#I personally just always knew I wanted to be a scientist which requires degrees

[cactusbaseball]

The farther I get in academia the more I realize how bullshit the Ivy League and similar colleges are. I’m not saying you can’t get a good education or conduct cool research at any of those schools, but I really think the only thing Ivy leagues can offer that a decent public university can’t is the status of having an Ivy League degree, which only takes u so far if ur not already from a wealthy background. When I was in high school I was so convinced I had to go to a fancy private school to be successful. I got into some but couldn’t afford any, and ended up going to a big public school. But guess what! I graduated debt free, got a job in my field right out of college, and am now entering the same selective grad program as students who went to ivy leagues for undergrad. Idk if there are any stressed overachieving high school seniors reading this but if you are please know that you do not have to go into 100,000 dollars of debt going to Harvard or some shit to lead a successful life.

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Intruder, Pt. 4

McKay and Lindström, one of the scientists handpicked by him for the science team on Atlantis, start checking up the power distribution systems. McKay seems to know this man well enough to trust him to be able to do what he wants him to do. They have clearly worked together previously.

McKay calls him by his last name but Lindström calls him Rodney, also implying a degree of familiarity. This probably means that McKay didn't just pick him out of a stack of applications but from a pool of people he knew personally. So when the ship decides to kill Lindström by throwing him out of the airlock, you can tell that McKay takes the blow pretty hard. This is the second person to die from his own team within an hour, and he was powerless to stop it. He is actually at a loss for words, his lip trembling as he tries to process what had just happened.

Sometime later McKay is being tended to by Beckett, breathing oxygen through a mask. Again in this scene we see Sheppard standing way back, watching McKay from a distance. And again he is fiddling with something, this time a video feed, just to have something occupy him as though he needs something to physically ground him to keep him from getting closer to McKay, going where his body wants him to be. We have seen him forcibly keep himself from comforting McKay before but now it seems like it's not just the numerous other people gathered in the small space that are the problem, it's also that he doesn't want McKay himself to notice he is worried.

Sheppard seems to be listening keenly, though, his attention snapping to Beckett when he mentions how close to losing McKay he had just been again.

McKay: I already told you, I'm fine. Beckett: He's right, it appears he didn't inhale enough toxins to cause any permanent damage... although a few more seconds of exposure and it would have been quite a different story.

In the background, Sheppard very obviously pretends to be studying the video feed intensely while listening to the discussion the others are having. He only interjects when it starts seeming like Weir and Caldwell are interrogating McKay about just what he had been doing. Might be that he didn't want them to continue pursuing this line of investigation lest is lead them to dig into McKay's whereabouts on a more detailed basis.

He steps closer but he still allows Weir to stand between him and McKay, which is something he would not have tolerated previously, he always sought to remove any obstacles between the two of them. Now, he seems to need the buffer. Sheppard also doesn't quite know where to fix his eyes. Like he's trying so hard to act normal that it becomes unnatural. Even when McKay is talking, he's trying to fix his eyes on anything else. He tries so hard to sound casual that he comes across like he's bored by the whole ordeal, like he couldn't even be bothered.

Sheppard: Security cameras. If the person who killed Monroe was able to get into the system to erase evidence, there's no reason he couldn't do the same thing to keep tabs on the investigation. McKay: Assuming it's a he. Caldwell: How many personnel on board have the technical skills to do something like this? McKay: Almost everybody! That's what you get for assembling a team of brilliant scientists.

What McKay says here is a little bit strange, and the strangeness is emphasized by the confused look Weir gives him. For one, he doesn't know that the thing is not a person but a computer virus yet and really has no basis to make that kind of leap. He also very, very likely does not mean that Sheppard is being sexist by assuming it's a man instead of a woman as though a woman couldn't be a murderer just as well as a man, because McKay really doesn't spend enough time thinking about women to make that kind of a leap. He very clearly doesn't like women but thinking that a woman might be responsible would be to give one agency in a way that his mind probably wouldn't go for because that would require him to think of women as people.

What he could be referring to is Hermiod, being an alien with no junk and hence not really sexed but given that he has been working closely with him and has, in fact, referred to him as a he, it's also unlikely he's referring to non-human gender by his comment. So it's kind of strange for him to make the comment. But it does call attention to the assumptions we make about the gender of people in certain roles. It's poignant in the sense that we assume that the characters are heterosexual and hence motivated by the opposite sex when that is not the case here. Making that assumption hinders us from seeing things that are really quite obvious at the end of the day.

Further, McKay mentions assembling a team of brilliant scientists. Yes, he's patting himself on the back but he is also complimenting the people on his team. He is giving them credit. It also tells us that he was able to get over the bloated ego caused by his poor self-esteem to be able to pick people he thinks would be able to do the job because it's important to him that they have the best of the best. Even when it might make him feel personally insecure and feel like he would have to prove himself, there were so many situations in the past year where he was being crushed under the weight of having to perform miracle after miracle, of being expected to do things that were barely humanly possible, that he knew he could use all the help he can get.

And further, he wants to keep Atlantis and the people he has come to love and consider his family safe. He could easily get over his ego for a cause like that.

They try to go over the possibilities through deductive reasoning, coming to the conclusion that it is impossible for a wraith to be onboard. Caldwell orders for all the civilians to be confined in their quarters with the exception of Weir and McKay, and this seems to be a part of the power play going on between him and Weir due to his sore feelings about being passed over for Sheppard as the military commander of Atlantis. There are things brewing underneath the surface not just for Sheppard and McKay.

If McKay kept quiet earlier, Sheppard seems to have uncharacteristically little to say now. He's trying so hard not to let anything show on his face or in his eyes that he looks almost vacant listening to McKay talk. It's like the both of them are giving the other man wide breadth.

We then get another flashback of Weir's time on Earth, and we get to compare how Weir is when it comes to playing favourites with someone that she is in a romantic relationship with. Where she was willing to fight to get Sheppard for the position she wanted, she was careful to let Beckett make the final decision with regards to getting Simon selected. She might have nudged him in the right direction, she may even have believed that Simon would get chosen on his own merit, but she wasn't going to blackmail Beckett (or the entire US military) to get him selected for the position. Her fighting to get Sheppard had a different motivation. She expressed indignation for their treatment of Sheppard where for the person she was actually involved with, she just had her hopes up. Because the thing about Sheppard was never just about Sheppard, it was a much bigger ideological battle.

We then see a private moment between Weir and Simon where he tells her that he just needs a little more time. This may or may not give us some insight as to what might have occurred between Sheppard and McKay during those two months we never got to see. Sheppard's promotion did put them into an entirely new situation. Weir actually explicitly tells Simon that "every single person on this entire expedition is in the exact same situation," further suggesting that the scenes between them are a narrative mirror for Sheppard and McKay. And Simon tells Weir she can't just expect him to drop everything at two weeks' notice when they've now spent two weeks on the Daedalus on their return voyage. There are some clear points of connection here.

Likely, because we started the episode with Weir and Sheppard having their heart-to-heart in the commissary, Weir mirrors Sheppard and Simon mirrors McKay. Simon is feeling put-upon just as McKay likely felt after the events following Sheppard running off on him on the control chair platform. And here Weir and Simon are, heading toward an inevitable break-up even though both of them very much still seem to love the other. There is also a fascinating transition from Simon to McKay:

Simon: I understand. Look, I just need a little more time. Hermiod: Doctor McKay. You are just in time. McKay: For what? What are you looking at?

So, if Simon=McKay and Weir=Sheppard, it invites to ask what these flashbacks between Weir and Simon tell us about everything we didn't get to see between Sheppard and McKay. Simon later tells Weir that "There's something else. I met someone. You were gone for a long time, Elizabeth." Now, we don't actually know if what Simon told her is the truth (and notice that no gender is mentioned here, possibly a call-back to McKay's line about assuming someone's gender). Yes, he may have met someone else in the year that she was gone. But it's also possible that he lied to her just to get her off the hook. He believed that she was doing this out of guilt, trying to get him to come to Atlantis and have romantic dinners and try to reconnect because she felt guilty that she had effectively abandoned him, that she'd been gone a year and then come back like nothing had happened. That Weir actually wanted to be free of him, of the the thing that still tied her back to Earth. And thinking that Weir didn't truly want to be with him, he came up with this lie. He wanted to let her go. At the very end, he almost says something to Weir but then decides not to. Something between them is left unsaid.

If you love something, set it free, they say. If it comes back, it's yours. If not, it was never meant to be. He loves her, so he lets her go. He loves her, so he sets her free with no expectations, no demands put on her. She doesn't realize this because she is feeling guilty about having gone so long. Subconsciously, she probably wants to believe it's true. If he has found someone, then she doesn't have to feel all that guilt, doesn't have to feel so bad about having walked out on him, abandoning him. It makes it easier for her to move on. Yes, it hurts, but she'll get over it. She'll finally have her freedom to pursue what ever there is on Atlantis that makes her happy. And maybe, one day, Simon will find someone on Earth that will make him as happy as Atlantis seems to make Elizabeth. So, while he may have met someone, it may just as easily be a lie to told her to make it easier for her to move on.

Now, there are some parallels between them and Sheppard and McKay. McKay feels like Sheppard walked out on him, abandoned him. He wasn't gone a year but he did hurt him deeply and then McKay felt like he just expected him to move on like nothing had happened. In truth, he did need a little more time but it didn't seem like that was something Sheppard could give him. In fact, Sheppard's promotion didn't just expect him to be able to move on but demanded a much bigger commitment out of him. Sheppard expected him to participate in a masquerade that had already been killing him inside, when he'd noticed that he wasn't even allowed to grieve for the loss of someone he loved because of the damn military he was committed to serving, it all just seemed too hard. Like Sheppard was asking too much from him. He wasn't strong enough to do this. As much as he loved Sheppard, he couldn't do this. So maybe he did tell Sheppard a lie, just to get him and his shiny new promotion off the hook. The promotion did seem to make him so happy, after all.

They hadn't seen each other for (a month? two months?), and he told Sheppard he had met someone else. Never mind how insulting it would be if Sheppard actually believed his lie (and he didn't, really; but the fact that McKay would even think to come up with it told him more than he wanted to know), but he loved Sheppard so much that he felt like he needed to let him go. He was hurting so much that he would inevitably end up hurting Sheppard which was the last thing he wanted. So to protect Sheppard from his own bitterness, from his hurt, he lied to let him go. And Sheppard could only respect his decision by pretending to believe that obvious, obvious lie. And here they were, both hurting, both wanting nothing but to be with the other but being unable to get to them. They both loved each other too much to be with each other, and how's that for irony?

So, not wanting actually to go out with anyone else, McKay conveniently found Katie Brown. A member of the science team, he might even have chosen her for the mission personally, perhaps even having interviewed her for the position. A woman we know his body kissed once because he couldn't even bring himself to do that on his own. A woman Sheppard tells us he never even got the second base with. A woman with whom he almost fainted when she even hinted she might want to do something sexual with him. A woman his best friend barely believed he had even asked out because of her sex. A red-headed woman who is physically as far away from Sheppard as you can get. Convenient Katie Brown. Also, if it ever happened that they had an accident, like some night he'd trip and fall face first on Sheppard's dick, it would be real good for people to think he was dating a woman. The way McKay said "Assuming it's a he" to Sheppard earlier, it might not be the first time he has said the words to him. But we'll circle back to that in a few episodes hence.

But yeah, based on the narrative mirror of Weir and Simon, it's possible the whole Katie Brown business had already started here, before they even returned to Atlantis. Because McKay felt he needed to tell Sheppard a lie to set him free and which Sheppard only pretended to believe because he thought McKay needed space, needed time to process what had happened between them. Both of them were hurting so badly, and seemed unable to get to each other to make it hurt less. This is why Sheppard is skulking by the video feed, as far from McKay as he can be. This is why McKay can barely look him in the eye. They know each other too well. They are able to discern the other's thoughts from their face, the look in their eyes. And right now, both were trying very hard to keep their thoughts to themselves.

Continued in Pt. 5

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird, “A Preoccupation with Death.”

Hope you enjoy :)

Analysis By Dr. Krill MD

Humanity’s preoccupation with death has always fascinated me: I say fascinated because to say that it disturbs me would be rather unscientific, and I have been attempting to reign in my anger… I have had some… complaints over the last year about the unprofessionalism of my previous papers. The GA community does not appreciate, and I quote, “Excessive swearing, and screaming” in virtual reports, so today I will attempt to be calm and relaxed as I explain to you, common human traditions based around death.

Now you must understand, from my perspective these practices are quite bizarre. Vrull have no rituals associated with death. The Vrull are disposed of and their bodies are incinerated. The ash is then disposed with by mixing into the soil to produce needed plants on the planet surface. There are no other options, and no other arrangements are made.

However, I am told that funeral rights with humans are, often, more to do with what the living need than what the deceased do. However, there are some funeral rights believed to be required in certain human cultures, so that rule does not always hold completely true.

I will begin from the moment of death.

Unlike the Vrull humans do not know their exact time of death. Granted this is not because the Vrull have a set clocking system in their bodies which sets the time in which we die, but because our society sets forth a time of our usefulness. No one knows how long a Vrull can feasibly live because no one has tried it before. I myself might plan on finding out, as I have no intention of returning for my scheduled termination, which is already a year overdue.

Humans, like most other species die in several different ways, accidents, sickness, or the sudden failure of the body due to old age, the final one generally happening peacefully and in their sleep.

However this is where humans tend to diverge from their inhuman counterparts, in that they are very social creatures, the death of a human is usually witnessed by multiple family members and friends, in the case of sickness, and is mourned many weeks after because the death of someone in your social circle changes that circle forever. Social bonds are cut and entire social lives are upended. Humans bond so heavily with each other that the loss of one of their own can lead to mental and emotional trauma extreme enough to require medication and hospitalization.

Humans plan their deaths months to years in advance. In certain instances, their jobs force them to plan their death in advance in case something were to happen. Decisions need to be made about who owns their property, where it goes, what happens to their dwellings, and how the surviving members of their family will be supported. Sometimes they plan this due to terminal illness which they knew will lead to their deaths, otherwise they might just do it out of precaution.

There are many different ways of disposing of a corpse. First of all, you must determine if any of the human parts are recyclable: this being the very morbid idea of taking someone else’s organs and giving them to another person. Now with the advancement of this technology, organ transplants from donors is not as common as it once was seeing as they can now 3D print organs. However, this method is not time effective and is very costly, in some cases leaving the harvesting of deceased human organs to be the only viable option.

Yes, they take organs from dead people… the doctor and surgeon in me admires that thought process, but the thinking breathing creature inside of me recoils heavily at the idea.

Assuming that no one requires your organs, or if you have especially requested for your organ not to be used  than there are other questions that need to be addressed. There are humans who have jobs especially in the business of taking care of dead bodies. They are generally moved in special containers and placed in refrigerated units to slow decomposition while the relatives determine what they want to do with the body.

In certain cases, where the death is suspicious, as related to murder, there are, in fact, humans who specilize in determining the cause and time of death based on the decomposition rate of a body and the stiffness of the flesh itself. This is a semi-common practice across the galaxy, and I myself have performed one or two autopsies since my professional career began though they are far more common for humans.

I find that the most humane method of human enterrement, and the one that makes most sense to me as a Vrull is the idea of cremation. The body is taken and placed in a furnace that is then heated enough to turn the body to ash leaving only bone fragments and the occasional mineral deposit. The ash may then be given to the family members or disposed of accordingly. Some humans find it comforting to keep the remains in some sort of container.... A fact which I find morbid but, we have proven in abundance that I find much of what humanity does, rather morbid.

It is only going to get worse.

The other method of disposal, popular through human history, however made someone obscure in recent centuries due to the proliferation of human burial sites…. The common north american and European Burial and funeral rights went as follows. After death, and freezing in the morgue, a special human with the job of mortician is called in to prepared the body for burial…. This is where it gets very morbid.

The body is drained of all of its fluids and then pumped full of preservatives to slow down the process of decomposition. The faces are then painted with makeup to give the corpse the appearance of sleep rather than death. The body is dressed in fine clothing and placed inside a coffin or casket: these in themselves can cost thousands of dollars as the family members decide what materials the box should be made out of and lined with, precious metals, woods like oak or steel, and the inside lined in velvet satin or silk. The body is placed inside with the person dressed in a finely tailored suit before a hearse: a special vehicle designed to carry caskets is brought to the place of mourning, generally a curch or a funeral home.

Many times the body is then put through a “viewing”.... It sounds just as bad as I make it seem, when the humans come in…. In large groups…. To stare at their dead relative. Just…. Stare at their rotting corpse before it is hauled away and lowered into an six foot hole in the earth. A decorative rock is then place on top of that inscribed with the deceased’s name so that everyone knows where to find their moldering corpse….

….

….

I am told this provides a lot of closure for family members, though I have yet to understand why staring at a painted corpse would be helpful.’

Unfortunately, with humans, this isn't the most gruesome method they have of corpse disposal, nor the most involved 

You may also chose to donate your body to science…

They might hand your bod over to a medical school, where aspiring doctors will, in groups, dissect your corpse slowly over an intervening few weeks or months. It is… gruesome, but a necessary part of the learning process. Your skeleton might even be recycled for use as a tool to demonstrate the skeletal structure to those very same students.

Perhaps your body will end up in a museum, where they will encase your nervous system in plaster and place it on a wall for school children and visiting day travelers to view.

Perhaps you might donate your body to…. A body farm. A palace where scientists will toss your corpse out into different elements to observe the rate and change of decomposition based on different dump sites. They will examine the decomposition, the moisture loss, and the bugs which take to eating your body. This research will then be used to determine the cause o death for other corpses disposed of by murderers or in similar fashion.

It is gruesome, but I suppose…. It is useful for scientific efforts.

These aren't the only methods of body disposal.

Bodies have been tied to the top of large towers

Thrown into the woods to be eaten by animals

Dumped into pits.

And in a couple of cases, launched into the vacuum of space.

Different rituals require family members to spend more or less time with the body, to wrap it in special cloth, or to anoint it with certain oils. 

The Egyptians were widely known for their complex and involved enterrement rituals commonly known as mummification.

The body was first embalmed

The brain was removed

The organs removed and placed in specialized canopic jars 

The body was then dried

Then wrapped which continued to help in the drying process 

Then the body was finally entered, and due to the sandy heat of the desert, the body was often preserved to a great and surprising degree. Egyptians believed that those things you had in life would come with you after death, and so egyptian rulers were entered with great riches and inside grand palaces 

Then of course there is the last ritual which I learned about just recently.

Certain tribal societies will….. Eat…. their dead….

They will eat them….

As in the entire village will get together and consume the corpse in a feast, believing that without this they cannot enter the afterlife.

…..

…

…

…

…

I am going to draft a proposal to the GASC that screaming and profanities should be considered scientifically appropriate when in regards to humans

[beccarooni]

The End - Chapter 2

(Tag list: @ageofgeek, @elreyciervo, @woahthisguy, @generationblip - ask to be added!)

Loki hadn’t been permitted to show his face at Frigga’s funeral, but he’d had a good enough second-hand description to imagine it as if he had. Golden towers, draped with black cloth. His mothers boat, adorned with flowers, her sword placed in her hands and a golden veil over her face. A flaming arrow shot by their finest archers - and even that too was gold. Frigga would sail to the ends of their horizon; dissolving into flame and sparks, her spirit scattered amongst the stars, marking her journey to Valhalla. Where the brave shall live forever.

He knew the feelings well enough; even if the visual had not been his. He knew that aching feeling inside - like a creature, tiny and desperate, trapped beneath his ribcage and clawing to escape. Loss was something he was well acquainted with by now; and the splendour that Asgard attached to it seemed almost intrinsic to the process. Asgard’s warriors died the deaths of heroes; it was only right that their passages would be heralded by something as glorious as they had in life.

Cramped in the Quinjet bathroom, with barely enough room to get on his knees, Loki muttered out the parting prayer - quiet enough so that Banner couldn’t hear from the other side of the door. A piece of his armour caught against the sink, and all of a sudden he was struck by how wrong this felt.

Sadness, he expected. Fury, and rage; those were emotions he knew came with death. But this sense of wrongness, of shame - it was new. It was new, and uncomfortable, and he wanted it to stop.

There was no body to bury. Nothing to cast to the stars, no boat to lay his brother to rest in, no hammer to place gently against his chest. This was the best he could do, and it burned his face with shame. Loki didn’t know the fate of the others. They may have survived, but they also may have died. And that would make Thor the last one. Possibly the last true Asgardian, and this was how his parting from this world would be marked. No fanfare, no lanterns, no stars.

An airplane bathroom, smaller than a closet, and a few words whispered from cracked and bleeding lips. The harsh smell of cleaning agents, and the harsher glare of the flickering light above him. A body, his brother, left in the cold grip of space - maybe forever. The best he could hope for was that a passing garbage collector would take pity on the condemned, and at least allow them the decency of a disposal.

This was what Loki of Asgard had to offer the God of Thunder, and it sickened him to think of it.

Loki swallowed, pressed his forehead against the plastic walls, and muttered the last of the prayers.

“Thor, I bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave shall live forever. Nor shall we mourn but rejoice, for those that have died the glorious death.”

Glorious death.

He sniffed, slumping from his knees further to the floor, and shutting his eyes against the world.

There was nothing glorious about this.

His throat hurt, and he allowed himself a few tears as the neon light flickered above him. The prayer was the only tribute he had to give. Well, that and revenge, of course.

Revenge was a talent Loki had yet to perfect. His schemes had a nasty habit of going awry at the last second - but, he supposed, the one person who was always there to thwart said schemes wasn’t here anymore. Now, there was a stretch of open road between him and his dagger piercing Thanos’s heart. Wherever that monster landed, whatever cursed ground marked the final battle, he knew he would be there. His soul wouldn’t let him rest if he wasn’t.

That would be the final gesture he could make for his brother, then. Thanos would die at his hand, he would pay for all he had taken from them. The gentle ending that they were robbed of; where they sailed to earth through the stars, as their ancestors once had. Where they landed, safe and sound, and rebuilt their departed homeworld. If the Mad Titan was so fond of balance, then he could experience it for himself. The scales would tip even with his death; and then, perhaps Loki could rest. Leave for somewhere new, and condemn this blood soaked tapestry to the dirt.

The tale of the house of Odin; beginning in blood, and ending as it began. Crimson, it seemed, was destined to stain the pages of their storybook. And Loki had seen more than enough of it for one lifetime.

“Hey, Loki?”

Banner knocked on the door, gentle enough that Loki almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the engines.

“Are you alright in there? It’s just, uh, it’s been a while. I don’t know if you’re sick, or...yeah.”

Loki cleared his throat, moving to his feet. A quick glance in the mirror, an adjustment of illusions, and he was himself again. There was a certain image he wanted to uphold with the Avengers; even if Banner had certainly seen worse of him (tied to a chair in Valkyrie’s apartment and having a bottle lobbed at his head, for one). They still thought of him as a threat - and there was comfort in that perception. An evil being, a god mad with power - they wouldn’t feel sorrow. Evil wouldn’t cry for its kin. Evil was unstoppable, unstable; an ever shifting force. He didn’t want to disabuse any of them of that notion quite just yet.

“I’m fine. Just washing my hands.” He opened the door, coming face to face with the worrisome scientist standing in front of him.

“I would think that with all the riches in his possession, Stark would grace you with more than one bathroom.” Loki moved past Banner, stalking back to his seat with as much dignity as one could muster when exiting from an airplane bathroom.

“Yeah. It does make missions kinda awkward, sometimes.” Banner rubbed the back of his head, hovering by the door for a moment before shuffling back to the bench where he was sat.

“Six super-people and only one bathroom. It can get intense.”

“I can only imagine.” Loki grimaced as he sat down, folding his hands in his lap.

There was a silence, then. But one with a touch of anticipation. Banner kept looking at him, and after a few minutes it began to grate on his nerves. It was the face of a scientist, after all. The one brimming with questions but holding back purely on social decorum. Banner tapped his feet, bounced his leg, cast him a sideways look. Loki stared ahead impassively, keeping his eyes trained on the window in front of him. He could guess what question it was that Banner wanted answering; and, frankly, it wasn’t something Loki wanted to discuss right now.

Banner wanted to know why Loki had chosen to help them. Why his loyalties had so quickly changed. And of course it was a complex answer; one wrought with chaos and really it would require a play with at least twelve acts to get through, and -

“Why’d you say that earlier?”

The scientist spoke softly, and Loki turned to him, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

“About Thor being dead.”

Loki groaned, leaning until the back of his head touched the cold metal wall behind him.

“Why do you care?”

He wanted to muster some venom into his voice; to spit out the words with vitriol and hatred. But he was so tired, and it came out with more numbness than he intended.

Banner looked at him a little more intensely then, and he could’ve sworn a hint of green crept into the scientist’s eyes.

“Why do I care?” He shook his head, frowning deeply. “You keep telling me about how your brother - one of my closest friends - is dead, and then wonder why that might possibly piss me off?”

Loki scoffed, and Banner folded his arms, shifting his gaze into a dark corner of the quinjet.

“I care because you’re not even giving him a chance. It’s like you have no faith in him - when he’s had nothing but faith in you. You’ve died a lot, and he’s always expected you to come back sooner or later.”

“This is different.”

“How? How is it different? If you’ve come back enough times, then he can too. I know you don’t think he’s smart enough for that but he is. He’s smart, and strong, and kind, and I just-” Banner cut himself off as his face illuminated with green, and his voice shot a few octaves deeper than normal.

Loki scooted back, watching the scientist's face with a degree of caution. He didn’t expect the beast to appear - when one of the sorcerers had hurried Banner back into the building, looking thoroughly un-green, he assumed something had happened. Which was understandable, he supposed. Travelling through the bifrost was bad enough for the inexperienced - let alone the unfortunate circumstances surrounding their travel.

He and Hulk had an uneasy truce on the Statesman. They stayed out of eachothers way, mostly. Hulk was wary of him; and vice versa - even if Thor had tried his best to ease tensions between them with group meetings and ‘dinner nights’. But that wasn’t enough to make him jump for joy at the prospect of seeing Hulk again; especially on a cramped jet, and without his usual strength to defend himself.

Although, it might be nice to see the beast again. It would be a familiar face at the very least; and while he wasn’t concerned about the giant’s safety, he couldn’t deny that his strength had brought a certain comfort with it. When you had the hulk by your side, you felt unstoppable. And it would be rather nice to have that confidence for the battle ahead.

When the scientist seemed to catch himself, Loki was almost disappointed. Banner breathed heavily, the green veins on his face dying down and retreating below the surface.

“He can’t be dead, Loki. He just...He can’t be.”

Loki paused, leaning forward a little. Studying the man in front of him; the twitches, the clasped hands wringing together, the never ending tapping of the foot. The strained expression; the eyes that held hope, but something else underneath that. Something desperate.

Banner didn’t just want Thor back. He needed him.

And all at once, those accidental touches on the Statesman made sense. Every guiding hand on the small of Banner’s back, every meal that the two had shared together, each word of comfort and gentle smile; it wasn’t just comradery.

Loki’s eyes widened, and he laughed; a hollow, bitter sound.

“You liked him.”

“What?” Banner looked away from him then, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “Of course I like him. I’ve known the guy for 6 years.”

“No, this is much more than a - Oh, what did he call it - a friend from work. You fancied him.”

He caught the sight of Bruce’s fists clenching at his sides, and for some reason that sparked something inside of him. A memory from long ago; of being trapped in that glass prison, with a sudden desire to set the beast loose.

“Well, maybe your paramour being dead will be enough to draw the beast back from the shadows. Does it make you angry, Bruce? Does the thought of someone you love dying for nothing fill you with rage?”

“Stop.” Bruce dropped to a whisper, screwing his eyes shut as if that could drown out the sound.

Some part of him told him to take pity on the man. A word of wisdom from his mother; that grief shared was grief halved. And maybe this wasn’t very nice of him, and maybe it wasn’t at all in line with honouring his brother’s memory, but at this moment he couldn’t find it within him to care. He wanted glory again - wanted the feeling of control that he’d had back on the helicarrier.

“I wonder if you ever confessed it to one another - or did he die without ever knowing it? You know, I always assumed that when his heart stopped he thought of Asgard, but maybe he thought of you. Maybe the last thing he ever felt was heartbreak, because he never knew if you loved him back-”

“Stop it!” Bruce’s voice deepened as he leapt to his feet, the veins along his neck deepening to a dark green; but it went further than that. Green blotches spread across his arms, and there was a momentary wildness in his eyes that Loki recognised.

The beast was here. Loki bared his teeth in a fierce grin, hands waiting for his daggers and his body itching for a fight.

But none came.

Banner’s fists stayed clenched, he shook with anger, but that was apparently all the good doctor could muster. The remnants in his eyes died out, like the last few sparks of a campfire, and he remained firmly Bruce Banner-sized. Loki sank back into his chair after the moment of apprehension, sighing.

“I was hoping that would work.” He shook his head dejectedly, a scowl creeping into his face and voice. “I get the sense that we might need him, eventually.”

“Jesus, Loki. So, what - your plan was to get me mad enough for a hulkout? And you thought now was the perfect moment? Here?” Banner gestured around their surroundings - to the low ceiling of the quin jet, the fragile equipment piloting their journey.

Loki’s head thunked against the wall as he melted back into the seat, shrugging listlessly. “I suppose I didn’t think that one through very well.”

“No, you didn’t.” Banner paced about the ship, wringing his hands together before he turned back to Loki, a hint of that previous anger emanating into his tone.

“Look, I know you miss him. And just because I don’t think he’s dead doesn’t mean I’m not worried about him - I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying about him,” He paused, looking up to the ceiling - his face contorting as if he was having to force these words out.

“But don’t you dare take this out on me. Mourn, if you want. Get angry, get sad - but don’t you take this out on me just because I still have hope.”

“Hope.” Loki chuckled mirthlessly. “Hope is a fool's gamble, Banner.”

“Maybe.” Bruce swallowed, his features smoothing out as his eyes turned to the viewing window beside them. “But it’s a gamble I’m willing to take.”

[authoressskr]

Ruby Dragon Surprise (i)

Characters: f!Reader, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Mercy (*previously Y/N in Bucky’s Dragon Soulmate Story*), mentions of Peggy Carter

Warnings: Language and no Beta   ::    Notes: This particular story will probably be three parts, cause Steve is emotionally constipated   ::   Word Count: 4849

I went with a dragon!soulmate!au, which I hadn’t seen before, but I did have a nifty dream about it that spawned this whole idea. He’s still an Avenger. Events are basically still the same (not exactly the same...people are alive who died in the mcu), just with dragons. ‘Cause who wouldn’t love a dragon companion?? This will be an ongoing series with different Avengers finding their soulmates with their dragons.

Howlite and Hearts (Bucky)

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Since men emerged from caves, began using tools and reshaping their environment, they have been intrigued by the draconian terrors of all shapes and sizes that roamed the world. The first records of man and dragon working together are from Mesopotamia, pieces of shattered pottery pieced back together showing a dragon standing beside a woman. Assyrian artifacts depict water dragons helping farmers in the field. Egyptian murals show dragons protecting the Pharaoh and his family, others showing different breeds of dragon fetching books from inside the Library of Alexandria.

History is dotted with famous dragons and their bonded humans; King Arthur and his steel-colored dragon, Excalibur. William Shakespeare and his dragon, Bard. Cleopatra and Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great’s legendary steed. Abraham Lincoln and his dragon, Crusoe.

Over the centuries, dragons have become smaller from the giants painted in mythology, old texts and wall murals. The biggest dragon these days are about the size of a large crocodile, with the biggest recorded in the last decade almost as big as a hippo. Height varies on the type of dragon - with the tallest one balancing on its tail, hits almost eye level with a giraffe.

Classes have been taught for centuries about dragons and the bond between them with humans. Dragons will sometimes die right after their human counterpart and vice versa. Dragons who have lost their counterpart will sometimes live, seeking out their counterpart’s soulmate to stay with their draconian mates as well. It is not an uncommon thing - especially after times of war - for soulmates to have both dragons if one has died.

Dragon pairs will usually have the same colors and markings, even though they will often not be the same type of dragon. Dragons may look similar to the human eye, but a dragon will know it’s mate no matter what. It has not been determined how the dragons know their mate almost instantaneously, but after millennia humans have begun to follow the dragon counterpart’s knowledge in this area. Marriages of alliance and royalty have often been changed or dropped when one party finds its soulmate. In the same vein, marriages have also been arranged due to this circumstance as well. Cinderella is the most referenced fairy tale of this, with Cinderella having the same sapphire and gold colored dragon as the prince (*Dragon color varies by region and culture).

Soulmate bonds are some of the strongest bonds in our world. Both between a dragon pair and between a human pair. And on the flip side of the Cinderella story, dragons will attempt to push their human partners together if the human counterpart doesn’t seem interested or could result in a rejection.

On the same page, a rejection of this bond - always by the human partner - can have devastating consequences. This broken or unformed bond may result in: at first, flu-like symptoms but can build up to more serious symptoms such as feeling weak or run down, tremors and/or tics, varying weight loss, chest pains and even very mild seizures have been documented. Usually the bond is mended or solidified before it comes to these more serious issues. There are also historic rumors of deaths from broken hearts due to rejections, which has yet to be scientifically proven. The aforementioned symptoms may require hospitalization.

To date no dragon has succumbed to any symptoms from their human counterparts due to the rejection of the bond, which dragon experts seem truly puzzled by due to the strong bonds that can be formed between a human and a dragon. Rejections, however, are rare and scientists aren’t yet sure of all possible symptoms associated with a rejection of a bond. Touch, however, is shown to remedy these symptoms in trials and is known to be a powerful connector between a human and it’s dragon partner as well.

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If there was one thing Steve Rogers knew, it was that Peggy Carter was his soulmate.

He’ll admit he doesn’t think of it as often as when he came out of the ice, but he does still think about it - about Peggy - every few days. More so when Bucky, Sam and himself are out for lunch or when he and Wanda may be grabbing some coffee, because that is when he sees soulmates together. 

The way soulmates look at each other is different. Like they don’t just see the person before them, but everything they are and could be; all rolled into everything they love.

And he’s envious of that look.

He knows he hasn’t received it. And he truly believes he hasn’t given it either. Sometimes he chalks it up to not being actual bonded soulmates with Peggy. Because he knows that the love that was blossoming would have turned into that loving, enraptured gaze he always longed for.

It’s the thought that gets interrupted when his cell rings on the way back from their morning run. He quickly switches his coffee cup to his other hand to fish the phone from his pant pocket, revealing Tony’s face on the screen.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Need you, the bird and the metal popsicle back here asap. Got a hit on a Hydra offshoot. Wheels up in 30.”

“Got it. We’re just a few blocks from the Tower now.”

“Pick up the pace then, old man,” And the call ends. He looks at Sam and Bucky before tossing back what’s left of his coffee and throwing it in a nearby trash can.

“Mission. Wheels go up in 30.” Sam sighs at his words.

“Morning calls are rare, man. Must be big.”

“Hydra,” Bucky mutters with a shake of his head before polishing off his own coffee. “Come on. Gonna take most of that time to get the scalies ready.”

“You know,” Sam mutters with a smug grin as they all continue towards the Tower, “You’ve picked up your soulmate’s habit of calling the dragons weird names.” Sam tosses his empty cup and dodges a swat from Bucky.

“Jealousy is an ugly, ugly thing Sam…”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx::

Steve shifts in his place in the rafters, Rak wiggling on his back in response to peer over his shoulder down at the HYDRA agents. He nods at Bucky, who is perched across the building, just above the exit.

“Where’d you find this one?”

“Get this - a museum.” The blonde HYDRA agent cackles, leaving the brunet nodding, a serious look on his face. A loud clang of the door reveals two more HYDRA agents, dragging another person between them while a third agent follows behind with a tactical machine gun held tightly in his grip. If body shape is anything to go on, it’s a woman. A curvy and buxom one. Bucky quickly types out an update in Morse code to Natasha who is stationed outside with Sam and Tony as the brunet drags a heavy wooden chair into the middle of the room.

They toss the captive into the chair, zip tying their wrists behind them before pulling off the thick bag from their head. If looks could kill…

“Now, Miss, we are going to ask you a series of questions -”

“Fuck. Off.” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up at the venom in her tone.

“You don’t seem to know who we are.” Her jaw clenches as she looks away from the salt and pepper haired man who dragged her in. “Come now. I don’t want to injure you more than necessary…”

“Right.” She snaps, looking down at her lap with a sigh. The tall brunet who helped drag her in shifts to stand behind her, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking her head back. Her gasp makes Rak hiss in his ear, Steve feeling his claw tips through his suit. He tilts his head to rub it against Rak’s, offering that silent comfort to calm him down.

“Now, Miss, the first question is: You work in the nearby museum, correct?”

“Seeing as that’s where you took me from…” She gasps again as the hand tightens in her hair, bending her head back a little more. That’s when she notices Bucky in the rafters - quickly closing her eyes and sniffles loudly.

“What are you working on there?”

“Paleontology mostly. But when I started there I worked in the geology department. I’m a floater between departments since I don’t have my full degree yet.” The man relaxes his grip a little, pushing her head forward towards its normal position again.

“Rocks and bones.” The older agent chuckles before rubbing his hand over his graying beard. “Do you do anything else in the museum?”

“I assist only in the two departments. The only reason I help the geology is when the woman who regularly helps is gone cause she’s having a rough pregnancy.”

“Now we know that’s a lie. You spend a lot of time in the accounting office.” Her head is pulled back again so she’s looking at the ceiling again.

“I’m not sure you lot are aware that each department has a budget. I have to submit forms every month about the spending. Plus, one of the accountants is my friend.”

“So you are saying our intel is wrong?”

“Look, I’d like my head to stay attached, but yes, your intel is shit. Probably someone just looking not to be in the position I’m currently in.”

“So the museum isn’t looking into the dragons ancestors?”

“If they are, then I don’t know about it. I’m a peon!” She yanks her head from the man’s grasp and struggles in the chair.

“Little cherub, you are a terrible liar.”

“Listen asshat, I am keenly aware I’m a terrible liar. So I tend NOT to lie. Especially to someone who has tied me to a chair and has a fucking gun!!” He sighs, giving a little shake of his head before his hand shoots out and backhands her, making her head snap to the left. Rak’s claws pierce through his suit, smoke curling from his nostrils making Steve tense under him even more. He holds his hand up in a stopping motion, Bucky cocking his head slightly before Steve gestures over his shoulder at Rak.

“Woman, HYDRA has been looking for you for awhile.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me. I can’t have anything HYDRA could possibly want. Except maybe morals.”

“We don’t need morals in HYDRA.” The blonde grunts out from his leaning place against the wall.

“I’m aware. Ya ever think that’s why SHIELD and the Avengers whip your ass? Resign you to the shadows like the phantoms you are.” There is a loud enough explosion that everyone turns towards the exit, the men all tensing. “AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOUR SIGIL OR WHATEVER IT IS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SENSE! HYDRA MEANS 5! WHY DOES YOUR SYMBOL HAVE 8? AND DO YOU ALL KNOW THAT THE HYDRA WAS DEFEATED???” Her head is sent sharply to the left again, blood trickling from her lip at the contact.

“WHO FOLLOWED YOU?!” The older agent snaps at the blonde and brunet who they saw first.

“NO ONE, SIR!” Bucky drops down just as Tony comes through the back exit, making Steve shimmy upright before he begins across the beams in the rafters to cut off their retreat.

He drops down with a dull thud, blocking the HYDRA agents as planned but the brunet with the machine gun has it pointed under the woman’s jaw.

“She’s not so sassy now,” The man in charge smirks out, stroking a finger down her cheek. He glances behind, seeing Bucky, Tony and Natasha behind him.

“You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.” Her words loud and clear as her gaze slides towards the older agent, the muzzle of the gun digging harder into her skin at her words.

“Snarky little bitch, isn’t she?”

“I like snark,” Tony mentions, looking to Natasha who just rolls her eyes. “But that’s because I’m just so good at it.”

“Release the girl, unharmed, and we’ll take you alive.” Steve offers, Rak’s nails digging into his shoulder once more as smoke begins to curl out of his nose again.

“How about no?” The agent whom had been silent this entire time speaks with a sneer, his little blue dragon’s head popping from a pocket in his utility pants.

Bucky lets loose a single round to the knee of the agent with the sub machine gun, making him buckle and the gun drop from his grip. That’s when Tony blasts the salt and pepper haired man past Steve as Natasha cuts the woman free, only for the woman to rush past Steve and the other agents deeper into the warehouse. Rak jumps from his shoulder and flys after her, prompting Steve to sigh as Bucky runs past, following after her and Rak.

“Does she realize the exit is the other way?!” Tony yells through the comms, taking a stance by where he’d entered to fend off dozens of incoming HYDRA. Two men run towards Steve only to stutter to the ground as electricity surges through their bodies.

“Thanks Nat.” He grunts before rushing through the doorway to find his best friend, his dragon and the directionally impaired woman.

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::

You’re trying desperately to remember the turns they’ve dragged you through, looking for the spot where they had separated the two of you and tossed a bag over your head. A man moves to grab you, only to be attacked by an aggressive ruby dragon. It then scrabbles up your legs and perches itself on your shoulder, urging you on with a little grunt. You tread a little more carefully after that, but no less urgent, a scream clogging your throat as someone grabs your shoulder from behind before slipping a hand over your mouth. 

“Don’t scream.” You nod as the former Winter Soldier comes into view. “You know, the easy exit was the other way.”

“I’m aware. But they tossed my dragon in a big plastic looking box then I got the bag and drag treatment.”

“This warehouse has two floors in the front half, did they take you upstairs at all?” A shake of your head is all you can manage before the dragon flits from your shoulder and begins running down the hallway. “I guess we follow Rak then. You stay behind me and if I tell you to do something -”

“Consider it done.” You agree before gently pushing at his arm to get him moving.

Rak doesn’t stop until he’s about two hallways off where you all stopped, hissing and sending several fiery breaths towards the small side dock where HYDRA agents were loading up your dragon.

“Velma!” Her answering screech is enough to get you moving, Sgt. Barnes hand shooting out to keep you behind him. He’s got two of them shot and Rak is mauling another when you see a silver blur knock out the other two. It’s only when you turn to your right do you see Captain America snatch his shield, holding it for a beat before turning to look at you. If looks could lecture...you’d be in for a loooong one.

But as he gives you that look all you can think of is that now all the douche HYDRA agents are now k-o’ed, so you rush over to the giant box, sticking your fingers through the big air holes to stroke at her muzzle, Rak chirping at Sgt. Barnes, who steps around your crouched form and snaps the two heavy duty locks off with his metal hand. Your dragon bursts from the cage and tackles you, curling herself around your chest and neck as best she can as you coo reassurances to her.

“We gotta go,” Steve takes hold of your elbow, helping you up as you heft Velma off the ground, her wings wrapping securely around you as you follow Captain America back the way you came. Rak is riding on his shoulder and moving his ruby head back and forth between you and the hallway ahead. The Black Widow joins you halfway back and takes point, an emerald green dragon with beautiful iridescent wings in shades of purples, blacks, greens and a few splashes of a pale yellow shimmer brightly even in the dim lights of the warehouse hallway. You let out a soft grunt, hefting Velma a little higher as your arms start to tire. “Almost there. I can carry her, if you like?” He doesn’t look at you when he offers, simply continues looking forward at his measured pace beside you.

“I can manage,” Your pride answers before your tired arms can get a word in, a smile twitching at his lips at your answer, which just makes your pride suddenly all the more determined to do it yourself. He moves forward when you all get back to where the attack began, Natasha taking his place before Falcon glides in through the hole in the wall.

“It’s all secure to the jet,” He reports as he lands. “Tony is circling the outer gates to make sure they don’t have anything else - hostages or weapons.”

“Alright. Let’s get her on the jet. We’ll look her over and call into the compound for the doctor to be ready when we arrive.”

“Already done,” Natasha confirms and they all move in a protective box around you and Velma, Falcon now on your right and Natasha on your left as the good Captain takes the lead and the Sergeant keeps his place in the rear.

You’re herded - there is no other way to put it really - onto this very expensive, military-looking, and slightly futuristic jet. Falcon gestures to a seat and you kneel in front of it, carefully dislodging your draconian partner before taking the seat. Her scaled head nudges your open hand, reminding you that you’ve both made it.

Safe echoes in your mind and you nod, meeting her light amethyst eyes.

Safe, you reply as she climbs awkwardly into the seat beside yours, laying her head on your thigh.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Baby,” She coos to the dragon, a shiver going up his spine at the softness and care in her tone, her hand sliding easily over it’s red scales as Sam returns to her side with a first aid kit.

“They do anything else besides these?” Sam asks gently, his finger brushing softly over her cheek where it’s already beginning to swell. A shake of her head is all she manages, “Okay, I’m gonna clean it with an alcohol pad.” Sam swipes it across her cheek and around the left side of her mouth to get off the dried blood. When he dabs just under her lip she hisses and so does Rak, her own dragon tensing up and curling it’s upper lip just enough to flash the tips of its teeth.

“Down, kids,” She mumbles out before Tony struts onto the jet.

“All clear. Let’s go home.” Tony sits beside her as the jet begins to ascend, both men’s gazes dropping to her free hand which is gripping the edge of her seat. “I’m Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“Dragon?”

“Velma.”

“Velma,” Tony repeats with a chuckle. “I like it. Suits you both. This is Jericho.”

“‘By faith the walls of Jericho fell’…is that right?”

“Exactly! ‘See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands’. My mother insisted that I know the Bible. I just liked the idea of marching and horns defeating a strong enemy. No bullets, no bombs; just faith.”

“Kind of goes against the initial sort of images of yourself, huh?” Tony leans in slightly, a grin flirting on his lips.

“Have you been talking to my wife?” She leans in too, their foreheads nearly touching.

“I think I’d remember talking to her.”

“She is very memorable.” He agrees, leaning back in the seat before waving his finger at her chest. “Buckle up. We should be there in about twenty or thirty.”

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks, Bucky’s eye popping open from his resting place in the corner and a tiny twitch of his lips making him want to glare at his best friend.

“No, thank you.” Steve nods, moving to the front to talk to Natasha when Rak flits to the floor and scurries over to her, his head tilted to one side with his begging eyes on. Steve moves to turn back to stop Rak from bothering her. “Get up here then,” A smile dancing in her eyes as he chirps happily, leaping easily into her lap and shaking his wings out before carefully settling down, his snout resting beside Velma’s.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re just nodding off when the jet lands, carefully tapping Velma and then Rak to wake them before stretching, wincing at the soreness in your face and neck.

Steve walks by you as the bay door opens before he whistles, Rak’s head perking up from the seat beside you, but he doesn’t move. This doesn’t seem to sit well with Steve, who glares at his partner like he’s betrayed him.

The dragon begrudgingly jumps down and stands at the Captain’s feet, an outstretched hand drawing you from the curiosity you felt watching Rak and Steve. You’re met with storm blue eyes and a small, easy smile.

“Come on, kid,” Unclicking from your seat, you accept his hand with a hushed thank you. You are hardly off the jet before a white marble blur nearly takes James down, his laughter ringing out before a woman appears just after, helping him up and the two of them disappearing into the building. You’re caught at a crossroads of sorts...Do you follow? Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?

“Are you Y/N?” You’re startled from your thoughts by a woman with thick black hair piled atop her head in a white lab coat.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Hale. Natasha and Tony told us to be expecting you.” She gestures you forward, opposite to where the Avengers disappeared to. You follow obediently, with Velma trailing behind you, also looking to where they’d all gone. “Do you have any medical conditions we should be aware of?”

“No.”

“High blood pressure?”

“No, but if it’s high I was just taken hostage and then backhanded twice before having a gun shoved against my jaw while they tried to take my dragon.” She makes a face, eyebrows raised and fighting back a smile before she manages a big nod.

“Understandable...well let’s check all that. Was your dragon injured?”

“I ran my hands over all of her and she’s not injured that I can tell.” You look down at her, purple eyes alight. “You hurt, baby?” Velma shakes her head, her tail twitching slightly when she does so.

“Perfect. We’ll just check you over and then Tony should come get you.” All you can do is nod, following her into a very white and metallic exam room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Steve’s voice can be heard through the door of his room, he’s sure of it.

Rak has snapped at him twice so far and nearly set his comforter on fire because he ordered him to stay put while he showered. Steve knew where he would wander off to and he told Rak he needs to let the doctor do their job and check them over. He had angrily settled down when Howl had come into the room, the bigger dragon tossing himself down onto Rak’s bed - successfully luring Rak to him and calming the little spitfire down long enough for Steve to get a shower.

Once he was out of the shower, Rak started up again, a stare off ensuing between the two of them while Howl looked on in amusement.

“I said no!” Steve snaps at the wyvern before clenching his jaw so tight he’s sure he hears a pop. Rak opens his mouth, flashing all his teeth only to snap it closed when Bucky’s soulmate sticks her head in.

“Sorry. I knocked, but you must not have heard...I was just looking for Howl.” Howl’s whole body shakes as he wiggles his way happily to her. “Tony just went to get the woman from the infirmary, just to let you know.” Steve scowls at her as Rak begins to follow Howl out the door.

“Hey! Best behavior. And you need to cut the whole hissing, snapping and fire at me, you little gas ball.” Rak snorts, almost giving an eye roll as Steve blocks the door. “Shoulder.” He points for emphasis, his partner huffing as he slowly climbs up onto his shoulder. “And stay there, do you understand?” He turns his ruby head away and Steve’s mind wanders to the impossible...but he quickly shakes that thought from his head.

When she enters the room with her dragon, her cheek and lip swollen a little more than an hour ago when he’d seen her.

Wanda gasps as she enters the room, looking from Rak to Velma, Rak doing the exact fucking opposite as he was told - flinging himself from Steve’s shoulder and running towards you and Velma - before giving a little squeal.

“I’ve never seen a dragon soulmate pair meeting!” Steve looks in confusion from the dragons to Wanda and then to the woman, the room now deadly silent except for the soft, contented growls coming from the pair of ruby dragons curled around each other at Y/N’s feet.

“What - no, that’s not - that’s not possible.” Steve snorts in disbelief after he manages his oh-so eloquent words. “No. She’s not my soulmate,” The words tumble from his lips before he has a chance to really think the situation over but his eyes still see everything.

They see the hope that was blossoming in her soft eyes and they see the confusion flash through those pretty eyes before the hurt makes the light die out in them, her eyes dropping to the floor quickly.

He opens his mouth to refute his own words - to apologize and take it back - when he sees Bucky glaring at him.

After all, hadn’t it been him who had told Bucky to go after his dragon and his soulmate? Who had told Bucky he’d give anything to be in his shoes? And now that he was, he had just rejected his soulmate.

You could hear a pin drop as he stands there gaping like a fish before managing to firmly close his mouth.

She’s staring at their dragons, snouts pressed along side each other with their wings touching, tails twined together before she looks up and blinks rapidly. He knows she’s willing the tears away and it physically hurts him to see her avert her eyes.

Clint steps forward, whispering in her ear before offering her his arm. Clint takes her past him, both of their dragons trailing eagerly after her and both blatantly ignoring his very existence.

“All clear boss,” comes a familiar accented voice, Steve can feel all of his family’s eyes boring into him before Natasha speaks up.

“What the actual hell, you dumbass?”

“My sentiments exactly.” Tony pipes up from behind her.

“Didn’t you say you wish you were in my shoes?” Sam just harrumphs at Bucky’s words from where he’s sitting on the couch by Bucky and his soulmate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Wanda mutters among the other comments, worrying her bottom lip.

“It’s not your fault, Wanda,” Mercy soothes from the couch, hand gently squeezing Bucky’s as her dragon Cloud moves from her shoulder to Bucky’s, sensing his tenseness.

“Clint’s giving her a tour. She’ll be staying here until we can find out specifically why Hydra was after her. That should give you enough time to pull your head out of your ass,” Tony states while shoving his long sleeves up a bit on his forearms, hitting Steve with a “Sweet Jesus” side eye that Steve was all too well acquainted with.

“It just came out!”

“Like diarrhea…” Pietro says loudly from the kitchen, tossing a handful of grapes into his mouth. Steve glares at the male Maximoff, whom he literally didn’t even realize was in the damn kitchen.

“Again, it just came out. I didn’t even think about what I said!”

“That is abundantly clear,” Howl crawls into Bucky’s lap at his words, big eyes pleading to his human dad for pets to calm them both down, tail twacking Mercy who just rolls her eyes playfully at his needy and loving response to Bucky’s mood. Bucky smiling oh so softly at Howl and Mercy, as he strokes the oversized dragon taking up his lap.

Steve watches that and he aches for it. Those knowing looks to share with his soulmate.

But Peggy is gone.

And he doesn’t know where to go from here with this woman. Or the fact that Rak is completely convinced that Velma is his mate.

Because he is pretty sure she isn’t.

‘Pretty sure’ isn’t going to cut it for everyone else though. It definitely won’t be enough for Rak, that little gas ball of betrayal.

Steve was well and truly fucked.

Tagging:  @moonbeambucky @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

[chenziee]

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[Read on my AO3 (link in blog description) or by copypasting link below, or under the cut]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932909

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin Ship: Jean/Armin Rating: General audiences Words: 2643 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Airports, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Minor Levi/Eren Yeager, jean is smitten, Because of course he is, Tinder, but not really, jean is a very responsible working adult, armin is a very responsible PhD student, you can interpret those words however you want, hanji is not a responsible lab boss, don't be like hanji in a lab

Summary: Getting stuck at the airport for hours because of the weather was the last thing Jean wanted today, but it was what he got and honestly, if it meant he could chat with this cute guy who swept a hard 'no' on Jean's Tinder for longer, he wouldn't say no to a few more hours.

Based on a twitter post which I don’t know how to dig up.

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This is a birthday gift for the sweetest, most precious @roxi4 <3 I’ve said this a lot of times but I love you so much and I wish I could personally beat 2021 into submission so that it’s the best goddamn year of your life for you. But, sadly, I’m not a god yet so I gotta settle for writing fics for now. 

Also yes, I am posting here like two weeks late because I’m lazy I’m sorry.

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Jean glared at the departure board, wishing he could set it on fire just like that. He understood things like this happened; he could see the heavy rain and wind outside—and people called this spring? Jean demanded a refund—so really, it could have been much worse, but a three hour delay for his three hours and thirty-five goddamned minutes flight was absolutely ridiculous and only slightly rage inducing.

He sighed in frustration and, grabbing his suitcase, he turned away to head to the closest coffee shop. He needed a damn coffee. Preferably spiked or with 8 shots of espresso, he’d decide in the line.

This was seriously so stupid. He had spent an entire week on this business trip and he was tired and the only thing he wanted was getting home to his cat and passing the hell out. At least the Melbourne airport was decent enough and he could safely be bored out of his mind with as much coffee as he needed without worrying he’d catch tetanus like he was at a certain American airport a few years ago. He would take his comfort where he could at this point.

Finally, he managed to order his coffee with only two extra espresso shots—he didn’t want to seem like that much of a psycho but the barista didn't even blink at his order and Jean had to wonder what weird shit the people at a busy airport had to deal with—and headed to the corner of the departure hall that seemed the quietest. There were only a few people loitering around there, all looking just as exhausted as Jean felt. Seemed like Jean would fit right in with their collective coma.

Making his way to one of the empty seats, Jean had to weave his way through the maze of suitcases until one of them caught his attention. Or, more specifically, the book laying carefully bookmarked and discarded on it. Who in their right mind read what looked like an entire fucking encyclopaedia full of words Jean probably couldn't even pronounce while waiting on their plane? No wonder the owner put it aside eventually.

Jean inadvertently looked up at the person sitting next to the suitcase and he did a double take. He had expected some old fart, the type that just screamed of a dreadfully boring college professor who preferred his test tubes or calculations to his students—or people in general, really—not this… tiny, adorable, small animal type of guy who, from his profile, looked around Jean’s age or even younger.

He took in the young man’s small frame, the short, blond hair, and the way he sat cross legged on the hard, uncomfortable airport chair and Jean couldn’t get over how cute the sight was. He was really glad the other man was so engrossed in his phone because even Jean could tell he was staring      .  

And then something else caught Jean’s eye.

Was that Tinder on his phone? Was that… Jean’s ancient Tinder he was looking at?

Jean felt heat coming up to his face. He hadn’t used the stupid app in years, probably since like... his second year of college. He didn’t even know why he didn’t delete his profile but now he was glad he didn’t because it would be really nice to know if he should even bother trying to strike up conversation here.

With bated breath, Jean waited for the verdict. He watched as if in slow motion as the blond’s thumb moved to touch the screen and swiped—

Left.

Of course it was left.

Unable to stop himself, an awkward laugh forced its way past his lips and he heard himself say, “Hard no for him?”

Even the way he jumped at Jean’s words was cute. And when wide, impossibly blue eyes met his own, Jean felt his stomach drop. Damn, this left swipe really hurt. Jean really had a talent for getting his heart broken before he even had the chance to try. First Mikasa, now this. Did someone up there have something against him?

A few silent, painfully awkward seconds of the two of them just staring at each other passed, until the blond opened his mouth to speak, “If it makes you feel any better, your profile pic really doesn’t do you any favours.”

Jean groaned. Of course. He knew he shouldn’t have let Eren choose his picture, the absolute asshole. He couldn’t believe he still called this guy a friend. Getting roomed with him at the dorm in college was seriously the worst thing to happen in his life.  

“Thanks, I guess,” Jean said lamely, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head. Could this get any more awkward?

The other guy laughed then, and it was the sweetest laugh Jean had ever heard. “You’re welcome,” he said, smirning at Jean as he held out his hand. “I’m Armin. Jean, right?”

Jean shook Armin’s hand, almost asking where he had learned his name but managing to stop himself at the last second. They literally just talked about Jean’s embarrassing Tinder profile for God’s sake.

“Nice to meet you,” he said instead, hoping that was a better way to go about it than making a bigger idiot out of himself.

Thankfully, it seemed like it was, as Armin gestured to the empty seat next to him and Jean gratefully took it, making himself as comfortable as he could in the stupid airport chair. Seriously, why were airport chairs always so uncomfortable? People were sitting on these for hours at a time every day, one would think someone would make sure their asses were not hurting. Although, now that he thought about it, cushioned chairs probably wouldn’t last very long—or stay reasonably sanitary, for that matter. It was probably a good thing his ass hurt already.

Jean took his first, long-overdue sip of his coffee before he gestured towards Armin’s suitcase. “Interesting book you’ve got there. Wanted a bit of light reading?”

Armin paused, looking at Jean as if he was trying to figure him out. “Please tell me that was an intentional Harry Potter reference,” he said after a moment. Oh, Jean was so happy he had caught that.

“Maybe,” he only replied, hiding his smirk behind his coffee cup.

Huffing in amusement, Armin glanced at his terrifying looking book instead. “Just trying to do some research for my final thesis. But I have to admit some people really can’t write in an interesting way even when talking about interesting topics.”

“Hear, hear,” Jean muttered. “Some people really shouldn’t be allowed to publish books, especially if they then make people study from those.” He still remembered the pain from school. He particularly enjoyed the teachers who required the students read their own God-awful books. It was always a guarantee for the most boring read of the year.

“I know!” Armin cried, gesturing around in frustration and Jean couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “I can’t wait to finish my Ph.D. so I that can not read the things I don’t want to.”

Jean chuckled at his enthusiasm. He really had to love his field of study to get this passionate about shitty books. “What are you studying?” he asked curiously.

“Marine biology,” Armin beamed, making Jean gulp.

Ocean. Fish. Corals. That was about as much as his humble business management brain knew about marine biology. Couldn’t really impress with that, could he? “And you’re doing a PhD. in that?”

Armin nodded. “Yeah. Actually, I’m just coming back home from giving a guest lecture at the university."

"Melbourne university?" Jean asked, raising a brow. He kind of hoped he was wrong and he wasn't just casually chatting with some up and coming scientist celebrity.

"Yeah," Arming confirmed and blushed slightly.

"Damn, that's impressive," Jean admitted, though now he was positive that if Armin started talking science to him, he wouldn't understand a word.

Armin's eyes dropped as he looked away, obviously embarrassed by the praise, then he shrugged and quietly replied, "Not really. This stuff is really easy when you have good teachers."

Jean shook his head. "Nah, if you don't have it in you, it doesn't matter how good a teacher is. You can kiss any degree goodbye then, never mind giving lectures."

He heard Armin huff in amusement and goddamn it, it gave him butterflies. He was so fucked.

"Thank you," the blond said, smiling at Jean brightly before he continued. "How about you? Where to?"

Jean sighed wearily, sagging in his seat as he remembered his exhaustion. "Also home. On my way back from an absolutely stupid business trip."

"Why stupid?" Armin asked as he turned around in his seat to face Jean properly.

Jean mirrored him immediately, hooking one arm behind the backrest as he leaned on the chair sideways. He really enjoyed talking to this random, sweet stranger and he was really glad it seemed to be mutual. He was going to hate saying goodbye.

Suddenly, he wouldn't have minded if his flight got delayed a few more hours.

"Just, you know, people," Jean muttered in distaste. "One would think only customers can be complete idiots. Turns out coworkers can sometimes be even worse."

Armin laughed at his words, nodding along enthusiastically. "God I know. Sometimes I want to kill the doctor leading my lab. Hanji’s a genius but there is so much energy and she can be so stupid. She almost blows up or floods the lab at least once a week."

"I'm sorry, that must be so hard to deal with—" Jean cringed in sympathy at the mere idea of it— "Reminds me of my team. I love them but once in a while, I just want to fire them all when they start organizing paper boat races in the bathroom. Paper boats made from paperwork they don't want to do, by the way."

"Ouch." Armin sounded solemn but Jean could hear the hidden laughter and he just knew he found Sasha and Connie's stupid ideas hilarious. Which… Jean could admit they were, just not when he was the one who then had to explain the mess and unfinished work to his boss.

“Stop laughing,” Jean hissed, though with no real venom in his voice.

“I’m not!” Armin defended himself, but then burst out laughing when Jean glared at him so he quickly corrected himself, “Okay, yeah, I am. Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all and Jean sighed. “Everyone always finds my suffering funny.”

Armin let him grumble to himself for a bit, the two of them sitting in relative silence for a moment and… it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was actually relaxing and Jean really didn’t want this to end. “So hey—” He paused, glancing at Armin carefully, almost afraid to ask— “when is your flight?”

“Hopefully, in like two and a half hours. Got delayed almost as long as the flight itself.”

Jean almost said it was the same for him but he stopped. Could it be…? “You’re not flying to Auckland, are you?”

Armin visibly startled, blinking at Jean with eyes full of surprise. “Yes, actually,” he said slowly and Jean couldn’t believe it. He had thought he would never see this this cute, fun person ever again but—

“Me, too,” he said quietly and the two of them continued staring at each other in shock for a few moments more until they both burst out laughing.

Incredible. They were both flying to the same place and they would be within reach of each other and maybe there was a point in actually pursuing this. “So, uhm, wanna grab a coffee?” Jean asked awkwardly, pointing in the general direction of the food court.

And only when Armin looked pointedly at his pointing hand, did Jean realize he was still holding his over-caffeinated coffee cup. He really hoped his face wasn’t as on fire as it felt.

Armin only chuckled, thankfully not commenting on Jean’s blunder, and rather suggesting, “How about some actual food instead?”

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By the time they got off the plane in Auckland, Jean was on cloud nine as he gently squeezed Armin’s hand in his. Jean was still not sure this was real; they had spent the entire time at the airport and during their flight chatting—not that they had miraculously had seats next to each other like in the movies, but Jean did bribe an older lady with wine to switch seats with him—and it was the best damn flight delay he could have asked for.

It felt so natural and easy being with Armin, he couldn’t wait to get to know him more during their date tomorrow, and hopefully many more after. Because Jean would be lying if he said he wasn’t completely gone for this charming, adorable genius already.

As they walked through the exit into the arrival hall together, Armin immediately waved at his friend who was picking him up. Jean had offered to give him a ride since he had his car parked at the airport but Armin had said this friend of his would be worried if he just suddenly cancelled and—

Oh hell no.

Jean stared at the tall, young man with long hair tied up in a messy bun who was walking towards them, watching as his wide smile froze when their eyes met. Of fucking course. Jean just couldn’t have any nice things in life, could he?

“Unhand my best friend, Horse Face,” Eren growled and Jean took a deep breath in an effort to calm down.

It didn’t work. “Unhand my boss, then,” he shot back, throwing a pointed stare at where Eren had his arm wrapped around the short, grumpy man who just so happened to be both Jean’s boss and his ex-roommate’s boyfriend. Levi was already sighing and rolling his eyes at them and Jean really hoped this wouldn’t affect his bonus this quarter.

But Eren started it.  

“You have no say in that,” Eren hissed, visibly bristling as his hold on Levi only tightened.

“Oh, so you admit it’s unreasonable?” Jean asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Jean could hear Armin gasp as he finally realized what was going on. Obviously, he also didn’t expect this to happen and Jean was glad he wasn’t the only one. Although, really, how did it not occur to Jean that Armin was that Armin? It wasn’t exactly a common name around Auckland…

Just as Eren was getting ready to snap back at him, both Levi and Armin sighed before Levi intervened, “Shut the hell up, both of you. Have this fight when I’m not around for it or I’m talking Armin and leaving your asses here.”

“I second this movement,” Armin said firmly tugging at Jean’s hand for good measure.

Both Eren and Jean closed their mouths then, both knowing full well that was not an empty threat coming from the short grump. Not that Jean wouldn’t get back by himself but he would be stuck with driving Eren, too, without anyone there to mediate, and that would be a disaster.

They glared at each other silently for a second, until Eren hissed at him, “Usual bar, tonight. We’re having a talk.”  

“I’ll be there, I need a fucking drink after this,” Jean muttered back, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Giving Armin a kiss on the cheek, Jean quickly retreated out of Eren’s glare’s range and towards his car so that he could get some fucking sleep before he would go out and get drunk while Eren threatened him with violence for apparently seducing his best friend, or whatever Eren would take out of this… situation. How did shit like this even happen in real life? He seriously wondered what he did in his past life to get karma like this.

At least Armin was worth it.

[bleedingthirium]

Gavin x Reader (Dreams Come True)

Title: Dreams Come True Words: 10,300 (sorrynotsorry) Genre: Emotional Hurt-Comfort, Fluff, Romance Characters: Gavin Reed x Fem!Reader + Nines (platonically) Warnings: Um, it’s super long, rushed in some places, completely unedited because, let’s be real, who has time to edit? and just chaotically structured writing. Authors Note: Really self-concious of this fic. It didn’t turn out anywhere near as good as I hoped it would. So catch my sobbing at Gavin’s desk. This is for @bring-me-a-coffee-dipshit because she’s been feeling down and no one hurts my baby! Me & my DCPD boys will protecc this gem. Also, I don’t know how to write long fics. Hence the chaotic messy structure of writing. I’m not a professional. I also don’t know how to write short fics either because this was supposed to be written done ‘n’ dusted within a day. And it took over a week! Probs should’ve put in parts. But I’m also lazy so... ENJOY!

Summary: Gavin gets a phonecall stating reader has been admitted to hospital due to fainting from stress. There’s only one thing that can stress reader out to such a point and Gavin is PISSED.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ Nothing ever seemed to feel good enough for anyone. You tried your best, but your best wasn’t good enough. You were in desperate need of a break because you could feel yourself breaking down. It was hard to find the strength to smile, and where you normally would smile, tears threatened to present themselves in the corners of your eyes. Luckily a deep, slow breath and an eye-roll to the heavens as if praying the pain away, seemed to keep those negative emotions at bay. The factor of your stress was the preparation of exams, and understandably so. Exams were always a stressful time for everybody, but it seemed to be the worst time for everything to come crumbling down around you.

You had a phone call from your Mother, who seemed to always find something to nitpick about you. Normally you could just shrug your shoulders at the end of the phone call and go about your day. Either you were high on stress already, or what your Mother said seemed to have hit too close to your heart, validating those fears you had; that you were destined to be a failure, your grandparents would be disappointed in you, your mother is currently disappointed in you (yes, she said that!), all because you decided to pursue business studies and get a degree in Business so that, one day, you could open a new bookstore and run it the way you want to; for it to be a unique and welcomed independent store rather than a big chain retail store. Your Mother would have much preferred you to pursue a more beneficial career, something like Politics, Medicine or Law. Something that was, unfortunately, too out of your league of knowledge. It wasn’t for lack of trying. You would have loved to have become a woman of medicine, a scientist even! You find all that fascinating and constantly reading journals, watching documentaries… but you are just unable to retain the information. It’s not because you’re dumb. It’s just how life is. But your Mother had no problem calling you out on it and quite plainly stating that you’re dumb. “I never expected to raise a child whose IQ is lower than the average person. What was the point in supporting your studies if you weren’t going to build a decent career for yourself? At least your boyfriend has a decent career. You should be disappointed and ashamed of yourself. Because I am.” That was the phone call of the morning that had started your bad day. You already had a bad week regardless. Stressing over studies and exams, and then dealing with rude customers at your local part-time job. You loved your job, you enjoyed helping customers but the rude ones… It really began to take its toll on you. And you didn’t want to whine to your boyfriend at the end of the day because he has much longer shifts than you, and his occupation is physically and mentally demanding. The last thing you wanted to do was bitch to him about your menial day when he could’ve been dealing with bigger shit. “Can’t believe someone as dumb as you is working in a place like this. The easiest job in the world and you managed to fuck up my order. I want to speak to your manager.” It was one tiny mistake that could have easily been rectified had this customer given you the chance to apologise and correct your mistake. No harm done. Instead, you were left speechless at the sudden onslaught of insults that your own mother basically spat at you hours earlier. You call your manager as per requested and allowed him to deescalate the situation while you excused yourself to assist other customers. At the end of the day you were called in to his office and even with the door shut, every word could loudly be heard in the staff lunch room as you were being berated over the incident earlier. The entire day had been an extremely bad one in general and you were more than glad to go home. Unfortunately everything began to drown you all at once. You didn’t even make it to your bus stop when your hands began to tremble violently, your legs felt like jelly, your heart was pounding so painfully in your chest that it was like knives were beginning to stab at you from the inside, noises were muted out yet you swore you could hear yourself struggling to breathe as well as hearing the blood rushing in your veins right in your ear. You didn’t even hear anyone call out when you collapsed.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

It was a slow day at the Precinct which was both a blessing and a curse; it meant no major crimes had taken place, but it also meant that Gavin was stuck with paperwork – something that he despised doing and would often neglect to do, and then in situations like today, he now has a mountain of neglected paperwork to get through. It was beginning to drive him mental, and oddly enough, Gavin was beginning to get on Nines’ nerves. Understand that Nines can deal with every annoying, conceivable flaw that Gavin has, but today Gavin had managed to push Nines over the edge. “Let’s go get some lunch. Out of the office.” Nines suggested, placing his pen down and leaning back against his chair, blue eyes looking over at Gavin. “Best idea you’ve had all day.” Gavin agreed a bit too quickly, though it didn’t come as a surprise to Nines. Typical that Gavin would agree to anything that would get him out of doing paperwork. Nevertheless, Nines hadn’t seen Gavin consume anything nutritious since arriving at the Precinct. This would be a great subtle way to get him to consume some sustenance. Gavin drove downtown, a little bit away from the Precinct just so he didn’t feel so closed-in with work; he wanted to enjoy his food not think about work. But as luck would have it, his phone rang. “You gotta be fucking kidding me! Can’t even take a lunch break!” came the grumbled as one hand left the steering wheel to answer the phone, only for his hand to be swatted away. “I’ll answer it, you need to abide by the road laws.” “Bite me. If it’s Fowler, remind him that he does have other fucking officers there.” It wasn’t Fowler. It was an unknown number, but local, according to the area code. “Detective Reed’s phone.” “Is this Gavin Reed?” “Detective Reed is currently driving. May I ask what the nature of the call is?” “I’m Doctor William Kent from the Detroit General Hospital, I’m calling to let Mr. Reed know that his partner is currently admitted under our care.” “Any injuries?” “No, she came through the emergency from fainting.” “Fainting? What was the cause?” “A panic attack most likely.” “We’re on our way.” “What?” Gavin asked as Nines ended the call but continued to hold the communications device in his hands to prevent Gavin from breaking the law of being on the phone while driving. He ought to upgrade his car a little, get a Bluetooth speaker that can accept incoming and outgoing calls. Or invest in a phone cradle at the very least. What was the point in becoming a Detective if you weren’t going to uphold the law? “Y/N has been admitted to the Detroit General Hospital under –“ “Why? What’s wrong? Is she hurt? Did they say anything?” Gavin interrupted in a mild state of his own panic, Nines noticing his stress levels rising a little bit. “Under the emergency of fainting from a panic attack.” Nines calmly finished despite being interrupted. Gripping the steering wheel of the car tightly to the point where his knuckles turned white, Gavin forced himself to keep to the speed limit as he took a left turn instead of going straight ahead to their original location. You weren’t injured, that was his main priority. You weren’t injured. But you fainted. You weren’t pregnant, it wasn’t a hot day, and as far as he knew you didn’t have a fever… It was just… Stress. He knew you were stressing over your studies but he didn’t think it was this bad. Was he really that shit of a boyfriend that he overlooked the clues of your stress levels? What kind of Detective doesn’t pick up on displays of body behavior? Gavin had been oddly quiet since the phone call and arriving at the hospital. Mentally beating himself up for not being as attentive to her as a boyfriend should. He was so caught up in a case that he took to working around the clock in order to bring it close. - “Babe? I gotta stay back. We’ve got a lead and we’re so close.” The dreaded phone call came through one night, but you weren’t surprised or frustrated. He had began coming home late at night so you knew he was working on a case that required a lot of his attention as well as priority of needing to bring it to a close before anything more bad comes of it. “It’s fine, Gavin. Honestly. Just make sure you eat something. Coffee isn’t food.” “You sound like Nines.” “Well maybe you should listen. You’re a good Detective but you’re a shit listener.” You both chuckled at the light teasing before he needed to get back to work. “I love you Gavin.” “Yeah. Yeah… I love you too. G’night Babe.” “’Night.” You both hung up and Gavin remembered how lucky he felt to have someone who understood him and his position. Granted, he didn’t have to stay back and pull an all-nighter, but when he had a lead and he was on a roll, it was best to let him go. His previous partner didn’t understand and he would often come home to a pissed-off partner, yelling arguments ensued… But with you, he came home to a home-cooked meal wrapped up in the fridge so all he had to do was microwave it, sometimes there was a little note on the fridge of microwave door that simply read ‘I love you.’ One time you even put a note on the coffee machine with two large letters, ‘NO’ and a frowny face. Guess you caught on to the fact that he’d come home and have a coffee before bed. A bad habit you were trying to get him out of. “If you want something that tastes sweet but bitter, come have me.” You teased when you first told him off for having coffee so late at night. Precinct nights are fine, you understood the need for caffeine then, but when he’s home – that’s a solid ‘no’. He had tilted his head back and let out a deep, gorgeous laugh. His eyes crinkling from the wide grin he wore on his permanently exhausted features, “Babe, there is nothing bitter about you. I don’t think you even know how to be ‘bitter’.” You definitely won that argument as his hands rested on your hips and pulled them to his. His smiling lips brushed against yours before taking you into a deep kiss, only to pull back ever so slightly, “Mm, definitely no bitterness.” “No bitterness?” “Only sweetness.” Your own lips turned up into a playful smirk, eyebrows quirking up ever so slightly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him down into another heated kiss, murmuring “I know something else that’s sweet.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” You breathed against his lips as you began to tug him out of the kitchen. - “Gavin!” A stern voice interrupted the males thoughts as he was still tightly gripping the steering wheel, car idling despite already pulled into a parking bay. Head quickly turned to glance at Nines, blinking as Gavin came back to his surroundings with a sinking heart. “I let her down, Nines.” He sighed out the burdened confession as his hands dropped from the wheel, one hand pulling the gear stick into ‘park.’, the other flicking the engine off before both hands dropped into his lap. Nines LED flickered to yellow as he watched the storm of emotions engulf Gavin, who was staring guiltily ahead at the looming building of the hospital. “You did no such thing, Gavin. I can’t always tell when you’re stressed out until you snap. It doesn’t make me any less of a competent colleague to you, does it?” “Friend.” Gavin corrected but sighed softly as he agreed, “No, it doesn’t. But…fuck!” Nines quietly waited until Gavin’s strew of emotions calmed down. Sometimes the more Nines tried to reason with the Detective, the more angered Gavin became. He found it beneficial to wait until Gavin was calm enough to see reason. “Alright. Let’s go. You comin’ with me or what?” “Only to protect the medical faculty should you lose your temper at them.” Nines made up the half excuse. Partially knowing that if something involving Gavin’s lover ‘girlfriend’, there’s a high percentage that Gavin would lose his patience with the medical team over things he didn’t understand. Such a situation being if they needed to keep her in for a few nights, Gavin might argue about taking her home, not understanding their reason. At least with Nines there, he can easily diffuse any situation before Gavin escalates to an annoyingly level of inconvenience. As they entered the hospital, Gavin made a beeline for the reception desk. “Can you tell me where Y/N Y/L/N is?” Nines caught up to Gavin just as directions were given. She wasn’t too far. Second floor. At least she wasn’t in the opposite wing of the hospital. Taking the elevator to the floor, Nines quietly accompanied Gavin as the two began the pathway to where your room was located. The only times Nines spoke was when he called Gavin’s attention and gestured to the correct room number. As the two walked past the window where the blinds were open, they could see you sitting on the bed, cross-legged but curled in on yourself, staring at the white blanket. Your face void of emotion but also looking like you’re about to burst into tears at any given moment. Nines would be lying if he said that what he saw didn’t affect him somehow. Something tugged painfully at his synthetic heart. Which was odd because he knew his systems were running at 100% perfect stability. The flicker of his LED from the calm blue to a violent red was enough physical evidence to give away that the stoic RK900 android was worried about you. This was not you. You were normally cheerful, bubbly, hardly ever without a smile unless you were deep in thought or focused on a task. Even being given something as simple as a single flower or a cup of tea would cause you to smile for hours. You cherished the little things. Nines thought you were just a clueless naïve human being when he first met you. Little did he realize, at the time, that there was nothing naïve about having a heart of gold. For the heart you carried brought so much joy to Gavin, made him more tolerable in the workplace, and seemingly a better and healthier person. You were a good influence on him. And Nines couldn’t help but notice how everyone welcomed you when you stepped into the Precinct. They were all happy to talk to someone new, get some stories of an adorable domestic Gavin… To put it simply, you were a walking ray of sunshine. Even Nines found himself feeling elated whenever he saw you. Nines stood to the side, allowing Gavin some privacy with you as he entered the room with a gentle rap of his knuckles against the door. “Babe?” ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ You lifted your head at the sound of a voice that always felt like home to you. The first words to you spoke was a heartbroken plea, “Gavin? God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Immediately Gavin was by your side. “Hey, hey. No. No, you’re okay. It’s okay.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking your hand and enveloping it in his. Your other hand had a strap around the wrist and finger, attached to a machine as it monitored your pulse rate. You also had two sticky pads to your chest with thin wires popping out from the neckline of your work shirt, monitoring your heartrate.

“You got me out of paperwork so, y’know, thank you.” He murmured playfully, trying to lighten your mood and bring a smile to your face. But it didn’t work and he certainly didn’t expect it to. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything. Sometimes it was like everything shut down and plunged you in a numb state, and then the next minute you felt like you could burst into tears and drown your soul beneath the floods. Nines watched from the window as you collapsed your head against Gavin’s shoulder, hiding your face in his neck. You didn’t appear to be sobbing but your shoulders sagged in defeat. Gavin’s torso twisted slightly to accommodate the new position as he wrapped his arms around you, murmuring softly in your ear. (“It’s alright. ‘M here. I’ve got you.”) Occasionally pressing kisses against your forehead. It fascinated him the way Detective Reed worked. He was a smart-mouthed asshole at work, probably less since you’ve been with him. Heavy sarcasm. Matching quip for quip with Nines. Dangerously short-tempered. Definitely plays the role of ‘bad cop’ in the interrogation rooms. But with you… it’s hard to see him as the short-tempered grumpy Detective he’s known to be. There’s a new gentle side that Nines knew he had but never saw it. Until now.

There was a knock to the door as the Doctor approached, the nursing staff most likely have informed him that your emergency contacts have arrived. You immediately pulled away and curled back in on yourself as Gavin stood up to shake hands with the Doctor. “Detective Reed, I presume? Doctor Kent.” This time Nines entered the room now that the Doctor was present and blue eyes immediately dropped onto your huddled figure. Your cortisol levels were high, your serotonin levels were low. There was clearly more than just stress, hints of depression perhaps? None of the medical staff seemed to have picked up on that. Mind, Nines wasn’t programmed to read a human body psychologically, so he wasn’t equipped to make such bold conclusions. “I’m relieved to see your unharmed, Y/N.” Nines gently greeted you, trying to bring a softer tone to his usually sharp matter-of-fact tone. You offered a small smile but Nines could see your bottom lip quivering and the smile and gaze immediately dropped, going unnoticed by both Doctor and Detective as the two conversed, Nines bringing his attention back to the conversation. “How’s she been sleeping?” “Uh, decently. She studies throughout the night. Not coming to bed until near midnight.” “What time does she wake up in the mornings?” “5 or 6ish, I guess.” “The healthy amount of sleep an average person should be getting is 8 hours. 7 at the bare minimum. The lack of sleep that, I’m assuming has been ongoing, leaves her in a sleep-deprived state on top of studies for exams. As a Doctor, I know how grueling studies and exams can be. So I know that her lack of sleep isn’t helping in any way whatsoever to her studies. Any other stressful factors in her life? At home?” “Not that I’m aware of.” Gavin looked over at you but you only ducked your head out of his line of sight. He didn’t bother asking about any more stresses, knowing you wouldn’t be up to talking. The Doctor shifted on his feet as he came to a final conclusion. “I would prefer to keep her in overnight under observation. Prescribe a mild sedation to help her get a peaceful night’s rest.” “No!” Your small voice quickly interjected, shooting down the idea as your head snapped up and panicked eyes set upon the Doctor,  “I want to go home.” Your E/C left the Doctor’s and fell on your boyfriend, silently begging him. “Please?” It was like a fist hand squeezed at Gavin’s heart and then proceeded to stab it against a sharp knife. Never, in the past two years of being with you, has he ever seen you look so broken before. His gaze dropped from yours and back to the Doctor, “Can I not bring her home?” “It is with my professional opinion that we do keep her in overnight.” “You are within your rights to go against medical advice, Detective.” Nines quietly spoke from the side, having noticed your stress levels increased drastically at the thought of staying here.  His cold blue eyes seemed to have softened a little as he looked over at you before, also, dropping his gaze on the Doctor. “If I may interject, it might be beneficial to bring Y/N home. Her stress levels might decrease once she’s in a familiar environment that she deems comforting and safe. I can offer to stay the night to keep an eye on her levels. If they reach critical condition, we can bring her straight back.” And this is why Nines came along. He made a compelling argument against the Doctor whereas Gavin would’ve lost his temper. Nines could already see the panic flash in the Detective’s eyes with the thought of leaving a distraught girlfriend at the hospital overnight. That panic would immediately flicker to anger within the flick of a switch. “Very well. On the proviso that her levels are to be regularly scanned. If there are signs of no improvement, you are to bring her straight back.” “Of course.” It was settled then. The Nurse was called in by the Doctor to disconnect you from the being hooked up to the machines while Gavin walked out of the room (dropping a kiss on the top of your head with a murmured ‘Be right back’) so he could sign the DAMA form. (Discharged Against Medical Advice). Nines watched as everyone left the room, leaving you and the RK900 unit alone. You were still sitting on the bed and your gaze dropped to your hands in your lap. Under the ever-watchful gaze of Nines as his blue eyes studied you for a moment before breaking the silence. “You still seem quite withdrawn.” His tone was quite gentle, surprising you (though you didn’t show that you acknowledged his efforts) and also surprising him. You ducked your head further away from his gaze, your hair finally falling down around your face to obscure your features from view. “I don’t deserve him.” You whispered, your hands beginning to fidget, picking at your nails, rubbing your fingers together, fingernails pressing hard against your skin to the point where you were leaving little crescent moon indents. Your Mother’s words echoing loudly in your head. Unfortunately, your fall to the ground didn’t cause amnesia so you remembered everything about that phone-call. Your fidgeting was a sign that another panic attack was coming on and Nines seemed to have picked up on your stress levels as he came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. His larger hand reaching over and placing it over your fidgeting ones. A gentle squeeze of reassurance was given. “Quite the contrary Y/N. Gavin is the one who doesn’t deserve you. But I know he’s quite lucky to have you. I must say I’m grateful you’ve entered into his life. He’s become much less insufferable.” A very quiet whimper escaped your lips, that if the RK900 didn’t have highly incredible audio sensors, he would have easily missed it. He didn’t fully turn to you, remaining his usual professional self but when he felt two hands grip his tightly, he glanced down. Your fingers were white with how tightly you were holding on to him just as how tightly you were holding onto the lid of emotions that were threatening to spill forth. Ever so slightly, Nines leant forward a little – just a little, but enough for you to know he was silently offering an embrace if you needed it. And you did. You dropped your head into his shoulder and let out a deep sigh. “He could do so much better than me. I’m just…” you struggled to find the right words to describe just how despicable you are compared to many other successful and far more beautiful women out there are. “Perfect.” Nines supplied as his free hand wrapped around your upper arm/shoulder. “You are incorrect to state that he can do better than you. You are the better. Detective Reed is quite out of his league with you.” You merely scoffed at hearing this but the words were comforting to the voice that voice inside your head that was telling you otherwise. There was nothing more Nines could do or say. He wasn’t equipped to be dealing with psychological matters of a sensitive nature such as the situation you’re currently in, so he opted to remain silent and just hold you in this semi-embrace.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ Gavin had finished with the paperwork outside and stopped in his tracks as he walked past the window and saw Nines holding you. Kind of. It looked awkward to Gavin but you seemed content in the embrace. There was no pang of jealousy from Gavin at seeing Nines holding you (why would there be? Nines and you weren’t interested in each other like that), however, Gavin couldn’t help but marvel at how attached Nines had become to you. The RK900 became intrigued with your cheery personality and the way your presence seems to melt all the insufferable behavior away from Gavin. Yours and Nines friendship deepened the more you and Gavin hung out together with Nines, getting to the point where Nines would call you for advice either on Gavin or to do with women (what’s the best approach etc.) most likely related to crime cases with female victims since neither he nor Gavin were the best people to deal with emotionally distraught women. Sometimes you’d even ring Nines to ask about Gavin (if he came home in an exhausted or closed-off mood). Gavin would never have picked Nines to be the one to settle with a bond of friendship other than himself (not to sound vain). Phone ringing in his pocket, Gavin stepped away from the window – probably should give Nines privacy since always seems to be allergic to initiating (or participating) in physical interaction that isn’t violent. He didn’t even get a chance to greet the caller when Fowler’s voice immediately screamed down from the other end of the receiver. “Where the hell are you two!?” “Technically on our lunch break.” “Well get your asses back here and do some of that damn paperwork! It’s overflowing on your desk like Niagra-fucking-falls!” Normally Gavin would hit back with a quip that would leave others to wonder how the hell he hasn’t gotten himself fired yet, but instead his voice was oddly calm, probably because he was also in the hospital hallway. “I’m at the hospital. Something personal came up.” The voice on the other end dropped its raised tone as concern laced through, “Everything alright?” “Yeah. It’s just… personal. Gonna need a couple of days. Nines will be back tomorrow.” “S’fine, s’fine. It’s slow here anyway. Just keep me in the loop.” “Yeah… yeah, thanks.” “Take care, son.” With that, Gavin hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket, relieved that Captain Fowler didn’t pester with questions. It’s not like Gavin took days off anyway – only when forced to by the Captain himself. One of the excused had been; ‘Reed, you’ve been working non-stop and you’re pissing me off. Go home and stay home for a couple of days.’ He walked past the window to see Nines standing by the bed with his hands behind his back, awaiting for Gavin’s return, as though he hadn’t just shared a gentle embrace with Y/N. Stepping into the room, Gavin walked over and placed a hand on the back of your shoulder in a gentle touch, “C’mon.” his voice so soft that if you weren’t in such a state, it would’ve melted your heart. Hands wrapped tightly around your arms as though you were giving yourself a hug, you leaned into Gavin’s side as he guided you out of the room with his arm around your mid-back. Nines following behind as he watched the two of you. You still seem quite withdrawn and quiet. Your levels seemingly decreased since leaving the room and Nines was satisfied he put forth the offer to bring you home. It was silent as they walked out of the hospital and to the car. Gavin occasionally peering over at you but you kept your head down with your gaze on the ground. He felt so out of his depth right now. He was worried about you, actually worried about you. And because he was so worried about you, he worried further that he would say the wrong thing or not be able to help you. He was gentle and kind with you, but he was still the blunt-speaking Detective he’d always been. It didn’t help that this is the first time you’ve ever been this bad. The worst you’ve ever done was breakdown and cry while stressed. All of which can be fixed with hugs and soft murmurs. That was easy. This wasn’t. This required a gentle and fragile approach. Something that Gavin will truly fuck up somehow. Yet the figure following behind them thought otherwise. Had he been able to hear Gavin’s thoughts, Nines would reassure him that he is the perfect person to handle this. Nines has witnessed the true gentleman that Gavin is when he’s around you. He knows Gavin is capable of empathy and sensitivity. Unlocking the car, Gavin opened the door for the backseat behind the driver, his hand leaving your back as you lowered into the seat. He left the door open momentarily as he popped the trunk of the car and pulled out the blanket you made him keep in their in case of emergencies. - “You don’t even have a first aid kit in your car?!” you queried as you and Gavin made your first shopping trip together and were placing grocery bags in the back of the car. “No. Why would I?” “Gavin! You’re a Detective!” “So?” “So…shouldn’t you have one!?…what if someone was in trouble?” “That’s what paramedics are for Y/N.” “You’ve got first aid training, right?” “Yeah they make us do that shit every two to three years.” “Well you ought to have a first aid kit in the back of your car in case of emergencies. It’s only a matter of moments between life and death for some. Paramedics may not arrive in time and you could be the one to make that difference.” Gavin went quiet for a moment as he mulled over the point you made, sighing excessively loudly (which made you giggle because it was one of those defeated sighs where he knew you were right and rather than telling you you’re right, he just sighed it out.) “Alright. I’ll get one if it’ll make you happy.” “And a blanket.” “Why the fuck would someone need a blanket?” “In case of situations like shock, or it’s in freezing cold temperatures.” Another sigh and then a defeated, “Fine. Fine. You win. But you better kiss me for this.” You grinned and did as he asked, leaning over you brushed your lips against before his hand pressed against your lower back, pulling you against him as his lips captured yours. “Mm, that’s what I thought.” He murmured. You could feel his grin through the kiss and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh against his lips. - Nines ever-observant eyes watched with curiosity as Gavin retrieved the blanket from the trunk of the car, shaking it out of its folded-up state and brought it around to you. It smelt a bit musty from being cooped up in the dark back of his trunk but you didn’t mind as he draped it over you. “Guess you were right, huh?” he smiled softly as he tugged it around your sides. You could only nod. It was like you hit such a numb state. You couldn’t share in his humor, you couldn’t bring yourself to reciprocate his smile. You could only be glad that you did something right for once. With your door finally closed and you were safely situated in the backseat, Nines finally moved from his spot and slid into the passenger seat just as Gavin slid into the driver’s seat. Unlike when he and Nines left the Precinct, Gavin was much more careful in reversing and driving out of the hospital carpark. Mostly because you were in the vehicle. The drive home was quiet. Gavin constantly checking his rearview mirror to keep an eye on you. Occasionally you both made eye contact and you would always look away in shame. He deserved so much better than you. Perhaps your mother was right. Look how you’re inconveniencing him. He’s had to take time off work because of you. “Would you like me to inform Captain Fowler of your sudden absence?” Nines quietly asked, purposefully keeping his voice at a gentle lull so as to not disturb you. “I’ve already called him. Said you were coming in tomorrow though.” Eyes focused on the road, Gavin answered Nines without breaking concentration, his voice equally quiet. “Is that wise? An agreement was made between the Doctor and myself that I would ensure Y/N’s safety outside Hospital Grounds.” “So? S’not like you got it in writing.” “No. I did, however, record the conversation.” “Without his consent? Why, Nines, you devil, you.” Gavin quietly joked. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the statement, deeming an action unnecessary, Nines decided to correct the name-calling, “I’m an android, not a devil. Regardless, that agreement still stands.” “Look, Nines, we’re about to crack this case. Let’s face it, you’ll work quicker when I’m not there. You got Anderson and that annoying plastic prick as backup.” Gavin turned the corner and was only now three streets from arriving home. “Very well.” You heard the entire conversation, they weren’t being quiet in an attempt for you not to overhear, they were being quiet out of respect for your already quiet state. But you did readjust yourself, sinking further beneath the blanket and leaning your head against the window. The hum of the vehicle’s engine, the flickering of the indicator and the quietened toned voices that were usually loud and bickering (mostly Gavin instigating the arguments) was enough to make you drowsy with the heavy onslaught of emotions you were fighting back. ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ You hadn’t realized you were home until your door opened and you jerked in surprise. “Shit, sorry babe. You okay?” You hummed softly as you undid your seatbelt and climbed out of the car with the blanket wrapped around you. Immediately Gavin’s arm came around the small of your back and guided you up to the house. “Would you like a cup of tea Y/N? I’ve heard herbal teas are beneficial in calming ones nerves.” Nines asked as he followed up behind you and Gavin, hands behind his back. You only shook your head, “I think I just want to go to sleep.” You muttered and felt Gavin’s hand rub your back in comfort. The small home that you and Gavin shared was always warm and welcoming. Unlike bare yet always messy apartment Gavin had prior to you coming on the scene. There were artwork on the wall, photos in frames displayed on different types of shelving, alongside little ornaments that you and Gavin collected over time. Mostly things you found cute whenever you would visit a market or something. Occasionally something on display would be from Gavin; “I saw this and thought you might like it.” Had been his way of telling you he’s thinking of you and taking an interest in what you like. And because he wanted to spoil you with something you’d like personally rather than just the average gift of jewelry.

Gavin took you down the hall while Nines stayed in the living room, waiting Gavin’s return. “How are you feeling?” Gavin murmured as he shut the bedroom door and walking around you to pull back the blankets of the bed on your side. You merely raised your shoulders in a small shrug. Today had escalated drastically for you; physically, mentally and emotionally. You climbed into the bed, still wrapped in the blanket from the car as an additional comfort. You snuggled down with the blanket being tugged right up around your chin by Gavin. He had no idea what the fuck to do but he could only hope this would work. His hand came down to rest on the curve of where your hip was hidden beneath the blanket as he crouched down on his quarters. His other arm resting above your head as his fingers gently caressed your hair from your forehead. “What the hell happened to you today, Y/N/N?” “I don’t know… stress, I guess.” “I’ve seen you stressed, babe. This isn’t that. There’s something more. Something you’re not telling me. What is it?” Damn him and his Detective skills, able to pinpoint when someone wasn’t telling the truth. You licked your lips in nervousness as you stared at his grey orbs. “Can I ask you something Gavin?” “Yeah. ‘Course.” “Do I…Do I, um… Do I…” your voice wavered as you stammered your words, the remaining question was whispered because you were barely holding on now, “disgust you? Make you ashamed to be with me?” His fingers stopped their ministrations, his face twisting into a mix of disbelief and anger. “What the fuck Y/N?! No! Where the hell did this all come from?” Just like that, the gates to the dam opened and the tears fell uncontrollably from your eyes, your own features twisting into so much hurt that it tugged painfully at Gavin’s heartstrings, already filling with anger and who caused you to be so distraught. A sob broke out and you turned your face into the pillow, away from his gaze as your body violently trembled beneath each sob that tore out. “Shit. Hey, hey, hey…S’alright. It’s alright.” Gavin quickly moved to sit in the small space on the edge of the bed. Everything that had built up for weeks, only for the phone call from your mother to finally be that tipping point for you came bursting out. You felt one hand grip whatever part of you he could reach, and the other caressing the material of the blanket that was covering your body. “I’ve got you, babe. I got you. You’re alright. ‘M right here.” Soft words were murmured as he continued to caress your back in comfort but his efforts hadn’t even managed to calm you down at all. “Babe, can you look at me?” “No….” you wailed into the pillow, curling further in on yourself. Quietly adding an “I can’t!” between sobs. Your cries were really getting to Gavin and he had to find the strength not to explode in anger and hunt down whoever it was that hurt you like this. “’M right here Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. Talk to me.” Gavin’s voice rose a little to be heard over the volume of your cries but still, somehow, remained a gentle tone about it. He barely managed to catch it but he heard it loud and clear, “I’m a disappointment.” “Who said that?” “Everyone! My boss! Customers! My own M-Mom!” Gavin was well aware what your mother was like. What your family was like. They expected too much from you and had you at high standards that were impossible for you to achieve. Not everyone was built to become a surgeon or a firefighter, or even a Detective. At first, he tried to reason with himself that they just wanted the best for you but it was clear that they bullied you – and he swore that sometimes they would do it for fun. He lost all respect for your family and wanted to shield you away from them as best as he could without it falling into the ‘possessive/alienating’ category of being in a relationship.  It was part of the reason he asked you to move in with him. Give you an offer of a new life. Hopefully ceasing as much contact with the toxicity of your family. “God-fucking-damnit!” The curse fell past his lips before he could even catch it, startling you and causing you to curl into a tight ball – how that was even possible, he had no idea. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything!” “Fuck. No. I… No, I’m not mad at you… Fuck, babe… I, uh…” His hand hovered midair, debating whether continuing to offer you comfort was the right course of action. He had sent you into such a pleading state with his verbal outburst, he didn’t want to be the one to add to that. “I’m not worth it. Any of it. You deserve better than me.” Without thinking, his hand came down and rested firmly on your shoulder. Sliding off the bed, he resumed his position of crouching down to peer at you since you were curled into a tight fetal position. “No.” he firmly stated. “You are worth everything to me, Y/N. Everything. Don’t you dare think you’re not.” He dropped his head, muttering under his breath, “I’m going to fucking kill that woman.” It was no use. Whatever Gavin said to you, you only cried through his words. You hadn’t meant to be so rude but you couldn’t calm down. This was years and years of your Mother’s verbal abuse coming out. The more you cried, the more Gavin swore bloody murder. It was hard; he wasn’t the type of guy who knew the right things to say. He was far from the ‘ideal perfect boyfriend’ that women seem to desire. But he was doing all he could, and all that he knew how. That also includes staying with you until you fell asleep. Your body stopped trembling but his hand never ceased those comforting motions against your frame. Gentle hushing every now and then emitted past those lips that were known to swear like a sailor and argue with anything that moves. Gavin had since resumed his original position; crouched by the bedside, one hand caressing the hair back from your now tear-stained face, the other rubbing circular motions in comfort – which had now ceased to where his thumb was just gentle caressing while his hand remained firmly against the curve of your hip. He waited until you were asleep before he left, gently tugging the blankets around you, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form – features now relaxed and set into a peaceful slumber as if you didn’t just suffer a massive breakdown. The moment he turned from you, however, there was a murderous rage in those stormy grey orbs of his. Quietly shutting the door behind him, he walked out to Nines who was holding a framed photo of the three of them. This was definitely your doing. Gavin would never place photos up, particularly personal ones. But you insisted, and you really adored the one of you three. It was just a dumb selfie at the beach with your faces squished together in order to fit in the frame. It was silly, and one of the very rare times that Nines stepped out of his level of comfort from his professional appearance to just be ‘normal’. His LED was circling the soft amber glow, occasionally red would flicker through. He was quite concerned about you. Particularly when he heard the heartbroken wails filter through the shut door. Audio components picking up some of the conversation as he eavesdropped a little, however, he decided that this was one of those times where you could not be comforted. A shame that you weren’t under hospital care, they could have given you a sedation to avoid the mess of emotions. Perhaps with the decent night sleep, you could wake up feeling more refreshed and a stronger state of mind to begin the day’s problems. Which is what he hoped would work for you now. Hearing the door click shut, he placed the photo back on the shelf and waited for Gavin to reappear. “How is Y/N?” Gavin didn’t even look at Nines as he pulled out his phone from his pocket and thumb began scrolling through the screen of contacts. “Cried herself to sleep. Fuck all I could do for her.” “Surprisingly her cortisol levels are back to a regular state but there’s been a significant drop in her serotonin levels.” Nines reported as he followed Gavin into the kitchen. Glancing up from his phone in annoyance, wanting to just get the person he was looking for on the phone and rip into them. “What?! English, Nines.” “I was speaking English, Detective. To put it simply, her stress levels are back to normal but she’s taken quite the plunge with her happiness.” “Yeah, no shit Sherlock. You seen the state she’s in? She’s far from happy. She’s hurtin’ Nines. And there’s fuck all I can do for her. And this wouldn’t have happened if her fucking mother kept her goddamn mouth shut.” “I’m afraid I’m not following.” “I couldn’t get much out of her but…” Gavin went on to explain just the real level of nastiness your Mother can be. And whenever there’s a family get-together, they all put their two-cents worth it. And not in a supportive manner either. They were jabs, accusations, insults, remarks… playground bullying that was clearly taking it’s toll on you. “…Which is why I asked her to move in with me. To get her away from all this bullshit as much as I can.” “I see.” “Enough’s enough. This ends now.” Phone gripped in his fist, pointer finger came out and jabbed at the air towards the ground, emphasis his words before he extended his arm out and pointed towards the door of where you were sleeping, “Because the next time this happens, I don’t want to get a phone call saying Y/N’s topped herself.” Nines would have interjected, maybe offered for Gavin to calm down while making an irrational phone call but from what he had just been informed with regarding your family, well… they had this coming. Nines was standing by for… moral support. And to also make sure Gavin doesn’t say something stupid that could jeopardize your relationship with him or his job as an officer of the law. Finally hitting the green call button on his phone, Gavin waited for your Mother to pick up. When the line connected, he offered no greeting and go straight to the point,

“What did you say to her?!” “Nothing that any other Mother wouldn’t give advice to their child.” “You call that advice!? Do you have any idea what you’ve fucking done!?” “I gave her a reality check, Mr. Reed. Get her to pull her head in and do something good with her life.” “No. You gave her a hospital check. You’ve fucked her up.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me, lady. Every time I manage to bring her to where she can finally see her own worth, you bring her right back to the fucking ground again. And this time she landed in the fucking hospital!” Gavin’s finger never ceased the jabbing in midair with every point he made. If only the Mother could see how close Gavin was to losing his shit, perhaps she’d actually shut up and listen to him. “That’s at no-one’s fault but her own.” “No, that’s at your own fucking fault. If you were a decent mother and supported her -” “Y/N has had this fantasy dream since she was a child. It’s time she outgrew it and got a proper job.” “Since when is wanting to own to a business a fucking fantasy?! She can do it. She has the smarts to but you keep fucking her up.” At this point, Nines yanked the phone out of Gavin’s clutches when the Detective’s began to rise and his anger would be to blame for waking you up, which is something that Nines wanted to avoid. You needed the sleep and listening to Gavin scream down the other line of the phone would only stress you out further. Placing the communications device to ear, a much more calmer tone greeted the line, “Good evening Mrs Y/L/N. What my colleague is trying to convey is that one Y/N has successfully surpassed her examinations, she has a solid proposal to put forth to the bank and town-council officials. There is a 15% she will be knocked back, but that is a very low percentile so I highly doubt she will become the failure that you are clearly so worried about. I understand that every parent wishes for their child to succeed. Your concern is admirable but the unsolicited advice is not. I suggest that if you cannot be as supportive of her as her own boyfriend and his work colleagues down at the Detroit City Police Department, perhaps it is best if you minimalize your contact with Y/N. I assure you that your daughter has people in her corner to support her, people that you ought to be wary of the next time you break the law. Because the next time you bring Y/N down again, we will bring you down the next time you break the law, regardless of how small it is. Good day Mrs. L/N.” Just as well that Nines took over from the phone call. Had it been Gavin, he would’ve been screaming down the line with a much worse threat; ‘Break Y/N again, and I’ll break your fucking face.” Gavin temper can get away from him particularly when it involves you. Before your mother could get a word in, Nines hung up the phone and looked over at Gavin whose mouth was slightly agape before they turned into a snarl as he took his phone back. “She got off lightly if you ask me.” “Yes, well the alternative is against the law.” “Tch.” “It would be advisable that you also retrieve Y/N’s phone in case the mother tries to contact her while she’s recovering.” “Fuck. Yeah… Yeah, I’ll do that.” Instead of doing as Nines advised, Gavin grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, some pain relief from the top of the fridge and then rummaged around one of the top drawers in the kitchen. Grabbing a marker and a piece of notepad paper, he quickly scribbled something on it before gathering everything and making his way down the hallway to the bedroom. Quietly opening the door, he made an effort to be quiet with his steps as he set down his phone beside yours so he could unload the rest of his items; placing the bottle of water down, the packet of pain relief tablets in case you awake with a headache or any other aches from today. Lastly, the little note that simply said; ‘Love you X.’

Despite the murderous anger that had consumed him earlier, it all melted when he saw you curled up beneath the covers. One of these days he was going to marry you. If you’ll have him, that is. He can only hope he’d make a decent husband to you. Leaning down, lips softly kissed your temple, gaze lingering on you for a moment, flames of fierce protection flickered around Gavin’s heart, who was prepared to burn anyone whoever dare hurt you like this. Grabbing both phones, he left the room and quietly shut the door behind him. ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ He found Nines in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee made for Gavin, knowing the Detective would be in dire need of something after the stressful few hours. Sitting at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, Gavin groaned and rubbed his face as Nines took your phone and switched it off completely before sliding it back to Gavin. “Nines? Uh… listen – uh, thanks for everything today. Didn’t mean to rope you in with all this shit.” “You’re quite welcome. I’m just relieved to know that Y/N is home.” “Yeah. Me too.” A quiet moment transpired between them as Gavin sipped away at his coffee and Nines running his regular internal checks with his system. “’M gonna marry her Nines.” The statement came as no surprise to Nines, he was well aware how smitten Gavin was for you, but he hadn’t expected to see the tips of Gavin’s ears turn pink at the statement. Gavin’s face was turned slightly from Nines’ complete view, but Nines knew this was something that Gavin was embarrassed to confess but clearly wanted to open up to Nines about. “I know, Detective.”

  ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇  

It was close to 8 months since you successfully graduated from your university. Gavin and Nines were both there to see you accept your certificate, they were both there when you signed documents and contracts for various things. Gavin wanted to be there for every crucial moment for you, and Nines wanted to be there to ensure that you weren’t getting screwed over by what was stated in the contracts and documents.

It was the evening before the bookstore opening and everything was in place. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be a grand opening of sorts so Gavin didn’t book the day off; having booked quite a number of days off already with wanting to be there for the other stuff in the past few days. So, he decided to take you out to dinner tonight. Or so you thought. He came home early so he could have a shower and get ready while you also had time to do your hair and makeup, wearing the dress that you knew drew him wild. It wasn’t your intention to tease him but you also know he’s been stressed with work but has also been there for you with everything… you knew there was only one way to show your appreciation… but that was for after dinner. You hadn’t even left the house yet, let alone the bedroom when two large hands had your hips pinned against the wall. You let out a small gasp and arched against him with a small hum. His lips trailing from your cheek and down your jawline, “You look delicious babe.” One of your hands rested on his forearm, the other trailed up the nape of his neck, fingers pressing against the smaller parts of his hair. “Dinner first and then dessert.” “I’d rather have you for dinner.” Came the husky murmur against your ear as his hands gripped your hips and pressed his own against yours, feeling the slight bulge in his pants. You forced yourself to hold back a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how much you really want to cave and give him what he wants. “And not dessert? Shame. Dessert’s always the best part.” You teased, tilting your head sideways for his lips to have better access. He refused to kiss your lips because he didn’t want to mess up your makeup. “Can’t I have both?” he groaned out but forced himself to pull away, especially if he wants tonight to go as planned; which didn’t exactly interfere with your plans but will definitely delay them somewhat. His lust-filled green eyes stared at yours as a finger gently hooked under your chin, thumb very lightly caressed across your dark red painted lips. “You really are fucking beautiful, you know that, right?” Luckily the blush you were wearing covered up the natural heat of your cheeks at his compliment. “I do now.” You murmured softly as your gaze met his and your lips smiled softly. You had no idea how much Gavin worshipped the ground you walked on, adored you in every single aspect of the word. At the same time, he was your entire world to you. He may not look like it, but he was the epitome of a gentleman to you. You’ve been told by so many that he’s an absolute asshole at work (granted he’s calmed down since he’d been dating you) but you just can’t see it. Smiling, you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and leaned back, thumb wiping away the lipstick residue left on his cheek. “And you, Detective Reed, are quite the charmer.” If he could wink, he would, but he’d given up trying ages ago. Instead, his lips turned up into a smirk and his hand connected with the curve of your ass. “C’mon.” Gavin took you both to the bookstore first. Night was falling and you could only make out the sign by the street lamps; ‘Cozy Book Nook Store’ a name that suited the theme of the bookstore you designed. Even with the curtains drawn, the windows and signage already had a welcoming and cozy tone. Gavin had wanted to see the final product before anyone else when the doors opened tomorrow. Unlocking the door, you flicked some of the lights and let him in. He wondered around a little, taking it all in. Mind, he’s been coming in every few days to see the progress, spending his weekends dedicated to helping you unbox books and placing them on the shelves. But he knows you’ve been working hard nonstop between then and now, adding the finishing touches and such. You quietly stood to the side, hands clasped together in front of you as you watched his reaction. Did it look good? Did you do a good job at setting it up? It was a rustic themed look inside with little nooks lit up by soft fairy lights where people could sit and read. Eventually you were going to incorporate a hot chocolate machine but that also came with a lot of pros and cons, and not quite in budget at the moment. “This looks amazing! You nervous?” he turned as he watched you walk over to him, forcing himself to keep his eyes on yours and not wander down to the curve of your hips as they sway while you walked. “Excited mostly, but yeah, a little nervous.” “You know I’m proud of you, babe. I’m so fucking proud of you.” He glanced around at the store before his gaze landed back on yours. “You achieved all this on your own.” “Well, I can’t take all the credit. You helped too.” “Hm, I think I mostly got in the way.” There was one weekend where Gavin kept slapping your ass as he walked past while you were bent over some books or boxes, a couple of times you both fooled around too. It was basically a wasted weekend because Gavin clearly had other things on his mind. He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. “You’ve come a long way Y/N. You should be proud of yourself. I am. I am so fucking proud of you, you have no idea. I know things weren’t easy. But I will always be there for you. And I…” Gavin had wanted to say something romantic, something that would sweep you off your feet but he wasn’t capable of doing that. He still struggles to open up on a heart-to-heart level at times. Instead, his free hand disappeared into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small square box. Before you even had time to process anything, he was down on one knee, still holding your hand while managing to flick the box open to reveal a beautiful gold diamond ring. “I would be even more proud to call you my wife. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He had every intention of asking you to marry him regardless of whether you graduated or not. If you didn’t graduate, it would give him the opportunity to whisk you away for a weekend to help forget your troubles, to propose even if it means you don’t become the successful bookstore owner you’ve always dreamed of being. Whether you were an assistant, or at a ‘menial’ job like retail or at Starbucks… he’d still be proud to call you his wife. But when you graduated and bought the building that was only a block away from the Precinct (expect a lot of visits from Gavin, sometimes Nines too, on his lunchbreak), he knew the perfect way to propose to you; When your Bookstore was all set up and ready to open. “I… Gavin are you sure?” “I’m on my knees, asking. I’m pretty sure Y/N.” “No, I meant… my family aren’t exactly –” “I’m well aware of your family and I would really rather not talk about them while I’m trying to ask you to marry me here.” You laughed softly at accidentally leaving him in limbo like that. But your laughter soon turned into tears of happiness as you sobbed out a “Yes.” Being a physically active Detective, he was able to unexpectedly brace himself as you lunged your body against him. Arms coming around his neck while you kissed whatever part of him you could. “Oh my god, yes!”   Still holding the box, his arms snaked around your lower back as he held you to him, his lips managing to catch yours in a tender but deep kiss in the middle of your bookstore.

[thedarklightwithinus]

The Scientist

A/N; Felt like writing some sadness so me being me wrote some sadness. :(

Pairing; Steve Rogers x Reader

Words; 1.4k

Loosely based on; The Scientist - Coldplay

No one ever said it would be this hard. Oh, take me back to the start.

Under blue and sunlit skies, the view was wondrous to behold, for the lake teemed with life. To the chorus of birdsong from the surrounding green bushes, and the sound of carp sucking amongst the flowering lily-pads. Who knew what lived within the lake and called it home. The soft ripple gave away that their was in-fact life within. 

A deep sense of serenity overcame her as she stared in rapture at the expanse of blue that lay before her. Rays of lights danced delicately across the water, birthed from the afternoon sun that both limited her sight and made the view all the more beautiful.

If only she didn’t feel as though her world was crashing down on her. 

Y/N stared vacantly at a fixed spot of the lake before her. She stood completely still and tried swallowing down the oncoming tears but failed. She blinked. A single tear began to form at the corner of her eye. She reached up and wiped it away a little to quickly. 

Movement from the left tore her from her thoughts as she forced a smile at one of the men who walked past her. He held a black bag and a litter picker in his hand as he ignored her in favour of getting his job done. She watched him for a moment, cleaning the grounds of any rubbish that had taken refuge on the floor. He looked around at the ground she was stood on before he walked past her, oblivious to the lonely woman. She didn’t let it bother her. People rarely ever spared her a second glance these days. If anything, she was thankful that they couldn’t see the bags under her lifeless eyes and the stiffness of her body. 

Unfortunately, Y/N had learnt from a young age that she was only needed when she had something to offer. Y/N, though she hated it dearly, was a prized possession that seemed to be sought after. The amount of emails she had on the daily from different companies offering her a job in their labs was insane. Any other scientist would've been ecstatic with the offers. However, she wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t her they wanted, it was her brain. It wasn't her degree they wanted, it was her knowledge. 

It was like she was a shell. A container that contained the extraordinary mind that was so carelessly gifted to her. Though she would have to admit that her knowledge wasn’t given to her like one would gift a teddy. She had been born gifted.

Numbers and equations. That was her forte. From a young age everything just seemed to fit onto the paper as it should. Where other five year olds her age had trouble telling the number one and seven apart, she was already solving theory's taught in college. She was quick to work out that her math skills could be applied to her love for science which was why scientific research was easily solved by her. That was how she had been discovered. Her love for science and her brain was unmatched by anyone. She was one of a kind and she hated it. 

She had learnt from a young age to not think that people wanted her for her. It always came down to the same thing. No one asked how she was. No one asked if she wanted to hang out or if she was free. It was always about science. Could you solve this? Can you give us this? Would you fix this?

It had taken her a long, long time to work out that she had gone as far as she could on her path alone. 

She learnt how to walk alone, how to carry others, how to cope with and solve her problems alone. What's left is a form of loneliness that requires another person to solve. It's the need for physical closeness, for touch, for emotional warmth from a partner in life. For a long time her heart felt like it was bound by barbed wire, causing the wounds to deepen with ever beat. All she could do was hope that someone, one day, would care enough to love her. Otherwise, she was new she would either be suffering or never truly in comfort.

Just as a drop of crystal-clear water appeared on her smooth skin, she smiled to herself. The rain was something that stopped her thoughts from buzzing, calmed her. The waves of the salty liquid washed the grass creating a melancholic song. Waiting for the rain to wash all of the misery away, she stood there, her gaze burning into the sky, staring at the beauty of the upcoming storm and the crying clouds.  

It was as the first roll of thunder clapped overhead that she finally tore her gaze away and looked over her shoulder at the Avengers tower. Her new office sat on the seventeenth floor, a window over looking the grounds. She sighed, wiping the rain from her face and screwing her eyes shut for a moment. She took in a shaking breath before wrenching them back open. Raindrops seemed to cling to her lashes the moment she did so. With a final look at the lake, Y/N spun on her heel and trudged back towards the tower.

Y/N entered through the back entrance, trying not to feel to bad about the mess she was leaving before her as she made her way to the elevators. She pushed the button and waited for the doors to open. Once they had done so, she slid inside and leaned against the wall. Just as the doors were shutting, a hand was held out, stopping them from fully closing. 

She looked down at the ground, ignoring the oversized figure who entered the elevator for a moment before she couldn't help but look up. Y/N politely at Steve Rogers, with whom she had met when she had first started working at the tower two weeks prior. He smiled back for a moment before he frowned, taking in her tired and rumpled appearance. Not to mention that she was soaking wet. 

They stared at each other for a moment, not wanting to disturb the perfect silence. Hesitantly, Steve opened his mouth to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue the whole time. "Are you alright?" 

It was as though a dam had broken. Her eyes filled with tears she never had any intention of shedding as she nodded quickly, smiling at him before looking away. He had asked the question every emotional person hated being asked. If you were to ask someone if they were alright when they weren't, it was almost impossible to stop the flood gate. 

"No your not." Steve muttered, clearly not having any idea about the do's and don'ts. "And that's alright." He added after a seconds thought. 

Y/N frowned, not knowing what to say. If anything, she was slightly shocked. She couldn't remember the last time someone had asked if she was alright. The elevator was still steadily climbing the floors. 

Gathering herself, she took a step forward at the same time he did. Those hesitant movements were all it took and then she was wrapping her arms around the man who looked shocked for a second before he let her link her arms around him and rested his own on her back and head. Her head was wet under his hand but he didn't bother worrying about it. He squeezed his arms a little tighter, giving her the small comfort she so desperately needed. 

There was so much he wanted to say in that moment. So much he wanted to ask, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He remembered the times when he was younger and had been emotional. His mum would wrap him in her arms and talk her way through the sadness he was feeling. He watched the elevator doors open for a moment, not bothering to alert her as he watched them close. With a deep breath, he opened his mouth. 

"Tell me something about you that you've never told anyone, never written down, never said out loud. Tell me something that's... A secret," he said so softly it was practically a whisper. 

He felt her breath out deeply at his words, clearly thinking of a reply. "I like to draw." She admitted, her voice slightly muffled. "Even though I'm not very good at it... I like to draw." 

"That's something." Steve chuckled, frowning for a moment. "I like to draw too. I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" 

Just like that, Y/N felt one of the many, many cracks fill itself within her heart. She nodded against his chest, agreeing to his words. She realised in that moment that the love she needed could've been from anyone. Even a Friend. 

.

[curiouswritinggarden]

The Excuse

I am late for work! Late! Late! Late! Of all the nights to eat cheap fried rice, why did it have to be last night, I think to myself as I start the car. Eating Lee’s authentic Chinese special fried burger rice always knocked me out with fever dreams. I cringe while remembering the crazy dream about claymation Komodo dragons. Oof, I took two red lights. Hopefully I can get to the time clock before my boss notices. I finally arrive at the office building. I slam my car door shut and run through the crowded parking lot. There is only enough time to shout a frantic, “Good morning!” to the lobby’s receptionist before skidding into a closing elevator.

I take a second to catch my breath. The memory of the clay lizards whispering, “mould our faces,” creeps back into my mind. I shake my head to get rid of the weird thoughts and notice my hair is sticking out at weird angles. Great, just great, nothing says late like lopsided bedhead, I think as a try to smooth down my frizzy hair.

The elevator dings at my floor. I poke my head out of the sliding doors. The reception area is empty. The time clock gently ticks on the wall behind the welcome desk. A smug smile spreads across my face. No witnesses, perfect! I can’t believe the welcome room is empty. I speed tiptoe toward the time clock.

“You’re late.”

I jump and muffle a shriek. Slowly, I turn to face my boss, Mr. Borgman, with the most professional smile I can muster. Mr. Borgman is a tall, stern man infamously known for firing tardy employees in the office. He walks up behind me and adjusts his dark blue neck tie with the patience of a priest.

“Twenty-five minutes and thirty seconds late, Ms. Rubin,” he says as his eyes flicker to the clock and back to me. “I hope the extra sleep prepared you to welcome the clients scheduled this afternoon. You’re lucky none of them had the decency to come in early.” He regards me with a disapproving look as he passes judgement on my wicked bedhead. “Even though you are the, I assume, proud receptionist of Sleepy Time Pillows Inc., the company does not endorse sleeping in on work days.”

“There’s no reason why you deserve more sleep than the rest of our employees. Many of our workers perform outstandingly with the standard seven to eight hours of sleep every night.”

He leans down toward me, “Why should I make an exception for you?”

I crane my neck upwards as he looms over me. My smile dissolves into a sheepish smirk.

Why did my boss eat a mountain of calcium as a kid?

Taking a deep breath in, I squeeze out my words in a whisper, “I can explain sir, if you just give me a few minutes of your time.”

“You have taken more than enough time from me and the company already,” he says curtly. Then, with the grace of a confessor, his gaze shifts from judging to challenging. “But I would love to hear you try and talk your way out of this rather, sticky situation.”

He nods, in a merciful way, and eyes the time clock again, “I’ll even give you one minute to gather your thoughts.”

“Thank you sir,” I say meekly. A minute, huh? How am I going to come up with an excuse in a minute? Mr. Borgman is notorious for following the paper trails of his employees. If any employee was truly sick, he wanted them to show symptoms, have paperwork, and even a call from the doctor that treated them. He showed the same ruthless efficiency when family emergencies came up too.

How Jerry wasn’t fired after he faked his father’s own funeral is beyond me. Wait..That’s it! Jerry wasn’t fired, even after impersonating his allegedly dead father in an open casket funeral! It was proof there was a funny bone in my bosses’ thin skeleton figure. I just need to come up with a story wild enough to make him laugh, or at least crack a less sinister smile. I glance at him. His smile is relaxed yet all his teeth are showing. “Thirty more seconds, Ms. Rubin,” he says.

I rack my brain for any idea. Mould our faces, a slithery voice whispers. The dream, of course! I straighten my stance and channel all of my customer service calmness into my voice.

“There is a perfectly logical explanation of why I am late today Mr. Borgman. You see, yesterday I visited the Wynken, Blynken, and Nod Sleep Center in the hopes of convincing them to test if our Sleepy Time Pillows could improve sleep. They told me the lab would be interested, but first I would need to register with the center. As a requirement I had to volunteer in a sleep study.”

He raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“They told me the study would monitor sleep patterns of the average adult. Not wanting to waste any time, I volunteered for the sleep study last night. Unfortunately, my volunteer papers got mixed up and I was mistaken for a participant in a different study. At least, that’s what they told me, afterward.”

Pausing, I sigh and shake my head slowly, “What I’m about to say is going to sound crazy, but it’s all true. So please, do not interrupt me.”

He nods, “Alright, you may continue.”

“Last night during the, supposed, sleep study I was taken to a monitoring room. They gave me a glass of water and told me I had to drink it as part of the study. So I drank it and fell asleep mid-yawn. The next thing I knew I woke up in a room designed to look like a flower meadow.”

My boss scowls in confusion. He tries to interrupt me, but I cut in.

“Yes, I know it sounds insane, but that is what happened. I woke up in a room made to look like a flower meadow. The walls were painted sky blue and there was green shag carpeting with silk daisies stapled in place. I should know, I yanked a bunch of the fake flowers out of the carpet and cut my foot on the staple. I was confused and stumbled back into a painted wall. Then the wall spun around and I was in a night club. There were loads of people wearing glow-in-the-dark shirts in that crowded room. All of them were dancing to rave music with a heavy base. I was disoriented and kept bumping into dancers. I felt like I was in a human pinball machine and I was the pinball. Suddenly, someone pushed me out the door of the night club and into a different room. The new room looked like a kindergarten classroom…”

As I continue on my long tale, I describe myself walking in and out of dozens of strange rooms. Some with balloons in them, others filled with hedgehogs, but all of the rooms were wacky and left me feeling more befuddled than ever. I glance at my boss and see that my story has the same bewildering effect on him. His eyes are scrunched up in confusion, his mouth is open in a lopsided scowl, and his head is cocked to the side. I decide to wrap it up when it looks like his face is going to flip to a 180 degree angle.

“…And it was just when I was running out of the trampoline bug room that I was face to face with a pair of giant claymation Komodo dragons. They were hissing at me, ‘Mould our faces,’ when I lost the last shred of my sanity and ripped the lizard’s head off. I was screaming, ‘Ok, I’ll shape your faces!!’ when a buzzer sounded and over-head lights came on. People in lab coats walked into the room. They told me to calm down, which is hard to do when you are confused beyond belief and clutching a dislocated clay lizard head. They explained that all the rooms were part of an experiment. The scientists were testing to see how people would react to dreamscapes when they were fully awake. They placed me and other test subjects in a maze filled with bizarre things to simulate a dream landscape. I was shocked and yelled at them. I had only volunteered to do a regular sleep study, not be a guinea pig for a bunch of quacks. I collected my personal effects, went back home to change, and then raced over here to start my work day.”

Mr. Borgman stands very still in the waiting room. It takes him half a minute for him to blink. He reaches slowly into his pocket; perhaps to hand me a pink slip. Instead of termination papers, he takes out a moleskin notebook and writes for over 5 minutes. Then he closes the notebook and says, “Well, your excuse is going right at the top, along with Jerry Barton faking his father’s death, as the craziest late excuse I’ve ever heard.”

I gulp, “Does this mean I’m not fired, sir?”

He gives me a satisfied smile. “I should hope not Ms. Rubin, we need you on our ad campaign team. Someone with your creativity is needed to help us sell our pillows. I believe your excuse would make an excellent advertisement for our company.”

My sigh of relief is cut off as he talks to me again.

“However Ms. Rubin, do not come in late again or I will truly fire you.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he walks into the office, he laughs softly to himself. “Mould our faces, indeed,” he chuckles.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hey there! So this short story is based off a writing prompt from Writer’s Digest’s Year of Writing Prompts.   Specifically, March 4th’s prompt: You’re late for work because you overslept, but your boss hates over-sleepers. He does love entertaining stories, though, so create the most outlandish excuse as to why you were late.  Writing this was a lot of fun! The most difficult part was creating the actual excuse. I needed a scenario that sounded crazy, but real enough so that it would sound believable. The idea finally came to me when I thought of the company my main character worked for, Sleepy Time Pillows. After figuring out the name, everything else in the story fell into place.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the story! :D

[cancerbiophd]

Hi Julia! Thanks for all you do 😊 I just graduated this past spring with a degree in biophysics, and I’m planning to go for a PhD in biology in a few years. Over the summer, I worked as a lab manager in the lab that I did my undergrad research in, and now I’m back home applying for positions for my gap years. Do you have any tips for finding positions? I haven’t submitted an application to any job yet but I’m starting to panic bc it seems like it’s harder to find a position than I thought. :

(continued from last ask, oops) Also I’m an anxious bean and the longer I take to find a position, the worse I feel about asking my undergrad PI for help, even though he’s super nice and supportive and I should ask him if he knows of any positions :(

Hello! And thank you!!! (i love your blog btw i got lost in it for like 5 min and slammed that follow button (i follow back via my main blog jncera)) 

I’m a fellow anxious bean too! The thought of having to search for jobs/post-docs soon makes me want to hide under a table for the rest of my life. But we can tackle this together my fellow bean!

So tips that have helped myself and others be successful in their job search include:

Create a comprehensive profile on LinkedIn and use their Job search function. Pretty much every single company (including many if not all academic labs in the US) post positions to LinkedIn nowadays. I would recommend finding positions you’re interested in, and then use the posting’s language to help build your own profile: as in, pay attention to what skills they list, and if you have experience in those, add them to your profile too! That way, when you apply to a job directly via LinkedIn, the resume that gets automatically generated and sent via your profile will include those exact skill-sets. 

The job search section is also great to get regular notifications on open positions in a field and city you’re interested in. I would recommend diversifying your search terms too, so if you’re looking for a lab manager job, also get notifications for positions like “research specialist”, “research technician”, “laboratory technician”, “scientist”, etc. 

Apply to lots and lots of positions! Even ones where you don’t match all the requirements; cuz you never know. And applying to jobs is sometimes a marathon. You may have to apply to a whole bunch of positions before you and an institution find the right fit. 

Contact recruiters. This is also something that you can do via LinkedIn. They’re like real estate agents for jobs. Their job is to literally find applicants for open positions and most have fields they specialize in. A recruiter actually helped my lab mate find his post-doc position, and turns out the recruiter himself has a PhD in Bio so he knew who would be right for which fit. On LinkedIn, if you modify the “Career Interests” in the dashboard section of your profile so that you turn the “know recruiters you’re open”, you’ll probably be contacted by a few recruiters (I currently have mine off bc the number of emails I got per day was becoming a little too ridiculous–that’s how easy it is to get in contact with one). 

Check out the websites of companies you’re interested in working for, and check out the Careers/Jobs/Hiring section of their website for open positions, and then apply!

Also check out local Temp Agencies. Many biotech companies are hiring lots of temp workers or contract workers now, and they go through local temp agencies. During my gap years I “joined” a temp agency (I went through an application and interview process) and they were in the process of helping me find positions in companies that needed temp workers when I landed a lab tech job (that I found via my own searching). But the few weeks I was with the agency were great; they worked really diligently to try to find something for me and I even interviewed for one position. 

If you’re interested in working in academia (like a local university that does research), you can also try just cold-emailing PIs. Some may be able to create job openings just for you. My husband landed a lab tech job this way (where he met me lol) so it does work! Here’s a post about emailing PIs to see if they’re hiring. If they say they’re not hiring, you can follow-up with a thank you and ask them if they do know of any labs who may be interested instead, and whether they can pass along that PI’s contact info. Never hurts to ask!

Here’s a masterpost of job websites for scientists you can also check out. Hopefully the links still work; I haven’t checked some in a while. 

And along with all this, you can check out other job posting websites like Craigslist and Monster. I found my lab tech job during my gap years before grad school from craigslist!

Regarding asking your PI for help or advice: Go for it! Your undergrad PI is, and forever will be, part of your network. And as someone who is part of your network, you are welcome to contact each other at any time, be it tomorrow or in 10 years. That is how connections in our networks work, and your PI won’t find it odd at all that you’re reaching out; they’ll probably be delighted. I just went to a career talk today about someone who met someone at AstraZeneca at a poster session during grad school, and then 7 years later contacted them because she was applying to that same company. (To her surprise), the person remembered her, and was then instrumental in getting her hired. So ya, once a network connection, always a network connection. 

I hope this helps!! Feel free to contact me at any time if you have any other questions! I’m rooting for you, my fellow bean. Good luck!!!

[hktime9]

“How to write better code?” asked a computer scientist-to-be

This is a question that I get once every 2 weeks (on average) mostly from my colleagues and friends who are studying the same degree for the same time as I. Why do they ask me? To be honest- I don’t know. What I also don’t know is the answer to their question. But I’d try to summarize what I think of the question. The answer to this question depends on many factors. If the questioner is a computer science major, I’d see what year they are in. Here’s my year to year advice to them:

- Freshman year: Coding at first is really intimidating. Its given that you’d spend hours in front of your screen to find that one line that does not compile. Here, you should remain patient and learn to accept that this problem demands a finite amount of time and focused concentration to overcome. Using online sources like stack overflow and GitHub are great options but never a first step if you want to become a decent coder. Go line by line and figure out what’s happening and whether it’s the right behavior. Freshman year includes a lot of programming labs, projects and assignments. Try to do all of them and start well before your deadline (seriously). Make it a habit to write a small program everyday. Could be a simple program to add two numbers or anything of that sort. Do some string operation or something. This would not only improve your algorithmic thinking, but also would polish the syntax of the language you code in. Like everything else in the world, mastery comes after practice. So hang in tight!

-Sophomore year: By now you have some experience of the life cycle of a typical program: understand the problem statement, do it on paper the way a human would do, do it on paper the way a computer would do, translate the latter to the programming language in question, debug. Now you also know some basics of computer science through some programming courses and maybe a few systems courses as well. The scope of your programming assignments should not be higher than maybe some array based tasks or implementing a few data structures like linked lists and binary trees to name a few. I’m assuming that you are completing your programming assignments religiously. If not, you really should be doing that before putting in extra work to improve your coding. I’ve seen people depending/copying on other people’s work even in individual assignments. While some might get away from plagiarism penalties and policies of your university, others face some sort of penalty (could be a grade reduction or something of that sort). While the latter might learn a lesson, the former fails to develop their skills and ultimately suffers in their professional life. So leaching on a friend is never a good option, well not in the long term. Try to do it even if you’re finding it hard. Take help from your teaching assistants and the rest of the course staff. You need to realize that these people are paid to help you. So please utilize office hours and appointments to the fullest. Doing extra always helps like attempting optional parts or the ones that give extra credits. Do some interesting problems and coding puzzles like the ones on hackerrank and leetcode. These are some excellent resources to polish up your skills as a developer and problem solver because they include some obvious metrics like completion, correctness and time. Have a study group where you can discuss your assignments and homeworks. There’s a difference between discussing and copying/leaching off. Mind that difference.

-Junior year: This is when you’re comfortable with programming in general. You know how it can be applied in a array of different tasks. You might have taken some old school courses like algorithms, databases and operating systems. PS I’m counting data structures as a programming intensive course and did not give it a special mention in the sophomore section :(. Go for some interesting courses like a networks course, AI/ ML or maybe some usability course. These courses will help you appreciate how you just cannot run away from programming. You’ll learn new approaches like socket programming and programming over a network (maybe some Remote Procedure Calls?). Go for some interesting applications. I remember developing a simple chatting application over a network during my junior year. I hosted it on the university’s network and anyone on the network could use it (if they knew the ip, obviously). I not only developed it, but also made it resistant to buffer overflows and scripting attacks(XSS) thanks to my roommate cum penetration tester. Once done with your Databases course, you can go for a full stack level by learning some server side and client side scripting. Learn some server based frameworks in javascript or anything. Look for some widely used frameworks; the ones which have a wider developer community. The community support will help you a lot, trust me. Some front end frameworks (client side) like ReactJS and VueJS are great these days. You can learn them using some MOOCS if your university doesn’t offer a course on them. Personally, Coursera is a great resource. Its super easy to use and has great customer care. Their “Full-Stack Web Development with React Specialization” offered by the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology is great. Once done you are fully capable to work as a full stack developer and the only thing stopping you is an internship offer from a company and time to practice. The latter can be achieved on your own, while the prior needs some homework and external networking. Connect to some local organization and CEOs on LinkedIn. Make sure you have a well maintained and updated LinkedIn profile and turn on recruiter discoveries to get recruiter in-mails. Be on the lookout for internship offerings and openings. Apply whenever you get a chance. Working on an organization’s project will help you learn a lot. It will not only improve your coding and problem solving stills, but also make you realize how important it is to work in teams. The latter is crucial to success in the industry since a project has multiple groups composed of many individuals. Be sure to take up work that is doable within the deadline. Keep a good relation with your supervisor and always ask for specific direction to get it right the first time.

Senior year: This has to be the most confusing year in-terms of future planning since graduation is approaching and life after is somewhat uncertain. Don’t let this fear of the uncertain get to you. My advice might not be very concrete because I, myself, am a senior while writing this. But I’ll try to incorporate my learning and findings here. The first question you might want to answer is whether coding is for you. This question is not presented before because there wasn’t an escape from it earlier because you had assignments that required you to code. Now that you can take up courses that need minimal programming effort like human-computer interaction and usability/planning courses you have a way out. These include courses like requirement engineering and planning. There are other examples as well which aren’t difficult to find. The answer to the question posed would not be a yes unless you completely love programming, in which case you’re on the right track. Loving programming is different from being good at it. You might love it and be bad at it and that’s completely fine in which case you should multiply your efforts to get better at it. Again, practice is the key. Try out programming courses on Coursera or some other platform. Get a github for student account. You’ll get it for free if you have an email account provided by your university. I’d like to make a special mention to Educative.io which offers a plethora of courses for free if you have a github for students. Educative.io is user friendly and keeps good track of your progress through the course. It is run by a very dedicated team. I personally know people working there who write articles and make courses. Almost all of them have worked as teaching assistants during their time at the university and most certainly know what they are doing and there work reflects their capabilites. They have some amazing courses. Do check it out if you have a github for students account. You’d also get free access to paid tools like AWS, Azure, DigitalOcean and Heroku. If the answer to the question is no, then you need to research more on courses and fields in computer science that do not require intense programming. These 3 years will definitely equip you with the skills that you need to do “some” coding that these fields demand. There wont be much but not zero at the same time. If you are still undecided about the question, you really should invest time knowing an answer. Ask your professors for help. Tell them honestly what you feel and why you can’t make a decision considering that you’ve spent considerable time doing it. They might guide you to a definitive answer. And then continue according to the answer. Now’s also a good time to look into industry’s standards and best practices. Maybe learn a new language? Or try using mainstream tools and familiarize yourself with devOps. Some of them are Docker, Jenkins, Slack, Jira, Git and many more, each with a set of its own unique features. Their knowledge and use will help you once you land a job because most organizations use them on a daily basis. Try some cloud computing platforms like the Amazon web services, Microsoft’s Azure and Google’s Cloud Platform. These platforms offer an array of services like storage, hosting and compute. Familiarize yourself with their usage because they usually have a learning curve. Do a lot of hobby coding. Try different approaches to a problem. For example I was going through geekforgeeks and came across an interesting problem which had a greedy solution and required an LCM (Least Common Multiple) of two numbers. The author had used a builtin function for computing it. I wondered if I could write it recursively. I decomposed the problem and found an optimal substructure which proved that a recursive solution should exist. I worked on it and wrote it and it worked. It was a mere 10 liner. Practice like the one mentioned will help you develop confidence while improving your coding skills. So practice writing code even if its not that intensive and long and hopefully you’ll see improvement.

This concludes my very first attempt that writing. I plan to write more and post here often. I’m eager to get feedback and comments. Here’s my LinkedIn profile. I really hope this helps the reader. Thank you for reading

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Eating Everything.”

I am working my way through the list of suggestions that you guys left me, so this is the first installment from a Anon ask. I don’t know if this is what you wanted to read or where expecting to read, but this is what I came up with.

Intergalactic Journal of Biology and Medicine

Humans have one of the most resilient digestive tracts in the known universe. As an Omnivorous predatory species, humans are capable of digesting muscle , fat, carbohydrates (simple and complex), proteins and fibers taking many nutrients and extreme energy from them. Their use of carbs gives us an explanation as to why humans are so powerful because they require a lot of energy to use their bodies. Additionally, the stomach acid of a human is capable of digesting, non-food items though no nutrients can be pulled from it.

Generally speaking, the rule is that if you can eat it, a human can eat it, though, whether it is to their taste or not is questionable.

Furthermore, the human body reactivly ejects toxic substances once detected, so within reason, humans are capable of trying many foods without the negative consequences many of us would associate with sticking foreign substances in our mouth.

There GA intergalactic summit was held, on what was Earth time, November 5th, 4022. All members of the GA council were expected to attend, or at least a representative for every species in the known universe. At this time that would include the Rundi, Gibb, Tesraki, Bran, Vrul, Drev, etc. but worst of all, the humans. 

The Rundi steward, a class of government official who was specifically tasked with dealing with the drudgery of bureaucracy, was not pleased in the slightest. It was primarily his job to put everything together, and depending on how well he did, it could either make or break him in social hierarchy of his species. The Rundi were a primarily governmental planet, everything they did was based upon a structure of hierarchy and rule. Government was the greatest form of service, and Anarchy wasn’t even an afterthought in philosophical debate. The rundi were not capable of anarchy.

It was a planet of politicians in some form or another, every interaction had political underleanings, and their speech was always heavily guarded. For this reason, the Rundi had been the first in suggesting an intergalactic system of government. The terasaki had agreed only upon realizing they would be tasked with overseeing economics, but had benefited from the Rundi system of government seeing as they tended a bit towards social anarchy, a thought that the Rundi had seen as horribly barbaric, especially since their system was based primarily on the equal distribution of goods to support government structure. 

The Vrul had only agreed to join based on their own personal interest in survival. Generally they wanted nothing to do with intergalactic politics and would have been happy to maintain their own peaceful homeworld, but the introduction of other species into the galaxy had offered a great threat to them, and they had decided, out of necessity, to join the GA as being friends with the other species was in their own self interest. In turn that had meant sending their very, very skilled workers to help the rest of the galaxy, and that included their scientists and their doctors, and their mechanics.

And then of course there was the issue of the Drev and the humans, both scarily similar in social hierarchy and temperament. The Drev were warlike and honor bound, but once choosing a leader, they had been surprisingly willing to join in as long as they were given the opportunity to participate in any and all armed conflict that happened to take place across the galaxy. 

The humans….. The humans were another story. There was no one characteristic that helped to identify their motivations. The humans themselves were well versed in war, politics, economics, and science, but they did everything to the extreme. Where the Drev practiced war for honor,when humans waged war, they did it to kill, while the Rundi maintained government and played games within their own circles, the humans played against each other often mixing war and government into one. Their economic practices varied widely, but their current system played for keeps and focused on the greatest accumulation of wealth possible far beyond what the Tesraki did. Then when it came to science, they never considered WHETHER they should do something, but only if they COULD do something. 

And now here the steward was forced into the position of setting up this summit for all the different types of species. The catering alone had been a complete nightmare, and he had been forced to ship different sorts of food for thousands of miles in order to feed everyone in the proper manner. There were some species he did not have to worry about, like the Vrul, who were more plant based and so did not eat, but there were others, and that included the rundi and the Tesraki, who had every strict diet consisting of only very specific foods to eat. He found that he could tack the Drev onto some other species, seeing as their bodies were capable of metabolizing almost any plant as long as it retained a similar structure to human plants and fruit.

However, the humans themselves were the hardest part, because the range of food was so wide, he could hardly determine what was going to work and what was going to be a massive disaster. He honestly didn’t know, different sources said different things, and he couldn't bare to think about putting MEAT on the table…. That was just against his constitutions.

In fact, he was scrambling right up until the council had convened for the evening, and the mass tide of bodies came pouring into the room filling the vaulted ceiling with rockus chatter in dozens of different languages.

He could hear the humans coming a mile off.

The humans and the Rundi had a similar register when it came to hearing, and humans were known to be able to mimic Rundi vocalizations to some degree simply because they generally tended to communicate in deep grunts, hums and guttural vocalizations. The humans, wlel their language was just as varied as their culture clicking, hissing, snapping, humming and grunting filling the air with discordant and somehow, rhythmic quality..

Their presence turned heads.

They walked with the Drev delegation, which was no surprise to anyone. The humans had been unable to send their usual representative due to a social disagreement between earth and its neighboring sister, Mars. So who had they gone and sent….

Them….

The rundi Steward knew all about them….. Crewmembers of the UNSC Harbinger, the widest ranging vessel in the entire galaxy, and home to a crew that was indisputably certifiable. They were the most reckless, most dangerous, and most terrifying amalgamation of creatures in the galaxy somehow including one Drev, and a rather out of place Vrul whose behavior suggested he had caught whatever brain malady had overcome the humans, and was just as insane as they were.

He cringed horrifically at the sight of them.. Humans were a destructive force, and were known to cause chaos and mayhem wherever they went, even at the best of times, so this was bound to get interesting.

The delegates were seated, and the Steward welcomed them with gracious words of introduction he had spent months preparing. It was a very political thing for him to do, and included subtle compliments to all delegations involved, laid down some ground rules but made sure not to undermine the authority of the people he was speaking too..

However, to the humans, the attempt was obviously heavy handed brown nosing, though none of the other delegations seemed to notice.

He invited them in for refreshments and encouraged discussion between the parties.

Of course, the humans weren’t exactly ones to pass up the idea of food and were some of the first to the table examining the contents with great interest even the food that was not theirs. They seemed very amused watching the other delegations pick up their specific food and then move away to sit.

“What is this.” one of the humans commented holding up a rather stringy green tube that wriggled and squirmed in his hand, “Are these worms?”

One of the Tesraki looked over, “No, it’s a Cavestalk, a kind of plant. Probably not to your taste, they are known to be poisonous to other species. In other words, not human food.”

The human raised an eyebrow, “Buddy, humans are the sharks….. Or wait…. Maybe that's the goats of the universe, we can eat anything within reason, and even a couple of things outside of reason if given enough time.”

The Tesraki made a sort of shrug and wave with its large ears and then walked away. The steward watched the humans with a worried expression. It wouldn’t due to allow the humans to make themselves sick on his watch, but it seemed as if that idea was only becoming more and more likely as the humans poked and prodded at the leftovers of other species hardly bothering with the food that had been laid out for them…. Mostly strange fibrous plant materials.

And that is when it came, “I dare you to eat it.” 

The two humans locked eyes, one still holding the wriggling Cavestalk, “What.”

“I said, I dare you to eat it.” The human stuck out his chin at the other human in a primitive position of posturing, “How much do I get if I do.”

There was a moment of thought before, “Twenty credits. I’ll give you twenty credits to eat it.”

“What happens if it poisons me?”

There was a hand wave, “We have a doctor on board, he can just pump your stomach…. Chicken.”

A moment of silence passed between them, and the Rundi steward began moving towards them to stop something horrible he felt was about to happen. He wasn’t fast enough, and before he knew it, the human had thrown back his head and dropped the wriggly green thing into his mouth swallowing it whole like an alligator or a snake. 

People around looked on in somewhat fascinated disgust as the predator’s throat bobbed and he smacked his lips making a face, “Eh, I can still feel it moving…. Eh.” He paused, “Though, taste wise it isn’t so bad kind of like a wiggly asparagus.” After a moment his eyes narrowed, and he smacked his lips again, “Spicy asparagus, uh, that’s really really weird.” 

He reached the table just as the Vrul came running up shoulders squared in a very un-vrul way, “HE LITERALLY JUST SAID IT WAS POISONOUS TO OTHER SPECIES, AND NOW YOU’RE EATING IT! AND YOU OVER THERE.” A human looked up at him from where it had been prodding the Drev coiltree berries, “GET THOSE OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!”

They had attracted the attention of some of the closer tables now who were looking on in entertained confusion and worry.

A human waved a hand, “It’s alright Doc, we have you don’t we”

“I AM NOT THE MAGIC CURE FOR NEUROTOXIN.”

Another shrug, “Well it’s a good thing that I’ll throw up before anything really bad happens.” 

The rundi steward tried to intervene as the humans began prodding through the other food, “Drev can eat human fruit, so I bet these things are like fruit.” one of them pointed out popping the berries into his mouth and chewing with a contemplative look on his face, “Not bad.”

“Please, please, if you would remain within your own food groups.” The Rundi begged. HE was now realizing he should have written up some legal documents to avoid litigation if the humans were to be damaged on their property, but now was too late.

A human waved him off, “Don’t worry, everyone else is done eating, besides.” He Pointed towards the human food, “That's literally a pile of lettuce, I am a man, not a horse.”

“Horses don’t eat lettuce, also that’s not lettuce,it’s spinach.” Another human piped up prodding at a strange squishy red ball sloshing with a strange pink nectar, “This looks like candy.”

“Please don’t put that in your mouth.”

The humans swarmed away from the two dissenting voices. One of them picked up the strange pink orb and licked it. It’s eyes lit up and it bit into the piece wiping pink juice from it’s face as it did, “Ok, this, this is good 10/10 would try again.” And that only caused all the other humans to move over to try one.

“I SAID GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!” The vrul demanded. 

The Rundi steward looked on in horror and worry. Vrul didn’t behave that way, everything here was just wrong. 

A Drev joined the party just then pointing to the pink orb, “I love those, but you should definitely try these too.” 

“No, no they should not.”

He was ignored, and the humans scooted over to look. It was a strange spiral plant in a light yellow color that made  a distinctive crunching sound as the humans bit down. They shrugged, “Sort of just like space celery if you ask me.”

Did these creatures have no sense of self preservation!

A group had gathered around the table strangely amused at the humans, who just ate…. Everything.

The Rundi steward almost keeled over watching his future go down the drain as other species began offering humans food. Whatever it was, they seemed unable to resist putting it in their mouths. A human made a face spitting something back out into his hand, “Ax bleh, tastes like Satan’s feet.” “Quick question. When was the last time you licked Satan’s feet.” “The last time I was at your mom’s house.” 

The humans made strange noises at each other as the Rundi stepped in and began grabbing things from the humans only to find the Vrul to be doing the same, “Stop it! Stop it all of you!.”

The human’s paused, as did the other delegates in surprise.

“STOP PUTTING THINGS IN YOUR MOUTH THAT YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE.”  The intervening silence was broken as one of the humans loudly crunched on one of the pink orbs. Everyone turned to look at her and she just glanced around the group.

“What?” She wondered past a mouth full of food.

A human waved a hand at him, “Keep your shorts on, we promise you won't get in trouble if one of us dies.” 

The Rundi stared on incredulous.

They were going to kill themselves, they were really going to kill themselves.

Maybe it was best if he resigned before being fired, at least he would be able to keep his dignity

[nomimits7]

Undecided Chapter 1...

Title: Undecided Pt 1

Genre: Investigation, murder, masked behaviour.

Warnings: murder, psychotic behaviour, might be triggering.

Members: Detective OT7 x Forensic scientist Reader

Note: Phrases like this are just add-ins to help with the story line… If they confuse you, feel free to ask!

Summary: Moving overseas for a once in a lifetime job offer was one of the scariest things Y/N ever did. That was until she got stuck in a twisted investigation of random murders, all with one link but no leads. Closing in on the culprit(s) Y/N doesn’t realize the danger she’s getting into. With no family or friends, can Y/N dare to trust those seven closest to her with her life?

Thanks Geek for being the best beta reader ever!! @feed-my-geek-soul 

Prologue 

•♡•

Death: The personification of the power that destroys life, often represented in art and literature as a skeleton or an old man holding a scythe.

•♡•

“Who do we have here...?” 

 Most people are not given the privilege to choose between life or death, the choice is made for them. Most people would choose life if they were ever given the chance, but you? You were different.  

Death has always fascinated you. You used to binge watch documentaries on serial killers, read hundreds if not thousands of books on murder, even your school speeches all revolved around the minds of these criminals. This is something you slowly fell in love with. The mystery, the way they think, but most of all the way they always got caught for their unholy crimes. It was during one of these moments you realized YOU wanted to be the one bringing their fantasies and creepy fetishes to an end. The idea of taking something away from someone that took a life, was like your own personal high.

After completing school, you followed your dreams and studied to become a Forensic scientist. After only 4 years you had your Honours degree and ready to take on the big bad world out there. This proved to be way much more difficult than you initially thought it would be. Finding a decent job as a female forensic scientist was nearly impossible. Most companies only wanted males or more experienced females. They always found some or other excuse to not hire you, to afraid of the risk.

“We’re sorry to inform you that the position requires someone a bit more experienced Miss Y/N”

It’s not you, it’s the system. You knew you were one of the best out there, but clearly being born without a third leg dangling uselessly in between your sturdier legs was a problem. A big problem.

Your country, well they’re still getting use to the whole ‘Women are equal to men’ thing. The chance of you finding a job even as an intern was next to nothing. Again, the risk was just to big.

“I just don’t get it… I can do an even better job than anyone of those three-legged idiots they call men,” you said before pouting into your coffee. Your best friend Lusai just sat there and patiently listened to your mumbling. He was always the best at giving advice on life problems, especially yours. This man you have known for almost 15 years. This man knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Lusai, what should I do?” You whined as his silence became too much to bear. “Come on, you know me better than I know myself. What’s next for Y/N?”

The red-headed, green eyed male stared directly into your eyes. Your best friend was handsome. Red heads being the rare species, he was a well-known ladies’ man. Alongside his green eyes, he even made you swoon from time to time. Clearly, he was doing something right, you see your dear Lusai wasn’t the thinnest or ‘muscle mania’ type of man, no, he was a solid, tall guy that picked up girls like it was a daily trip to the local supermarket.

“Y/N” he sighed. “You know dam well what to do! Just keep looking. Take a breath and keep going. Somewhere someone will see your talents.”

Wise words always seem to leave his mouth. Either that or you were just way to desperate. Even though he was the definition of a fuckboy, he was a smart fuckboy. Both in life and sex.

“See, that’s why I always come to you first!” you said as a smile spread across his plump pink lips.

“Yeah, I was your first everything” He retorted with a smirk.

It’s true. Your best friend was your first everything. Maybe being best friends with your ‘first crush’, ‘first kiss’, ‘first make out’ and ‘first sexual contact’ wasn’t the best idea ever. But hey, the idiot crept into your heart and well, he’s stuck there now. You still love the guy to death, but you always learn from your mistakes. Him, being a painful reminder of that.

“Whatever.” You bite back.

A comfortable silence settles in between you as you slowly sipped the rest of your drink. You loved how you could sit in complete silence and still share so much with someone. The rest of the day consisted of interviews and shopping.

In summary… it was fruitless.

Nonetheless you chose to take Lusai’s advice and keep trying. Somewhere out there, someone will see that you are worth the risk. You are passionate about your work and that’s what makes you different from the rest.

It wasn’t long until you found yourself in the same coffee shop, at the same table, sitting across the same person, drinking the same dam coffee. You were in need of something stronger than coffee. Unfortunately, you hate alcohol as much as you hate rejection. Your hope of finding that dream job was slowly fading. Lusai was a smart boy, and so he did what most smart people would do if a friend was on the brink of depression and self-pity, he made a horrible joke.

“So, the other day I bought a bottle of still water.” He began.

With confused eyes you looked at him expectantly.

“I bought that bottle and threw the water down the drain.” He said as he took a sip of his drink.

“Why did you buy water just to throw it out again?” you asked a little annoyed.

“I wanted to set the water free” he was now staring at you, his face void of any emotion. A beat went by as you sat there, dumbfounded, only to burst out into a fit of laughter.

“There we go! There’s the Y/N I know” he said with a chuckle.

“I hate you, you know that right?” You said as you attempted to punch the speed devil.

He simply shook his head as silence once again took a hold of the atmosphere. You must be doing something wrong. Your studies included practical practice, yet you are seen as inexperienced. You got lost in your jumble of thoughts until Lusai cleared his throat across from you. You turned your attention back to him as his worried eyes made contact with yours.

“Y/N” he began with a shaky breath. “Maybe, just maybe you shouldn’t limit yourself to our country. I mean, you always wanted to travel. Maybe this is just a sign that you should search overseas.” He carefully added. Examining your face as he waited for your reply. Like most people out there, packing up and leaving everyone and everything you ever knew behind scared the living shit out of you. It has been one of your many dreams to see the world yes, but leaving completely without certainty of returning? That scared you.

“I- We’ll see” was all you could say. What more can a scared brave girl say when you had no right to show your weak side? Even though Lusai knew you, you never allowed him the opportunity to see you as a weak woman. And now was no exception.

His words definitely stuck with you. That very evening you began your wild search into the great unknown pages called the internet. You found hundreds of opportunities, but none of them struck your interest. Either it was just an office job (which was a big no, you needed to be out there and not locked up behind a creaking old desk signing papers) or they were just simple internships with little to no pay. None screamed your name, until you came across a rather unusual advertisement.

 Z private Investigators.

Needed: Forensic Scientist.

No skills needed nor any experience. We have enough staff to help with the basics.

Status of request: Urgent.

Contact Mr Kim if you are interested. 08**-9634-09**or Zinvertigators@crimelab.co

Well, this should be interesting. It was as if this advertisement was made just for you. You clicked on the link and that’s how you delved into this company’s history.

“It’s located in South Korea, some place called Busan at the moment. But its almost like a company on wheels. They move around a lot to different cities. At the moment there’s seven employees, all men. There were unfortunately no photos whatsoever.” You explained to Lusai over the phone as you sat crossed legged on your bed still scrolling through their homepage.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Apply Y/N. Working with seven men can’t be that bad. And you’ll get to travel! Maybe this is what you have been waiting for, the worst that can happen is receiving a no.” Lusai said

After hanging up you got started on your email:

Good day Mr Kim,

My name is Y/N. I have recently Graduated with my honour’s degree in Forensic science. I’m 20 years old. I know I am way to young, but I was home schooled. Attached is my resume.

I hope to hear from you soon

Kind regards,

Y/N

And just like that you found yourself a mere week later, on your way to the airport for a personal interview. Mr Kim had responded with the exact words: ‘For a 20-year-old your resume is sure impressive. You sound like a very intriguing girl, I can’t wait to meet you. We don’t believe in interviews over the phone. How soon can you fly out?’ Now here you are saying goodbye to your closest relatives on your way to the great unknown.

The flight was probably the scariest part of the whole ordeal. The shaking of the plane as turbulence took over for what seemed like an eternity, definitely made you thankful for every blessing you have received. The fact that you were alone on a man-made bird and the fact that you were sitting next to a creep, his hand kept ‘accidentally’ touch your left thigh, wasn’t helping. When the plane landed some 20 hours later you were more than happy to get the hell off the overgrown chunk of metal.

Walking out of the plane you saw a masked man standing near the window with your name scribbled on a paper. This guy was completely dressed in black. He had long, defined legs (in skinny jeans that did wonders for his thighs, if you were being completely honest), broad shoulders covered in a very loose fitted black hoodie, completed with a face mask and fishers hat hiding his hair completely. His eyes though, big brown ones, they were calculating.

As you walked over to this black ninja looking assassin you gave yourself the most needed pep talk.

“Just breathe, no one knows you other than Mr Kim. Fact they don’t even know what you look like. You are fine, just peachy. Oooh shit I’m getting closer. Shut it! you got this girl. Just bre-“

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N.” You said as you came face to face with this mystery man in black denim, and really good-looking thighs. You could see him smile under his mask. He nodded to you and turned around. Awkwardly you followed him to a big black SUV. Without a word he ushered you inside and off you went. The ride was silent as you stared out the window. You had no idea where you were going but soon the van left the city and entered a quieter scene of houses and apartments. Slowly your eyes got heavier as sleep overtook you. So many questions haunted your dreams, so many.

You woke with a small gasp as you felt someone’s hands on your thighs. Looking up you came face to face with, yet another, masked man in all black. This was someone else. Someone with soft yet dangerous eyes. This time, though, the unknown man removed his mysterious mask.

Time stopped as you came face to face with heaven. This man had brown almost almond coloured hair, his soft deep almost black orbs stared straight at you. He gave you a boxy grin as he saw you taking his god-like features in. His deep voice startled you as you got lost in those mysterious orbs for eyes.

“Hi Y/N, Welcome to Busan. My name is Kim Taehyung. Or Mr Kim, whichever you prefer. This is the place you will be staying, I do hope it’s to your liking. We’ll give you a day or two to adjust. I’ll let you know when your interview will be. I’m so sorry for leaving you alone like this but we have some business to attend to. Have a peaceful evening Y/N.” Taehyung said as he stood up. He helped you out of the van and before long you found yourself, yet again, alone.

That evening after packing away your stuff and making yourself at home with a bottle of wine and a Domino’s pizza, you couldn’t help but let your mind drift back to the almond haired man you met. Taehyung. Those eyes made your skin tingle, and not in an arousing way. There lurked a sense of danger behind them, a danger that perked your senses with curiosity.

As you sat on the couch your curiosity got the best of you. Seeing as you were too tired to take in your surroundings, you decided to do your own little research on the boss before you go for your interview. Pulling out your laptop you opened Naver and began your escapade into the life of Mr Kim.

“Huh? He… he doesn’t exist? How does someone not exist on the internet?” Even you can be found with a simple search of your name. Hell, your whole life’s history could be found through a simple search and a click or two. Interesting, interesting indeed.

That evening you went to bed with even more questions than answers.

 Oh, if only you knew what you were getting into…

Chapter 2

And there you have the first chapter... I hope you enjoyed it. Don’t be shy to ask if something is unclear... Love you <3 

Tag list: @gukptune @theweirdkidsontheblock @sugasheart @sugashaye @bulletproof-fanfics @carirosesg @crazy-fangirl-10 @waitingforanangel @deafeningstudentdreamergoth @slimou13 @autumnboo126 @chaechaebean217 @littlepinknightmare @sugasheart @kimmieann @nvghtlytae @part-time-patronus @ohmyspook69 @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @allayna24 @mikaelaaaaaaa713 @shyfox101 @djumbreon @bangtanwifey14 @honeydewseoks

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, like this chapter !

p.s. Some names tumblr refuse to tag... I am so sorry, I did try

[barefootdancinghospital]

“The world might be ending.

* * *

There’s a commonly replicated piece of anarchist folk art that means a lot to me. I don’t know who drew it. It’s a drawing of a tree with a circle-A superimposed. The text of it reads “even if the world was to end tomorrow I would still plant a tree today.”

I grew up into anarchy around this piece of art. It was silkscreened as patches and posters and visible on the backs of hoodies and the walls of collective houses. It was graffitied through stencils and it was photocopied in the back of zines. It’s a paraphrasing of a quote misattributed to Martin Luther (the original protestant Martin Luther, not Martin Luther King, Jr., although plenty of people misattribute the quote to him as well). The original quote is something like “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.” The earliest reference to it anyone can seem to find is from the German Confessing Church, a Christian movement within Nazi Germany that sought to challenge Nazi power. The quote was used to inspire hope, to inspire people to action.

That’s something I can get behind.

* * *

There’s this book that means a lot to me, On the Beach, by Nevil Shute. I’ve never read it. I can’t bring myself to. I think about it quite often, regardless.

The novel describes a nuclear war destined to kill all life on earth, and it describes the last days of people living in Australia waiting for the inevitable death of all things. It describes how they live their lives, how they find meaning during the apocalypse. It’s a book about how to live without hope. It’s a book of resignation.

It’s too much for me, I think, at least right now.

* * *

The world might be ending.

A lot of people will argue with me about that. They will correctly point out that for large numbers of people all over the world, especially in the parts of the world long ravaged by Western imperialism, the world has been ending for a long time. They will correctly point out that the world itself isn’t going anywhere, that change is constant, and even if what is left behind by climate catastrophe and war is a scorched desert, it’s probable that life will continue. Human life, non-human animal life, and plant life will all, in some form or another, survive all of this.

People will argue, correctly once more, that most every generation has believed that the world was ending. The machine gun slaughter of World War I, the genocide of World War II, the Doomsday Clock of the Cold War, the AIDS epidemic, those all must have felt like the apocalypse. For entire peoples, they were. Yet here some of us are today, alive.

None of those arguments detract from the fact that it sure feels like the world is ending.

Mountains are blown up for coal to pump poison into the air, pipelines clearcut the last vestiges of the wild to help us pump more poison into the air. Oceans are swallowing islands, hundred-year storms happen every year, and it feels like every day we break new climate records.  A sense of urgency about coming disaster is fueling a rise of “I got mine, fuck you” nationalism, and climate scientists are being ignored to an unconscionable degree.

The world is ending.

It’s always ending, but it’s ending a lot right now. For me and the people I’m close to, it’s ending more dramatically than it was when I was born thirty-seven years ago.

That’s fucking paralyzing.

The news is full of extinction and fascism and death and death and death.

And we’re expected to get up in the morning and go to work.

* * *

For awhile, I coped by means of a cycle of denial and panic. The potential apocalypse was, basically, too-much-problem. I couldn’t wrap my head around it or its ramifications, so I acted like it wasn’t happening. Until, of course, some horrible event or reminder of the apocalypse broke over a certain threshold and sent me spiraling into despair. Then numbness took over once more and the cycle began again.

That didn’t do me much good.

About a year ago, I decided to embrace  four different, often contradictory, priorities for my life. I run my decisions past all of them and try to keep them in balance.

Act like we’re about to die. Act like we might not die right away. Act like we might have a chance to stop this. Act like everything will be okay.

Act like we’re about to die

Every breath we take is the last breath we take. You Only Live Once. Smoke em if you got em. Do As Thou Wilt. Memento Mori. Our culture is full of euphemisms and clever sayings that focus around one simple idea: we’re mortal, so we might as well try to make the most of the time we have.

Embracing hedonism has a lot to recommend it these days. It’s completely possible that the majority of us won’t be alive ten or twenty years from now. It’s completely possible, although a lot less likely, that a lot of us won’t be alive in a year.

I used to think, when I was younger, that I was a terrible hedonist. As a survivor of sexual and psychological assault and abuse, I’ve never had much luck with drug use or casual sex. But fucking and getting wasted, while perfectly worthwhile pastimes, aren’t the only ways to live in the moment. Hedonism is about the pursuit of pleasure and joy. The trick is to find out what gives you pleasure and joy.

For myself, this has meant giving myself permission to pursue music, to sing even though I’m not trained, to play piano and harp. To travel, to wander. To seek beautiful moments and accept that they might be fleeting. I’ll rudely paraphrase the host of the rather wholesome podcast Ologies, Alie Ward, and say “we might die so cut your bangs and tell your crush you like them.”

My hedonism is a cautious one. I’m not looking to take up smoking or other addictions. I’m not trying to live like there’s a guarantee of no tomorrow, just a solid chance of no tomorrow. Frankly, this would be true regardless of the current crisis, but it feels especially important to me just now.

Act like we might not die right away

Preppers have a bad reputation for a good reason. The people stockpiling ammunition and food in doomsday bunkers by-and-large don’t have anyone else’s best interests at heart. Still, being prepared for a slow apocalypse, or dramatic interruptions in the status quo, makes more and more sense to more and more of us.

Preparing for the apocalypse is going to look different to every person and every community. For some people it will mean stockpiling necessities. For other people, securing the means to grow food.

One thing I’ve learned from my friends who study community resilience and disaster relief, however, is that the most important resource to shore up on isn’t a tangible one. It’s not bullets, it’s not rice, it’s not even land or water. It’s connections with other people. The most effective means of survival in crisis is to create community disaster plans. To practice mutual aid. To build networks of resilience.

Every apocalypse movie has it all backwards when the plucky gang of survivors holes up in a cabin and fends off the ravaging chaotic hordes. The movies have it backwards because the ravaging hordes are, in the roughest possible sense, the ones doing survival right. They’re doing it collectively. Obviously, I’m not advocating we wear the skulls of our enemies and cower at the feet of warlords (though wearing the skulls of would-be warlords has its appeal). I’m advocating staying open to opportunity and building collective power.

There are infinite reasons not to count on holing up in a cabin with your six friends as an apocalypse plan, but I’ll give you two of them. First, because living a worthwhile and long life as a human animal requires connections with a diverse collection of people with diverse collections of skills, ideas, and backgrounds. It’s all fun and games in your cabin until your appendix bursts and none of you are surgeons—or you’re the only surgeon. Likewise, small groups of people who tend to agree with one another are subject to the dangers of groupthink and the echo chamber effect, which will limit your ability to intelligently meet challenges that face you.

Second, because by removing yourself from society, you’re removing your ability to shape the changes that society will go through during crisis. If you go hide in the woods with your stockpile and your buddies, and fascists take over, guess what? It’s kind of your fucking fault. Because you weren’t at the meeting when everyone decided whether to be egalitarians or fascists. And guess what? Now that rampaging horde is at your doorstep, and they want your ammo and your antibiotics, and they’re going to get it one way or the other. Fascism is always best stamped out when it starts. It’s never safe to ignore it. Not now, not during any Mad Max future.

Tangible resources do matter, of course. Any likely scenario that prepping is good for won’t be so dramatic as an utter restructuring or collapse of society. It might mean food shortages, power outages, water contamination. It never hurts to keep nonperishable food, backup sources of power, and water filtration systems around for yourself and your neighbors.

Still, this is a terrible basket to put all your eggs into. You probably shouldn’t live out your days, whether they’re your last ones or not, over-preparing for something that may or may not come to pass.

Act like we might have a chance to stop this

We can and we should stop the worst excesses of climate catastrophe. We can and should stop fascism by whatever means necessary. Throwing up our hands and walking away from the problem is no solution.

It’s hard to remember that we have agency. Unless we were raised ultra-rich, we’ve had the concept of political and economic agency stripped from us at every turn. We’ve been told there are two ways to effect change: vote for politicians or vote with our dollars. Politicians in western democracies are likely incapable of changing things as dramatically as they need to be changed, and they certainly won’t bother trying unless we motivate them to do so in fairly dramatic ways. As for economic agency, there is a small handful of men with more wealth—and therefore power—than the rest of us combined.

We’ve been told we cannot take matters into our own hands, politically or economically. We’re not allowed to have a revolution. We’re not allowed to redistribute the wealth of the elite.

You’ll be shocked to know that I don’t put a lot of stock in what we are and aren’t allowed to do.

Still, even if we give ourselves permission to undertake it, revolution feels like an insurmountable challenge. We’ve got, optimistically, ten years to completely overhaul the economic system of the planet. It can be done. It has to be done. Yet it feels like it won’t be done.

We’re all running the cost/benefit analysis of acting directly. We all have different “fuck it” points—the point beyond which we can no longer prioritize our immediate wellbeing but instead must act regardless of the outcome. In the meantime, we’re waiting until it seems like we can act and actually have a chance of winning.

All over the world, even in some Western countries, people are no longer waiting. They’re  acting. We need to be helping them, supporting them with words and actions, while we get ready to act here as well.

The revolution needs mediators and facilitators, medics and brawlers. It needs hackers and propagandists and it needs financiers and smugglers and thieves. It needs scouts and coordinators and it needs musicians and it needs people invested in the system to turn traitor. It needs lawyers and scientists and bookkeepers and copyeditors and cooks and it needs almost everyone, almost every skill.

One thing it doesn’t need, though, is managers. The people who claim to know how to run a revolution don’t know how to run a revolution or they would have done it by now. The authoritarian urge, to decide what the revolution should and shouldn’t look like, how people should and shouldn’t express their rage and reclaim their agency, will fail us every time. Authoritarian communism is the death of any revolution. Authoritarian liberalism is the death of any revolution. Even the more dogmatic anarchists will get in the way if given a chance. The revolution cannot be branded. Despite Hollywood representations of rebellions, they don’t work as well under a single banner. They are diverse, or they are not revolutions.

The revolution cannot be controlled by a vanguard of activists; if it is, it will fail. The revolution must be controlled by its participants, because only then will we learn how to claim agency over our own lives and futures.

We have a chance to stop this.

I forget that sometimes, but I shouldn’t.

Still, I can’t count on hope alone, or the days when hope fails me would lay me low.

Act like everything will be okay

All the times the world has come close to ending before, it hasn’t. It’s ended for some people, some cultures. Civilizations have collapsed. Ecosystems have radically shifted. Species have gone extinct—including the species of humans before homo sapiens. Colonization was an apocalypse. Some people survived those apocalypses, but plenty more didn’t.

Still, the world is still here and we’re still here.

Capitalism is a sturdy beast, quite adept at adaptation. Marx was wrong about a lot of things, and one of those things was the inevitability of the collapse of capitalism under the weight of its own contradictions. With or without capitalism, the society we live in might stagger on. We might curb the worst excesses of climate catastrophe through economic change or wild feats of geoengineering.

I won’t bet on it, but I won’t bet entirely against it either.

As much as I need to live like I might die tomorrow, I need to live like I might see a hundred years on this odd green and blue planet. Unless things change, I’m not burning every bridge. I’m trying to maintain a career. If I was certain to die under a fascist regime by 2021, there wouldn’t be much point in writing novels: they take too long to write, publish, and reach their audience. I get some joy from the writing itself, sure, but I get more joy from putting my art in front of people, of letting it influence the cultural landscape. With novel writing in particular, that takes time. That takes there being a future. I want there to be a future. Almost desperately. Not enough to bank on it completely.

I’m keeping some small portion of my time and resources invested in the potential for there to be a future is important for my mental health, because it keeps me invested in maintaining that health.

* * *

The world might end tomorrow, and it might not. If we can help it, at all, we shouldn’t let it end. We still ought to act like it might.

We ought to figure out what trees we would plant either way.

If you appreciate my writing and want to help me do more of it, please consider supporting me via Patreon.

“

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG149! /X_X/*

- Statement-giver was a pure delight and I’m still snickering every time over this passage:

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “I usually head out with the other specimen tech, Fernanda Miqado, a local – and by local, I mean she’s from Manaus, about 200 miles away. Brazil’s… pretty big. And if there’s one thing she’s really good on that I’m not, it’s the weather. I’m pretty hopeless at figuring out what any given day’s going to be like, and just have to rely on whatever weather site I’m currently losing faith in. It doesn’t help that the weather in the Amazon is just plain weird, with rains coming out of nowhere months before the wind should actually be bringing in the clouds, and… n–no one knows why. But… Fernanda, she might not know why but, somehow, she always knew when – to the point where, if she said it might be bad, I would just cancel the expedition. No further evidence needed. Not that day, though. No; that day, we had the world’s pushiest climate scientist breathing down our necks. Doctor Nikos Anastas.”

I’m So Glad Martin read that one because his snappiness was so good with Judith’s voice. They can all be pretty snappy but… Martin sure is something.

(- Not sure if it’s “doctor Anastas” but at the very least: Judith/Martin/Alex ABSOLUTELY gave up on pronouncing his name towards the end, and we got “That was the last I ever saw of Dr. Nikos [Asantas]”, and I’m still laughing every time too.)

- Judith knew that you speak Portuguese in Brazil! Progress from MAG033’s Carlita and her trouble getting understood due to her “bad Spanish” =D

- At first, when the statement appeared to be in Brazil in an isolated area, I thought about the Tundra again. And it’s true that the Extinction statements technically have technically been happening in remote areas – isolated or inaccessible or hidden in plain sight or in what felt like an alternate reality (Bernadette in Garland Hillier’s flat, Judith mentioning feeling disorientated after the fall and that something was wrong), and I’m vaguely suspecting that Peter and/or Adelard’s reading of the new Fear may indeed be… off, and that their summary of it only matches with the statements they consulted but not with the essence of what it is actually…? I can see how Gertrude was dubious about it, since every statement so far is also reminiscent of other stories/elements involving other Fears.

- Faaaaaaaaaaavourite “Holy Heck” moments were (because I’m super easy):

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “They were completely still, but there was something about them that made my mouth dry up, and my mind scream to run. [STATIC:] It didn’t feel like they were statues. It felt like they were choosing not to move. [/STATIC] […] I don’t know if it was me or Fernanda screaming. Maybe it was both of us. But I know it was her who first spotted that the detritus figures [STATIC:] were no longer choosing to stand still. [/STATIC]”

… And the tape recorder went all static when the statues were described + Judith’s Fear:

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “There’s something in there, [STATIC:] and I don’t know which scares me more: the thought that it’s more than just the things we left behind? Or that that’s all it is, and we can’t escape the ruins of our own future. [/STATIC]”

It had also reacted to Garland’s door and the “description” of the Inheritors, and to Gary’s numbers, before…

- The Extinction statements are getting closer and closer to the current in-universe present time, and this was the most recent statement about The Extinction involving Dekker:

* MAG134: Statement of Adelard Dekker, taken from a letter to Gertrude Robinson dated 22nd January 2006. * MAG144: Statement of Gary Boylan, given October 3rd, 2009. * MAG113: Statement of Adelard Dekker. Statement undated, likely circa 2012. * MAG149: Statement of Judith O’Neill, given May 13th, 2013.

… How convenient for Jon that Adelard hadn’t mentioned “The Extinction” by name in MAG113, and that there wasn’t any note talking about it either ^^

Assuming that Jon’s approximate dating of MAG113 had been right, then this statement was also the closest in time involving Adelard Dekker at all. That’s still… five years before current time, and we haven’t heard of what his status has been in the meantime. What happened to you, dude.

(Also, according to Gertrude’s note, Adelard had sent Judith to the Institute… and yeeet, it’s a written statement. Gertrude was way better at the “not jumping on people for their live-statements” thing than Jon, but it also raises the question, once again: why was Gertrude choosing to record some? Why Walter about the old Archives, why Lucia about the Last Feast? Why couldn’t she ask them to write it down, in those cases…?)

- … Isn’t it funny how, so far, each of The Extinction statements had something that felt like a personal jab at Martin. Garland Hillier had the bad poetry; Gary Boylan had the concept of being stuck with a parent (and the fear of being like your dad, or becoming like him)

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “[Garland Hillier] spent the next twenty years publishing widely derided collections of poetry, as well as essays on belief and atheism that were roundly ignored by the philosophical salons of the time. He was supported by several literary friends, as he was reputedly a gifted editor, even if his own work was often all but incomprehensible.”

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “Something kept me rooted there, sleeping in a bedroom that hadn’t changed since I was fifteen, and caring for a man who I’d rather just shut up…! [SIGH] We were both… trapped there, I think. Bound together in a sort of wordless misery. I would look at him, and see a grim sort of destiny for myself: trapped here, until I became him – any future I might have had, sacrificed to his. [SIGH]”

Here, Judith actually had a degree, contrary to Martin… but was hired for another reason (and why did Elias hire Martin exactly?).

- So, Martin’s isolation was kind of the point of Peter’s training, and it had been installed as a requirement from the start, with Basira explaining to Jon that she&Melanie weren’t seeing Martin much anymore, Martin trying to cut the interaction short the two moments it happened with Jon – and with multiple mentions, recently, that Peter was growing significantly more absent:

(MAG126) PETER: You talked to him. MARTIN: I… I, I tried not to, I–I, I didn’t mean to… PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! Please don’t think I’m upset, it’s just… not ideal. Shows how much work we still have ahead of us. MARTIN: If I keep avoiding him, people will get suspicious. PETER: [CHUCKLING] They’re already suspicious, Martin, that’s not the problem! I had hoped that all this time apart would have given you the space you needed, but… […] MARTIN: A–a simple “hello” isn’t going to make any difference to– PETER: We’ve been over this. The sort of power you’re going to need relies on your– MARTIN: [SULKY] Obedience. PETER: Isolation. It needs to be you, Martin. You’re the only one who could possibly balance between the two.

(MAG134) PETER: … Look. I’m not gonna pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to. It won’t even work unless you’re willing to commit. In any case, I have plenty of preparations to work on myself, before it’s ready. I’ll see what else I can find to help with your reservations in the meantime, mmkay? Just… don’t hesitate too long. We are on a deadline, after all. MARTIN: … Fine. [SHORT SILENCE] PETER: Right! Then, if you’ll excuse me, I have a family thing to get to.

(MAG138) MARTIN: So… so what? What does it mean? Am I supposed to be reassured that new Entities can be born? That there’s some, some kind of… precedent for The Extinction? … Peter? [SILENCE] Huh. Maybe he has gone to a party. [HUFF] Anyway.

(MAG144) MARTIN: And you? PETER: I have my own explorations I need to attend to. And a, hum… meeting. To arrange. For you…!

Aaand going hand in hand with that, Martin had begun to casually admit that he was beginning to embrace that isolation:

(MAG134) PETER: … Anyway. Point is, I’m not your captor or your torturer. I’m not gonna tell you to stop talking to him, or even saving him if it comes to it. If that’s not a decision you’re willing to make yourself, me scolding you isn’t going to help.

(MAG142) MARTIN: I… can’t believe he’d choose to do something like that. … No, no, I, I can’t think like that, though, I, I can’t let myself, ‘cause I mean, if, if he’s already gone, then all of this is just… [PAUSE] [SIGH] Th–the worst part is I don’t even want to talk to him about it. I’m just… [SIGH] I suppose I’m just getting comfortable with the distance. [SIGH] Cut off. [DRY CHUCKLE] “Lonely”. [INHALE] Mind you, Peter’s not wrong. It really is easier than actually just trying to communicate with people. I should probably try to get him this tape, let him know what happened, that someone came in to… But then, ahah, would that just come across as an accusation? Like, because I don’t wanna… And then, then I guess he’d… hear this bit as well, so… I… I… [LONG EXHALE] What do I do…? […] DAISY: Yeah. Just a… a bit empty around here. You know? MARTIN: Not really. DAISY: Melanie’s out, and… [EXHALE] Jon and Basira’re still off. Bit worried. But they can take care of themselves, you know? MARTIN: Again, not really. [SHORT HUMOURLESS LAUGHTER] No one talks to me anymore. DAISY: ‘Cause they reckon you’re working for the bad guy? MARTIN: Pretty much. … Don’t you?

(MAG144) [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] … Well? PETER: I’m impressed! And grateful. MARTIN: I didn’t do it for you. PETER: Even better. MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to.

(MAG149) MARTIN: Sort of… surprised Peter hasn’t rocked up with some more… “insights”? Haven’t seen him around for a while, actually. I mean… eh, it’s not like I miss him [CHUCKLING] but, at least he was someone to– [PAUSE] … Ah. [HUFF] [PAPER RUSTLING] Yeah, that makes sense. [EXHALE] A’ight, fine. Just… me on my lonesome for a while, then.

1°) A bit surprised that it doesn’t feel like Martin got reaaaally involved with The Lonely to get Lonely powers, but then, it’s the Institute and Peter has been hovering around him for months so… it probably served as a catalyst?

2°) CRIES BECAUSE:

(MAG142) MARTIN: [LONG EXHALE] What do I do…? [SILENCE WHILE CLOCK STILL TICKS IN THE BACKGROUND] [KNOCK–KNOCK–KNOCK.] MARTIN: [BREATHES] Go away… [KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.] MARTIN: [SIGH] Come in!

(MAG149) MARTIN: A’ight, fine. Just… me on my lonesome for a while, then. … Could be worse. … Peaceful, at least. … I don’t miss all the shouting. [CHUCKLE] Even if it w– [FOOTSTEPS IN THE DISTANCE, COMING CLOSER] MARTIN:  … Wait. [RUFFLING OF CLOTHES] Excuse me! Excuse me, this area is off-limits to the public.

Martin is getting so used to being on his own it’s painful, and:

(MAG144) MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to. MARTIN: Yeah, well. It seems to be your go-to move for dealing with anyone. PETER: I’m just not big on confrontation. You understand, I’m sure. MARTIN: We. Are not. The same. PETER: Of course.

3°) Oh, Martin… you’re “not the same” but you sent Jess’s tape without being there (… or only invisible? Though he would have ranted or screamed about Hill Top Road if he had been aware, I think, given his reaction to the Svalbard trip in MAG142?), thus avoiding the… confrontation. And you nop’d out again as soon as Melanie arrived.

I’m curious about his “I don’t miss all the shouting”, though: what is that about…? Is it just The Lonely colouring his memories, and any discussion/slight disagreement is now a Shouting Contest by comparison? Is it about his memories of season 3…?

- Although Martin had kept himself isolated from the Archives but… not from visitors? He took Jess’s complaint in MAG142, and stepped in when he saw Georgie approaching (he wasn’t surprised to see her or that she could see him so… it wasn’t unusual).

(MAG149) [FOOTSTEPS IN THE DISTANCE, COMING CLOSER] MARTIN:  … Wait. [RUFFLING OF CLOTHES] Excuse me! Excuse me, this area is off-limits to the public. GEORGIE: [VOICE ECHOING] Sorry? MARTIN: You can’t be here, it’s not allowed. GEORGIE: Oh, sorry, hum… Melanie told me to wait for her here…? [ECHO DISAPPEARING] MARTIN: Oh, you… you’re here for Melanie? GEORGIE: Yeah. … Georgie. MARTIN: [COUGH] … Sorry. Uh, sorry, I–I didn’t realise. I’m, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.

;; But aouch, he was… so dry with Georgie when he took her for a random lost visitor? And he only mellowed down when he understood that she was here for Melanie? I’m not sure he is aware of how snappy and cold he sounds – comparing how stern he was here with how he had interacted with Melanie in MAG084 (just before she signed up)… aouch.

Also! “[this area] is off-limits” sounded familiar, AND YEP IT IS:

(Trailer S1T2) ARCHIVIST: Hello? … Hello? … This archive is off-limits. [MUFFLED THUD] Is anyone there? … Martin? Martin, is that you?

(MAG047) ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I didn’t… Can I help you? This place is off-limits. MICHAEL: I disagree. ARCHIVIST: Who let you in here?

… I’m not sure where Martin was, exactly, this time, but it indeed sounded like it was possibly in the Archives themselves? No clock in the background, so it wasn’t Elias’s office (… and I doubt that Melanie would tell Georgie to find her around there). The distant voice + door closing combo puts me in mind of MAG084, which had a similar situation and setting: Martin spotting someone right outside his/an office after reading a statement, discussing a bit in the corridor/other room, further from the tape recorder, then coming back inside with the person (though there were more Door Sounds in MAG084, and only the sound of the door closing with Melanie&Georgie’s departure in MAG149).

- … I’m not that surprised/shocked/in pain about Martin pulling a “sharp squeal of distortion” and disappearing at the end of the episode because I… had been assuming… that he had been able to do that for a long while………………………………

(MAG127) BASIRA: … It was a few months back. After the attack. He’d started spending time with Lukas. At least, he said he was. And I wanted answers. He kept telling me to trust him, to hear the guy out even though he still wouldn’t actually show his face. I told him he could… drop me an email or vanish me. ARCHIVIST: … Right. BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done.

^There was the ambiguity of whether Basira meant “disappears” as just a figure of speech (“he runs away”) or quite literally; but given the wording, I was inclined to think that Martin fading from the scene supernaturally was A Thing already, back then. And Martin’s heavy sigh in MAG149 after Georgie&Melanie’s departure still keeps that open to interpretation: is Martin used to it (and feels blasé about the whole thing, and the sigh was also… mostly about the conversation he just had with Georgie, the fact that Jon is seen as a lost cause by someone who used to be close to him, or about the rude concept of Other People Having Friends And Doing Things Together), or was it a sigh about himself and the fact he… had finally used Lonely powers for the first time (and what it meant for him)? I’m guessing that if this was the first time ever that Martin disappeared, Peter will be obnoxious as hell about it and will make it official, so we should have a confirmation pretty soon.

Other things I’m not sure about: I’m not sure how to interpret the timing of Martin’s disappearance?

(MAG149) GEORGIE: W–… Jumping on a grenade is only heroic if you weren’t the one who actually threw it. MARTIN: That’s not what’s happening. GEORGIE: Okay. It’s still not something I want any part of. MARTIN: Well…! Lucky for you we’re fully staffed, so… [STATIC AND (FAINT) VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MELANIE: Hey! You ready? GEORGIE: Oh, uh – yeah. Whenever you are. [SQUEAL OF DISTORTION FADES] MELANIE: Who were you talking to…? GEORGIE: Oh, I was, uh– … [HUFF] No one, apparently. MELANIE: [SIGH] … Yeah. This place will do that to you…! Come on. GEORGIE: Sure. [DOOR CLOSES.] MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] [CLICK.]

(DON’T SAY “WE’RE FULLY STAFFED”, MARTIN… SOMEONE WILL DIE AGAIN AND LEAVE A SPOT VACANT…)

And I see several options:

1°) It was unrelated to Melanie and/or it’s actually because of Martin that Melanie hadn’t been there until now (in the same way that in MAG108, Martin had called Basira, Peter had popped up, and Basira had only answered Martin’s call after Peter’s departure, as if he had only just shouted her name a second ago). Martin chose that timing because the conversation had been unpleasant and he wanted to put a stop to it and/or because Georgie accidentally increased his loneliness.

2°) Peter had imposed a specific prohibition over Martin interacting with Basira&Melanie (who were the only Team Archives members around when Martin began to work for Peter), and Martin is still following that order. It would match with Basira explaining to Jon that she hadn’t been able to see/interact with Martin much in the last months; and indeed, since the beginning of season 4, we have only seen Martin interact with Jon (who surprise! managed to wake up from his coma, something Peter hadn’t factored in his deal with Martin – MAG126: “… You said he’d probably never wake up.” “And he beat the odds. Which is good. But it does make things more complicated. It doesn’t… actually change… anything.”), although Martin cut the conversation short both times; with Daisy (MAG142, MAG144), who had officially been “dead” when Martin made his deal with Peter; and with visitors (Jess in MAG142, Georgie in MAG149).

3°) … Martin specifically disappeared because Melanie was coming; either because “two is a crowd”, either because… It’s Melanie.

And Martin and Melanie’s relationship had never been, uh, the fluffiest ever:

(MAG086) MELANIE: I… I just feel like you two don’t want me here. TIM: We don’t. Martin’s not big on change. I don’t want anyone to be here.

(MAG106) BASIRA: Oh, what? You’re gonna judge me? I literally don’t know anyone here you haven’t made cry. MELANIE: You only know Tim and Martin! BASIRA: And Elias. MELANIE: I made Elias cry? BASIRA: I don't know. Probably. You can be very mean.

(Though there were kinder things: Martin did go have a drink with Basira&Melanie at the end of MAG099, and it was once again the plan at the end of MAG106 (though it didn’t apparently happen, or at least without Melanie, according to MAG108).

… But Elias, at the end of season 3, had commented that Martin deliberately going against Melanie’s pulsion to go for the kill… could make things veeeeeeeeeeeery bad between the two of them:

(MAG118) MARTIN: We… we need to leave. MELANIE: We need to kill him. Look at you! He. needs. to die! MARTIN: … no. No, I… I knew what this was gonna be. MELANIE: It’s not just for you! If we leave him alive– MARTIN: Melanie. Melanie, please. MELANIE: … Alright. Let’s get these somewhere safe.

(MAG120) ELIAS: Hm. No Melanie? MARTIN: [SIGH] ELIAS: I’d have thought she would have wanted to gloat. MARTIN: N… no. I, I d– ELIAS: You didn’t tell her. [CHUCKLE] Worried she might create too much of a scene. I understand. I just hope she… doesn’t hold it against you. MARTIN: That’s– that’s not– […] It’s better than you deserve. ELIAS: Perhaps so. But I’m glad you were sensible about it. I was concerned you might have bought into Melanie’s… fixation.

We don’t really know how they interacted before Martin made his deal with Peter but it… didn’t bode well, back then, already. And we’ve seen Melanie six months later, when Jon came back: ready to jump at anyone’s throat, threatening and fundamentally angry. I… don’t think she was exceptionally kind to Martin in that period.

(+ Does Martin know that, in the end, her anger had been supernaturally focused by The Slaughter’s bullet? The surgery happened in the tunnels; even if Elias indeed doesn’t have access to them (which… is something… we’re still not entirely sure about…), he had been able to guess that it had happened – possibly because Jon and Basira had discussed about it in MAG127. But Peter? Peter has never mentioned Melanie’s ordeal: he talked about Breekon and the coffin and Daisy’s comeback, but never about Melanie.

Did Martin just assume that Melanie was like this… on her own? Like Tim had been angry about Jon and the Institute? I don’t think that Martin would need that to consider that uh, Melanie is not more worth saving than Jon (because Martin always has had his biases) but… it’s possible that he just doesn’t know that Melanie had been so antagonising and violent because it was favoured by the bullet? and that it isn’t the case anymore?)

- … Another Big Question raised by Martin Whooshing Himself Away… lay with Georgie’s comment:

(MAG149) [STATIC AND (FAINT) VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MELANIE: Hey! You ready? GEORGIE: Oh, uh – yeah. Whenever you are. [SQUEAL OF DISTORTION FADES] MELANIE: Who were you talking to…? GEORGIE: Oh, I was, uh– … [HUFF] No one, apparently.

Was Georgie casually savage (“Since Martin chose to disappear, I’m taking this as him fleeing, so that means he’s not worth mentioning and is “no-one”)? Was Georgie extremely descriptive (“… Welp, there is nobody there anymore”)? … Or did Georgie forget about even interacting with Martin and did Martin… make himself “forsaken” in her mind…? ;;

(Because if it’s the last option, AOUCH… Would Martin start disappearing from people’s memory, proportionally to how present he had been around them? Something more gradual than what happened to Sasha? Georgie barely knew Martin outside of Jon’s talks and was meeting him for the first time here; Basira&Melanie… didn’t share a lot with him. But if Jon were to witness, slowly, people around him forgetting about Martin…)

(- Insert horrible snicker here because:

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Martin… You’re not, uh… You didn’t die here, did you? MARTIN: What? What? N–no… what?! ARCHIVIST: No, I just… No, just the way you phrased that... MARTIN: Made you think I was a ghost? ARCHIVIST: No… it’s– MARTIN: […] A ghost? Really? ARCHIVIST: [TIREDLY] Shut up Martin.

… Well, Martin kinda become a ghost here. For a few seconds. ……………… Oh no, if Martin is to die soon, will he die IN THE ARCHIVES for maximum irony……………)

- Re: Martin’s own Spooky Sounds when disappearing. It’s definitely close to Peter’s “sharp squeal of distortion” (as it was transcribed in MAG100), but way fainter. Interestingly: Peter’s is a constant background noise when he’s there; here, it only happened when Martin supposedly made himself invisible… and the tape recorder stayed with Martin (we could hear his final sigh). So, the tape recorder doesn’t react to Martin as strongly – and either it means that yeah, Martin is way less of a spook than Peter, either that the tape recorder is a bit desensitised to the Archival staff?

Plus: I’m not suuuuuuuure that there is no static when Peter is there (the distortion is too strong for me to hear) but there was definitely more static than distortion in Martin’s case – a bouquet of static, pretty strong, and it sounds like the usual one… but then, I’m not sure it wasn’t also the same one as the sound we could hear when Jon “forgot” about his lighter in MAG136?

(And technically… Okay, I want to “Hope” (el o el) And Be In Denial until I can’t Think About Web!Martin anymore but!!! If Georgie forgot about Martin’s presence and Melanie was unable to process that he was there: it would be pretty much mind-manipulation and really close to what the lighter is doing with Jon, right?)

- SOBBING because ahaha:

(MAG144) [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] … Well? PETER: I’m impressed! And grateful. MARTIN: I didn’t do it for you. PETER: Even better. MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to. MARTIN: Yeah, well. It seems to be your go-to move for dealing with anyone. PETER: I’m just not big on confrontation. You understand, I’m sure. MARTIN: We. Are not. The same. PETER: Of course.

… as mentioned above, it wasn’t clear exactly what made/pushed Martin to “disappear” but. Although Martin tended to hide or try to defuse the situation sometimes (encouraging Tim to not blow up at Jon, lying low re:Elias after they had learned what the deal was with the Institute), he also used to be able to explode at people’s face when he had enough (calling Jon out on his Sceptic act in MAG039, savagely ranting at Tim in MAG079, keeping the Receipts of Elias’s actions to throw them in his face in MAG118 – … that’s his “end of season” thing isn’t it.). But here, just fading away in front of Georgie when they were having a disagreement over Jon and/or when Melanie was coming… was quite the “not big on confrontation” thing, and Peter would be so glad and so proud, and I hate Peter so much.

Bonus with:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin… My patron, hopefully our patron someday, doesn’t give me any sort of special insights. I’m not quite the accomplished voyeur that Elias was. I have to keep tabs on things the old-fashioned way. MARTIN: What, turning invisible and eavesdropping? PETER: If you like.

Complete with Martin’s own (faint and static-y) “sharp squeal of distortion”… Martin presumably heard them leave, since he seemed to be on the same “plane” as the tape recorder. So. Uh. Yes. Martin, you’re turning into exactly Peter, and what does that say about you ;;

(My “holding-onto-theories-as-long-as-Jonny-hasn’t-gleefully-and-maniacally-bashed-them-in-with-a-pipe” bleeding heart says “Martin looks exactly like his dad!” and “Lukas!Martin!”.)

- Anyway, getting Lonely or not, Martin is… still a Beholding baby, dutifully recording – WELL, unless he hadn’t noticed the tape recorder this time around, but he had been aware of them last time, so?

(MAG134) PETER: I can’t help but notice you’re recording right now? MARTIN: It… was a statement, right, that’s what we do.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what Peter’s planning, but my-my guess is that it might involve something below the Institute. Hopefully, by the time you get these tapes, I’ll have something more concrete for you. [PAUSE] Good luck, Jon, I– … [HUFF] Stay safe.

This time again, Martin was veeeeery “taken” by the statement and gave it his voice, and I’m laughing that, by contrast:

(MAG149) MARTIN: Statement ends. [SHORT INHALE] There’s… hum, a, a note here as well. [PAPER RUSTLING] Looks like Gertrude’s handwriting? Start of a letter to… Dekker, thanking him for sending Judith to her, though… it doesn’t look like it was ever finished or sent. [PAPER RUSTLING] “I assume this is another one he was trying to use to prove The Extinction? It… certainly has something in it. Mankind’s trash giving rise to something terrible. And again, fear of the other, inanimate humanoid figures. That’s all very… Stranger, isn’t it?” [SIGH] [LOW]… It’s never simple, is it…?

… I’m ASSUMING that Martin was quoting Gertrude’s note due to the content (being able to call the similarity with The Stranger, and overall reserves about the concept of “The Extinction”) but… his tone was absolutely not making it obvious. He didn’t read it in Gertrude’s voice or as “someone else’s voice” overall.

So yeah, at the very least: still under Beholding when reading a statement!

(And, small Martin thing: I’m so fond of the fact that he still has trouble introducing the statement – mostly when reading the cases numbers:

(MAG149) MARTIN: Martin Blackwood, assistant to Peter Lukas, Head of the Magnus Institute, recording statement number… 0131305. Statement of Judith O’Neill, given May 13th, 2013. [INHALE] Statement begins.

So many pauses and little hesitations while he reads the numbers! … And, uh. Tim hadn’t bothered with the case number when making An Attempt in MAG086; Melanie didn’t either in MAG086 and MAG106 (Basira did in MAG112 though)… So, uh. Martin has read, what, eleven statements at this point? But I’m still not sure he’s understood that the case numbers are actually constructed from the date, and that giving both of those pieces of information is unnecessary. Hence, probably, why Jon doesn’t bother with it. It had taken Tim 33 episodes to solve The Mystery but. I’m not sure that the information spread.

I’m not sure Martin knows.

Oh, Martin…)

- I’m SO GLAD to hear Georgie’s stance about Jon, and why she… stopped trying and doesn’t want to get involved. To be honest, I’m surprised it… took her this long and happened only after Jon woke up? I had assumed that she had been shaken by Oliver’s encounter and reminded a bit too much of Alex’s situation, and that Jon insisting that he was fine when he couldn’t be had been the things tipping her over, and… it probably contributed. But Georgie really did everything she could in season 3 – housing him, hiding him although she knew the police was searching for him, trying to get him out of his mindset:

(MAG083) GEORGIE: Sure. I just… I know that you get obsessive about stuff, and this right here, I… I’m guessing someone dragged you into something weird, you got hooked in and then it all went wrong. ARCHIVIST: I mean, that is almost exactly what happened. GEORGIE: So what you need now is… distance. ARCHIVIST: You’re right. You’re right. I just… I need to record it. GEORGIE: No, you don’t. This [paper rustles] is not going to help. It’s part of the problem, isn’t it? Look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s not part of the cult or whatever the hell it was that left you homeless. … [SIGH] Come on. What’s it been, four days? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. [SOFTER] Yeah. GEORGIE: It drops through the letter box and you spend four days… like this. It’s not– It isn’t right, Jon. You don’t sleep...

And in response, Jon… had been far from an ideal guest (breaches of trust, insisting he couldn’t stop, being an overall mess):

(MAG083) GEORGIE: Okay. And just so you know: not keen on your weird stalkers knowing my address. Not keen on that. ARCHIVIST: Right. [DOOR CLOSES] Right.

(MAG085) ARCHIVIST: I was just, uh… GEORGIE: You didn’t say we got another one. ARCHIVIST I didn’t want to worry you. GEORGIE: I knew it was something. You’ve been weird all day. ARCHIVIST I’m sorry, I… I don’t know. ARCHIVIST : Look, I’m really not sure about this. ARCHIVIST: I just need to borrow it for a half hour or so. I, I’ll look after it. GEORGIE: Wha– No, I don’t– You can blow it up for all I care. It’s been in the loft for, like, twenty years. If I need tape hiss, I’ll add it in post. ARCHIVIST: So, what’s the problem? GEORGIE: With playing an unmarked tape from your stalker? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Look, you just have to trust me, okay. GEORGIE: Yeah, and I want to do that, but how can I when you still won’t tell me what’s going on? ARCHIVIST: You wouldn’t believe me! GEORGIE: Try me. […] Come on, I’m not throwing you out, Jon. I know you wouldn’t be here if you had anywhere else to go, and I… I do want to help, but… y’know, you’re a good person. You were, at least. But whatever this is, it’s messing you up! [SIGH] Look I’ve, I’ve got work to do. You listen, or don’t listen, or cross-record, or whatever you want, just… just think about it first, okay? You can choose to leave it alone. [DOOR CLOSES] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [TAPE PLAYER IS LOADED] [CLICK–] […] GEORGIE: That’s it. Whatever the hell this deal is, the tapes, documents, I don’t want them in my house. ARCHIVIST: Look, look… No, no… Look, you, you don’t need to be scared. GEORGIE: I’m not! You are! Look at you, you can barely stand! ARCHIVIST: But I… But I need– GEORGIE: Listen to me, Jon. I can’t stop you doing… whatever secret bullshit you want to do, and I’m… not going to throw you out on the street, but I’m not having it in by home. ARCHIVIST: No… No, they won’t. I’ll make sure it doesn’t… I’ll keep it far away. GEORGIE: No, you need to stop. ARCHIVIST: I’m not sure I can.

(MAG093) ARCHIVIST: Georgie, I just, I needed to do one more. GEORGIE: I asked you not to record them here. ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I… I honestly forgot. It’s been a hell of a week. GEORGIE: Yeah, not just for you. What, you think you just disappear for five days, then turn up looking like the, like the end of Die Hard, and I’ll just write it off? “Classic Jon, what an interesting life he must lead.” ARCHIVIST: No, I– GEORGIE: Where have you been? And what happened to your hand? ARCHIVIST: I don’t want to talk about it. GEORGIE: Tough. ARCHIVIST: Look, I’m moving out anyway, so just… just forget it. I’m out of your life. Alright? GEORGIE: No.

(MAG099) ARCHIVIST: You know that’s not what I mean. I feel like I’m putting you in danger. GEORGIE: Well, yeah. You are. A horrible mannequin thing turned up. Had to change all my lightbulbs. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. This, this is my point! GEORGIE: I said I’m fine with it. At least until you’re properly back on your feet. You’re not doing well. You keep apologising and saying you're changing, but it's all just the same. If you leave, I think it's just going to get worse, and I don’t want that.

(MAG149) MARTIN: Why aren’t you talking? GEORGIE: Ah…! … Because… I think… he’s going to… destroy himself. And… anyone who lets him get too close. And I don’t want that to include me. Or Melanie. […] But, he just carried on anyway– MARTIN: … Yeah, he will do that… GEORGIE:  –and I realised if I kept trying, it was gonna hurt me more than I was willing to accept. MARTIN: Well… [AUDIBLY SMILING] sometimes, helping people hurts. GEORGIE: Sure, but that doesn’t mean… everything painful helps. Sometimes, people have problems that will wreck you long before you can make a dent in them. … And some people don’t want help, they just… want other people suffering with them. […] MARTIN: It’s easy to pass judgement from the outside…! GEORGIE: One more reason to stay on the outside…!

I’m mostly sad that in the end, it all accumulated and went so badly that Georgie changed her mind, but she’s been… the most irreproachable of all, I feel? She did try, really hard, and it didn’t work to pull Jon out, because Jon kept repeating that there wasn’t any problem and proved himself untrustworthy (he still recorded things in her home and… caught her in his nightmares, and never acknowledged nor apologised about it).

Though, regarding Georgie’s perception of the situation:

1°) I didn’t really understand the “grenade” image…?

(MAG149) MARTIN: Look, we’re all just trying to do the right thing. GEORGIE: Maybe. [SIGH] Look… Life forces you to make hard decisions. But… I can never trust someone who goes around, looking for hard decisions to make. MARTIN: And what do you mean by that? GEORGIE: W–… Jumping on a grenade is only heroic if you weren’t the one who actually threw it. MARTIN: That’s not what’s happening. GEORGIE: Okay. It’s still not something I want any part of. MARTIN: Well…! Lucky for you we’re fully staffed, so…

Or was that literally about The Unknowing – the fact that they had placed bombs there? Does Georgie know that it had been the ritual attempt? (She knew Jon was ~trying to save the world~ but maybe she didn’t know that it had happened then?)

2°) Georgie used a lot of sentences presented as maxims or proverbs, as Objective Truths, and it made her words feel very stiff and sometimes cold…… and at the same time, it makes sense. She can’t feel fear; it would make sense that she learnt to function by rationalising, hence putting aside the emotional aspect of things when it comes to self-preservation, because it’s the only way she is able to tell that things are getting bad.

3°) ;; Her descriptions put me in mind of…… what had happened to Alex – and I wonder if she’s not assimilating what she experienced with The End and what Jon is currently doing?

(MAG094) GEORGIE: As the woman got closer, I could see something in Alex tighten, wind so taut that it finally snapped. She lunged forward, grabbed the corpse by its shoulders, and began to scream into its face. What did it want? What had it done? Demanding answers. The dead woman with the shaved head ignored her grip, leaned close to her neck and opened her mouth. For a moment I had visions of teeth sinking into Alex’s flesh, of arterial spray coating the clean, white laminate, but all that passed between them was a whisper. Something soft spoken into Alex’s ear. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she turned to look at me. Her eyes were different. They were still hers, and I could tell they still knew me, but something in them was gone. As my gaze met hers, Alex gave a simple, small shrug, so slowly, it was if every ounce of will she had went into that one small gesture. Her head drooped, staring at the floor, and she gently lowered herself down to lie there. And just like that I was on my own. It feels strange to think that even then I couldn’t find the strength to run. If I’m feeling generous to myself I try to believe it’s because I was unwilling to abandon Alex, or maybe the thing had some power to keep me there, but honestly, it was fight, flight or freeze. And I froze. I saw the dead woman approaching me. Smelt the chemicals that kept her from rotting, saw her lean towards me, saw her lips begin to form words. In desperation I slammed my hands over my ears and shut my eyes, willing myself not to hear, not to understand. As far as defences go, it was basically nothing, but I still think it saved me, at least a bit.

(MAG120) ELIAS: Another dissection room. Another figure standing in its centre; but this one is calm. She simply looks at him sadly, a pity in her face that burns him worse than any flame. More than anything, the Archivist wants to look away, to turn his Eye from her gentle sadness, from the disappointment for what she sees in him; but he cannot. So he watches her, until she simply fades away.

Georgie witnessed a friend running into danger, getting destroyed in the process, and was almost taken by it in turn. She already experienced this. Of course, she would feel like Jon is threatening to do a repeat of the situation, although more gradual.

- …

(MAG149) MARTIN: Oh. … Oh, wai–wait, I thought Melanie-Georgie, and Jon-Georgie were… GEORGIE: Oh, uh, s–same, same Georgie. MARTIN: Oh. … Ah. Aah, so you and Jon…

Does it mean that Georgie and Melanie are friendly exes too. Does it mean that Jon & Melanie have actually kissed the same person, and would it count as a kiss by proxy. How many seconds before Melanie would gouge her eyes out at the notion.

(Melanie had mentioned Georgie to Basira, but not onscreen to Martin! So Martin used to be on talking basis with Melanie, enough for her to talk about her close ones…? ;w;)

- I’m assuming that Georgie was taking Melanie to therapy again and Hhhhhhh, I’m so glad that 1°) Georgie DID POINT OUT that Melanie is currently making efforts to get better – unlike Jon, and that that’s why Georgie is ready to help in Melanie’s case and less so with Jon (we could hear in MAG145 how… no, Jon isn’t really trying at all), 2°) Melanie indeed sounds quieter and more peaceful. Still really hoping that, whether her therapist is a surprise Lonely/Web/Beholding/Extinction!spook or not, it’s actually valid and regular therapy at work.

- The Martin-Georgie exchange also revealed that they hadn’t met each other at the hospital when Jon was in the coma! Though we still don’t know if Martin was a frequent visitor (we only heard him during the s4 trailer and there was no indication as to whether he had been visiting often or not).

… I was fearing that Martin would be meaner than this given that Georgie is Jon’s (friendly) ex but he (more or less) behaved, amazing. Bow down to Georgie’s powers, able to master Martin’s pettiness.

(Although yes, there is an undercurrent of… “I would do this if I were you!” in what Martin is telling her, so Martin is fully aware of who she is and what she represents for Jon <33)

- I’m half-laughing, half-sobbing over the fact that, when people are telling him that they aren’t talking with Jon, Martin’s reaction is to inquire Why and treat it as a serious issue:

(MAG149) MARTIN: Oh. … Ah. Aah, so you and Jon… GEORGIE: … aren’t… really talking anymore. MARTIN: Rrright. [SILENCE] … Why not? GEORGIE: Excuse me? MARTIN: Why aren’t you talking?

Martin, please. You really can’t fathom that people might not want to talk to Jon and his Charming Personality, or that they have their Own Agenda Preventing Them From Talking With Jon just like you, uh. (Forget Fear Patron-shopping: Martin is Jon-aligned in the “do what I say, not what I DO” department.)

- MmMMMMMmm so, Daisy had already made it transparent that Jon was talking a bit more about Martin than we hear on tape:

(MAG144) DAISY: I, uh… I mentioned our conversation to him; he asked me to check on– MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry?

……………….. but the novelty is that APPARENTLY, Jon was talking about Martin behind our backs in season 3 already?!

(MAG149) MARTIN: Oh, you… you’re here for Melanie? GEORGIE: Yeah. … Georgie. MARTIN: [COUGH] … Sorry. Uh, sorry, I–I didn’t realise. I’m, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. GEORGIE: You must be Martin. MARTIN: Y–yeah. Has… Melanie been talking about me? GEORGIE: Oh, hum… Jon used to go on about you a lot.

(… To be fair, there were two other guys working in the Archives and one of them is dead, so identifying Martin on sight… probably wasn’t that hard. Still, “to go on about you A LOT” is… Big, from Jon.

And he had immediately equated “talking with the others” (Georgie’s advice from MAG099) to “talking with Martin specifically” (in MAG102, one month and a long kidnapping&sequestration later):

(MAG099) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Why are you so insistent on keeping me around? GEORGIE: Because you’re trying to cut yourself off, and that’s… that’s really bad! Look, when’s the last time you spoke to someone who wasn’t me? ARCHIVIST: That’s… I… I–I talked to Martin a, a… a… a few weeks ago…? GEORGIE: Did you talk to him? Or did he talk to you, while you tried to find a way to escape? ARCHIVIST: I… uh… GEORGIE: Look, you’re worried. I get it. But if you really think you’re turning into something… inhuman, you need people around you. You need anchors. ARCHIVIST: All my “anchors” are just as deep in this as me. GEORGIE: Well, you still need them. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Maybe you’re right. I… I’ll talk to the others.

(MAG102) ARCHIVIST: In the meantime I… I have a new flat. I should try to get comfortable, change the locks. Even if I might need to be leaving it for a while. Oh, and… I suppose I… I did tell Georgie I’d try to talk to Martin.

Jon. Joooooon…)

(- I’m!! Still!! Unsure!! Whether Jon’s brooding over Martin in season 4 is meant to be potentially romantic or not. There are so many issues entangled right now that it doesn’t feel like a primary option: Martin is doing something dangerous, is the last one of Jon’s original team alive, and was representing a bit of stability/familiarity. It’s only natural and obvious that Jon would be sick-worried over him and longing for any contact, since Tim is now dead and Jon has been sinking further into spooks and monsterhood.

But the idea that Jon was (positively?) talking a bit more about Martin unprompted in season 3 already… Mmmmmmmmmmm…)

- It was an excellent confrontation of different points of view, with much awkwardness (Georgie and Martin both obviously trying to say Where They Were Standing about some issues even when the conversation wasn’t exactly about it – it really felt like they… weren’t really able to talk “together”, mostly exchanging point of views and mutually using the other as a way to justify themselves), but. At the same time. I feel like Martin’s stances were almost completely invalidated given his situation and what happened with his mother?

(MAG118) [STATIC BEGINS] ELIAS: Your mother. MARTIN: [BREATHES SHARPLY] ELIAS: She’s always been… “difficult”, hasn’t she? You take care of her for years, feed her, clean up after her and now, with her condition degrading even further, she is the one that asked to move into a home, to have it left to the nurses! She is the one that refuses your visits. MARTIN: Sh– she’s always been– ELIAS: Strong-willed? Stubborn? No. No, Martin; you know the reason. Your mother… simply hates you. You just don’t know why! It’s not your fault. Though I know that isn’t any consolation, it’s just bad luck, really. How old were you when your father left? Eight? Nine? When you mother began to sicken and he decided he was done with you both. Not old enough to remember him with any great clarity, especially when your mother refused to keep any pictures of him. She never recovered from that betrayal. He just tore her heart right out!, and took it with him. The thing is, though, Martin: if you ever do want to know exactly what your father looked like… all you have to do~ is look in a mirror~ MARTIN: [HEAVY BREATHING] ELIAS: The resemblance is quite uncanny: the face of the man she hates, who destroyed her life, watching over her; feeding her; cleaning her; looking down on her with such pity– MARTIN: [RAGGED] Shut! Up! ELIAS: Do you want to know what she sees when she looks a you? [STATIC INTENSIFIES]

… MARTIN, HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO CONCLUDE, ONE YEAR LATER, THAT

(MAG149) MARTIN: … Maybe he just needs some help. GEORGIE: I did help him! As much as I safely could. But, he just carried on anyway– MARTIN: … Yeah, he will do that… GEORGIE:  –and I realised if I kept trying, it was gonna hurt me more than I was willing to accept. MARTIN: Well… sometimes, helping people hurts. GEORGIE: Sure, but that doesn’t mean… everything painful helps. Sometimes, people have problems that will wreck you long before you can make a dent in them. … And some people don’t want help, they just… want other people suffering with them. MARTIN: Nn, Jon doesn’t want that.

… It’s not only that “sometimes, helping people hurts”: it’s also that sometimes, trying to force your conception of “help” over someone who doesn’t want it hurts them on top of hurting yourself.

Fortunately, Jon is not Martin’s mother, and Freud can remain Buried, but. Martin, oh, Martin… you learned absolutely nothing, did you…?

(I’m wrecked over the fact that you could HEAR that he was forcefully smiling, when saying that “sometimes, helping people hurts”. You could just. Hear it. And gosh, Martin, no…)

- ;; Extra-wrecked that, so far, no, Martin’s conception of care… hasn’t really helped anybody. It didn’t work with Tim when Martin was more or less trying to check on him in season 3, and Tim even cut any contact with Martin when he went on his own crusade against the Circus; Basira dismissed him a bit about it in MAG110; trying to tend to his mother… didn’t really work either. Jon has been craving Anything Martin in season 4, though, which is the main difference with the others. So maybe just being there could help, indeed, and that’s precisely something Martin doesn’t feel like he can afford to do at the moment… If he indeed consciously sent Jess’s tape to the other assistants, it means that although Martin hesitated, he was able to step in and take measures after learning that Jon was on the wrong path. So maybe hearing about how isolated Jon currently is, and how even Georgie has given up on him, could push Martin to send another message…?

- I’m a bit relieved by Georgie’s stance about Jon, too, because… yes, if someone should have these feelings about him, it’s her. And at the same time, I feel like the fact that she made them explicit is also a way to say that this is not the only option – it’s hers and her perception of current events, but it’s not… fundamentally the ones other characters will choose and pursue. There will probably be alternatives, there will probably be many different ways to interact with Jon; we’ve already seen Basira’s and it’s not certain that Martin will keep doing his best to not interact ~for everyone’s greater good in the long-run~ now that he’s getting more information about how bad things are going currently. (Or not, and he could still persist in his isolation anyway.)

I’m still curious about Daisy’s and Melanie’s stances because both of them know they’ve been under influence, and Jon was the one who gave them other options. Both would have personal reasons to feel very mad at him (Jonathan “Do what I say, not what I do” Sims had told Melanie it was time to heal, and told Daisy that There Were Always Choices… when he had already attacked two people), with various degrees of betrayal. I’m sad in advance for Daisy, as she had grown kinda close to Jon since she had come back from the coffin and he… hadn’t… told her… about the live-statements… although she would have been the most likely to understand…, and it’s probably not a good idea at all to have them interact without supervision (if Daisy was beginning to “hear her blood” when thinking about Elias, what would happen now that she knows that Jon had been going more monster-y?) but. I want to hear Daisy’s perspective on these things. (Although I’m worried about Jon’s hesitation in MAG148, please, don’t be Hunting again ;;). As for Melanie, I want her to kick Jon’s butt and call him out on his hypocrisy about “healing” and (break of) trust; at the same time, given that she’s currently making efforts to make better, she’s probably in the best position to do so in a productive way.

(Though there is still the question of What Can They Do?, re:Jon… Melanie got a clearer head (and some additional trauma) following the bullet’s removal. Daisy, who had been a Hunter for a looong time, was cut from The Hunt thanks to the coffin. But how could they possibly cut Jon from The Eye? He was still using his powers in the coffin and his personality has been aligned to Beholding for a long time (Georgie had pointed out that Jon had always been the kind to ask questions that could get himself punched), to the point that it’s extremely hard to establish if Jon had been influenced or if it had been him without any spook involved at various points in the series – the gnawing curiosity about the tunnels all through season 2 is a prime example, and although most of Jon’s actions made sense in context (coming along with Basira to be there to help if Hill Top Road turns out too dangerous; seeing the Dark Sun to neutralise it; agreeing to come with Basira to the North Pole to make sure that The Dark wouldn’t succeed its ritual; going down in the coffin to save Daisy; going to talk to Jared and agreeing to exchange a rib against his statement to learn who had sent Jared after the archival staff; planning Melanie’s surgery; going to The Unknowing because he was worried about Tim’s safety; etc.), it’s still possible that Jon wanted to know and experience these things, first-hand, and was only rationalising to himself secondary reasons to put himself in danger like this.So how would they be able to remove him from The Eye’s influence in the same way that Daisy got cut from The Hunt in the coffin…? Could using The Dark or The Stranger or The Spiral help, given how they feel like opposite to The Eye? Gouging Jon’s eyes out? Anchoring him to another avatar like what happened with Gertrude and Agnes…?)

- ;; Kinda hoping that this isn’t the last we’re hearing of Georgie, nor of Georgie-and-Jon… because we already got the “Jon used to get along with x person for years / Jon fucked up hard / too many fuckups / now x person is giving up on him, and it’s Definite And Absolute and their relationship is broken forever” scenario with… Tim? And the series tends to break more long-lasting bonds than it creates (I doubt that Basira&Daisy will stay a duo for long, especially now with the fact that 1°) Basira had hidden that she had let Jon extort Floyd’s statement, 2°) Basira had hidden she has been following Elias’s leads through the season; Basira and Jon, who used to share the same humour, are a Disaster this season; Melanie, who was kinda getting along with Basira as a gossip unit, felt objectified by her; Melanie and Jon never really got along to begin with… There is still Georgie-and-Melanie at the moment, and a bit of Melanie-and-Daisy in the background, but… that’s it.

And in Georgie-and-Jon’s case: there is the fact that Jon mentioned to Melanie, back in season 2, that their break-up had been… bad, at least according to him. Yet, they were still able to be super friendly in season 3. Which means that they have a history of Patching Things Up even though their relationship changes. As mentioned, we already got The Definitive Fall-Out thing with Tim, so I still want to hope that Jon&Georgie cooould… manage to talk things out at some point, or at least have a proper goodbye to give themselves some closure or something. Unless Jon launches The Watcher’s Crown in the next 10 episodes.

… I want to see The Admiral and hear him purr again, gdi.

(- AND I’M STILL “????” OVER THE NEAR ABSOLUTE ABSENCE OF TIM MENTIONS THIS SEASON… From Melanie&Daisy&Basira, I’m not surprised; and right, he’s been dead for a year at this point, and Martin additionally had his mother and we didn’t hear his own feelings about it either; but it’s only been a few months from Jon, and I’m still ? over the fact that Jon… wasn’t able to remember how they had neutralised The Unknowing, back in MAG122.

Especially right now, with Georgie bringing up self-care and cutting yourself from toxic people, and how some people just spiral into their own destruction… Because, surely, the bottom line can’t be that dying is the best option? Daisy brought that notion back when talking with Martin in MAG142 (about how maybe Melanie had been right to want to kill Elias), and we had a glimpse of that through Tim’s spiralling descent into anger&revenge with a bit of suicide ideation thrown in the mix; it was his Answer to everything that was happening to him, it was the only option he deemed acceptable, he was embracing it and admitted in MAG117 that he probably didn’t want to survive The Unknowing anyway… And so, it was sad as fuck and not something to glorify.)

- And all these Relationship Fall-Outs are a good occasion to remember that Peter Lukas has been running the Institute for around a year, now, and HOW CURIOUS it is that characters have been (even more than usual) unable to work together or to trust each other efficiently.

(… Though, nowadays, Peter is apparently less and less present. So, if he’s indeed been… making things worse just by being there, who is currently casting The Lonely on the Institute? Is it Martin?)

- Also brought up again in the midst of the discussion: the fact that the Institute in itself… isn’t neutral, and potentially influences people:

(MAG062) MARY: Mm. Well, they don’t understand up there. They don’t know what this place is. You do, though, don’t you? We’re on the same side, really, even if Elias disagrees. GERTRUDE: If you say so.

(MAG065) ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know. But I don’t think I can fire you either. TIM: What? ARCHIVIST: It’s this place. TIM: I don’t understand. ARCHIVIST: Neither do I. [STATIC FADES] I’m trying to figure it out, I’ve– I’ve got the shape of it but… I’m sorry, Tim. Truly I am. But I cannot, and will not, trust you. This place isn’t right, you see that now. I don’t know how or why, but there is something very wrong with the Archives. And I don’t know who here is a victim of it… and who is an agent. TIM: So… what do we do? ARCHIVIST: For now? I suppose we just… do our jobs. TIM: I don’t want to. ARCHIVIST: No…

(MAG079) TIM: There is something in this place, and it’s messing up our heads. It watches us all the time. It stops me quitting. I’m pretty sure it would stop Elias firing Jon even if he decided to actually try running this place for once. MARTIN: You’re sure you don’t just want to stay? TIM: I’m sure. MARTIN: But, like, deep down– TIM: No. MARTIN: … Oh.

(MAG080) ARCHIVIST: This place belongs to one of them, doesn’t it? LEITNER: You know the answer to that. ARCHIVIST: The Eye. LEITNER: I have also heard it called Beholding. ARCHIVIST: And I… LEITNER: You belong to it too.

(MAG090) TIM: … You do know, right? I mean, you must know. ELIAS: Know what? TIM: About this place. About what it does to us. ELIAS: [SIGH] Tim, this place is very old. It has all sorts of... idiosyncrasies and not all of them are good for the people who work here. TIM: I think I’d prefer asbestos.

(MAG092) ELIAS: Jonah Magnus did leave him in that place, Jon. He got the letter, oh yes, and was on good terms with Mordechai Lukas. He could have interceded, perhaps even saved him, but he did not. And it was not out of malice, or because he lacked affection for Barnabas Bennett […]. No, it was because he was curious. Because he had to know, to watch and see it all. That’s what this place is, Jon, never forget it. You may believe yourself to have friends, to have confidantes, but in the end, all they are, is something for you to watch, to know, and ultimately to discard. This, at least, Gertrude understood. […] There’s so much of this place, of ourselves, twisted by forces far beyond us. I just wanted you to know– [DOOR OPENS] […] Yes, I was just saying to Jon. It’s very important to me you understand that no action I have taken has been controlled. I have done everything because I wished to.

(MAG098) TIM: Look, it’s not that. I… [SIGH] This place is evil, Martin. And I think doing what It wants? Probably makes us evil. And It wants those things to be read. I mean, I’m not going to stop you, but, at the same time… MARTIN: I– I get it.

(MAG114) TIM: Anyway, you’re a spook too now, aren’t you? This place loves you too much to let you get swapped.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: I don’t understand. MELANIE: No? You don’t, do you? He’s still alive. You are still alive. So THIS PLACE is still–! [HEAVY STRANGLED BREATHING] ARCHIVIST: Melanie! Melanie, this isn’t you–

(MAG128, Breekon) “That was the first time we saw what would become this place, The Eye’s Pedestal. But we were drunk on the dawning horror of transportation and took no heed of it.”

(MAG149) MARTIN: … This place isn’t a sickness. GEORGIE: No, I–I think it’s worse. […] MELANIE: Who were you talking to…? GEORGIE: Oh, I was, uh– … [HUFF] No one, apparently. MELANIE: [SIGH] … Yeah. This place will do that to you…!

How fitting, that Melanie, who sounds better lately… has also been getting out more, at least for therapy. Thus removing herself a bit from the Institute, after spending months holed up in there with Basira. (… This is not an invitation for Jon to go roam outside unsupervised again.)

(And Peter had told Martin that he needed the Institute for his plans, and Martin suspected that it was about the tunnels under it. … is the building getting destroyed by the end of the season. BURN, BABY, BURN.)

- What a perfect time, also, to remember that Jon had wondered out loud back in MAG139 about why they had been “chosen”, and hadn’t been able to find an answer. But we know, concretely, about Some People Who Did Some Choosing, and who are doing their damn bestest to be perceived as comedically useless recently, uh. Peter keeps being away and fake-friendly and not helping with anything even about dealing with The Extinction; and Elias allowed Basira to come see him although he was expecting to get beaten up, and pretended that he had messed up here and there and didn’t know much about anything. But. Elias, why did you specifically pick Jon as the next Archivist, even though Xiaoling had offered someone for the position. Why did you specifically send Peter to meet Martin in MAG108, and why Peter’s fixation with Martin.

(I’m still ?? over that last point because, strategically? Elias had just wrecked Melanie after she had tried to kill him multiple times and wanted to keep going; he wasn’t above doing that. And meanwhile, Tim had provoked him, made it extremely clear he would go against the Circus solo even though Elias was telling him not to – and as far as being lonely/isolated went… Tim was like, the perfect option? Still at a loss with what had happened with Sasha, still grieving his brother? So why did Elias choose to send Peter to Martin, who wasn’t a threat to him at the time? Was it only because of the hopeless pining after Jon – since Melanie&Basira had just made it explicit in MAG106 (… and some part of me still wants to believe that Elias. Hadn’t picked up on it until then. Hadn’t noticed. Because he tended to never take Martin into account)? But then, those were Martin’s feelings for Jon, not the reverse, so even if the plan was to isolate Jon more, it wouldn’t have changed anything…?)

- orz orz orz And it’s always a good (bad) moment to remember that:

(MAG126) MARTIN: … When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission. PETER: Martin… when it’s over, you won’t want to. MARTIN: … Mm. PETER: But he will be safe. They all will. MARTIN: … Yeah.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I think he wants me to join The Lonely. ELIAS: Then it sounds like you have a decision to make. […] MARTIN: I don’t know what I expected. [INHALE] Right. Right, we’re done here. [CHAIR SCRAPING ON THE FLOOR] [STEPS LEAVING] ELIAS: Don’t forget to keep in touch, Martin. There are so many people in here, but without one’s friends… [DOOR LOCKING] it does get rather lonely.

(Gasp, yeah, it sounded almost like ADVICE coming from Elias’s mouth, under the obvious gratuitous jab. Shockingly.)

(Aaaand Peter hadn’t been clear about what would make Martin not want to tell Jon: whether it would be because of Jon’s evolution, or because of Martin’s. Right now, we’re getting both, and Martin is getting more comfortable in his isolation…………………. I still hope that if he had a Plan to backstab Peter, he’ll still carry through it and manage to pull that one off (hey, he had already revealed that he was recording the statements for Jon and intended for the tapes to reach him at some point) but ;; In any case, it won’t be pretty, uh…)

Title for MAG150 is… *Undignified French snicker* Écoutez, je suis une personne simple, on peut vraiment réutiliser le titre de façon dégueulasse si on enfonce cette porte ouverte.

It’s funny, because there is an English equivalent for this one, and Jon was using it so much in season 1 and 2 that I had begun to make the compilation of its occurrences, and it had been used both in its concrete and abstract meanings. … It had specifically been used in MAG041, too, which put me in mind of the tunnels under the Institute (title would fiiiit) and the circle of worms, so I wanna Believe In A Corruption Statement because I’ll do that every week under The Filth gets its share in season 4.

Other options: mmm, we know that Gertrude and Gerry had travelled in France when tracking The Stranger so there could be something additional to this and/or the return of Jon Fluently Reading/Understanding languages he doesn’t know? Or it could be a reference to the movie of the same name – Lonely one, then, possibly? Would be a good title for a Buried statement, too, though we already got the coffin mini-arc not that long ago. Literally, it also puts to mind MAG005’s statement (… and in more than one way) so… could be… about that… too… (in which case: Flesh? Hunt?).

Second meaning of the title is L-O-L, that’s. That’s a nice summary of this little soap opera you call an Archive’s current state of affair. (And it’s… nice to think back to the concrete meaning and how, to get out of one, you have… to admit that you made a mistake and take a few steps back in order to revaluate your options. … Or to pursue your initial plans and to crash against the wall/make the wall crumble. Oh no.)

[mwolf0epsilon]

DBH - Of Fishers and Seafarers

Sorry for how late this is, I've been struggling a bit with actually finishing this drabble on a lighter note and somehow failed miserably.

In which an android designed to repair NASA's spaceship for the upcoming Io mission, becomes a lot more to the woman that lovingly coded and designed him.

---

    Despite the fact this one project would improve every aspect of deep space exploration efforts, and that it may one day pave the way to the next step of humanity's preservation through the establishing of off-world colonies, NASA's finest did mourn the fact they were sending their most ambitious collaboration into orbit.

It's not that the chief engineers or other assorted members of staff were upset at the prospect of hard work burning up in Io's atmosphere, no the resources and work put into assembling the androids and ship they'd be transported in were not the biggest loss here.

No, they were much sadder knowing that the AIs they'd lovingly programmed and developed, would eventually be lost to the hostility of the vast void beyond.

         It was strange how quickly humanity had gotten used to androids and then begun to openly resent them. From the very beginning when they'd begun launching rovers and other assorted drones into space, NASA executives and lower level workers had always had a special place in their hearts for their robotic workers. But the androids? The androids were held with a degree of respect that far surpassed whatever it is your average Joe or Sally thought of their domestic models.

It wasn't just nerds being nerds and loving their toys. Anyone who tried to say so, would have to face the wrath of Dr. Taylor Fisher, one of the many members of the programming team at NASA, and the self-proclaimed mother of the one AI that everyone was so fond of.

Each member of the android exploration team had a specific set of skills they were built for that fit the role they would play inside the ship, and at least one set of scientists and engineers who adored them, but Taylor's unit was the one that seemed to have captivated the hearts of every human worker within NASA's facilities.

    Taylor was, of course, quite proud of how IO100-P turned out. Having spent so many countless nights fully refining the AI and testing it for bugs and other assortments of issues, she was glad to see the stream of data, inquiries and processes, become something new and unique in its own right.

She was no Elijah Kamski, and her darling Proteus was no Chloe, but she couldn't help just marvel as her project slowly worked it's way into passing the Turing Test.

The other AIs were just as impressive, if not more exciting to test and engage with considering their functions, but somehow her baby had become the most outgoing of them all even if his primary task was focused on repair works within the ship.

He held conversations better, took in information more quickly, and even seemed to retain interests unlike his fellow team members.

He had a personality, which she'd hidden from the stonefaced gargoyles from Cyberlife, but openly shared with her peers.

The first thing she did when she deemed him fit to be put into a body, was seek out the designers and call for some changes to the base design.

 “No no no, he looks too young!” She'd exclaimed “Proteus strikes me as a gentlemanly sort. Older, more experienced.”

 “But he IS very young, Taylor.” The designer, a slightly pudgy man named Rick, sighed “And you know those technicians won't agree to visually unappealing models.”

 “Being older isn't unappealing. A team of spacefarers shouldn't look fresh out of college. They should look respectable!” she'd responded angrily at the mere thought of age being perceived as ugly.

 “Like Cyberlife wants anything but their usual formula…” Rick rolled his eyes in frustration. He agreed with her but he didn't want to upset their collaboration partners.

 “Fuck what Cyberlife's saying! We coded them, we design them.” Taylor snarled “I'm not sending a babyfaced recruit to space!”

It took some work, but they'd managed a small victory. The Androids did not look like eternal doll faced youths, instead looking in between mid-thirties to mid-forties.

They'd promised more pay for the extra cosmetics, but it felt right.

Proteus looked right in her eyes, and it was adorable to look at this remarkable and likeable android, who was both soft-spoken and looked like he could be an average suburban father.

If anything, his love for the three android cats Taylor owned, proved as much.

 “Why three? Was one unit not enough?” He'd asked the first time she'd brought them with her to work.

 “I like cats.” She shrugged “I've always wanted one when I was a kid, but when I saw these three...Eh, call it an impulse buy if you want…”

 “Could you not own a cat when you were a child?”

 “No. At the time android cats weren't in the market, and I'm allergic to cat fur...So yeah...These three are kind of my fuck you to life for giving me a stupid allergy.”

Proteus seemed to consider this before focusing on the three android felines.

Two of them were shaped like the regular domestic model, while the third seemed larger. A common orange shorthair with wide and intelligent looking yellow eyes, a black cat with a noticeable white stripe on her nose and calm blue eyes, and a Bengal cat with forest green eyes. The three had collars of different designs, which merely shared the triangle marker indicating their android nature. They had no visible LED, an aesthetic choice.

 “I've gotten one of them modded to completion.” Taylor stated as he examined the cats that all seemed to be observing him with mild curiosity. “Helps to have a smart cat holding the fort.”

 “Holding the fort…?”

 “It's an expression. Do you want to know their names?” She smiled kindly at the android, who simply nodded. “Alright. The Bengal lady that's currently nibbling on your sleeve is called Terrabyte.”

 “...Pardon but it seems you have mispronounced Terabyte.” Proteus pointed out.

 “Naw, it's a pun. Bengal cats are like, Wilder than regular cats, hence Terra. And then since she's an android, byte seemed like an appropriate contradiction. Nature vs Man and all that jazz.”

 “Ah...I see. I find it an adequate name then.”

 “Good. Lil Terra isn't too refined, she's kind of vintage if you will, but she's lovable. The black one is called Luna. She's in the middle when it comes to intelligence, but that's only because I haven't gotten the time to buy the rest of her upgrades. She's a natural hunter tho, she swats flies straight out of the air!”

 “Luna...Perhaps an homage to your work for NASA?”

 “Nah, I'm just a dumb nerd. I named her after an anime cat.” Taylor chuckled “Sailor Moon kicks ass anyway, and the stripe makes it look like she's destined for greatness.”

 “...I shall have to procure this...Sailor Moon...to understand the context, but I trust the name is fitting?”

 “Oh god I've accidentally introduced anime to my android-son….My bosses are gonna kill me.” Taylor covered her face in amusement before shaking her head “Anyway, last but certainly not least, there's little old Data. He's a smart boy and he's modded to perfection. Intelligent and knows a lot of tricks. Before you ask, yes I named him after another show, but this time it's a sci-fi classic. Who could diss on Star Trek am I right?”

Proteus shrugged

 “I wouldn't know. Perhaps I require more research on the matter.”

 “I guess my boss won't be too angry if I introduce you to Star trek, he was a hardcore Spock and Picard fan when he was younger so... You're gonna love Data. He's the best character and he's like you! An android! In space!”

 “An android in space...Not yet I'm afraid. But soon.”

    Proteus became the primary focus of Dr. Fisher's time until the day he was called in to launch.

It was hard saying goodbye, even harder when he hugged her and confided that he was scared to go to Io, as he knew there would be no way of returning home to her, to his family.

NASA would mourn the android team, Dr. Fisher especially would mourn the loss of the android she painstakingly coded and designed.

Those calm features and brilliant lilac eyes, framed by a pair of glasses that complimented the absurdly adorable academic fashion he prefered, would haunt her dreams for months to come...And more so after the Revolution came to pass. After all, if the spacefarer androids did find a way to return, as impossible as that may be, she may not be around to see her boy again... She could only hope for him that the abyssal tides beyond, would be kinder to him than her health had been to her.

But then again, Proteus was a Fisher, and Fishers were destined to sail the winds of opportunity, be they out at sea or up above in the stars.