#but there's clearly a similar split in math

[27spoons]

Under The Influence | Vanessa Palmer

pairing: vanessa palmer/reader

request: van taking care of the reader after drinking too much and the reader embarrassed herself saying how pretty they are or that she wants to be more then friends (@modernvenuss)

wc: 1820

warnings: intoxication (reader), alluding to throwing up but nothing described, fluff at the end i promise, not proofread we die like coach ben's leg

a/n: i'm assuming this was young van since it wasn't specified 😭if i am wrong i am so sorry

"Oooooooookay." As you lean on her shoulder to support yourself, Van laughs, " Someone has had too many beers."

"I have not." You say, definitely not slurring your words in the slightest. "I just had… like… a few pulls from the keg…" A small hiccup and giggle follow your words, and then a sheepish grin splits across your features.

Van rolls her eyes as she grabs the car keys from your pocket and unlocks it, "Right… and what is your definition of 'a few'? Five? Six? Ten?" She laughs, "I thought you were good at math."

"I am," leaves your lips in a grumble. "I'm really good at math."

"Right." Van agrees as she unlocks the door to your mom's Toyota, "I think these AP Precalculus classes aren't doing you any good. I would, personally, reconsider attending them if they aren't doing you any good." The passenger side door opens up, and she ushers you into the seat, clicking your seatbelt into place despite your protests.

"Vaaaaaaaaaaan." You whine petulantly as she closes the door, leaving you alone in the car for a few seconds. She moves to the driver's seat, sticking the keys in the ignition and bringing the car to life. "C'mon. Just a little while longer. I heard Jackie talking about—"

"Nope." Van cuts you off, popping the 'p,' "We are leaving."

"Where are we going?" You continue to whine, glancing over at the redhead with what you hope is the equivalent of puppy-dog eyes.

She can't fight the grin that appears on her face, and her voice shifts slightly, "The Fourth World. It's sort of like Heaven, only better, because there aren't any Christians. It's an absolute paradise of music, art and pure enjoyment."

You stare at her deadpan. "Did you just quote Heavenly Creatures to me?"

A laugh spills from her mouth as the car slides into gear, pulling away from the curb. "Oh, so you aren't drunk enough to walk, but you're drunk enough to remember lines from a movie?"

"A movie that you've made me watch, like, ten times!" You grumble, throwing your arms up in frustration, which is honestly just a result of you being drunk more than anything else. "So it's… like… your fault, or whatever." 

"You did not have to watch it with me, but you did. So, you're at fault here." She grins, clearly proud of herself. "But, just so you know, I'm taking you back home. So you can pass out on your bed instead of the front lawn of the Taylor's house." Van glances at you once the car reaches a stop sign and nudges your shoulder gently before returning her hand to the wheel, "You're gonna thank me in the morning."

You grumble out something similar to a curse—which earns you an eye roll—and you rest your head against the window, looking at the houses that pass by in the night.

At some point during the drive, you roll your window down, a soft exhale leaving your lips as the night air washes over your face. It's warm out, but not warm enough that it's uncomfortable. You close your eyes and let the feeling of the wind against your face lull you into some state of soberness, and you don't even notice the words leaving your lips as they do. "I really like you, Van." You mumble out so quietly you're almost positive the words are just bouncing around your head rather than being spoken out loud. "Like… a lot. You're always there for me when I need you, and you're really pretty." A soft sigh leaves your lips, and you feel the bumps in the road start to soothe you into a state of unconsciousness. "Sometimes I wish we were more than friends."

The next little while is a blur.

You vaguely remember Van helping you out of the car and into your house, and you swear she said something important to you after helping remove your shoes, but you can't remember what it was for the life of you.

The morning comes with a thundering headache and nausea that makes you feel like you'd rather be dead.

Maybe you did have a few too many beers last night. Whoops.

You nearly fall off your bed in an attempt to get up, scowling slightly when you realise you're still in last night's clothes. "Fuck me," comes out of your mouth with a wave of stale beer and… cigarettes? You don't even smoke. What the hell were you doing last night?

All sticky and gross, you manage to stumble out of your bedroom and into the hallway, making a beeline for the bathroom. You don't even bother flicking the lightswitch on as you fall to your knees in front of the toilet and—

Well, I'm sure you're quite aware of what you did. 

At some point, you hear a gentle murmur from the door and feel someone rest their hand on your upper back, earning a soft groan from you in response to the sudden presence. As you slowly blink yourself back into existence, you glance away from the toilet and come face-to-face with a very blurry… Van?

"Y're still here?" You mumble out, exhausted and hungover, "Why didn' y'go home?" 

"'cus I didn't have anyone to drive me there. I can't steal your mom's car; she'd kill me." Van rolls her eyes and cleans your face up with a handtowel, "Because I knew you were gonna be hungover, and I didn't want to leave you alone in the morning. Your parents are still on vacation." 

You make a small sound at that—one that you aren't quite sure what it's supposed to convey—and rest your head back on your arm with a grunt. "I wanna die."

Van scoffs, "Yeah, I grabbed some Tylenol from the medicine cabinet when I heard you in here. You can take it when you stop throwing up." She gently wipes some sweat from your forehead, and your eyes fall closed at the tender action.

You lay with your head on the toilet seat for about another ten minutes before Van decides you aren't about to throw up again anytime soon and moves you back to your bedroom, giving you some fresh clothes to wear before stepping out of your room to let you change.

She returns with a knock five minutes later, peeking her head into the room with a bottle of water and a bowl of apple sauce. "Don't know how much you can keep down right now, so… this will have to do. I'm pretty sure this apple sauce was expired, but it's… probably fine." Van grins at you, and you genuinely can't tell if she's joking or not as she takes a seat on the side of your bed. "Also got you some painkillers for your head." She places the water bottle on your nightstand and grabs the pill container from her pocket, "Hoping you can keep them down."

You smile at her gratefully, taking the apple sauce from her hands. "I… uh… shit. I feel like I owe you something."

"Three pennies and a ball o' lint, kiiiddd." She grins wide, all teeth. "Nah, you don't owe me anything. I got to crash on your couch last night and not deal with my mom, so… I think that debt is already paid." A beat, "Oh! I also stole some Fruit by the Foot. Sorry." But you both know she's far from sorry.

A quiet chuckle leaves your mouth, which causes you to wince in pain at the throbbing in your head. Van, ever the angel, takes two pills from the bottle and passes it to you alongside the water. 

An awkward silence follows you swallowing down the pills, and you aren't quite sure why Van can't meet your eyes until she breaks that tense air that surrounds you. "So, uh… just outta curiosity, how much do you remember from last night?" 

You blink a few times and exhale softly through your nose, "I… uh…" 

Your eyes go wide.

"Oh, shit, Van, I didn't mean it—I mean, I did, but I also didn't mean to say it like that—" A frustrated groan parts from your lips, and you let your head fall back against the pillow behind you. "I'm sorry."

There's a long moment of silence, and you start to worry that you've crossed a line last night, already cursing yourself for ruining a friendship that you've had for years—

She's laughing.

Van is laughing.

Loud and boisterous like she usually does, hand pressed to her stomach as she leans forward. "Oh, shit. You meant it." She keeps laughing, and you honestly aren't quite sure what to do at this point. Yes, her laughter is starting to hurt your head, but it's also nice to hear her laugh, so you don't stop it. Which is probably a mistake, considering you've listened to her laugh for what you're pretty sure was an hour straight before, but whatever. 

Van takes a breath, her grin softening. She reaches out and rests her hand on yours, her fingers warm and steady. "Listen," she starts, her tone gentler than usual. "I laughed because it caught me off guard, not 'cause I don't feel the same."

You swear your heart stutters for a moment, and you feel wide awake despite being dead tired moments ago. "Wait… what?"

She shrugs, "I mean, yeah, you’re pretty great. Always have been. And you’re not bad to look at—when you’re not puking your guts out." She smirks, but there’s a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I just didn’t think you’d... you know, feel that way."

"I didn’t think you would, either," you admit quietly, glancing down at the point where her hand rests on yours, "You’re always so... confident, Van. I figured you were way out of my league."

"We're best friends, idiot." Van rolls her eyes, her grin resurfacing. "So, by default, that makes us in the same league, actually." A beat, that grin softening again, a warmth appearing in her eyes you've only ever seen a small handful of times before. "So, what do you say? Once you’re not hungover and smelling like a brewery, maybe we... see where this goes?" She gently squeezes your hand to prove her point.

You laugh, the sound scratchy but genuine. "I’d like that. But you better bring me more Fruit by the Foot. I think my brother is gonna kill you when he gets back with my parents."

"Deal, and I'll deal with your brother. He's twelve. Not that hard to beat up." Van grins, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. "Now, drink that water, finish your expired applesauce, and let me figure out how to fake a doctor’s note to get us out of school tomorrow."

"Why do you even know how to do that?"

She winks. "Because I’m awesome. And now, apparently, I’m yours."

a/n: crush a2c5 next trust

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

kit reads a comic: untold tales and alternate timelines, issue 1 (part 2)

finishing off the rest of the issue today! very convenient this one is split into two. i fear for the length the other reaction posts will be when i have to go through the entire issue for the story instead of half-and-half.

time to look for some good scientists. i'll even take the sub-par ones

oh shit i was right it is about doc getting picked up for the manhattan project! the comic opens on the california institute of technology, 1943, as helpfully supplied by the text box. i think this is the one where doc shows them his jello cube with a singular mushroom in it. the mushroom is very important. anyways, doc storms into i think his boss’s office and he’s very mad! his boss asks him why he’s not teaching to which he replies this:

gotta search up something rq.

yeah this is funny. [a la shrek they don’t even have dental] he doesn’t even teach a math course

docs mad bc he’s noticed all his other colleagues have been disappearing to contribute to what he guesses is a “top-secret think tank” for the war so what’s he still doing here?? that should be him!! (or in his words, “you should’ve bussed me off ages ago!”) throughout his whole rant about credentials and stuff he’s doing this:

the pose and the face are very silly to me. yeah this guy looks highly qualified to me. checks out

i also love how similar he’s drawn to the video game version of him. i can hear this in his younger self’s video game voice

so his boss is like yeah you’re right there is something going on and we thought about you for it and doc immediately takes this as a confirmation that he’s going and asks “can i bring my dog?” which i thought was cute. the canine assistant is very important to him. his boss goes no wait. we get this explanation :

you can say you think his place is a mess. it’s okay. love the stress on “psychologists” too like damn you really think it’s that worrying

doc is not the slightest bit offended he just goes yeah i get it. but ☝️i have an idea

we cut to:

a very tidy and respectable home! seems he’s cleaned up! they’re like yeah based on what we’ve seen we think you’re fit to come with us. then they step on his mail on their way out which reveals that this isn’t his apartment! it’s his landlady’s! tough luck doc….

doc goes home, not deterred by this in the slightest. he WILL be bussed off to that think tank. he’s put his mind to it and by god is he going to accomplish it. oh weird his apartment lights are on-

GOVERNMENT PEOPLE JUMPSCARE

love the guy on the left’s face like yeah. we broke into your apartment. we’re the government. we can do that

also his apartment isn’t even that bad. look how much floor space is clear! plenty of room to roam still, no problem (the bar is low.) (please ignore the giant death ray)

also he still has the stuff on his walls in 1985! the cat clock, the sax, the giant taxidermy fish

the guy in the back turns around OPPENHEIMER??? what are you doing here…. (we know what he’s doing here) (bomb)

they’re like yeah we knew it wasn’t your house this whole time. we respect the hustle. you’re with us now you’re now officially part of the manhattan project! doc says this is cause for celebration and he pulls out:

THE JELLO.

the mushroom really is perplexing. free my man

and that’s the end actually! i thought it would be longer, i’m surprised there isn’t more. looking at the page count this checks out though.

doc being so eager to get into the project is like.

(he doesn’t know.)

not much on the bingo front today. i assume he got his landlady’s permission to use her house but he also could’ve not so it’s a toss-up to if the square is filled

i’m sure this will be cleared up in a later issue (and by that i mean he’s definitely committing another, more clearly defined crime)

well, we found our good scientist! next on kit reads a comic: the government breaks into doc’s house again.

[thepowercut]

Dialectical Immaterialism

By Tamsyn Elle ( @meserach ), with spot illustrations by Jason K Jones ( @jkjones21 ) and @idonttakethislightly

This essay was originally published on February 14th 2025, in issue #1 of THE POWER CUT, a fanzine about The Power Fantasy, the Image Comics book by Kieron Gillen and Caspar Wijngaard. You can find that zine free to download right here.

The tagline of The Power Fantasy is “the eternal fight against fighting”. Author Kieron Gillen has described the book, functionally, as being a superhero comic with all the fight scenes removed. This may seem a more audacious move than it is. After all, a truism of narrative is that it’s always about conflict, and surely the fight scenes are where the conflicts of a superhero comic most come to a head. Is The Power Fantasy thus set to be dramatically inert, always trying to avoid pushing things to a point of crisis and resolution?

Well, no. For a start  I don’t actually buy the whole “narrative is about conflict” line, necessarily. Certainly stories in which everyone wants the same things and then just does them are going to lack incident, but clearly it doesn't always need to be zero-sum either. More than that, though, conflict actually runs right through this comic. It’s just a conflict that can’t ever come to fullest fruition because then the world ends; but that doesn’t mean we can’t lose a whole goddamn continent. Conflicts that can’t fully resolve can still resolve partially: people can still get what they want, or try to, with alternate avenues, as you can learn either through studying the Cold War or any middle class dinner party. You can do proxy wars. You can do brinkmanship. You can do almost anything.

Our cast still needs something to not quite fight about, though. And here TPF reveals itself as an embarrassment of riches. For our cast of six features no fewer than fifteen unique pairings (I did the maths!), and amongst those it definitely features oppositions. Points of comparison. Dialectics, by which I mean “I’ve read just enough Marx to be dangerous”, or rather I mean something like “opposing forces that act on history and society, producing through their interaction a unique emergent result”. I’m talking about contrasts. The cast of the Power Fantasy is a study in contrasts. In this essay I will…

No but really, look. Valentina and Etienne form an ethical dialectic, Kantian deontology versus utilitarian calculus. I got that one directly from Gillen’s newsletter, so you know it’s real.

Heavy and Jacky are two takes on the destiny of the 60s-70s counterculture post-1980. Drop out or sell out: leave common society and start your own place that can actually serve your ideals (and then defend it fiercely from the people who will inevitably attempt to destroy it) or in some way become reconciled to power. They’re two different kinds of cult leader.

Valentina and Eliza are literally an angel and a demon. Look, sometimes it isn't subtle. (Not that we can yet fully grasp what those things mean in this cosmology, mind you.)

Somewhat subtler is the contrast flagged up in the conversation between Masumi and Etienne Lux in issue #2. Lux means light, natch. Etienne has a brain that's all light, all sharp angles and clear delineations and clarity, networking everyone like fiber optics, learning everything. Masumi's mind, by contrast, is “a void from which no light escapes”.

Etienne and Heavy form a dualism of responses to being part of a marginalised population: one similar to the Professor X/Magneto dualism which is an obvious partial inspiration for the two characters and their relationship, plus their power sets. Much has been written about this dualism before and will be again (to say nothing of the supposed Malcom X vs Martin Luther King dualism which inspired Magneto and Professor X in turn) so I can’t possibly hope to summarise all of it here, but in very brief: it’s a split between ways a marginalised population (atomics/mutants/people of colour) should interact with their oppressors - with strength, violence, and demanding concessions, or with something subtler, more peaceable and reasonable - as Etienne puts it, being someone “governments can work with”.

Lux and Magus! Their similarity has already been stressed: Magus calls them the two smartest guys in the room. Both are manipulating people, controlling the flow of information carefully, the ones most obviously managing people. But for all Magus’ cynicism, he was the one to cry for the losses after the Second Summer of Love… which of them truly cares more about people? And in what ways? But I’m getting ahead of myself. See their essays, in the exciting pages to come!

Considering the dyads of the cast throws up other ideas. What if you compare Heavy to Masumi? They’ve scarcely interacted thus far, but what shows up if you contrast them? I’d suggest maybe the idea of power as a curse versus power as a tool of liberation. But also there’s something in the idea that the two of them are just barely holding themselves together: Masumi mentally, Heavy physically.

Masumi hasn’t had vast opportunity to rub against Magus and Valentina yet, but doubtless there will be contrasts and comparators there too. Certainly all three work hard, in their separate ways, to contain a destructive force - or at least something they see as destructive. Magus works to amass power because he fears others having it; Masumi wants only to be rid of her power and is afraid mostly of herself. Valentina is a protective figure who at least sometimes is adored by the public - check that graffiti in issue #1 in 1966! - while Masumi is hated and feared.

Yet despite this Valentina ends up in space, held isolated from the world to protect others from being her collateral damage; while Masumi can only be contained by keeping her enmeshed in the very social context Valentina craves to be part of. 

Eliza is the enigma of our cast, having had the least focus thus far, so it’s not yet clear exactly how she’ll be providing contrasts. We can speculate: she’s a person who’s done something bad, something sinful, towards a good end, which rubs interestingly with Etienne’s sense of himself as an ethical rather than a good person. Her evident faith places her at odds with Jacky’s cynicism, perhaps. Maybe there’s something in  comparing her and Masumi as both carrying around a monster of some kind, a difference in how they both feel about being marked or “fallen”. And with Heavy … is there something about martyrdom? Although all the cast are martyrs to some extent…

There’s contrasting groupings, too. The data page I’ve scrawled on over there gave us one: the atomics vs. the extradimensionals. But there’s more. There’s a distinction between Magus and Eliza and the other four: Magus and Eliza sought power, or bargained or worked to get it; the other four were, as far as we know, born into their power (Valentina) or developed it naturally during childhood (the Atomics). There’s the contrast between the superpowers who are considered problems to be managed (Heavy and Masumi) and the people who do the managing (Etienne, Valentina and Magus). There’s obviously a gender split (and never doubt a Kieron Gillen comic will have at least a little about gender in it).

One division I really like is the divide between those who really need other people around them (Jacky Magus and his Pyramid, Heavy and his Family, Masumi and her Isabella) and those who's isolation is more stressed: Etienne, Valentina and Eliza. All the cast are isolated to some extent, in their nature as singular superpowers, six against billions. But their attitudes and needs towards that are where this separation lies: in different ways Heavy, Masumi and Magus all crave people and surround themselves with them; Etienne and Valentina both like people but are held apart from them.

So, pairs of opposites. Groups of opposites. But are there oppositions inside each of our superpowers as well? Yes, that’s why I asked. The power of rhetoric! The oppositions inside each of our main cast - the contradictions and conflicts of their being, is, it turns out, our theme for this inaugural issue of THE POWER CUT, which it thrills me to always type in all caps. This theme was a surprise to me, but it was emerging naturally from what we were writing about anyway, and I’ve learned to honour the magic in such things. For this reason, the oppositional theme, we’ve called this issue “The Balancing Act”, because that’s also a quote from Etienne in issue #1. It being a reference makes what we’re doing literature, I think.

So! Here it is, our inaugural issue. Have a read, why don’t you. Explore the pages. We’ve got substantial essays on each of our main six cast, some other writing, and lots of lovely art. If it’s a success (by what metric exactly? Artistically, I guess?) I for one would like to do one for every trade paperback that comes out. If you’re interested in contributing to the next one, we’re interested in having you! We have a Discord and a Tumblr and whatnot. There’s going to be lots to talk about:  I think this comic is going to be a long haul, one way or another. These six haven’t finished rubbing up against each other yet.

… that sounds sexier than I meant it. Well, it is Valentine’s Day. (ED: this worked better at time of original publication).

[night-dark-woods]

ok Exordia review time (not spoiler free!) since i finished it a few days ago. this is long and rambling and unedited.

4/5 i love Seth's writing and im glad they got to play with scifi again BUT i think they needed a better editor OR to split it more cleanly into sections- in one of the interviews they said it was originally a series of novellas each from a single POV, and i think the constraint of that would have made it a much tighter story.

one of the best things about their Destiny lore is how much they do with so little- thinking of this section from the Beyond Light CE:

Disaster at the worksite. Clearly we will not be moving Clarity Control like we did the K1 artifact. It reacted violently to the attempt. I have entered 19 casualties into the log, since 19 engineers from the Hannu team were caught in its reaction...though there were many more than 19 bodies when it was finished. I have sequestered the recordings. Especially the sensorium telemetry. Quite upsetting. Yet I do not believe it was an act of hostility. Even this outburst carried themes of duplication...as if Clarity Control wanted to show it could help me.

which i was originally thinking of as a first run at Blackbird, but i think these may have been simultaneous? i'm not actually sure. i know Exordia was started after the first Baru book was published, but i'm not sure how much lead time there is for the CEs.

or the clarity of Unveiling compared to a lot of what felt like similar ideas that took much longer to get thru in Exordia. primes. pink noise. math. alright lets fucking gooo oh wait. five more pages of ethics first. okay sure i'll do that for ya Seth bc i love your prose. which also. a) conway game of life mentioned!!! b) this part from Exordia made me LOSE MY MIND:

But that was impossible. The whole universe came from the same source: the same designers. I was part of one of them. If I could only remember... We were arguing, I think. Or maybe we were the argument, because gods cannot do things, they can only be them. We were in contest over the morality of infinities: the cardinality of all possible souls measured against the mere infinity of souls to ever be born...

(this is the part from Unveiling, for the optimistically two people who will read this who haven't read Destiny lore):

Once upon a time,* a gardener and a winnower lived** together in a garden.*** * It was once before a time, because time had not yet begun. ** We did not live. We existed as principles of ontological dynamics that emerged from mathematical structures, as bodiless and inevitable as the primes. *** It was the field of possibility that prefigured existence. They existed, because they had to exist. They had no antecedent and no constituents, and there is no instrument of causality by which they could be portioned into components and assigned to some schematic of their origin. If you followed the umbilical of history in search of some ultimate atavistic embryo that became them, you would end your journey marooned here in this garden.

at the same time, idk what i would remove- at very few points was i reading something that dragged, with the exception of spending a LOT of time with Erik and Clayton in the middle (this is when i put the book down for a month and a half or so). and i know so many people were like sickos.jpg about them However their dynamic did sooo little for me and i don't think Rosamaria was given enough time on the page (and i think having her Be the ship was weird- i recognize that Blackbird needs to have a voice to make the plot go, but i don't think this was the best or neatest way to do it, and collapsed a lot of what i found fundamentally so interesting about Blackbird into something akin to a standard scifi Ship AI).

again i think the restriction of each section of the story being from a single POV might have been the restriction needed to end up with a tighter story- at no point were the multiple plot threads & POVs confusing, per say, but i'm not sure what the structure did for the story bc we could switch to whoever could tell us the most about what was happening whenever convenient, instead of having to piece things together from a limited POV. i'm thinking again of the BLCE, this time the part where Clovis is talking about Maya Sundaresh behaving erratically- i'm no Ishtar group expert but i believe we are supposed to put together that these are all different iterations of her from within the garden). oh- i also wonder if Aixue and Chaya are another run at Maya and Chioma to some degree...

anyway. i also think i am also less the target audience for this book because seth loooves their trolley problems and i simply do not have the patience for it! i loved the hard scifi and the first contact aspects and the character work (Seth's character work is, as always, spectacular. their characters always feel deeply real and flawed in very human ways, while still being exaggerated in the ways characters have to be to function as plot fulcrums), but this isnt something like Baru where i can be like yes you should read this to everyone i talk to.

I think the language in the book is DELIGHTFUL, as always, especially how Seth plays with the idea of an alien translator that sometimes can get an English equivalent to something and sometimes can't! i think that's very fun. because it's on my mind bc ive been listening to the Shelved by Genre episodes on it, it makes me think of Book of the New Sun, and how the "translator" figure of G.W. talks about picking words that are close but they aren't being used like we would use them now- e.g. "metal" in BotNS isnt the same thing we think of as metal! its used more broadly! but its close enough in purpose and point to work just fine. the destriers have horns. i need to know if Seth has read these books.

but back to Exordia. here are some specific prose parts i fucking loved.

this part of the full-page loving, detailed, and technical description of 40 alien nukes detonating in atmosphere:

In the band of thickening atmosphere twenty-five to thirty-five kilometers above the Earth, these gamma rays slam into atoms of oxygen and nitrogen, stripping their orbiting electrons. The orphaned electrons hurtle away at 90 percent of lightspeed. They want to go in a straight line, but hold on now, it's not so easy to leave home. Earth's magnetic field bends their course. They begin to spiral down. When an electron moving near lightspeed has to turn, it emits synchrotron radiation. Poison light. And beneath each bomb there are 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 electrons swerving at once. The result is a blast of electromagnetic noise. No: not noise. A coherent pulse, spiking and faling in harmony. Shiva's own beat drop on electrical civilization. An EMP.

This part. i love Anna and wish we got more of her.

He gives her back her Glock. She accepts it with resignation. "You'd better get your men ready," she says. "It's going to be bad." "Women too," he says, trying for lightness. "The pilot's a woman. We've got a female forward surgeon, a psyops lead, a linguist- she's pretty badass, ran with SEALs in Afghanistan. And Lt. Gainer, she might have some advice for-" "For what?" Anna says calmly. "Advice for what, Erik? How to get killed in a feminine way?"

Seth has such a good and specific way of writing metaphors. a little bit Douglas Adams:

The upshot is: the air around the engine exhaust beam explodes outward with a sound like a tuning fork hit by a Space Shuttle launch. Lung-jellying power. Anything in the beam path suffers the short, severe influence of a needle faster and hotter than a vajra thunderbolt. Anything around the beam eats fireball.

& this part. again. i wish more of the book was Anna and Ssrin's fucked up kismessitude. or whatever.

She slides the barrel of the weapon into the uppermost crater on Ssrin's spine. Slick pain makes Ssrin hiss in psuvoluntary fury: psuvoluntary because it is reflex subject to veto- she could quash it, but the feeling is deliciously wrong, and it is so good to bare her fangs and to unleash that ancient khai instinct of pain-as-motivation. "Questionsss," Ssrin gasps. "I want to know how this story ends." Oh serendura. You'll wish you hadn't asked. You'll wish you'd gone in with your eyes shut and your tongue in your throat so you couldn't smell the poison til it was too late.

which also!!! that's something i love about the Ssrin POV like. Seth is always good at writing aliens and slipping in details that tell us about them. "tongue in your throat" to not smell the poison bc she is a snake alien and smells with her tongue!!! that rules!!!

[pharanbrush]

hi there! your multiply layer math guide is a life-saver!! would you ever consider doing something similar for overlay or 'light-adding' layers?

I'm glad you found it useful! I still want to rewrite it to be clearer for more people.

(here's the original post for other people reading: https://pharanbrush.tumblr.com/post/704602434836791296/in-2019-i-wrote-a-practical-but-boring-blog-post)

As for light-adding layers, what did you have in mind?

Honestly, a lot of the other blend modes are "simple" but doing the reverse to undo their effects can get messy and unreliable. The rest are just not simple.

Divide just happens to be the exact opposite of Multiply.

Likewise, you would use Subtract as the opposite of Add (also known as Linear Dodge).

Overlay literally splits the darker half of the colors as Multiply and the lighter half as Screen, and does a weird parkour backflip with the layers (metaphorically).

Wikipedia actually lists the layer mode math clearly:

But it takes some sitting down and working out the steps to do stuff more complicated than reversing multiply or add. And after the work, there's no guarantee that there's a simple way to do it in your art program with layers. I tried it with the Normal blend mode and you end up with a lot of guesswork for colors and a bunch of folders and layers.

Krita has a crazy number of layer blend modes but I haven't looked into their usefulness for undoing/reversing colors.

[shadowonwater]

I was about 14 when I first heard of asexuality. I saw a piece of fanart on DA that was headcannoning the sexualities of some characters from a cartoon. I recognized all of them but asexuality, so I looked it up and found the definition on AVEN.

I didn't realize at first that I was asexual though. I kinda got sexual attraction mixed up with romantic/aesthetic attraction. It was a year later when I realized I was asexual. There wasn't any "AH HAH!" moment. Just a gradual realization that people were behaving in ways I didn't fully understand.

When I was first identifying as asexual, not many people knew what it was. It felt like I had to pull out a PowerPoint presentation whenever it came up. It was really annoying and kind of alienating. But now we're at a point where running into people who haven't heard of it is becoming less common. And when it comes to Queer spaces I haven't run into anyone who hasn't heard of it in a long time.

Some of my various experiences coming out:

There was an old friend of mine I know from back in Elementary School. We weren't super close but we were friends. In High School she saw my Ace Flag Pin and asked me if that was the bi flag (I guess she didn't know what that looked like?) I told her "No, this isn't the bi flag. This is the ace flag." and she asked me what that was and I explained. Her reaction was basically "huh, I had never thought of that before but it makes sense that that exists." This was exactly the sort of thing that I liked hearing. Unfortunately she followed it up by calling me "Sweet and Pure". Which I find infantalizing and sort of mixing asexuality up with celibacy. As well as moralizing sex, which I don't like.

I remember telling this one girl in math class, we weren't friends just classmates, about my asexuality. She had a similar reaction to above without the infantilizing part. Although, I tried explaining the split-attraction model and she didn't get it. She wasn't rude about it or anything, she just couldn't seem to wrap her head around the idea that sexual attraction and romantic attraction could be two separate things.

I remember a close friend that I came out too. He thought it was something sad, to be pitied. I told him that I liked the way I was. He was and is a good friend despite that not great reaction. Luckily the other friends I had told at the same time as him didn't have any negative reaction to my sexuality.

When I tried to tell my mother, she mistook my anxiety towards coming as anxiety towards my lack of feeling attraction and tried to assure me that I was just a "late bloomer" (I was about 16 at the time). Well I'm not a late bloomer. Here I am as a 22 year old adult and still not feeling sexual attraction. I haven't really directly brought it up with her since. I still clearly wear my ace flag pin and she mentioned hesitantly if I wanted to go to a Pride Parade not too long ago. But maybe that was about my agender-ness, which similarly also didn't go well when I tried to come out about, and we also don't really talk about it. Of all the things I could be queer-wise, of course I had to be things that my mom didn't understand. If I were a lesbian, this whole thing would be so much simpler.

(I leave it at this for now, I have more things I could say, but all this typing his tiring.)

Just an asexuality related rant

Its really tiring that most of the content in the ace/aro community isn't really about the people in it, but about educating others outside of it. Sure, raising awareness is very important, but I'd really like to see more posts talking about aro and ace experiences.

It has gotten to a point where half the posts are explaining very basic terms and the other half are just jokes about dragons, cake and garlic bread... it feels like its catering more to allos than the ace community itself.

I'd love to see more posts made by aces/aros that talk about their feelings, experiences and opinions. Especially sex favorable aces and romance favorable aros who arent represented as much as they ought to be!!!

[toiletology]

Spiritual

SPIRIT/JUAL

SPIRIT - JEWEL

Jewels music got me through many intense spiritual battles, and was the only music that I could always rely on. When the fear is pumping through you heavily during the test at the higher levels of the game. Everything is designed to scare you and confuse you. Its good to have strong anchors that hold you steady. Jesus' name is another strong anchor.

1+2+3 = 6 4+5+6 = 15(6) 7+8+9 = 24(6) 6+15+24 = 45 (9) 45666 / 9666 (27) 27 bones in our hands. The Queen in chess is the strongest and luckiest piece and moves a maximum of 27 squares.

Type "Jesus" in a Septenary cipher. j e s u s 4 5 6 6 6 27 https://septenarygematria.com/

The way the game works is there are 49 degrees/levels to heLL(77) and heaven.

Heaven exist now all around you, we are all in the Garden of Eden. You all have the power within us now. Its only a matter of pulling it out from within. Think of it like a darkened or dim light that you need to amplify. Once you start unlocking it the powers of God awaken inside of you. We are ALL(77) God experiencing self. God flows through us all, all of our thoughts, words, and actions is God flowing through us.

Two sevens up (harder to go up) Two sevens down (a lot easier to go down)

7 is the way up.

432 Hz is the correct tuning music should be at. You can use this frequency for a few different things.

1) Humans are tuning forks. Raise your arms above your head, you are the letter "H". A small letter "h" is an upside down 4 or the shape of a tuning fork.

2) You can use 432 Hz to help tune you to the correct frequency of God. Listening to this frequency regularly will remove disharmony in your being. **When you are around disharmonic people or places it starts to poison you essentially. You become more bugged. The 666s are the bugs, you will notice yourself selecting or noticing sixes more often when you are becoming bugged or more disharmonic.

Listen to 432 Hz to keep your defenses strong against the chaos and disharmony of the world.

3) Listening to 432 Hz can improve your luck. Your luck improves when you are operating at a similar frequency of God. What this means is your tuning of your human mind, body, and soul. You should think of yourself as a musical chord with 7 notes/7chakras/7 colors of light. When we are in a state of disharmony God's voice gets darkened/distorted when it goes through us.

When God's voice is distorted it will guide us incorrectly. You want to be clear as glass or a prism so God shines through you clearly like a rainbow. When you are clearer and more in harmony you will be blessed more. Blessings come in many ways, one of those ways is LUCK, IDEAS, COMFORT, better TIMING, and a lot more. God blesses us in infinite ways that we usually don't notice. Sometimes it can be as simple as more restful sleep.

4) FORMAT?

4 = 1+3 (13th letter = M) 4 = A or AH (its a tone/compass) 4 = tuning fork 4 = 11:11 (ones can be read as sevens 77:77, 49 up, 49 down)

DOOR = MAT

ADAM > ATOM > ATM > MAT

M = 4 lines (map/time 11:11/prison bars) A = 3 lines (compass/AH) T = 2 lines (cross or X marks the spot)

432 Hz

MATrix MATh MATTer MATTress MATernity MATrimony

MAT/ERNAL MA/ETERNAL

God is both masculine and feminine MATTER/KARMA.

MOT|or|CAR

We are all inside of MOTTS apple. Karma is real and every thought, word, and action is being judged by MA'AT.

We are in the apple or torus. It looks like the letter "H" right?

But what exactly does the letter H mean?

Its the cosmic kiss, the singularity at the beginning of time where two became one. Two cells splitting apart into one or two black holes pulling together.

What we are inside of is a Holo-fractal clock that works on time. When you are out of tune your timing suffers greatly.

This universe was formed in the beginning by 2 connecting to each other. It was the cosmic kiss or two black holes connecting to each other. 1+1 = 2 Its the snake eating its tail eternally looping forever. 8/eight/ate (apple) 8 = two zeros stacked or two cells or two bubbles 8/H are very similar looking aren't they? ;) B-IN-GO (double oo) B in OO

This universe acts like a beaver dam for God's flow. The universe slows the eternal river of creation down into time.

You can think of God as the 8th (infinite loop) letter "H". If we turn this letter sideways it become the letter "i".

Now look at your sink or shower handles.

HOT/COLD (polarity/duality)

HC

We need to reverse the letters.

CH (Look at it sideways the C is like a dot on the "i")

CH = S/HE (God is both masculine and feminine, mother and father)

C = see/sea/universe H = Torus/Horus/Hours

We are in the "C" the "H" is what keeps this place ticking eternally.

The goal of this reality or game is to find HE/R or S/HE. That is GOD.

You do this by noticing them, you start to notice them when you are actively looking for them.

I write extensively how I found them. I recently completed an 11 (elven) year quest that started back 10/31/2012. I can now accelerate others through the many many test to reach heaven.

The devil or BUG guards the gates and is designed to keep you out. To pass the test you can't become corrupted by those around you or the world.

Everything I am showing you is how you start to notice them, but it starts with your mistakes, glitches, accidents or typos. This is one method God speaks to us and you can follow those glitches like breadcrumbs to find them.

We are inside of the apple! You return to the Garden of Eden by eating the apple. The apple has 17 chromosome pairs.

G = 7 O = 6 (15) D = 4

= 17

Type "KEY" or "HALO" on a phone keypad = 17.

1/7 = 0.1428571428571429

1/7 = Pi

All things in the universe manifest in bubbles or circles. Planets, stars, cells, atoms, etc.

We are just a collection torus bubbles

This universe = one big bubble CH its a bubble being blown!

H = Toilet C = plop/poop (yes this entire universe is one large poop out of God's toilet)

The true God is the Toilet God!

When you slice an apple width wise it creates a 5 pointed star.

Split length wise and it shows you the two/11.

Cat eyes are the clue of the hidden 11 year quest that I completed last fall after a 40 day fast into a 40 day battle with the devil.

Myself and Cara were the first two to cross the threshold and return back into the Garden of Eden.

It started with us, now we are trying to get others to join us here.

[topoillogical]

for math ask meme: 19 (*not* 18), 49, 53, 57

19.How did you solve it [a good math problem you've solved recently]?

Talking with friends was definitely a huge part of solving it, both in the sense that they were able to act as rubber ducks / sounding boards and that they were able to provide important insight. 

In terms of the mental path that I took to solving it, the first step was finding intuitive characteristics that distinguished each space. One space was clearly different from the other two because it was compact, and a friend of mine helped me prove that it was the unique compact space satisfying the properties.

The intuitive characteristic that distinguished the remaining spaces was the reach of open neighborhoods around a special point. In one space, these neighborhoods were short and close to the special point, whereas in the other space, any open neighborhood around the special point contained points arbitrarily far away along the number line. In order to put these into words, I called the spaces "Daddy shortfingers" and "Daddy longfingers", with the "fingers" here being the open neighborhoods.

Upon describing daddy shortfingers and longfingers to a different friend in this way, he quickly realized that shortfingers was locally compact while longfingers wasn't, which was a really neat way of formalizing my idea of them being different based on the length of these metaphorical fingers. Given this categorization, I was able to use methods similar to the one I used for a compact space to show that daddy shortfingers was the unique locally compact space satisfying the properties, and daddy longfingers was the unique non locally compact such space. It was SO satisfying. 

49. What’s your favorite number system? Integers? Reals? Rationals? Hyper-reals? Surreals? Complex? Natural numbers?

Probably the complex numbers! It's kind of cliché, but they're popular for a reason. Algebraic completeness is an absolutely delicious property -- especially if I'm doing anything linear algebra related, I will choose to work in the complex over the reals any day. 

In analysis they behave beautifully too; complex analysis is an absolutely gorgeously simple subject where all the gnarly little sticky points in real analysis melt away. And also you can calculate infinite sums using residues!

53. Do you collect anything that is math-related?

I SORT OF collect math books! I always keep my textbooks and when I go to a book store, the first place I go (and where I usually buy from) is the math section -- these purchases may be pop math books, and I have SEVERAL of these (just books describing cool uses of math, or cool math problems, the weirdest mathematicians and theorems, etc), or they may be more academic (I once impulse purchased a copy of La Geometrie just because it had a beautiful split-page format of the original French with a modern English translation).

57. What inspired you to do math?

My entire childhood and teenage years, basically. I was incredibly lucky to be not only recognized as a gifted child but also given accommodations for this, meaning that I had access to more advanced content than my peers, and later, that I was placed in a program with similarly gifted children and given advanced curriculum. This meant that the way math was taught was often different from the standardized bullshit criticized in A Mathematician's Lament, and I was able to really appreciate and dig into it.

One thing that stands out from childhood as being important to my mathematical development is that when I was very small, pre-kindergarten, my mom taught me multiplication using cut out paper squares. She then taught me cubes and cube roots with sugar cubes, so for example I could multiply 2 x 5 x 7 by making a 5 x 7 grid of cubes, and then putting another layer on top (and then compute the answer by counting them if I so desired), or I could make a 3 x 3 x 3 cube and conclude that 3^3 was 27 and that 3 was the cubed root of 27. This was an EXTREMELY basic understanding of multiplication, as I only understood the geometric rules. Still, it was a formative memory to tiny little 3 year old me, so much so that I still remember how I enjoyed it and how it sparked my interest in math. 

Later, in middle school, I had a particularly great 7th grade teacher, who posed the problem to us of creating every number between 1 and 100 using only 4 4s, and some basic operations. The problem was so fun to work on that I worked on extensions of it for a couple years afterwards. In high school my 10th grade math teacher was particularly lovely, and I had a teacher for both 9th and 12th grade who was just so overwhelmingly organized that class was an absolute delight (polished powerpoints, good homework and tests which you'd get back the next day, etc). This culminated in 12th grade me ONLY enjoying math class, partially because of the organization and sense that the class made, and partially because I just loved the subject and also found it the easiest. That then led to 12th grade me ONLY SHOWING UP to math class and skipping all my other classes, so when it came time to pick a major on my university applications the choice was obvious. I could literally only be fucked to do math. Therefore, I must major in math.

As I've gotten older, I've gotten more competent at stuff like organization and motivation, and I can show up to classes that aren't math and am even double majoring in psychology. But I just have this intense passion for math that never goes away, and that's why I stay. It's not the only thing I am able to do any more, and it's certainly not the easiest. But I LOVE it, you know?

Thank u for the questions btw!

[starship-squidlet]

Modern Stargate SG-1 Headcanons:

To go along with this post

Daniel:

Was always a nerd. Definitely had a “Greek mythology” phase growing up and never technically grew out of it, he just shifted a little more towards Egyptian mythology as he got older.

He felt closer to his parents when he was studying Egyptian mythology, and wound up turning it into a whole career by becoming an Egyptologist like they had been.

Guilty pleasure: Ancient Aliens.

Seriously, when he found out about the stargate and aliens and all of that his mind was absolutely blown. Even though he’d posited Ancient Aliens-esque theories himself, there was always a little part of him that went “there’s absolutely no way this is real and I might actually be a little crazy”. He did a little happy cry after going to Abydos and dealing with Ra and everything not just because all of that was over and they had won, but because he really was right and not crazy and all these theories he’d always wanted to believe but couldn’t quite bring himself to 100% believe really were true.

Aromantic/Asexual

But he still married Sha’re—he didn’t really have a choice.

Even after they got everything sorted out with Ra, and he chose to stay on the planet when Jack and the others left, he didn’t leave her. Initially, this was because he didn’t want her to be punished for not “pleasing” him or something like that (he had no idea how Kasuf and the other elders would react if he tried to send her away and didn’t want to risk her getting in trouble), but he did come to genuinely care for her. Once Kasuf and Skaara understood this about him, they were just as accepting of his identity as Sha’re was and became his family.

(Kasuf probably never truly understood what Daniel was trying to tell him about romantic/sexual attraction but he just smiled and nodded and accepted this weird kid anyways. All that mattered to him was that Sha’re was happy.)

When Sha’re was taken by Apophis, Daniel still joined SG-1 to get her back. He became almost immediate friends with Sam, who he always felt understood him on a level almost no-one else ever had, except for possibly Sha’re. Jack and Teal’c were friends on a different level, but they were no less close.

Has a lot of strong opinions on Google translate.

Tutors ESL students online (when he’s on Earth).

The only time his Duolingo streak was broken was when he ascended for a year.

Sam:

Sam Carter grew up a tomboy. While the other girls were all having tea parties and playing with dolls, she was building Lego spaceships with her brother and tying parachutes to plastic army men (and other toys) and throwing off the upstairs back porch of their house to see what would work.

In high school, she entered robotics tournaments and anything else she could get into.

She played softball and field hockey and was good at basketball even though she never joined the team. She took karate and tae kwon do and jui jutsu classes on the weekends. By the end of high school, she was teaching self defense classes at like the local Y or something.

She was also on the chess club in high school.

Got all As in math and science classes, but was more of a B student in any other subject—still above average, but she didn’t excell quite as much in the humanities.

Got into every college she applied to and got good scholarships to most of them, but decided to go to the Air Force Academy instead at the last minute without explanation to anyone.

No-one was more shocked by this move than Jacob, who had never expected her to follow in his footsteps. When pressed for answers by the school counselor, she said she felt it was her best chance to go to the moon someday.

In the academy, she excelled not only in her classes but in every physical test. She beat guys twice her size in hand-to-hand combat, had perfect aim on the gun range, and continued to get near perfect scores in her math and science classes in particular.

When Jacob expressed his pride in her accomplishments, it proved to be a mistake. She got into a slightly questionable relationship with one of the lowest-ranked guys in her year, who was always inches away from a dishonorable discharge. Her grades and performance slipped.

Some people suspected abuse when she would show up to classes with a black eye or split lip, but any suggestion of this to her would earn them the most wicked glare and a possible punch to the gut if no officers were around.

When Sam and her boyfriend got engaged, Jacob came to the school personally to try to talk her out of marrying him. He’d heard enough about the guy from his friends at the academy to feel the need to intervene, but this proved to be the worst possible choice. That weekend, Sam and her fiance ran off to elope. At the last second, she snapped to her senses and broke it off. Afterwards, she always denied that he had been the source of her bruises, but since those stopped after they broke up, not many people believed her.

She was one of the first people pulled for the stargate project and designed the majority of the dialing system herself. Once it was finished, she left the program to work on her doctorate.

When Apophis’s soldiers came through the gate and the stargate program was reopened, newly-doctorized Sam leapt at the chance to go to Abydos with Jack and his team. She never expected it to last beyond that one mission, but was certainly not complaining when they found the cartouche with more gate addresses!

She’s a very private person, and only discloses her feelings with those she trusts the most deeply. Daniel is usually the first to find out about stuff though—and not just romantic stuff; she also confides in him about things that she’s stressed or worried about, and he’s always the first or one of the first to hear her good news.

Besides Daniel, her closest friend is Janet Frasier. They went through basic training/the air force academy together, and reunited upon joining the stargate program. They started dating not long after joining the program, although they kept their relationship fairly quiet.

They went on a break after Janet adopted Cassie, and never quite found their way back to each other as partners, although they remained close friends. Never telling Janet how she really felt became Sam’s greatest regret after Janet died, and she devoted herself to Cassie to assuage her guilt over that.

Fierce feminist and a massive supporter of women in STEM and similar movements.

Disaster bisexual.

Jack

Jack and Sarah married fairly young and had Charlie not long after. He wasn’t exactly planned, but they loved him more than anything, and when he died it absolutely tore the two of them apart.

Jack went from a fairly happy-go-lucky, glass-half-full, ray of actual sunshine to a sarcastic, pessimistic, ball of anxiety literally overnight.

He was severely depressed after Charlie’s death, to the point where he actually had to be hospitalized.

When he was released, he moved back in with Sarah, even though they had been separated before his hospitalization. It wasn’t long after his release that he was pulled for the first mission to Abydos with Daniel.

After that mission, his nightmares changed. After Charlie’s death, they had all been about watching his son die, but after Abydos the nightmares now forced him to relive the deaths of his men, Daniel, and the boys who were killed fighting Ra. He and Sarah got divorced, and he went into early retirement.

To everyone’s shock, retirement turned out to be the best possible thing for Jack.

While he was still clearly depressed, he improved in leaps and bounds. He put a lot of energy into himself and his mental state, and, a year later when General Hammond called him back to Cheyenne Mountain, he was almost unrecognizable as a different person.

Going back to Abydos and seeing Daniel, Sha’re, and Skaara and his boys living and thriving was also really good for him. After Skaara and Sha’re were taken, he went into another spiral, but forced himself out of it by telling himself that he had to get them back. Was this healthy? Probably not. Did he care. Definitely not.

He didn’t really want to rejoin the air force and the stargate program, but did it more to watch over Daniel and to rescue Skaara than anything else.

He did come to truly love it, though, and even though the circumstances that brought him back were horrible he was still grateful to be part of SG-1.

Teal’c

Most of the Goa’uld system lords saw their female Jaffa as little more than breeding partners to the males, to create more Jaffa soldiers to serve their “gods”, and incubators for the juvenile symbiotes that all Jaffa carried, and Apophis was no exception.

Teal’c was fairly young when her father died, executed by Cronus for failing him in battle. She had already been in training with her father and Bra’tac—female Jaffa were expected to know how to fight, even if they were never called upon to serve their overlords in this way—determined to break out of the traditional path expected of her as a woman. Her father’s death lit a new fire within her, however, and she attacked her training with a new fierceness that unnerved even Bra’tac a little. She vowed to someday become the first prime of Apophis, Cronus’s greatest enemy, so she would one day have the pleasure of killing the god that ordered her father’s death.

The only woman in Apophis’s ranks, she literally clawed her way to the top of his Jaffa.

The other warriors feared her and whispered horrible stories of her victories in battle behind her back.

These were greatly exaggerated, of course, but Teal’c did nothing to discourage them. She wanted the most fearsome reputation she could get.

She gained a reputation for bloodthirstiness, fierceness in battle, and an almost animalistic nature when she fought. This caught Apophis’s attention, and she earned his favor.

Drey’auc was a childhood friend, and one of the only people Teal’c ever trusted enough to show her softer side to.

When Drey’auc’s husband was killed in battle, Teal’c took her and her newborn son Rya’c under her protection.

Deep down (largely thanks to Bra’tac and her father) Teal’c never truly believed that the Goa’uld were actually gods. She wanted to become Apophis’s first prime more for the power and respect that came with the position, and in hopes of having the chance to kill Cronus, than to actually serve him.

There were a lot of things that happened over her years in service to Apophis, both before and after becoming first prime, that really cemented her belief that the “gods” she had been raised to believe in were false, but she didn’t dare voice this to anyone but Bra’tac—she never even tonld Drey’auc, beyond a few vague hints.

When she met Jack, Sam, and Daniel and heard Jack promise to save the other prisoners, she saw it as her best choice to finally rise up against the oppression of the Goa’uld and jumped at the chance to help the humans.

On Earth, she realized that the humans there would trust her and respect her without the bloodthirstiness she’d been forced to show to the other Jaffa, and slowly began to relax slightly.

Seeing the respect shown to Sam, Janet, and other women on the base was basically revolutionary to her.

Slowly, she began to relax and open up to her new friends.

She sees herself as a protecter to her team in particular, and even to the SGC as a whole. Daniel, Sam, Jack, and Janet specifically are the people she feels the most protective over.

As time goes on, she slowly accepts SG-1 as a newfound family. As far as she’s concerned, the three of them are the siblings she never had, and she would do anything to protect them.

Drey’auc’s death rocked her to the core and led to a lot of questioning.

She almost left the SGC to take care of Rya’c, but it was actually Bra’tac who convinced her to stay, telling her that the Tau’ri were their best chance to defeat the Goa’uld once and for all and promising to take care of Rya’c in her name.

[silwenworld]

Sudoku - Chapter 2

Summary: Nicholas Rush was like one, giant, brain-damaging sudoku which when one thought to have all figured out changed all the variables, leaving them in no better position when they had started, but when an accident during exploration of the newest part of the ship has dire consequences for the scientist the rest will have to do their best to help the man they had all thought to be an emotionless bastard. [Chapter 1] [AO3] Drifting in nothingness, not knowing who or where he was, was a weird, if not unsettling feeling. He was a person, a male, a... husband? Or at least he had been, once. Not anymore. Or maybe?

He wished he could understand what was happening to him.

Nick. It's not real.

Wasn't it?

*

Colonel Everett Young swept his hand over his tired eyes, sighing as he lowered himself into the chair. Rush had been in and out of consciousness for the last couple of days, and one could only guess how he would act each time. It wasn't constant - and TJ couldn't explain what was happening to the man even if she wanted to. She was just as lost as the Colonel.

One could think that being stranded on an alien ship in a faraway and foreign galaxy was the worst thing that could happen to a person. Young could believe that it had been what everyone had thought, at least at first, but it seemed that with every passing day, the universe made its sole purpose of proving to them that they had been, in fact, very wrong. In the latest couple of days, the Colonel grew to realise that losing one's mind was, in fact, the worst thing that could happen - Not being left for dead on an unknown planet, experimented on by the aliens, nor losing someone who you had probably loved. No.

Watching Rush was painful, to say the least. When awake, he would either be confused, angry or scared. Young had seen how fear had looked like in the other man's eyes, but this time, it was eternally different. It was a deep and profound dread of not knowing who or where one was and so unfitting for Rush that it left Young deeply unsettled every time it had happened.

There had been days when the scientists didn't recognise any of them - not Young, not TJ, Eli, or even Chloe. The only person he would have vaguely responded and actively had searched for had been his wife, whom - at least to Colonel's knowledge - had been dead for quite some time, which was problematic on a whole different level. But now, as he watched Rush flinch in his sleep, Young didn't know which was worse - that or when the man woke up with no recognition at all.

"Get your hands off me!"

"What's going on? Stay the hell away!"

Everett could feel the chill going down his body at the memory of those empty and scared eyes, so unlike Rush's that they could belong to a different person.

"What's happening to me?"

He shook his head. It was a good thing that Rush lost consciousness even quicker after those episodes than the other ones. They were disturbing but rarer as time went by, and they still didn't know why.

It almost looked as if...

No.

"I'm doctor Nicholas Rush. I'm a math teacher, not a soldier or any of that stupid stuff, and I don't know any of you. Have you seen Gloria?"

Young swallowed. If Rush's brain was resetting itself, one could only hope it would come on the right track with time. But knowing their luck, it would be anything but that simple.

"Don't hit me!"

Young just hoped he would be wrong for all their sake.

"Um, I think I hit my head or something? I hate to be a bother..."

He sighed again and looked down at the time on his wristwatch. If the pattern had been any clue at all, Rush should be waking up in about three minutes. But would it be Rush or the man who Young didn't recognise at all?

*

Eli dried his sweaty palms against his trousers as he walked to his destination. Truth be told, he had avoided the infirmary like the plague. That one time when Rush had woken up screaming and trashing still hunted his dreams, but with each passing day, Eli felt more and more guilty. And if Colonel Young, whose dislike for the Scotsman was no secret, could sit with the man more times than not, then so could he.

And honestly, he missed Rush, even if he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. It had been awfully quiet without the man, and even Brody had remarked the other day that not hearing Rush's complaints had been just weird. He took a deep breath and shook his shoulders. He was no Rocky, but it felt as if going to the ring nevertheless. Exhaling, he hit the button, squinting his eyes as the door opened.

The first thing that Eli noticed when walking in was a tense atmosphere. There was just something in the air that spoke of tension, thick enough to cut it with a knife, slowly suffocating and making him absently reach to the collar of his hoodie. Then there were voices - raised and almost close to shouting. Or at least one was; the other sounded a lot calmer as if trying to pacify the first. It was easy to distinguish which belonged to whom just by the tone alone.

Rush was awake. And judging by what Eli was hearing, he wasn't pleased, but he sounded so much like his old-self that Eli felt his heart beating faster with hope. Hope that extinguished quickly like a fragile flame as soon as he got closer.

"Rush, calm down," Colonel Young said in a tone suggesting that it hadn't been for the first time. He held his arms outstretched, palms open, trying to look as unthreateningly as possible.

"Calm down? I am calm!" The scientist shouted, clearly agitated. "It's you who seems not to understand the simple aspect of question and answer!"

"I've already answered your question."

"Well, you're wrong! But what else could I expect!"

Eli didn't understand what was going on in the slightest, but even if it was the first time since days that Rush had looked and more or less acted like himself, but judging by Colonel's posture, something was still very seriously wrong.

"Um," Eli took a shaky step forward, waving awkwardly in greeting, hoping to defuse the tense atmosphere, even if a little. "Isn't it the right time?"

Rush's eyes darted towards him, and Eli could have wept at the recognition visible in them.

"Tell him, Mr Wallace," Rush said, which made him even more confused.

"Tell what?"

"She's not here, Rush," Young interrupted.

"I didn't ask you!" He snapped.

"Guys? What should I tell?" Now, Eli knew that something was definitely wrong. He didn't like the way Rush looked now. His skin became sickly grey in a matter of seconds, his eyes glistening.

"That she's on the ship!" Rush shouted over Young protests, his gaze fixed pleadingly on Eli, his hands twisted in the sheets to the point there were completely white.

"Who?"

"You know who - Gloria! My wife!"

What?

"Rush - "The Colonel tried once again, taking a step forward and putting his hand on the man's shoulder, which seemed to be a mistake.

"Don't 'Rush' me!" the scientist threw Young's hand away, almost backing against the head of the bed. "I have evident memories of coming to this ship with my wife, so stop fucking around!"

Eli could only stare, lost for words as the Colonel tried to pacify Rush without simply knocking him over the head. This was bad. No, worse - just what exactly did it mean?

And Rush was getting paler by the second and not calmer at all. Young seemed to notice it also because he clutched Rush by the shoulders, ignoring the other man's protests.

"Eli, get TJ," he said.

"Don't you dare -" Rush tried to get himself free.

"Eli. Now," the Colonel repeated, not taking his eyes off Rush. Eli nodded, and with a final distressed look over his shoulder, he ran.

Young's focus was eternally on the scientist who tried to wrestle himself free, but his struggles became weaker with every second. The Colonel felt like shouting and punching something, and this time, surprisingly, it wasn't the Scotsman. Everett should have sensed that Rush wasn't alright, but when the man had woken up and recognised him, Young had felt so relieved that it took him a moment to notice the signs. It hadn't taken long for the scientist to complain about the music that only he could have heard and then to insist that there should have been someone else in the room too. The noise Young could ignore, but the indication that one was insisting on the fact that his dead wife wasn't, in fact, dead, he could not.

"Let go of me, Colonel."

"You're not well, Rush."

"Why the hell are you lying?!"

There was sweat on the man's braw that hadn't been there before, and his skin looked grey, almost ashen.

"I know what I know. What have you done to her?!" The man struggled again.

"I did nothing -"

"If you harmed her -"

"Rush!"

"You were speaking with her, for God's sake! I know she's here!" the man's voice hitched with desperation, breaking at the last word, similar to a broken sob.

That gave Young a pause. He knew he didn't, so why did Rush remembered something that clearly hadn't happened? He didn't have time to ponder about it nor answer because the scientist suddenly doubled over, clutching his head and groaning as the Colonel tightened his grip around his shoulders, almost taking all his weight.

"Rush? Talk to me," Young tried to catch the man's attention, but it didn't seem to work.

"It's louder," the scientist gritted through his teeth.

"What is?"

"The music, It's - God," Rush groaned louder, bitting on his tongue to stop himself from shouting as he sagged against the Colonel.

Where the hell was TJ?

"Come on, stay with me, genius. Come on, Rush."

"It's not your head -" the man mumbled, but suddenly he gagged, and Young had only a split second to turn him to the side, preventing him from throwing up all over the bed.

"TJ!" He shouted. How could it get so bad in such a short time?!

"Coming!" Tamara appeared beside him, quickly asserting Rush's condition with a concerned frown. She had to dodge the man's arm that somehow broke free of the Colonel's hold.

"Sedate him," Young met her eyes over Rush's shoulder, making it an order. Rush was bearly coherent now, groaning in pain yet still straining against Young's attempts to hold him down.

"Gloria..." The word was bearly audible, but Young had heard it enough times already to recognise the meaning behind it. His face hardened.

"TJ. Now."

She nodded, and when Rush sagged in his hold minutes after the injection, Young took a step back and dragged a hand through his hair.

"What the hell was that?"

Oh. He nearly forgot about Eli. The younger man was staring at them with unease in his eyes, arms close to the chest as if trying to separate the scene in front of his eyes from himself. Young dipped his head and sighed.

"That's what I would like to know. TJ?"

He turned back to her, waiting for her reply. The frown on her face grew deeper as she listened to Rush's heart through the stethoscope. Her fingers never leaving the spot on the man's neck.

"His heart rate is all over the place," she mumbled. "Eli, could you bring me the pressure gauge? It's on one of the tables over there."

"How is he?" He asked as Eli ran where directed. TJ removed the stethoscope from her ears and proceeded to fill a new syringe.

"Not good, but that's not a surprise... How long did it take?"

"He woke up just fine. Knew where and who he was and recognised me."

She glanced up.

"That's a new one."

"Yeah. He sees his wife or thinks she's here on the ship. One of the two," he added, wearily.

TJ stilled before administrating the medicine, frowning at Young. "Isn't his wife...?"

"Dead. Yes," Young confirmed, glancing down at the now unconscious scientist. "As far as I know."

She nodded and proceeded to treat her patient, and Young closed his eyes briefly. God, he needed a drink.

"Sir, you said that he appeared fine after waking up," TJ started after covering Rush with a blanket, making Young open his eyes. "When did it got worse?"

Young frowned, thinking hard. It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment. They had been shouting, and then Rush almost doubled over, but it couldn't have happened so quickly...

"The more the Colonel insisted Rush was mistaken, the worse he looked," Eli spoke slowly, and all head turned towards him.

"What do you mean?" Young asked.

Eli handed TJ the pressure gauge and scratched his head. "When you insisted on his wife not being here -"

"Well, she's not."

"Yeah, but it seemed to make him worse."

Young turned to Tamara.

"TJ?"

"I need to scan his head," she said, not looking up. "You got that ancient device working? The one that probably works like MRI?"

"Yeah, I think it works," Eli nodded. "You want me to get it?"

"Please."

"I don't think I like the look on your face, lieutenant," Young waited until Eli had left, but there was no denying that something didn't sit well with Tamara.

"I think it would be better if I was the one he wakes up to next time, sir," she started. "There's something I need to confirm."

Young searched her face for any clues but found it impossible to find any. She looked tired, though, and it had him wondering how bad he must be looking. He glanced back at Rush. Thankfully, when sedated, he didn't look in pain.

"All right," Young nodded. "Keep me posted."

*

It wasn't the violin this time, but the soft sound produced by a precise and gentle touch of piano keys. He felt as if he could stay just like that - lost in the sound. There was no pain nor confusion in here, just darkness that embraced him from every corner yet strangely soothing.

Rush remembered as he played those soft tunes. He wasn't the best player, a moderately good on the best of days, but Gloria liked to listen to him playing. It relaxed her, drove her worries away, and he was more than willing to do just that for her. No one else had heard him playing. Never. Just her - only for her.

Yet this time, he knew it wasn't his fingers gliding across the keys. His arms lay limply by his sides, unmoving, but the music was still playing. He looked around, but there was just nothing out there. He was alone. So, where did the sound come from? And why did it feel like somebody was caressing his hair?

Come on, Nick. Wake up.

The touch became firmer, and the sound of the piano morphed into sharp violin sounds, too loud to be comfortable. He winced at the sudden stab of pain behind his left eyeball and almost missed the darkness changing to grey smoke. Slowly, he forced his eyes open. He didn't succeed, not at first as his eyelids felt heavy, and the light that struck him when they lifted forced them back down. It took a couple of tries and then some to get the room to focus, but it wasn't hard to guess where he was - Destiny's infirmary had a specific pattern to its ceiling.

His mind felt groggy, but it was no surprise, considering the last thing he remembered was the feeling of the anaesthetic entering his system. Slowly, Rush turned his head to the side and smiled slightly.

"Hey," his voice was hoarse from the drugs and vomiting, but it still won him a smile back from the person sitting beside him—the same one who was still stroking his head as he leaned into the touch.

"Hey yourself," she answered tenderly and scooted closer, kissing his hand. "You had me worried."

"Sorry. Ugh," moving hadn't been the right choice, it seemed, as his whole body felt stiff and painful. He wondered if it was due to being thrown across the room or staying too long in bed. Maybe both.

It all felt like a dream.

"Don't move, or you'll tear the stitches," she gently pushed him back against the hard mattress, and he went down without protest. He could never say no to her. "You know it almost feels like payback," she added, and he raised an eyebrow. "You stayed by my side so many times that now it's my turn, but please, don't make it a habit."

"It's not intentional."

"And antagonising the colonel?"

"Still, not intentional."

She smiled slightly at that and stood up from the chair, a few blond locks escaped her bun, and he had to resist the urge to tuck it back behind her ear.

"I'm going to get Lt. Johansen," she bent down and kissed him gently on the lips that he returned without hesitation. "Don't rush it," she warned, and he grinned at the pun.

He watched her walk away, and the feeling he got at the sight didn't sit well with him at all. It was as if something wasn't as it should be, and a profound fear twisted his gut.

"Gloria?" she turned around with question in her eyes. "I love you, you know that?"

"Of course I do. Rest. I love you too."

Rush didn't want to close his eyes. He wanted to see her come back like he wasn't entirely sure she would, but he didn't know what could prompt such fear. He could hear the soft hum of Destiny's engines, comforting him at the same time as her lights blinded him and before he knew it, his eyes closed. When they opened, it wasn't Gloria leaning over him but Lt. Johansen, and he couldn't help but look around, searching.

"How are you feeling?" the medic asked, and he rubbed his eyes.

"Is the Colonel here?"

Johansen's mouth twitched. "No."

""Then like shit."

The woman smiled. "I can imagine. Any double vision?"

"A little blurry but not double. No."

"We really need to get you new glasses somehow," she admitted. "It's good to see you awake and coherent, to be honest."

He smiled slightly, trying to relax, but somehow he found it very hard.

"Yeah, so my wife told me," he frowned. "What's that face for, lieutenant?" he asked when spotting TJ expression. Was it something he had said? But she shook her head and pulled out her flashlight.

"Can you follow the flashlight for me? Only with your eyes, keep your head straight."

"All right."

"Let me know if you get double vision at any point."

He nodded and let her examine him while not being able to shake the feeling of wrongness that rolled off her in waves. When she got to the halfway point into his cranial nerves examination, he grew impatient.

"Lieutenant, stop betting around the bush and tell me what's going on."

She stopped in the middle of checking his facial muscles strength and looked for something in his eyes. Rush didn't know what it was or had she found it, but then she sat back in the chair and leaned towards him.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"You plunging a syringe into my arm, but somehow I got a feeling it's not what you're asking about." Rush narrowed his eyes. His head began to throb slightly, not hard enough to be a bother but still not eternally possible to ignore, but he focused on TJ that fidgeted slightly in her seat. "Ugh, a robotic wire throwing me against a wall... I think I sat on the chair?"

TJ nodded, confirming his suspicions. Well, the neurological exam made sense then. "And before that?" She added.

He frowned, thinking. Why was that important?

"I think Gloria's nagging that I should tell the Colonel where we were going? I asked her to do it in my stead. Young has a lot better tolerance for her than me," He chuckled, but it died down as soon as he saw TJ expression. "What is it?"

She took a deep breath in.

"I have reasons to believe that the machine - the chair, had done something to your brain. We still don't know what exactly, but it looks like it tried to rewrite your cortex."

He didn't like the sound of it.

"To what point?"

"We don't know. But you may experience two sets of memories. One true and one -"

"Think very carefully about your next words, lieutenant." He cut in, his voice cold as a steal.

"Excuse me?"

"I know what you're going to insinuate - the Colonel went exactly the same route even if less sophisticated. Now, let me tell exactly the same thing that I've told him - that's bullshit."

"Doctor Rush -"

"How should I know that this is real, then?" he said pointedly. "That this conversation is really happening?"

"What?"

"I have a very vivid memory of holding my wife's hand when going through the stargate," no chance in hell it wasn't real. Why wouldn't it be? "I remember Mr. Brody making her a violin from spare metal parts that sounds dreadful, but she was as thankful for it as if he had given her the Stradivarius. How can you even think that any of it is a lie?" His tone became desperate as he searched for any indication in TJ eyes that he didn't make that all up. They were the ones mistaken! Not him! "Shit!" He clutched his head that suddenly felt like somebody had split it open with a machete, and Johansen jumped from her seat.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Head. Again." He groaned. Just what exactly did that bloody chair did to him?

"Doctor Rush, I need you to focus on something else," Johansen's voice sounded detached, and it took him a moment to understand and comprehend the meaning behind her words.

"Come again?" Was that his voice? It sounded too strained and far away.

"Your brain is forcing you into a seizure. I need you to focus on something else and not giving it a medium to feed on."

He could feel his leg twitch uncontrollably, and a sudden fear gripped him. If what TJ had said was true, then nobody knew what a seizure could do to an already damaged brain. Rush tried to push his thoughts away from the arising conflict in his head, but no matter how much he tried, the pain only grew worse. Because how could somebody insist that Gloria wasn't real? What had happened to her, then? How -

" - need to ho...d.. it.. to...ther. Your wife will be here in a moment."

"What did you say?" He groaned, blinking.

"I sent her to get the Colonel."

Johansen didn't look comfortable, far from it, but that fact escaped him entirely. All he could focus on was the case that the splitting headache, so profound just a second ago, now seemed to be only lurking somewhere far away, like a distant memory.

"It's... It's gone..." he whispered, confused.

TJ nodded, but she was unable to meet his gaze. There was sadness in her that he didn't understand and something more... something that kept escaping his mind.

"Try to relax, alright?" she asked while standing up. Somehow he wasn't reassured by the fake smile on her face. "I need to scan your head. Eli got the ancient MRI working. I'll be back in a minute."

"Lieutenant?" She turned around at his voice. A sudden spike of pain behind his left eyeball made him wince, but he swallowed the groan down, clenching his fists to distract himself. "If what you say is true, then how can I be certain what is happening and what isn't? Can you prove to me that this conversation right now is really happening?"

This time she didn't drop her gaze.

"We'll figure it out," she said.

He didn't feel better at all.

Nick. It's not real.

Wasn't it?

[joshslater]

The Reformatory

A rewrite of jd07201990′s swimmer story. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

T -1

Dear diary or however you are supposed to start.

So tomorrow is the big day. Dad and I are sleeping at a Holiday Inn at the other side of the state. Well, I'm obviously not sleeping. How could I? So I thought I should start a journal of some sort to document this experience.

Some background. Two months ago I was in a fight with Mark Samberg on the football team. It had gotten pretty bad between the football schmucks and us swimmers. The jockheads were constantly harassing us, calling us fags and prissy boys. It happened often and was getting boring. As the captain of the swim team I asked Mark to knock it off and get his players in line. Idiot as he is he tried to knock me out instead, and I lost it. In our scramble I managed to knock him down and was about to kick him in the shin when he shifted and instead I connected with his knee. Apparently it fractured. He'll be able to walk and even run, but he'll not be able to play again for years, so he lost his Scholarship.

His family sued everyone they could. Me, the school, the swim coach. In the end all the lawyers sat down in a room with a local judge and came up with something they all could agree to. Mark gets some study assistance to get his grades up, the school had this quickly brushed under the carpet, and could pretend I was never student there. Me not graduating wasn’t really a blow, as my college fund now went to pay for Mark’s education, as compensation. They were rich enough to afford it anyway, but they wanted to see punishment. I get the honor to spend the next 180 days at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center, where I will "participate in all scheduled exercises, activities, therapies, meals and medication programs". They can tack on some extra days for bad behavior without going back to the judge, but essentially I get 6 months at bad boy camp for standing up to bullies.

What will I do there? No idea. The website talks a lot about work ethics and responsibility and working together with the local community. Sounds like labor camp to me. I'll guess we'll know tomorrow. But first we have to visit the hospital for a check up. My first day in prison will mostly not be in prison!

Day 1, Monday

We started with a checkup at the hospital, and man did they do a thorough job. Our appointment was at 10, but before that I had to fill out a form with 100 questions. The doctor spent more than 30 minutes doing the most extensive check I've ever had. Not only that, but after the check we had to go to the sample lab to draw blood, and finally I had a CT scan at noon. After that, and a quick lunch, we drove to the actual reformation center, which was in a smaller town 2 hours away.

It's an old boarding school building that they've turned into this "Reformation Center", and it clearly looks more like a prison than a school. Just a heap of two story brick and concrete buildings out in nowhere. Not much of security, but then everyone was there "voluntarily", meaning that we all had a proper punishment waiting for us if we left. I hugged dad goodbye and was shown to Mr. Kerwin’s office by the entrance guard.

Mr. Kerwin was a lean, ripped man in his forties that oozed military discipline. He explained that he was responsible for my rehabilitation and that he wouldn't start soft. He would give me a packed schedule, and if I didn't pull my weight he would add more days for "noncompliance". If I didn't like it I could run back to judge Stephenson and ask to start over in juvie.

Perhaps that would be better, because the schedule he showed me was totally insane.

4:30-5:00  Breakfast 5:00-8:00  Exercise pass 1 8:00-12:00 Work pass 1 12:00-12:30 Lunch 12:30-14:30 School 14:30-17:30 Work pass 2 17:30-18:00 Dinner 18:00-21:00 Exercise pass 2 21:30       Lights out

He explained that my breakfast, lunch and dinner would be pre-portioned and I was required to eat all of it. The exercise passes would be lead by himself or one of the assistants. Again, I would have to follow every instruction. The work passes were done at local businesses that wanted an extra hand, and changed depending on demand. The school passes were done as a group on whatever subject Mr. Reed selected.

Next he ordered me to get naked and place all my clothes on top of my bag and move to the other side of the room. Having done so he pointed at a stack of clothes on the table and told me to pick my size and get dressed. I quickly dressed in one of the track suits from the table. There was a baseball cap also, which confused me, but was told that it was instead of sunglasses when working outdoor.

With that I was given a rule book to study and was led by an assistant to my room where a dinner was waiting. Turkey, rice, water. I was reminded of lights out at 21:30 and wake up at 4:30. The assistant left and locked the door. 10 minutes later he came back with my journal book and pen, and told me that they'll keep the rest for now.

Having eaten the dinner and having three hours (I'm almost sure 21:30 is 9:30 PM) to kill before the lights go out I'm now summarizing the day. I'm sitting in something very similar to a prison cell. Bed, toilet, sink. Everything is clean, though somewhat worn. Looking into the mirror is kind of depressing though. I look like some jailed gang member.

It's kind of weird that I haven't met any of the other inmates, sorry students, here. I saw some of them while coming in, but perhaps this is their kind of hazing, or they do an official presentation tomorrow. Anyway, I should study the rule book and go to bed, since I didn't sleep much last night.

Day 2, Tuesday

So much to write about, so little time. I might have to split this into several entries since lights out is in 20 minutes.

I was awaken at 4:30 and given a tray with a large bowl of porridge and berries and some chalky smoothie or shake or whatever to drink. After that an assistant lead me to the gym room where we went over various machines, mainly for cardio. Elliptical, bike, treadmill. Weird thing was that it was only us two in the room during all three hours.

Sweaty and a bit tired I was then taken outside to a bus where some of the other boys where chilling. Apparently everyone else had breakfast between 7 and 8. They had no idea why I didn't join them there. The bus then drove around town and the driver announced who should exit where. My group of four people exited at a farm before town, only about 5 minutes away. I don't know exactly since I haven't been given my watch back.

There we spent hours just moving hay. Don't they know about tractors? Sweaty, itchy, tired and hungry we were then picked up and driven back. At lunch was the first time I saw the real common area. To my surprise there were more boys there than had been on the bus.

Everyone else could pick what they wanted from what was served, but I was given a ready tray with an heap of salmon and pasta. I was starving though, so it wasn't a problem to eat it all. I didn't have much time to talk, but the guys at my table were nice. Somewhat rough, as could be expected. Apparently you were chosen for the different work assignments, and if you were not picked you stayed at the center for sports or craft or similar things.

After Lunch followed a session with Mr. Reed. The first boring hour was on English grammar and the second boring hour on US geography. I aced the quizz getting all 50 states and state capitols right, so I didn't learn anything new after that. Then Mr. Reed announced who had work assignments, and I was again selected.

This time I and Troy were dropped off at a different farm where we spent almost three hours helping with fencing. Mainly carry posts and sawing them to length.

For dinner I had some meatballs with roasted sweet potatoes while everyone else had meatballs with tomato sauce. Mr. Kerwin picked me up and led me to the gym. Unlike the morning session this was all about weight training. Most of it was on finding my limits for different exercises while Mr. Kerwin pointed out how I could improve my form. You could tell that this was what he liked to do, and encouraged me to push a bit further. Once we were done I had a bottle of post workout mix of some sort and a very quick shower before rushing back to my room.

Here's the thing. My room is on a different floor than the other guys. Also, my schedule appears to be different and much more rigid than the rest of the guys. I also

Day 3, Wednesday

I couldn't finish the last entry before they cut the light. My entire body is in pain right now. I woke up like that, and it didn't go away all day. Same schedule as yesterday, but different tasks and different dishes. The assistant really pushed today during the morning session, so I was exhausted already at the bus. Planting bushes at the city park all morning didn't help. I got some rest during Reeds rehash of elementary math. Then back to doing fences, and top it all off with weight training. I asked Mr. Kerwin about the schedule and why it was so different from everyone else’s. He said that everyone's schedule is individual and that he'll adjust mine as needed.

One more weird thing before I fall to sleep. Everyone else is using their normal clothes. I haven't gotten mine back yet.

Day 4, Thursday

FUCK! I was back on moving hay today again, with Sam, Trevor and Rick. I'm still hurting like hell and Rick is one lazy motherfucker, so old fart Farmer Joe decided to complain. The end result is that I am getting 2 days added for noncompliance. Sam, Trevor and Rick got nothing. WTF!

Day 5, Friday

We were carrying merchandise all morning and Troy heckled me on how I got more days because of the piece of shit Rick. But he then said that it was a weird coincidence that every work shift I've been on has been the toughest one.

Instead of going to class I met with the doctor from the hospital who made a visit. He asked me about how I felt, where I was sore etc. Then he gave me an injection which he said would ease things for me. I didn't feel much different, but I was getting really sleepy getting back to Mr. Reeds class, but it might just be that everything he did was too simple and boring.

Apparently while I had a check up Troy had shared his theory about me being a work magnet, so there were some groans from the guys placed in my group. God damn fence work again.

Man, I'm tired. I was tired even before Mr. Kerwin gave me the toughest weight pass ever. Fuck, I'm tired.

Day 6, Saturday

So the weekend schedule is different. There is still a morning work pass, basically only used by the local farmers. But the afternoon is free both on Saturdays and Sundays. Conditions and terms applies, apparently. Since I haven't done any cleaning or dishes all week (how could I?), I'm assigned washing clothes, sheets etc. Man, how much better it is to carry laundry than hay. Best job assignment all week. Lots of downtime. Only real drawback is all the humidity. It’s steamy AF here.

Still fucking 3h workout pass in the morning and evening. The other boys were pretty vocal in mocking me on my way to the gym.

Day 7, Sunday

So the day started out as any other so far. Woke up sore. Breakfast alone and 3 hour gym session. There are no work passes outside LARC on Sundays, so I was hit with cleaning, together with Kyle G. and Rick. Rick ghosted after like three minutes, but KG did a solid work. It took us all the time til lunch though to finish it.

Then my first free couple of hours all week. It’s insane. The other guys were low key avoiding me, so I did what Mr. Kerwin had suggested and had a walk in the forest. It was actually kind of nice, and for some weird reason I didn’t feel like sitting still.

Day 8, Monday

Same shit again. Mr. Kerwin gave me a shot in the arm this evening. Apparently I’ll have one each Monday from now on. Whatever.

Also I found out today that the others don’t have formal lights out. I’m on my own floor so they can lock me up and cut the power. What the fuck?

Day 9, Tuesday

That fucker Rick slacked off again, taunting me about another two days. Ha! I got 10. Mostly for kicking him in the teeth. They locked me in my room, so I had lunch there and sat in this boring ass cell during class and work. Fuck, I don’t know what’s worse. I had to do some body weight exercises to keep sane. Fuck this shit.

Back again. I still got to have my evening workout. Kerwin was pushing harder than ever. The order of exercises was different too. Apparently to make the major muscles tired so smaller muscle groups then get to work. Or something. I don’t give a shit.

Day 11, Thursday

They fucking work now, don’t they the little shits. They know I ruined someones career to get here and another one for slacking off. They better pull there weight

Day 14, Sunday

I think I’ll stick to just write on Sundays. There is only half an hour from evening gym to lights out, so there isn’t much time for writing. I’ve even skipped shower a few times. It’s not like it matters when you start every fucking day getting soaked with cardio. Not like there are any girls around to impress either. Sunday has a different vibe tho. Cleaning, running in the forest and taking a long shower.

Starts and ends with fucking gym time though.

Day 21, Sunday

I really fucking like the forest runs. Its like you don’t have to think and can just run wherever and grab whatever and smash whatever. Fucking love it

Day 28, Sunday

Yay! A full fucking month!

It’s crazy though how much stronger I’m. I have gone up one size larger track suite and 2 sizes larger sneakers. Working hard to make me the best I guess.

Day 42, Sunday

guess i forgot about writing last week. i think the monday shots make me angry or something because last week fucked up someone else on tuesday. at least they all give me fucking respect at least.

Day 92, Monday

i dont give a shit abot reeds borin ass lessons and they fuckin repeat on a loop or some shit. today he was back on gramr and the states. i most time dont fill out his shit but wanted to do it again today. fucking aced most of the states. not so good on the capitols tho

Day 203, Sunday

only 2 weeks left tomorrow lol then im gonna yeet the fuck outta here !!!! adios motherfuckas

Mr. Kerwin enters the room, carrying a folder, and walks behind his desk, not even looking at me. I am sitting in his precious fucking antique chair I pulled from the corner. He’s sitting his ass down, rifles through the papers in the folder and starts to read from one of them.

“John Hamlin agrees to 180 days of rehabilitation training at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center, where he will participate in all scheduled exercises, activities, therapies, meals and medication programs, with a possible extension of 30 days for noncompliance and a possible extension of 60 days for infractions as described by the Juvenile Rehabilitation Act (JuRA), section 1103 (b).”

He looks up at me. It sounded like easy shit when I said yes to it. I thought half a year in a bad boy summer camp, or worst case something like prison, but that would have been miles better than this fucking non-stop hard labor shit. And 180 days was a fucking joke. They never fucking intended that to be the actual time. Have someone else slack off and the slap another 2 days to the time. Kick a chair to pieces, 5 days. Punch a guy for being a cunt, 10 days. I’m close to having another fucking outburst again. It must be all that fucking shit they put in the food or shakes or whatever. I fight it. I don’t want to show any emotion in front of him. I don’t think he buys my shit.

“There is another document in the agreement that you haven’t heard. This one between Mark and judge Andrews.”

He pulls out another paper from the folder and read it.

“The state hereby directs Mark Samberg, or person(s) by him so designated, to design and oversee the rehabilitation program of John Hamlin to be administrated at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center. This includes physical exercises, physical therapy, education, consoling, dietary plan and medication, as long as it fulfills the positive development criteria (Appendix D), is within the available services at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center (Appendix A) and within the given budget (Appendix C). Additional services require external financing and approval from the Reformation Center management (Appendix B).”

That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why the hell had the judge put Mark in charge of my schedule? I understand why he’d want to make the experience suck as much as fucking possible for me, by why had everyone agreed to it? Kerwin looks at me as if he can read an open book.

“You are wondering what has happened to you. What was the meaning of all this? Stand up.”

I jump to my feet. There are still weeks he can add to my time here, and I don’t want to give him any fucking reason to add some shit.

“Stand with your feet as close together as you can.”

He’s never asked me to do that before. I can easily tap me feet together, but I can’t really stand still with my feet right next to each other for long. What the fuck is this bullshit? My thighs are too massive for that.

“Sit down again.”

He leans back and watches me with a bemused smirk.

“Imagine that you’d been away from swimming half a year. Even if you kept in shape it would take you months to be back in good enough technique to clear the swim team tryouts. But you have not kept in shape, have you? You have a completely new shape.”

The blood is draining from my face. I understand where this is going.

“With your upper body build you can physically really only do butterfly strokes properly, but if you can’t bring your feet together the leg kick will just be a wild thrashing of water. You swimming medley would be a hilarious joke. We haven’t even talked about you almost doubling in weight, and how much more oxygen you would need to swim. Sure, you are much stronger now, but old you would swim circles around new you. And that is of course the point. If Mark couldn’t have his sports career, he didn’t want you to have yours either. And the judge agreed.”

I’m surprised that the chair doesn’t break, as hard as I’m squeezing it. I’m boiling with fucking rage. I have to really focus to not to act on it.

“Now the judge specifically set out that this transformation couldn’t be punishment in itself, but rather that you were trained in a way that just wasn’t optimal for swimming. We may have gone a bit overboard with the body building to leave you many options though. You’ll obviously never be competitive in anything with speed or agility, like football or boxing. The metabolic conditioning, hormone treatment and gene therapy have far to long lasting effects to change you back from where you are now. You could try wrestling or weight lifting though, unless you mind showing your erection through spandex.”

“What the fuck?”, I said, as much as a general question to all the things he’d said. What does metabolic conditioning mean? Gene therapy? Erections?

“The medical regimen that Marks family found for you kind of put the feet on both the gas and the break at the same time. It forces the body to grow a lot at the same time as we try to stop it, so it has to try even harder. By injecting stem cells with the right CRISPR-modified DNA we could get rapid, major and long lasting changes. Well, I say we, but all I did was to make sure you kept to the exercise regimen, for a little cash on the side… Surely you didn’t think you got larger feet and dick from eating much and working hard?”

I don’t understand exactly what they done to me, but the result is pretty fucking clear. There was no way I would swim competitively ever again, if I could even fucking swim at all now. I would come out of here looking like a fucking balloon animal muscle jock, and shedding the muscles back to where I were would take shitloads of years.

“The hormone treatment finished two weeks ago and last blood sample shows that your natural hormone levels will keep you muscled and pumped probably well into your forties. So this morning I also cut you off from all suppressive medication as well. That is going to spike your hormone levels and mess quite a bit with you, so we need to see just how badly fucked up you are before we can release you.”

“The good doctor say that you’ll be more irritable and have more excess energy than before. Both something you can work on with regular, hard exercise. But I want to see where you really are at now, so starting today you’ll have no required gym time and labor passes. You can wake up when you want, eat what you want and do what you want.”

“You said erections?”, I asked.

“Yeah, the suppression medication should have kept you limp. You haven’t jacked off while here, have you? Well, you heard what I said about gas and break and compensation. Your body has been pumping massive amounts of hormones into your blood, and will continue to do so. But now that you don’t have the suppressives anymore you should expect to be horny for the next decade or two. You’ll be nothing but a lumbering muscle dildo.”

There’s a crack somewhere inside the wood of the armrest. Fucking fourteen more days, I have to remind myself. Don’t fuck any shit up before then. If I let go of the chair I’m quite positive I will knock him the fuck out. Fourteen fucking more shit days.

[savannahsdrabbles]

Ocean Song - Part One

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: An AU originally based off of the 2012 TMNT universe, but can be compatible with most versions of the characters. <3 2.7k words. A03 link can be found here. Also special thanks to @cloakedrabbit and @starfiretheninja for beta-reading!

Looking back on the past couple of days’ events, April should have realized that kidnapping an endangered creature was a bad idea.

Well, scratch that.

Maybe attempting to break into a high security laboratory was where she went wrong. Or –

“This is totally wicked!” Casey Jones hollered from the driver’s seat as they took another sharp turn, tires spinning and spitting gravel up into the windshield wipers that were already working overtime. The creature in the backseat squawked and flailed as he skidded across the torn upholstery, desperately trying to sink his claws into something to keep from being thrown about like a rag doll.

“Slow down – and calm down!” The red-head snapped first towards the driver, and then over her shoulder at their passenger as she rapidly typed away on her laptop. A large jolt suddenly rocked the Jeep to one side and then the other, and April threw her arms out as a scream escaped her mouth. “CASEY! BRIDGE!”

Okay. So there were a lot of things that went wrong.

***

“Here we are!” A voice called loudly, causing April to jerk her head up and nearly lose an earbud in the process. “Now I know you’ve told me before, but remind me – what class is this project for? I don’t recall having to do anything like this until I’d reached graduate school.”

April smiled as she rose from her seat and shouldered an air tank onto her back. She carefully pulled the earbuds from her ears and tucked them into the bag of dry clothes she’d brought, then paused to looked out across the ocean. The sky was overcast that afternoon, leaving glare so minimal that even as the boat chugged to a stop beneath them, she was almost certain she could spy movement in the water below. “It’s for a dual-credit course. My science instructor knows that Dad is stationed here and that I study under him, so he said that I could use some of my research work as a science credit.”

“My word,” The fourty-something Japanese man at the stern shook his head in amusement as he pulled a lever to lower the anchor. The ship responded with a groan, lurching slightly at the movement, and the air was soon filled with a steady clack-clack-clack as chains were steadily released into the depths. “I swear, April – you work more than most kids your age. It’s a wonder you even have time to consider college courses. And you’re only – what – sixteen?”

“Seventeen as of last month,” April shrugged lightly and fought back an amused eyeroll as she continued to adjust her gear and flippers. Once she was certain they were secure, the girl reached for her camera and looped the strap over her wrist. She’d known Miles for a few months at this point and was pretty sure that they’d had this exact conversation every time they spoke. Her dad joked that his memory retention was about as long as that of the goldfishthat he studied. “Thankfully most of the college stuff is online, so I don’t have to worry about dealing with all of the paperwork from moving between schools. So it’s not too bad.”  

“Ah. Well then, I won’t keep you from your schoolwork any longer.” Miles tapped his wrist and jerked his chin towards the cloudy sky before moving towards the stairs that led below deck. Typically the rule was to never dive alone, but… “Remember, one hour tops, and then I have to check the boat back in for the evening – no exceptions.”  

“I know, I know – see you in a bit!” Positioning herself on the side of the boat, April fitted the mouthpiece from her tank into place, flashed an okay sign, and then pushed herself backwards into the rolling waves.

***

No matter how many times she dove, April could never not be amazed by the sheer beauty of the sea.She often wondered if she’d feel the same had her dad chosen a different line of work, but she ultimately pushed those thoughts aside and chose to simply be grateful that she’d always had the opportunity to live near open water. It was, after all, one of the only consistent things in her life.

She couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times that she had moved in her short life. Once or twice a year, her dad was reassigned to a new zoo or university and that meant uprooting everything and moving to the next body of water. Everywhere from Florida to Quebec to now Osaka – a large port city in Japan – had served as a temporary place of residence to April, her father, and the rest of the research team.

“Don’t worry, Pumpkin,” Kirby O’Neil had smiled at April over his mug of hot chocolate – a relocation announcement tradition in the O’Neil household. April remembered scowling into her own mug in response. “I spoke to the Board, and they’re willing to keep us in Osaka at least until you’ve graduated from high school. That way you can finish out your diploma in one place!”.

Five months later and the Board – a maniacal creature seemingly dedicated to repositioning its prisoners at random – had remained true to its word. April had quickly settled into the Japanese immersion class at her high school and was actually doing quite well in the school environment – enough so that the headmaster had paired her with another immersion student to help tutor him in math.

Casey Jones was an up-and-coming hockey player, the oldest child of the English Foreign Language teacher, and a big pain in the butt. Even though he was scheduled to graduate later that year, Casey seemed bound and determined to fail all of his classes – meaning that he and April spent more than the intended amount of time studying and hanging out together.

“It’s just you and me against Japan, Red,” Casey often joked as he would flash her a gap-toothed grin. “Us immigrants gotta stick together.”

If not for his cocky attitude and constant flirting, April might have thought that he was cute.

Might.

April gave a few kicks as she allowed thoughts of school to drift away and happily rolled in the cool water. Several silver fish darted out of her way as she sank lazily past, raising her camera in time to capture a couple of photos. Her blue eyes widened in awe as a class of clownfish and several jellyfish followed, and she rapidly snapped several pictures before they could float out of range. The water grew rapidly colder and darker with every few feet, aided by the clouds that were constantly drifting in front of the sun. Minutes slowly ticked away as her distance from the bobbing boat lengthened until it was no more than a misshapen shadow on the surface of the water above.

Thick, twisted chunks of orange and pink coral and a forest of seaweed eventually began to rise up around her, and she paused in the shadow of a particularly large structure to glance at the time on her camera screen – only twenty minutes left before she had to head for the surface. Yikes – that didn’t leave very long to get more decent shots.

She furrowed her brow in thought – maybe she could convince Miles or another research assistant to bring her out again tomorrow -?

Suddenly, a burst of movement out of the corner of her eye grabbed April’s attention and sent her reeling backwards against the coral. Hundreds of tiny fish blew past her in a frantic, unorganized mass, the undertow tearing at the surrounding seaweed and adding to the chaos and confusion. Before she could right herself, a much larger form shot after the fish, closely followed by another of similar size. The masses cut through the water without a glance in her direction, clearly intent on their prey and unaware that they had been seen.

April gasped as she righted herself and stared at the large, rapidly moving shapes that were quickly disappearing into the distance – what the heck had she just seen? For a moment she wanted to brush it off as simply two seals hunting dinner, but something made her hesitate. Something was off.

Heart pounding, she slowly peeled herself off of the coral wall and ducked into the thick seaweed. Once she was sure that she wouldn’t be spotted, April raised her camera and aimed it at the creatures. By now they were far enough away that the camera wouldn’t focus, but this confirmed what she’d thought she’d seen. Those were not the usual side to side movements that most fish travelled by, or even an up and down motion like dolphins or seals would use – these things had arms and legs that they were kicking like human beings.

Still not acknowledging April’s presence, the two creatures suddenly split up and each silently moved to one side of the school of fish. They then began to duck and weave, almost dancing with each other as they continued to direct the fish into a tighter and more condensed mass.

The numbers on April’s camera screen blinked a warning, reminding her that she only had a few more minutes before she needed to head to the surface, but she shoved the thought aside. She had to get closer.

With one hand firmly clutching her camera, April pushed off of the coral and began to propel herself through the clinging seaweed. The creatures had already put several dozen yards between herself and them, but appeared to be slowing as they closed in on their prey.

Moving through the dense seaweed was more difficult than her targets had made it look, however. The girl grimaced as her limbs repeatedly got tangled in thick pieces of the plant, slowing her motion until she tore them loose. She was almost to the edge of the seaweed when the bigger of the two let out a sharp clicking noise, causing April to freeze in place.

Before she could determine what was happening, a net appeared between the two beings and they cast it across the fish. The smaller creature then reached for a long strand of seaweed that had been wrapped around his forearm and tied the bag shut, thoroughly trapping their dinner. He squealed and clicked in pride, sounding like a dolphin that had just performed a trick and was now expecting a treat. The larger creature chirped in response and reached out to pat the smaller one on the head.

April kicked forward, mind reeling as she struggled to comprehend what she was witnessing, when a thick piece of seaweed tangled itself around her thigh and brought her chase to a stop. The sudden change in momentum caught her off guard, and April flailed her arms around in surprise – only for her camera to slip from her grasp. The small device, now free of anything weighing it down, rocketed towards the surface as the girl let out an exasperated string of curses that were only just masked by her mouthpiece.

Eyes straining to not lose the creatures amidst the bubbles that had stirred up around her, April violently jerked her leg to snap the seaweed. When the clinging inhibitor only seemed to tighten in response, she let out a huff of frustration and reached down to quickly untangle her leg. What met her fingertips, however, was not part of the slimy plants that surrounded her.

The girl let out a muffled stream of bubbles as she twisted around and gasped sharply. The dark tentacle around her leg tightened in response, and several more shot out from the shifting forest to pull at her arms and hair. April instinctively reached for the emergency knife on her belt, but the massive squid let out a fierce grumble as its tentacles tightened around her arms and pinned them to her sides. April’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she struggled fruitlessly and let out a garbled yell of panic.

Had she been diving with a team, the others would have stepped in at this moment to help her get away. But now here she was, alone and trapped with her only hope nearly twenty minutes away from even beginning to question where she was.

Am I going to die down here?

Just as another tentacle snaked forward to tug at her airline, the water around her erupted into bubbles and April felt herself being violently thrown back and forth. The tentacles remained firmly wrapped around her body, but she felt their grip slacken ever so slightly as two blurs rammed into the squid’s head with claws outstretched. Blood filled the water as the squid flailed beneath its attackers, scaly skin tearing underneath their claws.

April screamed again as one of the creatures suddenly turned on her, eyes wide and ghostly white, and then began to violently attack the limbs holding her tight.

Even as she was being tossed back and forth, April could tell that the creature fighting for her freedom was like nothing she had ever seen in her research. Shape-wise, the creature appeared to be a mix between a human and a turtle, roughly several inches shorter than she was. The terrapin was a pale olive color, covered from head to toe with splotches of purple scales. Thick claws protruded from large, rounded limbs and with each swipe it was clear that they were sharp enough to cut through flesh without much effort. A ramshackle string of lavender stones hung from one of the terrapin’s upper arms, somehow not getting cut or knocked off during the fight, and a quick glance told April that the other creature bore similar decorations on its own body.

When the thrashing tentacles finally began to loosen, the turtle nearest to her grabbed April beneath the armpits and quickly jerked her out of their confinement while the other continued to distract the squid. The turtle’s claws dug into her sides painfully as it held her to its plastron and began to swim awayupwards, causing April to cry out and kick her legs in panic. A series of sharp clicks echoed in April’s ears as she fought, and then several things happened all at once.

The water erupted with even more noise and movement – though April hardly believed it possible – and then the arms around her slackened and fell away, almost immediately to be replaced by several pairs of hands that she could recognize as being human. The next few minutes happened as a blur – she vaguely remembered several decompression stops as they ascended, each accompanied by hands gently patting her body and checking for injury – but before she knew it, they were breaking the surface of the water. There her world continued to move in a confusing blur of shapes and colors as more hands hooked under her arms and heaved her on deck, where her diving equipment was quickly stripped away and replaced with warm towels and gentle touches.

April blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. “What – ”

“We’ve got you, Little One,” A female biologist that April recognized from her father’s crew came into view amongst the blur of movement and blankets being piled on her shoulders, her face creased in maternal concern. “Delta Team was out patrolling and pulled up right alongside Miles just as your camera surfaced – we were afraid something terrible had happened to you! And – oh, you’re bleeding!”

“I –”

Miles’ voice suddenly broke through the chaos. “Give us a hand – we’ve got something big!”

Rina’s head jerked around to look at something out of April’s line of sight, and then she wrapped her arms around the girl and turned her away from the ruckus occurring on the other boat. The woman muttered something softly in Japanese, her eyes widening as she pulled April tighter against her body. “Oh my word…”

“What’s going on?” April turned against the arms holding her right as a full net thudded onto the deck she’d been on less than an hour ago. The large mass inside of it was curled inward and bleeding slightly, but one limp arm was clearly visible, bearing a bracelet of string and lavender stones.

Next Chapter

[penaltbox]

being friends ish with owen but he’s normally pretty quiet and u run into him on a night out while ur slightly more tipsy than he is and he’s so nice to you and very clearly entertained and maybe because ur being kinda silly he feels more comfortable so he’s more talkative and because it’s cold out he’s like happily cuddly and maybe Mike or cole or someone can totally tell what’s going there and comes over to greet you and thinks the whole thing is super cute cause u & owen act similar anyways

“Isn’t that the cute boy you have class with? The one you’re always talking about?” Your roommate asks, pointing down the sidewalk.

A few steps down the road you see Owen and his friends all headed your way, making your heart beat a little faster. He was easily the cutest boy you’d met since starting at Wisconsin and he was always so sweet. He helped you in class because he was better at math than you and in return you had proofread a couple of his papers for him.

You can’t help but smile and he looks up just as he’s about to be in front of you, freezing when he recognizes you. You’re nervous for a split second before he’s smiling right back, walking over and giving you a hug. He’s never done that before, but you return it easily.

“Hi,” he mumbles, rubbing your back a little before he lets you go, “what are you doing out so late?”

The little giggle he lets out tells you he’s been drinking already, which you were guilty of as well. He seems pretty well put together still so you can’t imagine it’s been much.

You smile and shrug, “we were thinking about going out. What are you doing, trouble maker?”

He blushes a little at the name, motioning with a thumb over his shoulder at the three boys standing behind him, “we’re going out. No games this weekend so we figured we’d find something to do.”

You smile at them and Owen swears under his breath before turning halfway to introduce them, “shoot, I’m sorry. This is Dylan, Cole, and Mike.”

You say hello and introduce your roommate to them all as well, not missing the looks her and Mike start giving each other right away. Owen turns his attention right back to you, keeping eye contact and it makes you feel hot all over.

“You look really cute. I mean, you usually do, but I like this,” he says, his fingers dancing along the material at the bottom of your shirt as goosebumps break out on your skin wherever he touches.

Whether it’s the slight buzz you had going or just a sudden rush of confidence, you take half a step forward, smirking up at Owen.

“You don’t look half bad yourself, Lindmark.”

He bites the inside of his cheek and glances across the street before turning his attention back to you, “so we have class together how many days a week, but you’ve still never given me your number. How come?”

“You haven’t asked,” you deadpan, his friends piping up behind him suddenly and he looks back at them quickly with a glare.

He turns back to you just as a shiver runs through you from a gust of wind. He smiles softly and you hiccup suddenly. Maybe you’d had a little more to drink than you usually would for a pregame, but you still felt like you had yourself under control. The hiccup was rogue and of course it had happened when Owen was right there.

“Are you cold?” He asks, “also I’m getting your number by the end of the night. It’s happening, just so you know.”

You nod, feeling a little silly for having worn such a thin top, but it was always too warm in the bar for a coat. Owen quickly slips off the button down he has on over his T-shirt, handing it to you. You slip your arms into the sleeves and smile, already feeling warmer.

“Would you just invite them with us already? It’s cold, lets go,” One of his friends, Dylan you think, asks loudly.

“You want to come with us? You’re more than welcome to, plus I think I want to see what you’re like when you really let loose,” Owen says, his eyebrows raising as he holds his hand out for you to take.

Your roommate is nodding as soon as you look at her, already having moved into Mike’s personal space. You look back to Owen and put your hand in his.

“Okay, lets go. Show me a good time.”

Owen tilts his head back and smirks down at you, “oh I will. That’s a bet.”

[biostudyblog]

Testing and Individual Differences

Francis Golton was one of the first to study human intelligence and testing, and initiated the use of surveys to collect data, along with creating and applying statistics towards its analysis.

Standardisation and Norms

A test that is standardised is a test that has been piloted on a group of people similar to the population that is supposed to take the test, where achievement norms have been established. An easy one for many students planning on studying in the US is the SAT. At the end of the SAT, students take an extra set of questions that aren’t graded. These questions are developed so the Educational Testing Service can continue to standardise coming exams. Since the students taking the SAT are representative of the groups taking the SAT as a whole, they are known as the standardisation sample. People who make tests (known as psychometricians) at ETS use the achievement of students on the experimental section of the exam to decide how the next exam will be formulated. Questions nearly everyone gets right or wrong are discarded as they aren’t useful for differentiating between students.

Reliability and Validity

In order for a test to be taken seriously, it needs reliability and validity. 

Reliability is the consistency of the test as a means of measurement. For instance, if you take an IQ test and score 99 the first time, 115 the next time, and 160 the third time, the test isn’t very reliable. There are many ways to measure a tests reliability. Split-half reliability involves randomly splitting a test into two different sections and correlating someone’s performance on the two halves. The closer the correlation coefficient is to +1, the greater the split-half reliability. Equivalent-form reliability is the correlation between someone’s performance on two different but equivalent forms of the same test. Finally, test-retest reliability is the correlation between 2 different administrations of the same test. 

A test is valid if it measures what it’s supposed to measure. If Albert Einstein took an IQ test and got 99 all 3 times, you can say the test is reliable, but it’s clearly not very valid. A test cannot be valid if it is not reliable, however it can be reliable without being valid. There are multiple different kinds of validity, for example, face validity is a superficial measure of accuracy- it is the degree to which a test appears effective. If you’re looking for a chef, a cake baking test has high face validity. Face validity is considered a type of content validity- This is how well a measure reflects the entire range of material is is supposed to be testing. The cake baking test doesn’t have great content validity if the chef needs to cook things other than cake. There is also criterion-related validity- the extent to which a measure is related to an outcome. There are two kinds of criterion-related validity: Concurrent validity which measures how much of a characteristic a person has now, and predictive validity which is a measure of future performance. Finally, construct validity, which is a measure of whether a test measures a construct accurately.

Types of Tests

Two common types of tests are aptitude tests and achievement tests. Aptitude tests measure potential while achievement tests measure what someone has learnt. Making a test that exclusively measures one of these qualities is nearly impossible. For example, take a Math Aptitude test- you can have two people, each with equal potential to do well in the subject, but one of the test-takers has spent years studying math, while the other has barely done it at all- it’s obvious who will score better. On a Chemistry Achievement exam, you can have two students who studied an equal amount, however one may have a higher test-taking aptitude and score better than the other. 

There are also speed and power tests. Speed tests consist of a large number of questions asked in a short amount of time- typically time that is insufficient to complete the problems, and power tests typically gauge the difficulty level of problems that someone can solve. 

Finally, there are group and individual tests. Group tests are given to groups of people at one time and have little to no interaction between the examiner and test-takers. Individual tests involve more interaction with the examiner and study one person at a time.

Theories of Intelligence

Intelligence is another one of those words that get thrown around constantly but are surprisingly difficult to define. A medical doctor would look like an idiot when talking to a group of quantum physicists about string theory, but logically we would still call him intelligent. Many psychologists draw a distinction between fluid intelligence and crystallised intelligence. Fluid intelligence is our ability to solve abstract problems and learn new things while crystallised intelligence involves using the knowledge we accrue over time.

Charles Spearman- Charles Spearman argued that intelligence can be expressed as a single factor. He used factor analysis to conclude that underlying the many different specific abilities (s) that people regard as types of intelligence is actually a single factor that he named g.

Howard Gardner- Howard Gardner subscribed to the idea of multiple intelligences. What made his theory unique was that the intelligences that he named encompass a much larger range of human activities than most other psychologists. For example, he named linguistic, mathematical, and spatial intelligence which line up with what most psychologists use, however, added: musical, bodily-kinesthetic, intrapersonal, interpersonal, and naturalist intelligence.

Daniel Goleman: Daniel Goleman is one of the main proponents of EQ, or emotional intelligence. These are related to Gardner’s intrapersonal and interpersonal intelligence.  

Robert Sternberg- Sternberg has offered a nontraditional definition of intelligence. His triarchic theory defines 3 types of intelligences. Componential or analytic intelligence describes our ability to compare, contrast, explain, and analyse. Experiential, or creative intelligence observes how people use their knowledge in innovative ways. Thirdly, is contextual or practical intelligence. These are people who are able to apply their knowledge to the real world. Sternberg’s theory also raises another question- does intelligence depend on context? Sternberg would say yes. Most intelligence tests however view intelligence as ability based rather than context based.

Intelligence Tests

There are two widely used individual tests- the Stanford Binet and Wechsler, however there are as many different types of intelligence tests as there are theories for what intelligence actually is. 

Alfred Binet wanted to make a test to identify the children who needed extra help in school. His test was based on the idea of mental age, supposing that intelligence increases as someone ages. A normal 10 year old has the mental age of a 10 year old. Louis Terman, a professor at Stanford university used this system to measure IQ (intelligence quotient), and create the Stanford-Binet IQ test. A score on this test is formulated by dividing their mental age by their chronological age and multiplying by 100. The 10 year old would have an IQ of 100- (10/10 x 100). This test gets a bit weirder with adults. To rectify this, Terman assigned all adults an arbitrary age of 20.

David Wechsler took a bit of a different approach. There are 3 different Wechsler tests- there is the Wechsler adult intelligence scale (WAIS), the Wechsler intelligence scale for children (WISC), which is given to children from ages 6 to 16, and the Wechsler preschool and primary scale of intelligence (WPPSI). These tests yield an IQ score based on deviation IQ. The tests are standardised so that the mean is 100, and the standard deviation is 15. Scores are found based on how many standard deviations they fall away from the mean. Someone who scores at the 15.87th percentile falls one standard deviation below the mean, and would receive a score of 85. Someone who scores at the 97.72nd percentile scored 2 standard deviations above the mean and would get a 130. Wechsler’s tests also provides scores on a number of sub-scales along with a total IQ score. The WAIS has 11 sub-scales. 6 produce a verbal IQ score, 5 produce a performance IQ score.

Bias

The accusation that tests like the SAT are biased is not a new one. Researchers looking into the SAT say that although different races and sexes score differently on these tests, they have the same predictive validity for all groups. Other researchers argue that both the tests and college grades are significantly biased due to the advantages white middle and upper class students benefit from. 

Nature Versus Nurture

Here we are, back again on this debate which seems to appear everywhere throughout Psychology. Research suggests that both genetics and environment contribute to molding intelligence. When discussing the effects of nature and nurture, researchers use the term heritability- this is a measure of how much of a trait’s variation is explained by genetic factors. Heritability of 0 implies that the environment is completely in control of differences in the trait, while 1 implies that genetics is totally responsible. So how heritable is intelligence? Answering this question is extremely difficult as effectively studying this question would require studying a controlled population, rather than an individual which would bring up serious ethical questions. There have been some interesting findings, however.

The Flynn Effect is a finding that suggests environmental factors like nutrition, education, and even entertainment like TV can play a role in intelligence

Monozygotic/identical twins score much more similarly on intelligence tests than dizygotic/fraternal twins, however, bias may play a role in this as monozygotic twins tend to be treated more similarly than dizygotic twins.

To avoid this bias, researchers look to monozygotic twins separated at birth. There have been strong correlations in intelligence, however, bias may still be present as the twins may be placed in similar environments.

Some people (including the bloke who made the SAT) point to racial differences to prove that intelligence is genetically based. Carl Brigham used his test to “prove” that white people were superior to people of colour, while ignoring factors like poverty and lack of education, and English fluency when scoring his exams. 

[gayandvibin]

Ok so I spent three hours of my life researching OWLS and NEWTS and making my own list of students and the subjects they take (literally all of them are hcs, I think Liz is the only character I could find actual set out NEWTS for).

And uh yeah they're literally a levels, and I'm going to ramble about that now since I am a human person currently doing those.

I couldn't find a precise number, but most sources seem to place the average number of NEWTs taken at 2-3, with dedicated academics taking 4, and 5 being possible, though special permission is required. (I have no reason to be this excited at the similarities with a levels but I am). Based on the usual timetable (and I'm such a nerd I checked with friends at college and other sixth forms for this), that is the exact same as the current uk system! There is room for 5 subjects, but it's advised to take 3, with an additional qualification or one more subject if you're applying for a specific degree or line of work.

While I know this is all still fiction, and I cant know anything for sure, Hogwarts is basically a private school with no fees. There are probably just less students per year than muggle schools due to population differences and whatnot (also a war - that happened). And private schools generally have small class sizes to start (and since they seem to be split by groups of two houses, numbers must be pretty small for that to be feasible - teenagers are still teenagers, and ones with magic are probably even more of a nightmare to deal with).

Since NEWTS are optional, and hogwarts is a death trap, that small year group is going to get cut down again after fifth year once students decide to either go into work or... this is the uk in the 80s, so yeah they go straight into work.

Six and seventh year are basically sixth form, so hypothetically there's also whatever the equivalent of wizard college is (if apparation is jks stand in for driving lessons then shes clearly way too invested in student life and these probably exist). So likely quidditch players who wanted to get into coaching or professional sport would have vocational courses, or there would be apprenticeships in specific industries.

But my point is: classes are tiny think of the absolute fuckery that occurs.

So potions is the chemistry of the wizarding world, and herbology is biology (wow, what a leap). Based on uk schools I'd guess herbology has very average class sizes, but potions would literally be like 10-15 people max (maybe less since this is Snape era).

Snape is stuck with with a class or two of six to eight students and odds are he is going to despise most of them. I just think that's absolutely beautiful and the only thing Dumbledore has even done right.

And then arithmancy and advanced arithmancy!! I cannot believe there is a write in for further maths this is amazing and I can guarantee that again like eight people max are going to take that subject.

Humanities subjects are generally more popular, but I think this might be the one place where I can see wizarding schools separating. History of Magic is incredibly dull, especially at hogwarts (thanks mr binns for ruining my life), and I can see only a few students taking muggle studies because of genuine interest (there HAS to be a majority muggle class here, that would be such an easy pass for them).

Flying is clearly for the sports kids, and for some reason transfiguration gives me english literature vibes.

And astronomy is literally an a level that exists, but I'm guessing it's much more popular in this case.

But yeah, this probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but I saw connections and I wanted to talk about them. If anyone has any questions about this sort of system, I can try and give you an answer, so either hit me up with an ask or leave it in the notes.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

Another day of quarantine, another attempt to decipher the secret to one show’s mind-boggling longevity - Are they casting spells on every airdate? Do they have some kind of talisman? Did they make an actual deal with a literal devil to stay on the air this long?? The fact that Jensen Ackles has barely aged a day sure suggests they might have. It’s Supernatural! 

I think one of my favorite things so far has been the trailer that plays at the end of “Crossroad Blues” to really make sure you tune into the next episode which...did not play for two weeks. Looking at air dates, “Crossroad Blues” plays on Nov 16, 2006, so that’s right around the Thanksgiving break. Then they come back for ONE episode on Dec 7 and that is their midseason finale. TV programming is wild. 

I was like, really into this Bobby Johnson, like...I was into that.

It’s very possible that at this point in the season, SPN is trying real hard to keep their audience. Looking at the numbers for all the episodes leading up to “Croatoan”, they’re only averaging between 3 and 4 million viewers, roughly 1 - 2 million less than where they were at this time in season 1, so it’s easy to see why SPN was on the hook for renewal in season 2. Looking over its ratings for the rest of the season, the audience numbers just keep going down. The show is the number 8 highest rated show on the CW in 2006/07, so technically in the top 10, but it’s tied with Reba and One Tree Hill and the CW only had (16) original programs that year, so it’s not boasting much. These numbers supposedly include Live + 7 day DVR watches, so those numbers really are not good, BUT: starting in January of 2007, the CW started releasing episodes online the day after they aired, so I’m willing to bet that large portions of their audience were still tuning in, just not tuning in in a way that could be tabulated by Neilsen at the time. 

It’s also interesting to note that for both season 1 and season 2, the real mythos/lore/arc episodes don’t really start until the midseason. In season 1, it’s not until episode 10, “Scarecrow,” where we’re introduced to Meg and the bigger stakes at hand for the Winchesters. Their search for their father starts ramping up and the show starts subtly shifting away from Finding Dad to Fighting The Boss Fight. 

Season 2 is pretty similar. Up until “Croatoan” (episode 9), the show has been about the fallout from John’s death. Finding the yellow-eyed-demon is certainly a driving factor, but it’s very much on the backburner. The show even makes a point to say, hey! Our guys don’t really have any leads, so it’s gonna take a while before we get back to this. 

I actually really appreciate that the show takes this much time to let the Winchester process their grief. Kripke and Co. have said numerous times that they realized the episodes that work best are the ones that really dig into the emotional journeys of the characters, so they just went ahead and made that the primary focus of the first half of the season. It gives weight to their loss at the beginning of the season - John’s death is not some throwaway plot point, it’s a real gut punch that our characters aren’t going to get over in a hurry. It also lends weight to the danger the brothers face in the future - John died immediately, who’s to say that won’t happen to Sam or Dean? 

I mean, sure buddy, but also...no one here is okay.

Not to mention, John’s deal with the yellow-eyed-demon (+ the events in “Crossroad Blues”) give us a subtle/not-so-subtle hint as to what’s waiting for us at the end of season 2. But we’re not there yet. 

Then we’re in “Croatoan” and reminded in full force what our guys are supposed to be fighting this season - not their crippling grief but rather a very present threat to their physical and spiritual well-being. That’s not to say we haven’t had a taste of the Sam-centric plotline that appears in “Croatoan”. BUT I’d argue that even though “Simon Said” deals with the Psychic Children, it’s still only a tease for what those children are capable of. “Croatoan” really drives home the threat from the yellow-eyed-demon, not just from his Psychic Children but also whatever nefarious plans that he’s been cooking for however-long. And it puts this threat front and center as a main quest for the back 13 of the season. 

Because of COURSE demon viruses come with their own dusting of sulfur.

Doing the math on this, it looks like SPN had a Front 9/Back 13 split? As in, they got picked up for the first 9 episodes of season 2 but weren’t sure they were going to get those final 13 episodes and that is...crazy? I have not seen any proof this is the case, but it is something to consider for a show that was on the edge of cancellation for this season and last season. It’s possible that the CW was treating all of its programming like they were pilot seasons since this was, essentially, CW’s pilot season, but again - I have no evidence other than this 9/13 split to prove it. 

Back to the show. Let me just say: I LOVE “Croatoan.” Any time anyone wants to make up a supernatural reason for an obscure historical mystery, I am ON. BOARD. And the Lost Colony of Roanoke is definitely one of my favorites. I STILL love this episode even though I can hear my friend whispering through the decades, ”The colonists just intermarried with the local native tribe, the Croatoans…” which is apparently actually the answer in real life. But demon viruses are fine, and particularly relevant in The Year of Our Troubles 2020. 

CROATOAAAAAAAAA!!!

What also works in “Croatoan” is the dynamics between the brothers that will play out for the rest of the season/series. The groundwork for their big fight at the end of this episode has already been laid in the beginning of the season. On the one hand, you have Dean, who’s lost so much at the hands of the yellow-eyed-demon he can’t stand to lose anymore, especially not his brother. On the other hand, Sam is becoming more like his father - ready and willing to sacrifice whatever needs to be sacrificed to defeat this thing, even if that means giving up his own life. Sam has the same motivation that Dean has but coming from a completely different direction. If his death will save his brother, then he’ll do it, no questions asked, just like John died to save Dean. Neither of the brothers are willing to lose the other and they will go on to make increasingly stupid, selfish decisions to make sure they won’t have to. Yes, I love this show, and I love Sam and Dean, but man they are DUMB BABIES. 

OOF.

So we get “Croatoan,” where we see the stakes at hand - the yellow-eyed-demon is out for World Destruction, not just Winchester Destruction. He may have plans for the Psychic Children, but his plans reach far beyond a bunch of 20YO with wacky powers. And when Sam gets infected with the demon virus (LOL, sulfur in the blood?????), he knows he’s a danger to others and is immediately ready to sacrifice his life to keep those around him safe. Dean goes on to prove that this is a line too far - he’ll keep others safe but if the choice is between killing his brother and anything else, he will literally choose anything else. Sam turns out to be fine in a mysterious kind of way, although the town clearly is not, and the boys ride off into the sunset. Then we get the cliffhanger - John told Dean something important that we will not find out until January. 

These dolly shots crack me right up.

If you’re watching this in real time, you wait a month for that cliff hanger to resolve itself in “Hunted”. If you are living in the era of streaming, you just skip the closing credits to find out what John said - “He said that I [Dean] had to save you...and that if I couldn't, I'd . . .That I'd have to kill you.” 

Are you ever just like, What the actual F*CK, John Winchester?

This is literally Dean’s worst nightmare - having to choose between duty and family. Sam understandably doesn’t take this well to start with, but like in “Croatoan”, he ultimately settles into the idea, which is...deeply upsetting??? 

“Hunted” does a lot of fun things - 

Number 1: We get more of the Psychic Children (because I REFUSE to call them the Special Children, sorrynotsorry). We see that there’s a range of Types, from Scott who definitely looks like a serial killer to Ava, who ultimately goes on to be the headmistress at a secret magic university (OMG, DO watch The Order cuz that shiz is GOLD.)

Seriously, if you liked Supernatural, you will like this show. 

Number 2: We get the return of Gordon, this time as a head-on antagonist. Do I like Gordon? No, I find him frustrating at best. But do I LOVE Gordon as an antagonist? Absolutely! He is smart, capable, and (at this point) wholly non-supernatural, Natural, if you will. He’s such a good foil to Sam and Dean and he’s the perfect villain for this moment. He sees the world in only black and white. To him, there’s no moral dilemma as to whether or not the Psychic Children are good or bad - they’re definitely bad and he’s here to stop/kill them. I think he’s an important catalyst for Dean too, since in both of Gordon’s episodes, Dean sees what he could be if it wasn’t for Sam’s influence. He doesn’t want to be like Gordon, so he needs to keep Sam around.

Number 3: Alright, this one isn’t so fun just cuz the final scene is a little sloppy, but Ava turns out to be a good catalyst for Sam. When Ava shows up on screen, she is clearly on Team Cool Kid. She’s totally normal, very Apple Pie, but she shows up to try and save Sam’s life simply because it’s a life that she can (hypothetically) save. She knows nothing about demons or curses or Chosen Ones, she just had a weird dream that gave her a weird feeling and then she acted on out of the goodness of her heart. It’s exactly what Sam does when his dreams kick it into high gear in season 1 (with mixed results). Sam hangs out with Ava, gets to know her, gives her the whole Truth is Out There speech and when she leaves, I actually really appreciate this character. She’s had a wild ride of a day and she is just taking this whole thing totally in stride. Good on you, Ava! 

Except, when we get to the end of the episode and Sam tries to check in on her, we find her fiancé with his throat cut, sulfur on the window sill, and Ava nowhere to be seen. Now I don’t remember what I thought the first time I saw this episode, but I don’t believe that Ava killedher fiancé. The show really seems to want me to believe that she killed her fiancé, though, indicating that no matter how cool she was at the beginning of the episode, it’s only a matter of time before all the Psychic Children “go darkside”, as Sam so strangely puts it. 

Anyone else this this was a weird line? I thought this was a weird line. 

And this is what pushes Sam’s arc through the rest of the season. Our next episode is “Playthings,” which feels like a monster-of-the-week episode where they squeeze in some unrelated emotional drama. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun episode, but SPN is usually better about tying their MotW eps into the emotional character arcs and this one is not as finessed. There’s a little more disconnect here. The important takeaway from “Playthings” is this: seeing Ava “kill” her fiancé convinces Sam that his father was right. Sam may need to be put down, and if that happens, he wants Dean to be the one to do it. Dean agrees, but we all know that he’s doing that just to appease Sam and that he’s still gonna do whatever it takes to save Sam, no matter the cost. Nothing gets resolved and this will definitely come back later. 

I mean, yeah that’s probably true.

Some things - 

First off: Sam seems to be perfectly OK with this and that...is not OK. 

Secondly, SAM?!? WHY would you put that on your brother?? 

Thirdly, DEAN! Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep. 

FINALLY, and maybe most importantly, this is the best example I can think of to showcase a character’s greatest strength also being their greatest weakness. The Winchesters are about two things - fighting evil and taking care of family. Done in equal measure, these strengths make them heroic tropes. Taken to extreme situations? Well, now you have two humans wide open to failing at one of these things so bad that the apocalypse literally starts.

What these three episodes remind us, honestly what this whole season so far reminds us, is that Supernatural works because of relationships. The monsters and the mythology and the classic rock are there as a fun framework to get us interested in the show, but it’s the characters that keep us. That’s what viewers connect to. I really appreciate the arguments that Sam and Dean have with each other, starting at the end of season one and up until now in season 2. They feel very deeply rooted in character, not contrived for the sake of Drama. Neither of them is wrong, per se, but then neither of them is right, either. Their emotional backgrounds feel complex and grounded, foundations for real characters, not just the caricatures that you’d expect from a show about ghosts on a network aimed at the 18 - 24 demographic. 

See, THIS is the sort of fight you’d expect, not a fight where one brother is begging the other to literally kill him. 

And this is gonna be the hill that I’ll die on - characters and relationships are always the heart of any successful franchise. I mean, why else are there so many shipping wars out there? Why write fic if it isn’t to explore relationships and aspects of a character that the show doesn’t present? Sure it’s not the only reason to write fic, but I’d argue it’s a BIG reason. 

Because it’s not just the characters building relationships with each other, it's the audience building relationships with those characters (and to a lesser extent, with the world of the story). This is the core of any show that hopes to make it past season one and beyond, no matter the decade, the network, or the platform it airs on. We like stories about people with problems we can relate to. Dysfunctional family trouble? Check. Drama at work? Been there. Feeling like the world’s about to end any second? Oh yes. You can feel those problems deep down in your gut, even if the specifics are different. It doesn’t matter if those people are working in an office or a hospital or hunting down demons in the dead of night. If you can show us people, real people with something we can relate to on a gut level, that’s how you stay on the air for 15 seasons.