was immediately taken out of his trance. He brought his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat, “Yeah, he-- wait, what?”

EOS sighed. This is another reason why she snapped him out of it; his inability to listen to someone right in front of him. She simplified her words, “If Alan comes back, can you two take me stargazing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen what the stars look like down there, or, at least, I never looked at them long enough to understand what you all find to be so fascinating about them.”

John blinked a few more times with his mouth slightly gaped. He looked around nervously before bringing his turquoise eyes to look EOS directly in the middle of her camera, “Yeah, sure, EOS. When Alan gets back, that’s the first thing we’ll do.”

EOS didn’t mention anything about the correction of if to when, “Thank you, John, I would like that very much.”

John nodded and floated back to his tech, “Of course. Now then, we’ve got work to do. I’ve been meaning to stargaze recently anyway.”

He still had one more day up here.

And a baby brother who needed saving.

How hard could it be?

---

Very.

Growling in frustration, he thumped his fist against the wall next to him rather harshly.

Not enough to leave any kind of mark or dent, but enough for him to focus on the tiny amount of pain it gave him. He vaguely heard EOS’s lens flare at the sudden noise, but he was a little too focused on why he felt the need to hit his girl.

It was the end of the last day, and he didn’t make it any further like he thought he would.

Some bleak part of his mind was hoped, prayed that his girl would have the tools to find their baby brother. He was willing to bend her entire satellite to be able to reach the far ends of the galaxy if he had to, but even he had to concede that she wasn’t enough. The Hood wasn’t dumb, unfortunately, and he wasn’t going to go easy on them. That is if he was even going “to go” on them to start with.

While it wasn’t the first time he failed spectacularly, this failure certainly hurt the worst.

Half of him wanted to curl up into a ball and forget everything for a moment (or maybe forever), but the other half won out in terms of what his body contorted into. Instead of curling up like a prickly hedgehog, he leaned backward to be floating with his back to the ground and his face to the ceiling with his face in his hands. Meanwhile, EOS silently gazed from her camera in the corner. Watching John struggle this way was… new, and it twisted her wires in a way she wasn’t sure she could describe.

EOS watched him mumble something. Huh, peculiar as ever. Adjusting her camera, she tried small talk, “What was that, John?”

Still mumbles, but more intelligible, “... I need to drop the ‘s’.”

A flicker of yellow, nothing but pure confusion for once in her robotic life, “The ‘s’ of what?”

Suddenly, the astronaut was standing (well, floating) upright with a look of disdain, but EOS could see that it wasn’t meant for her, “Of ‘she’. It’s not ‘Five’s fault, God, it never is, but maybe… maybe it’s mine.”

All of her programs should allow her to say something. Anything, sugarcoated or not, would be beneficial to this seemingly one-sided conversation, but this was the moment she learned that humans could be faster than computers since John steamrolled right to the point without hesitation, “He wasn’t good enough sounds better. Nothing I’m doing is getting any results. I gave my family false hope that I would find something and now I have to go to them and essentially break them. They were already barely holding it together as it was, but when the “smart one” in their family says there’s nothing he can do…”

She found herself going against the logical part of her program-- because despite the idiot John Tracy could be, when he made an argument that had any kind of evidence you never could go against it-- the first time in, well, ever, in an attempt to comfort her partner, “John… I think you’re grasping at straws here.”

He looked up from the floor, and EOS had to shrink her lens at the sight of unshed tears in his eyes, “Who was the one that called him?! Me! He was standing there only a few rooms over, probably terrified out of his mind, and I didn’t know. I let him slip between our fingers because I was so caught up in the moment and I hate myself for it.”

EOS found herself speechless for once, and the few droplets of tears that floated in front of John’s face didn’t help. She had been trying her best recently, especially recently, to understand the fluctuations of human emotion, and she was pretty sure she had decent tabs on at least John nowadays, but this was something unexpected, a thing her programming never really liked to deal with. It involved lots of new calculations and new sims, why, it made things seconds longer when they didn’t have the time to deal with it!

Her electronic voice box made a noise with the intent to say something, as she thought she finally had the time to deal with it, but just her luck, more unexpected things made her reapproach the issue at hand, “John, look out! The Chaos Crew!”

Blinking out of his self-deprecation train, John was uncharacteristically panicking, “What, where?” After doing a full 180, John eventually saw one of his comm radios with the familiar pink symbol floating above it.

John’s pupils shrunk and his eyebrows tilted downward in that unfamiliar emotion: anger.

Fuck this.

The mood change was as fast as the speed of lightning. John practically flung himself to the communication device on something akin to a warpath. No longer regretful or depressed, John was filled to the brim with fury at the sight of one of the men that was a constant thorn in the Tracy family’s side, “What the hell are you doing here? How the hell did you--”

“Wait wait wait!” Fuse pleaded, making John momentarily pause enough to listen, “I’m not good at this like my sister is, so this connection is going to drop soon. I need you to reopen the line yourself so I can explain what I’m here for! Trust me, I swear I’m not--”

Zip.

Blinking at the lack of noise, John slowly turned his head to look at his A.I. to get her opinion on the matter. It wasn’t a positive one, that’s for sure. Her dots were bright red, and for the first time in a while, he found himself flinching at the sight and sound of her, “It wouldn’t take much of me to get rid of the nuisance, you know.”

Taking a few deep breaths, John shook his head, “No, EOS, give me a sec. Don’t send him careening into space.”

Yet.

With shaky hands, John did as Fuse begged and found the comm line the guy haphazardly threw together. Right as Fuse jumped at the sight of one of the Tracys actually hearing him out, John’s voice spoke coldly, “You have five minutes. Go.”

Fuse gulped, “W-Well, I suppose the first thing to do would be to apologize. I’ve caused a lot of messes for you and your family-- heh, ‘messes’ probably doesn’t even come close to explaining what I did-- and I realize that now, so I want to--”

Ah, that tactic. The one where they try so desperately to seem like they were repentant. John wasn’t familiar with it, but Scott sure was. Shady business owners trying to shy away from their consequences made the eldest very aware of how slimy those in power could be. Scott complained about it a lot, so John made sure to always remember it just in case he ever ran into it himself.

Preplanning wins again in the Tracy household. You should listen to John’s advice more, Gordon, “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” John muttered mostly to himself and moved in a way that signified something was going to happen.

Fuse sputtered and stopped immediately. Crap, he was going about this wrong. These were all things he was suddenly genuine about, he really was, but the Tracys didn’t want useless apologies at the moment, and he understood that. Hopefully, he didn’t understand it too late. Right before John could do anything to him or give any kind of command to his satellite, Fuse blurted the information he should’ve said the first place, “I know where he is!”

John felt like the Earth flew right off its axis.

Everything froze, including EOS. His hand was out in front of him for some reason, probably subconsciously reaching for some kind of button, as he absentmindedly listened to the whirl of ‘Five and his brain fully processed what Fuse was promising, “... What?”

John was keenly aware that sounding so weak, so hopeful, was something that Fuse could spinelessly abuse if the man wanted to, but John had a good lie detector. The words that fumbled out of half The Chaos Crew’s mouth were sounding good, great, and John could tell that he wasn’t bullshitting anything, “I know where he’s keeping your bro. I mean… shit, what The Hood did wasn’t right, maybe it never was, but I know this specifically is--” a break in his speech in an attempt to words things better. Fuse failed, “Bad. I just…”

John’s head involuntarily tilted at the way Fuse trailed off. For once in his life, John was at a loss. This was highly uncharacteristic from what John had seen of The Chaos Crew, and the astronaut was so flabbergasted he couldn’t even begin to come up with any possible ulterior motive behind Fuse’s actions at the moment.

Suddenly, Fuse looked back up with big eyes, almost reminding John of Alan a little bit. Not in the obvious ways, because Fuse was on the verge of seven feet tall and built like a truck whereas Alan was the teeniest thing on the planet, but… John could see similar traits of innocence in them. The eyes of someone desperately clinging onto the last few shreds of hope they had, but still ready to do what's right because of it. Because even if the light at the end of the tunnel was small it was still worth fighting for.

Fuse, seeing that John wasn’t going to say anything, bit the bullet, “I don’t know, call it selfish, call it smart, but if The Hood is willing to do something like this to someone so young, I… I don’t want to be apart of it. I can’t give any information about my sister, I’m no snitch, but I want out, even if it means spending the rest of my days in a GDF cell.”

John was suddenly aware of a burning question, “Wait, how old are you, Fuse?”

A tired sigh, aging Fuse to something that was probably three times what he was going to say, “I turn 20 in two weeks.”

John sharply inhaled, “Jesus, I… I didn’t realize you were that young.”

A lot of things made sense quickly and abruptly like they always do for the ginger.

If The Hood was willing to do this to someone so young, that didn’t stop him from doing this to someone like Fuse. The logical conclusion the now ‘ex-villain’ made probably danced the wildest jig in his head, and before anyone could clap their hands, he got as far away as possible. John wouldn’t be surprised if The Hood made idle threats for not following orders or for “being stupid”, so Fuse had every right to feel threatened.

Jeez, he was probably terrified at the implication. A dark, buried part of John selfishly thought good, it sucks you had to learn the hard way, but now you see why we all hate him, but the first thing that came to his mind was something unexpected yet expected all the same.

John was reminded of Alan again.

Except Alan had four older brothers to run to when the monsters got too big or too frightening.

…

Scott was going to kill him, “Park her over on the left and come in. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Bring inside whatever you think will help.”

EOS’s shrill John! ringed throughout the room, yet it was overruled swiftly. Fuse’s mouth was wide open, “For real?”

John couldn’t tell if he was losing the knots in his stomach or forming completely new ones, “Yes. Don’t do anything funny, though. I have eyes everywhere.”

Fuse gulped again, yet he was very business-like with his next words, “Of course.”

The line cut a millisecond before John wanted it to. John knew exactly why, “Listen, EOS--”

EOS was suddenly in his face, and it spoke miles at how far she’s come that she wasn’t blaring any alarms in anger, “No, you listen, John Tracy. I cannot believe the level of ignorance you are displaying!”

Gordon always joked about her being his daughter, but right now, John’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the feeling of being scolded by an overbearing mother, “I get this may seem like I’ve lost it--” jokes on EOS, who says he hasn’t at this point? “Listen, there’s nothing else left to go off of, and I know this makes me look like a crazy man desperate for information that might not even be there, but--”

“No buts!” EOS shrieked, “You told me that if you followed a sentence with a “but” that what you were about to say shouldn’t even be considered an option! What is making you throw all of my training out the window?!”

John’s mouth became very dry. This conversation was taking a very different turn, “Wait, EOS, why is this all about you suddenly--”

John was starting to regret giving her more mobility at the sight of her jamming her camera directly in his face even more, “It’s not just about me! This affects you too! You said you always based your decisions on the here-and-now, so I should too, so why am I the only one doing so?! You’ve seen what he’s capable of!”

John’s mind tended to be made of gears, and all of them began spinning at the same time. Dammit, he didn’t pick up on this because he didn’t even consider it a factor: EOS being scared. Hell, it wasn't even considered because the last time he remembered her being this scared was when she thought he was a threat during the first time they met (was it really that long ago?). She was scared that Fuse was going to hurt John like he hurt the rest of the astronaut’s family. Like he hurt Gordon.

The only difference is that nobody could get to John like they did Gordon, so that left the ginger at an impasse if the small chance that Fuse was here to hurt him came true.

John found it very hard to breathe all of a sudden. Closing his eyes and struggling to get enough air in, he realized a fundamental problem. EOS was based on data and things that have been recorded, and so far, the only things recorded about Fuse was that he was hellbent on hurting the Tracy family, a family that John was apart of.

She didn’t know any other way to feel about the guy, she didn’t have any other example.

John would love to be that way too, honestly, to just focus on the data. Numbers never tended to be wrong, and the idea of being a simple number-crunching bot would make life a shit-ton easier, but he can’t. He’s human. One that’s very much willing to go against the numbers and probabilities if it meant helping his family.

A rarity for John, to follow his gut and nothing else, but at the end of the day, he was a Tracy, and following his gut was as familiar to him as it was to name all of the immediate constellations in the summer’s nighttime sky, “EOS, I know it’ll be hard to believe me, hell, I’m having trouble believing myself, but Fuse isn’t here to hurt me. The here-and-now is different for reasons I don’t have enough time to properly explain, okay? If there’s anything to believe, believe in the trust you have in me to make the right decision like I always do.”

EOS made no noise, not even a flicker of her lens. He expected her usual sass, something along the lines of, Who says I trust you, moron? but what he got punched away what little air he managed to collect, “... Do you promise?”

That was the million-dollar question. Of course, he couldn’t. He didn’t like making promises after the age of 12. Too many probabilities, too many what-ifs, made promises somewhat of a theoretical impossibility. But just like that night on the roof with Alan, John was able to not think, “I promise, EOS. You wanted to go stargazing with me and Alan, right? Fuse might be able to let us do that again.”

‘Family’ was a Wild Card. Nothing was possible, yet everything was at the same time when it came down to it. ‘Family’ was what made Scott go from day to day without keeling over. ‘Family’ was what got Virgil to sleep at night when he just couldn’t by himself. ‘Family’ was how Gordon managed to keep smiling and joking despite everything in the world trying to make him stop. Hell, ‘Family’ was how their father kicked the word impossible right in the groin and live.

‘Family’ might have been why Alan was stuck in such a shitty situation, but it was also the reason the kid was willing and able to go that far in the first place. He learned that selflessness from his ‘Family’, after all.

John was intent to use that fact to the fullest.

EOS’s lights blinked in contemplation before she quietly spoke once more, “Do I have permission to shock him if he makes even the slightest suspicious movement?”

John rolled his eyes yet grinned all the same, “Sure, only just a little voltage, though. Right in the ass. Would be a nice pick-me-up after all of this.”

Well, despite the year they’ve had, John wasn’t aware EOS could snort. Another sign things might be going right for once.

The door swwwshed open and Fuse floated into where the two hyper-intelligent beings were hanging about and got straight to the point, “Thank you. I hope… I hope I don’t let you down.”

John found himself light as air, and it wasn’t just the zero-gravity this time, “Sounds good. Let’s get cracking.”

While the first thing he did back on Earth was scare his father and his immediate younger brother shitless, the way they and the rest of the family lit up at the plan he and Fuse came up with (after making sure nobody killed the dude, which was surprisingly more difficult than expected, and boy was it expected) made it all worth it.

Well, maybe the sight of Fuse occasionally jumping and yelping at a strange pinch in his bottom with no known cause was worth it too. John wouldn’t tell his brothers that, though, he was the responsible one, remember?

You always made me look at things differently, EOS. Thank you.

[mrs-dragneel-stark-solo]

Unforseen Chasm

Part 1 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count: 2191 Warnings: Language, Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93​ what was first a simple "what if" moment turned into a two year writing session and I've never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

___________

Once in a lifetime, and sometimes not even then, people meet someone who can be described as their better half. The person who knows them better than anyone. The person who completes them. Sometimes it can be found in a lover, or a sibling, or sometimes...once in a blue moon, it can be found in just a friend -- a stranger you cross paths with one day. A stranger that eventually means more to you than anyone else in the world. 

That’s how it was for you and Shannon. 

It was freshman year of college when she walked into your life. The two of you were set together as roommates. She had a touch of pluckiness to her, drive that you’d never witnessed, intelligence that rivaled yours, and a take no shit attitude. 

Of course, she was shy at first, so were you. But within just a few minutes, you realized that you two were destined to be best friends. Her major lied in anatomical mutation and molecular engineering with a minor in foreign language. Meanwhile, you majored in physics and engineering, minoring in Norse mythology. 

Shannon definitely teased you for that. She wondered why or how you would ever need that, but your reasoning was simply that you enjoyed it. If you were going to spend thousands upon thousands studying something for a career for the rest of your life, the least you could do was study one thing that was a little different that fascinated you, even if was just for four years. 

Your areas of study may have overlapped, but your upbringing didn’t. Shannon had parents, who loved her, and according to her “sent her to a prestigious academy to refine all skills”. And you saw these skills in the way she moved, talked, carried herself, and focused her skills. She was all things a lady should be. In fact, she did so well in this so called “Red Room”, that Howard Stark (founder of Stark Industries) caught wind of her accomplishments and decided to invest further in her. He gave her a full ride scholarship to any college she wanted, to study whatever she wanted. He thought maybe, one day, she might be of use to his son Tony. 

In fact, they became good friends too. Tony and Shannon, that is. He was a few years older than her, but he helped her with her work, and became curious as to why Shannon was always hanging around his dad’s company. It didn’t take a genius to see why Shannon was selected -- she was elite, one of a kind. 

You on the other hand, you were the nerd. The little bit dorky type. All you ever really loved was science, math, technology. You were raised by foster parents, but they weren’t the greatest. They didn’t ever give you any attention past making sure the foster money cleared for you. The only person you had was Remy, another boy that lived in the foster family with you. Kids were in and out of that house for years, but you and Remy seemed to stay, that is, until you left for college. College was where you met Shannon and her family, and ever since then, Shannon’s family was now your family, making you far closer to Shannon than you’d ever been to anyone besides Remy. You went to her house for holidays, even met with Tony a handful of times. 

Once the two of you graduated college and decided on grad school, you didn’t want to separate. Four years of living together had made you two almost inseparable. Not wanting to lose each other just yet, you grabbed an apartment only thirty minutes away from your graduate school. Graduate school was surprisingly a breeze, and when you completed it, the two of you moved into a studio apartment together. 

After being best friends for nearly a decade, you got a dog together, both of you animal lovers and you thought it might add some more character to your home. And he certainly did. 

While the both of you, yes, were involved in STEM, for the most part, your paths slightly diverged.

After graduation from graduate school for both of you, Tony Stark offered a job to Shannon at his company as his assistant. She would help oversee nearly every operation, invention, gizmo, gadget. All of it, would be under her supervision. Through this, she became good friends with Dr. Bruce Banner, and Tony, being at the labs day in and day out with them. 

It was actually in those labs that her… well… accident happened. A lab malfunction caused a chemical gas to react with her molecular structure causing a strange reaction. By strange you meant, well, unusual. She developed a mutation, but not like a third eye, or another pinky. No, she gained the ability to manipulate the weather and drain people of their powers. It was the most magnificent thing to watch. She accidentally discovered her powers at home, in the kitchen, and you witnessed it, but you swore yourself to secrecy for her. You could never hurt her and betray her like that. 

Tony knew, of course, because he had to help her figure out what was wrong with her. And Bruce was an expert in lab experiments gone wrong. Between those two helping her control her powers, and your emotional support, she was just like a normal person -- until you pissed her off. 

Just another crowning jewel on an already nearly perfect woman. She was the epitome of a femme fatale -- beautiful, genius, deadly, and powerful beyond human strength. 

As for you? Your work placed you in the field. Your physics took you to some crazy locations and you picked up work wherever you could find it. You loved physics, you were good at it, damned good. But you weren’t winning Nobel prizes, you weren’t heading huge projects for Stark Industries, you weren’t getting offers from MIT for research. No, you were scrounging for contract jobs, for little pick me ups with NASA. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, or that you were desperate for work. People knew of your work, you spoke at conferences, you were in high demand. 

But by your dumb luck, it wasn’t you that ended up with the glitz, glam, and glory that came from working for Stark. 

For the last few months you’d been in the field with Jane Foster - a highly respected physicist -- with barely any funding. The two of you could barely split the research grant you’d been given and you had to hire an intern. You were all the way out in New Mexico while Shannon was still in NYC, living the dream. You missed her like crazy, but this work you were doing was important… At least that's what you kept telling yourself…

____________

Jane and you had set up camp in Small Town, New Mexico, you’d been out here for a few weeks now. There were these strange atmospheric phenomenon that were going on that Jane felt were connected to the research the two of you were involved with. She called Dr. Selvig out to study it with you two, seeing as he was a pioneer in this field. 

Just before you all headed out to the site, you decided to give Shannon a call, a strong case of homesickness hitting you. 

You propped open your laptop and selected her contact and called. The familiar ring only went through twice before her wonderful face filled the screen. 

Y/N! Hey!” she greeted delightfully. 

“Hey!” 

She stepped away from the computer and back to her workbench in Tony’s lab -- a very familiar sight to you. 

“What’s up?” 

“Just missing you. We’re about to go study that aurora again tonight, but Selvig is here now, so it’ll be another set of eyes,” you explained. 

“Ah, yes, the light in the sky. Any headway on that?” 

“None. Hopefully he’ll have some insight because I’m growing tired of staring at clouds each night. I’m not out here to be a storm chaser…” 

“What’s this about storm chasing?” Tony suddenly said, entering your field of view. 

“Hey, Tony,” you greeted in a friendly tone. 

“Why don’t you ditch the desert and come to a real lab?” he asked as he walked backwards, looking at the camera before spinning to stand next to Shannon and work on the tool she was soldering. “You could have unlimited technology here. I could really use someone with your expertise on physics when it comes to landing gear for my suit. What do you say, Y/N? A real job, in air conditioning, not out in the dirt…?”

“Tempting,” you said with a smirk. “But I’m gonna stick to real work for now.”

“Did she just insinuate I don’t do real work?” Tony asked Shannon, pretending to be offended. She merely rolled her eyes and laughed, shaking her head. 

“You two…”  she lovingly chided. “When are you going to come home? I miss you. I need your world famous tacos.”

You laughed. “My tacos are trash and you know it.”

She returned the laugh before becoming serious again. “Seriously though. When? Things aren’t the same without you.”

You sighed, wondering the same thing. “I don’t know. I’m trying to get all this data, but since we have to wait every night… There’s no telling.” 

“Well work hard,” she requested, sadness but understanding in her voice. 

“I’m trying.”

“Seriously. Y/N, pick up the pace, I can’t take another week of this. She is killing the morale,” Tony remarked, gesturing to her with a tool. 

“Okay, Tony, for you, I’ll try,” you said with heavy sarcasm, making the two of them smile. “Oh, shit, gotta go. Time to go watch the sky give me some pretty colors.” You rolled your eyes and told them goodbye before signing off of your laptop. 

The four of you set off about twenty miles west from your little lab in the middle of town. You sat out there for several minutes, nothing happening. Selvig started to question Jane and you, and Darcy was getting restless. Jane was pleading that he just hold on a few more minutes. Finally, Darcy saw something and drew your attention to it. 

This was no subtle aurora. This was… something else. 

Jane ordered Darcy to drive, and all of you launched back into the camper full of equipment, bumping and knocking things as you went over the rough terrain of the desert. Darcy was pushing the camper to full speed, zooming towards the odd light in the sky when suddenly a funnel of light and wind swirled toward the ground. Jane was filming it all and you were taking in what you could. 

Just as you were about to go through the tornado-like event, Darcy cut away from it.

“Darcy!” you shouted, needing to get inside this event.

“I’m not dying for six college credits!” she yelled before Jane tried to take the wheel from her. 

The two of them fought over the steering wheel for a few seconds before -- THUD. You hit something… actually, you think it was someone. Darcy slammed on the brakes and all of you jumped out of the camper. 

You ran over to a man lying on the ground as Jane said, “Do me a favor and don’t be dead.”

“I think legally that was your fault!” Darcy called.

“Get the first aid kit,” you commanded as you kneeled beside him. You grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse -- there was a strong one, good. Next you looked at his face to examine any damage -- but before you could do that, you were taken aback by his beauty. He was… handsome, very handsome. Then he opened his eyes. 

He jumped up, muttering and stumbling around. Jane noticed the markings on the ground, and you saw them too, and they should’ve been important to you, but right now all you could focus on was this stranger. 

“Hammer...Hammer!” he suddenly yelled. 

“Yeah we can tell you’re hammered, that’s pretty obvious,” Darcy noted. 

Jane began trying to note the markings on the ground, telling Erik to look at them, but he was telling her they needed to get this stranger to a hospital. Your mind wasn’t exactly focused on either thing as you watched him. There was something… familiar about him, but you were sure you’d never seen him before in your life. 

“Father! Heimdall! I know you can hear me! Open the Bifrost!” the man commanded, making your hair stand on end. 

“Bifrost,” you muttered inaudibly. You’d heard that a lot. Actually you’d heard that in Norse mythology. Clearly this man was delusional and thought he was some Viking God…

“You! What Realm is this? Alfheim? Nornheim?” the man asked of Darcy. 

“New Mexico?” 

She pulled out her taser and aimed it at him. “Darcy, no!” you demanded. 

“You dare threaten me, Thor, with so puny of a weapon?!” 

She pulled the trigger and he dropped, just as a mortal man would, making some of your suspicion (and hope) fizzle out. Of course gods weren’t real, that was just silly. 

Tag list:

@reigningqueenofwords​

@cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you 

@winchester-writes​ 

@winchesterenthusiast​

 @georgialouisea​

 @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog​ 

@dammit-stark​ 

@livelikeawinchester​

 @sammysbuttcheek​

 @bran2015

 @misz-adrii​ 

@sandlee44​

 @womanxofletters​

 @natsuccs​

 @childishhoebinoo​

  @depressed-moose-78

 @oldfreakything​

@expecteddifferent​

​ @girl-next-door-writes​​ 

@fanaticfanfiction​​

 @dakotapaigelove​​ 

@sassy-spn-knight-of-hell​​

[changingourdestiny]

Beyond Light Part 5: Stasis, Secrets & Science

Summary:

Rae and friends travel beneath the ice to Bray Exoscience to locate the next shard and Praksis. But they end up learning something else regarding one of their own members...

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

“To my Eliksni sisters and brothers out amongst the stars and here at home on Europa: we have suffered a great loss today. Our beloved warrior Phylaks was murdered by not only a pawn of the once ‘Great Machine’, but a human Captain of the traitors known as House Light. As always, the machine-spawns eagerly seek to eradicate us. Remember, Light only burns bright for so long, but Darkness is forever.”

 “Traitors? Like she has room to talk!”

Tif pouted as Fireteam Paralight made their way their way down through the ice towards Bray Exoscience where the pull of the next shard was leading them. “Don’t mind her.” Blaze grinned, giving the Titan a playful nudge, “She’s just salty that we beat her best warrior. If she has a problem, she can shove it up her- whoa.”

Blaze cut herself off as they entered the inside of the facility. Despite being around for centuries and buried in ice, the inside was near spotless…aside from the dark shard floating above the platform. “Ok, I still stand by the fact that Clovis is a piece of crap,” Blaze began as she looked around, “But this place looks really nice.”

“Yeah! So shiny!” Tif beamed. Rae and Marcia approached the platform where the shard was. “You mind if I go this time?” Marcia asked, “I’ve had experience with Darkness before and I wanna ensure this doesn’t have any effects on Starlight.”

“Be my guest.” Rae motioned to the shard as she stepped back, allowing Marcia to double jump onto the platform. The Nightstalker took out her splinter and walked up to the shard, holding it up like Tif did. There was a brief glow as Marcia felt herself being frozen in stasis. She closed her eyes and let it happen. As the last of her was frozen, Rae watched as Marcia suddenly burst out of the stasis with a strained yell as what seemed to be two kama blades appeared in her hands. “Whoa!” Marcia exclaimed, examining the blades, “Not bad. Not bad at all!”

“Marcia, Eliksni incoming!” Nox alerted as Marcia spotted Fallen entering from a door at the other end of the room. “Good.” Marcia smirked, “Let’s see what this power can do!” Marcia leapt up into the air and threw her first blade at a group of Fallen, freezing them in place, as the second one exploded on impact and formed a stasis form that hunted down the remaining Fallen. “Whoohoohoo!” Marcia whooped, “This is so much better than Void!” The Hunter summoned what seemed like a stasis shuriken and threw it at a group of shanks. It ricocheted off each of them, striking all of them down. Marcia landed on the ground, rolling in the process, before snapping her fingers, letting out a wave of stasis. It went straight towards a servitor, freezing it in place, before seeking out the surrounding Fallen. Marcia whipped out her rocket launcher, Bad Omens, and fired it at the frozen Fallen, shattering them into pieces. Marcia sighed with a content smirk before feeling the energy leave her once more.

  “Now that!” Marcia grinned, stretching, “That felt satisfying!”

“Marcia, that was awesome!” Tif cheered. “Man…you took out those Eliksni like it was nothing.” Blaze mused, impressed.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of,” Rae began, “I’m gonna take a look around before we head back.”

“Why? There’s not much here. Well, aside from the Exo bodies. Which are very disturbing, might I add?” Blaze asked as she cautiously walked around a robotic body that was laying on the ground. “Eramis isn’t stupid.” Rae replied, sitting at a computer, “There’s no way she wouldn’t use the remaining tech here to her advantage. Chances are we might find something of use here.”

“Knock yourself out.” Marcia shrugged as she sat on the edge of the platform, her legs dangling. Rae browsed through the remaining files on the computer. A few of them were corrupted beyond salvaging, some were just cat pictures. Her curiosity was peaked when she saw a file with the lists of faculty members for each CB site in the system, one of them being Site-6. “Hey there’s a list of staff members for Site-6 here.” Rae called to Blaze. “Cool! We get to know who the assholes were that made SIVA.” Blaze chuckled, leaning over Rae’s shoulder to look at the list as Rae scrolled through it, “Screw you, Dr. Escher Zhang. Screw you, Dr. Marnie Ziglar. Screw you especially, Dr. Wilhelmina Bray. Screw you, Dr. A-”

Blaze went silent. Rae stopped scrolling.

“Uh…you guys okay?” Tif asked from where she was sitting beside Marcia. The two were just staring in disbelief at the screen. Marcia raised an eyebrow before hopping off the platform and walking towards them, “What’s got you two so rattled?” She peered over their shoulders at the screen and her face dropped in realisation, “Oh…”

Dr. Adam Bergfalk.

“It…it can’t be, right?” Blaze chuckled nervously, “There’s…gotta be loads of people with that name.”

“Only one way to find out.” Rae muttered as the clicked the file.

 Name: Dr. Adam Bergfalk.

Age: 36.

Rank: Junior Engineer for SIVA Project.

Assigned to: SIVA Replication Complex Site-6.

Important Notes:

Please ensure Dr. Bergfalk remembers to bring is arm in for weekly maintenance and himself for weekly check-ups. Ensure SIVA has affected no other parts of his body. We don’t need it eating his head too. We need that. ~SIVA.MEM.WB

Dr. Bray, as I’ve said a million times, my arm is FINE. I appreciate the check-ups, but I would also appreciate a little more confidence in my handywork. Speaking of which, whoever graffitied my arm with permanent marker while I was asleep: jokes on you, dumhuvud! I always have a spare on hand. And no, that’s not a pun. Also, I’ll be speaking to HR about some of the ‘statements’ you wrote. ~SIVA.MEM.AB

 In the corner of the profile was a mugshot of Adam. He had a confident and determined smirk on his face – almost a contrast to the quiet yet friendly Titan Rae and Blaze knew for so long. “Adam worked for Clovis…” Rae muttered. “Does it mention anything else?” Blaze asked, “Maybe he saw what assholes they were and quit?” Rae scrolled down through the file which had research notes, information and pictures in it, some of which were pictures of him with several other scientists when he first joined, one was him in a hospital bed without his arm looking very fed up while someone who bared resemblance to him seemed to be berating him, another was of him with a wrench in his mouth while he used a screwdriver to work on his metal arm which looked different to his current one – Rae assumed this arm was a prototype. Finally, Rae came across a note at the bottom.

 NOTICE OF MIA:

Following an explosion is his lab at Site-6, Dr. Adam Bergfalk has been reported as MIA as no trace of his body has been found. Until further notice, position of Junior Engineer has been passed to his assistant, Dr. Sigfrid Bergfalk. Investigation into the accident is underway and any new information will be posted here.

 “My guess is he died in that explosion…but they didn’t find his body?” Blaze spoke. “Maybe he managed to get out after the blast but died somewhere else?” Marcia suggested.

“I can’t believe it…” Rae muttered.

“Me neither.” Blaze replied, “To think he worked on-”

“He looks so smug!” Rae laughed, catching the other two Hunters off guard, “He’d never smirk like that now. He must’ve been a pain to work with. He sounds so sassy in his notes too!”

Rae got up from where she was sitting and turned off the computer, “Well, we better get back to work. Let’s head back to Variks’s place and figure out our next move.”

“You’re…not freaked out that Adam worked for the Brays? On Siva?” Blaze asked, confused. “Why would I be?” Rae replied with a smile, “That Adam died ages ago. He’s definitely not the Adam we know now. It doesn’t matter who he was, it’s who he is now.”

Blaze seemed surprised, her voice leaving her. “Hey!” Tif called over to the trio, “I just got a message from Variks! He says our next target is somewhere here in the facility!”

“C’mon, we got a house to tear down.” Rae smiled as she got her gun at the ready and continued into the labs. “Who he is now…” Blaze muttered as she subconsciously reached to where her ring once hung around her neck before smiling and following Rae alongside Tif and Marcia, feeling reassured.

“Brig incoming!”

“TRAVELLER’S CRACK!!!”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “I have seen what power has done to Eramis. But…perhaps you are different. Perhaps there is hope. Praksis. He is the visionary mind behind Eramis’s technology. He wrings power from the Darkness itself. But Variks was not privy to his secrets, his experiments. You must discover how he creates these dark weapons…and stop him.”

 “I…hate…BRIGS!” Blaze growled as she tried to catch her breath, the remains of the giant brig smouldering on the platform. “No, no, no…” Praksis’s voice came through the comms, “Troubling. Embarrassing. I must keep this from Eramis. The data must be clean.”

“D’aww! Is he embawwassed that the wittle Guardians twashed his science pwoject?” Marcia cooed before laughing. “Yeah, antagonise the Eliksni in charge of Eramis’s weapons. That’ll end well.” Rae sighed. “Relax! We’ll be fine! Let’s go!” Marcia took off towards the entrance at the back of the room when…

*BA-BOOM!!!*

“Guardian down.” Nox announced as Marcia’s body was thrown across the room by the explosion, “There were tripwires.”

Praksis could be heard laughing through the comms as Nox revived Marcia who then got to her feet. Rae started laughing, “Now you can’t give me slack for the time I triggered Drifter’s tripwires when you fell for the same trap!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcia groaned as she stretched, “Let’s just go kill Eramis’s head nerd already.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “We should be nearly there.” Rae called out as the fireteam traversed the halls of Bray Exoscience.

“Hang on! I’m almost there!”

Rae, Blaze and Marcia turned around to see Tif slowly approaching them on what seemed like a roomba – similar to the ones Rae saw on Titan. “Really?” Marcia smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What? They’re cool!” Tif grinned, “And strong. I’m wearing a good bit of armour and this can still carry my weight no problem.”

“Well, you are pretty small.” Marcia chuckled.

“Am not! I’m 5 ft 6!” Tif pouted, “I’m not that much smaller than you!”

Marcia laughed, “I’m just messin’ with ya, Tif.”

Tif stuck out their tongue before hopping off the roomba and following the others further down the hall.

“Hey, Rae?” Tif asked.

“Yep?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, since you and Variks mentioned him before, but who’s Cayde-6? He’s an Exo, right?”

Rae nodded, “He’s the Hunter vanguard and my boyfriend. He and his Ghost died in the Prison of Elders, but I was able to save him with an ability Paralians have.”

“Awesome!” Tif beamed, “My girlfriend’s a Hunter too. She’s super cool!”

“Wait. You have a girlfriend?” Blaze asked, seeming surprised. “Yup!” Tif replied happily, “Her name’s Azara. But I call her Azzy and she calls me Tiffy! She looks scary and mean but she’s super nice and cool! She likes being in the wild and sometimes visits me at Misraaks’s skiff when she’s passing through. One time, I was about to get blasted by an ogre and she picked me up and saved be before I got exploded. She’s really strong and she’s so fast! It felt like we teleported when she saved me. I love her so much!”

Rae couldn’t help but smile as Tif talked about their girlfriend. Their eyes were practically twinkling, and the smile never left their face. “You two must love each other very much.” Blaze noted. “Of course!” Tif grinned, “I’d do anything for her, and she’d do anything for me too! Right now she’s in the Tangled Shore investigating some Eliksni that were acting weird. I’ll be joining her once I finish up here.”

“Well, let us know if you ever need backup. We’d love to meet her.” Rae smiled.

“I will! She’d love to meet you too!”

 The fireteam arrived in a large room with a catwalk leading to an odd, spherical object. As they approached the catwalk, Praksis’s laugh cut them off as he came flying in on a Shank that exploded as he landed before them. “Well that was an entrance.” Rae muttered. “Eramis does not permit errors, so I will not fail.” Praksis growled as he got is gun at the ready. “What a coincidence!” Marcia gave a dark grin as she activated her super, a void bow appearing in her hands.

“Neither do I.”

 To Be Continued…

[mnchysmanuscripts]

Twenty Twenty

It’s that time of year again, waves of resolutions are washing across my timeline and a sense of self-improvement is in the air. If you think for a second I’m going to miss out on an opportunity for easy compliments and encouragement, you clearly don’t know me that well. But, I’m not a huge fan of New Year’s resolutions. Creating pass/fail goals over long stretches of time that necessitate radical changes to your lifestyle without accompanying radical changes to your lifestyle never seem to work out. I am a huge fan of yearly themes, however. In fact, I had one for 2019.

Last year was the Year of More. I knew that once I started college I wouldn’t have nearly as much temporal freedom as I once had to waste away and accomplish nothing of value, and so I resolved to branch out and expand my both literal and figurative palate as much as possible before school started. It’s hard to state exactly how successful the year was without concrete data, but I was able to accomplish a few of my goals. I picked up new skills that I use still routinely, I massively expanded my pool of artistic inspiration and intellectual stimuli, I tried a bunch of weird/scary foods, traveled to far off places without my mommy, and moved to a new city across the country. All of these are great victories, but the actual moment to moment of the year was pretty much how the moment to moment of my life had been before it. One of the main goals of the Year of the More was to finish creative projects I had always wanted to but never found the time or place for. That, obviously, didn’t pan out. As it turns out, you can’t do more things just by saying you’ll do more things. Productivity doesn’t really work like that.

Your brain loves crossing out items in a to-do list. There’s no greater feeling in the world than accomplishing your goals and seeing men cower at the sight. But, doing things is hard. It requires time and effort, both of which are limited resources. Not to mention, while your brain loves a completed project, it hates actually performing the actions necessary to complete them. If it’s a matter of life or death, your brain can compel you to do almost anything, but it will continuously try to weasel out of every other scenario until it reaches that point. Besides, your deadline isn’t that urgent. Maybe it won’t be a big deal if you don’t get started right away. You’ve been so good lately too, you deserve a break. You can always get it done tomorrow. It’s here, when your brain is confronted with ambiguity of necessity and genuinely plausible excuses, that it becomes all too easy to become distracted and procrastinate. The problem is multiplied when you have multiple projects you want to work on, because even the act of deciding what project to work on can trigger you to hesitate and become distracted. When you’re distracted, you’re not doing work and you aren’t really having fun either. It’s hard to not feel guilty booting up that video game when you know you should be working, but it’s equally as hard to pry yourself away from it once you start playing. You’re stuck in the middle, all because there was no clear decision to be made. In your hesitation, your brain defaulted to the path of least resistance and you’re paying for it. This sort of thing would happen to me nearly every day of my life. And it wasn’t just my laziness, there’s something else at play here too.

Across the nation, our best and brightest are being round up and employed at a handful of mega-corporations with a singular purpose: to find cool, new ways to sell things to you. This is not a conspiracy, this is not science fiction, this was cutting edge ten years ago and now it’s just taken for granted by everyone who thinks about it for more than a second. Your favorite social media is not a neutral platform that you come to socialize and consume content on. It is a business, and as a business it has the sole purpose of making money, and the way these business makes money is by selling ad space and by selling your data to advertisers. The longer you look and the more you refresh, the more advertisements you’ll see and the more data you’ll leave behind. All the while, that social media platform is making money. Many people I know, perhaps even you reading this sentence right now, get the vast majority of their social interaction and consume the vast majority of their media through these systems which have been designed with the sole purpose of maximizing the amount of time spent looking at advertisements. To accomplish this, social media platforms (and by extension the promoted user generated content on said platforms) intentionally make their websites as addicting as possible. They develop algorithms to show you the posts that will keep you the most engaged, for better or for worse, because they need to keep your attention for as long as possible. It doesn’t matter if you have AdBlock and aren’t literally seeing advertisements, the systems these websites are built on still affect you and are still extremely dangerous. We have become addicted to refreshing the page in the hopes that we will get to see and consume more and more content like pigs at a trough, all for the benefit of the pasty nerds and rich people. Just to be clear, I’m not above this. You aren’t stupid for closing that tab just to reopen it moments later. Like I said, our best and brightest are intentionally designing these systems for their job. They are preying on the mind’s easily exploitable ability to become distracted and using it for possibly the most evil goal fucking imaginable. Facebook broke your brain to spam you with pop-up ads.

And so, as a result of being a scatterbrained creative with too much time on my hands and a stable internet connection, I have the worst of both worlds. I’m pushed by my lack of severe lack of self-discipline and easily distractible set of hobbies, and pulled by algorithms designed by a team of the nation’s top scientists to be as addicting and time-consuming as possible, into becoming a strange being consisting only of wasted time and untapped potential.

But no more, I say. It’s time I take matters into my own hands. These distractions are like the brambles of a jungle-- chaotic and ever-growing. I must cleave through them with my machete and create the sort of life I want to live in. It’ll be a life without distractions, without addictions. It’ll be a life of intentionality, of clarity. I will conquer this jungle.

2020 is the Year of Conquest. I’m taking back my life and making sure I live as intentional of a life as I possibly can. What’s so painful about distractions is how they can eat away an afternoon or an entire day you promised yourself you would spend working. I’m not going to never play a video game ever again, quite the opposite. I’m simply going to clearly define times where I will work and times I will play, there can’t be anymore ambiguity. When I’m working, I’m working. When I’m playing, I’m playing. And, of course, I will try as hard as I can to wrestle with my addiction to social media. I’m not leaving the internet, obviously. I will still use social media but, again, in an intentional manner. I will not allow my tools to seduce me. My phone does not get to beckon me to it with notifications and interrupt my work. I will use it when and only when I choose to.

All this might sound a bit vague, but that’s how themes work best. The Year of Conquest is simply the prompt, the starting point for a whole roster of specific resolutions. I fully intend to get more specific and walkthrough my actual plans/goals for the year, but if I just start listing them all right now then I’ll get a dopamine rush that’ll satiate my self-improvement appetite and I’ll end up not actually doing them. In general though, I’m going to use a combination of incentivizes, disincentivizes, and structural lifestyle changes to try and lead a more intentional life. These carrots, sticks, and tracks definitely can and will be explained in a future post but again that’s a story for another time. Probably tomorrow, it’s my bedtime.

(Send me asks and give me some feedback. It makes me happy to know people are actually reading.)

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHAT NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ABOUT FUNCTION

The inconvenience of this model becomes more and more often. It is no accident. Back when I was talking recently to Robert Morris, and he pointed out that operator overloading is a bigger win in languages with infix syntax, there's a big difference in appearance between the use of an overloaded operator and a function call. For Larry Page the most important problems in their field. Related fields are also good sources, especially when they're related in unexpected ways. I become much more aware of it. A large part of it.

Lisp macros are unique. The importance of personal introductions varies, but is less than with angels or VCs. This was too subtle for me. To become more popular, you need to sell it is a fine model for certain kinds of applications that need that specific kind of data structure, like window systems, simulations, and cad programs. It may turn out to be real stinkers. If you know it's going to feel terrible sometimes, then when it feels terrible you won't think ouch, this feels terrible, I give up. There were a few things we would have the new feature too. The programmers I admire most are not, on the whole smarter than other kids, though never studying or at least language implementors, like to write compilers that generate fast code. This fact originated in Spamhaus's ROKSO list, which I think even Spamhaus would admit is a rough guess at the top. Com the ultimate men's entertainment magazine. The distribution of popularity is not a factor in popularity, why are smart kids so consistently unpopular?

The companies in the current batch have the. This is true of all venture funding, but especially so in the seed stage, the board of directors will become more powerful. One of the two founders was still in the future, so far that we didn't even know at the time, just like they do to startups everywhere. It let them build great looking online stores literally in minutes. There was no Internet then. What makes the answer appear is letting your thoughts drift a bit—and thus drift off the wrong path you'd been pursuing last night and onto the right one adjacent to it. A tables were full of football players and cheerleaders and so on. Starting a startup to starting one, and instead of physical knobs it had buttons and an LED display. Sun's future. There was something else I wanted more: to be smart. Imagine you'd called your company something else.

This was Henry Ford's plan. Whether you end up with wouldn't even be a spreadsheet. It takes time to find investors, and time always more than you spend, the easier it is to kill. And if we don't, the US could be seriously fucked. In fact the second step can propagate back into the first: if something is hard to buy, especially if you deserve them. Our plan was to write software that would let end users build online stores. That's also a fairly accurate description of the past. Apple did this earlier this year.

I let errands eat up the day, to avoid facing some hard problem. Another friend of mine once got in trouble with the government for breaking into computers. It was more prestigious to be one-directional: support people who hear about bugs fill out some form that eventually gets passed on possibly via QA to programmers, who put it on their list of things to do. It was no coincidence that the first yuppies worked in fields where it was easy to measure that. In the Bay Area it's the Band of Angels. No thanks, intellectual homeowners may say, we don't need any outside help. And yet also in a way of life that was literally uniform.

So for any given idea, the payoff for acting fast in a bad economy. At places like MIT they were writing programs in high-level languages on the other. In these situations, the deal terms tend to be unhappy in middle school and high school. If they're so smart, why don't they figure out how popularity works and beat the system, that's also called a hack. Reproduced by permission of Steve Wozniak. But when our hypothetical Blub programmer looks in the other direction: sometimes, particularly in university math and science departments, nerds deliberately exaggerate their awkwardness in order to put technical barriers between us and our competitors would get none, and eventually go out of business. While the nerds were being trained to get the right answers, and that's what the startup is in the early days of microcomputers. Whereas I claim hacking and painting are also related, in the sense of not having been to college. This metaphor doesn't stretch that far. Software is particularly suitable for price discrimination, because the marginal cost is close to zero. Data is by definition easy to copy. But they could be.

The second component of the antidote is chance meetings with people who help you—are driven by the same underlying cause: the number of people completing the test drive and found that at a certain step they would get all kinds of publicity. Distraction is not a single piece of code you don't need Microsoft on the client, they can't get that mad, because they treat this as evidence of laziness. Why not as past-due notices are always saying do it now? But hackers seem to be facing off in a kind of argument that might be yanked out from under you? The way to kill it is to design a good programming language? What happens in that shower? If anyone remembers Viaweb this might sound odd, because we were so inexperienced that we were savages and our world was stupid.