#even the smallest amount WILL change your dna

[florvinhara]

felt it ripping me apart (part 1)

summary: kira deals with the aftermath of turning

warnings for heavy angst !!!

word count: 2.2k

read on ao3 or below the cut:

Kira wakes from a nebulous, pained darkness to the memory of a familiar voice- beloved, broken- calling her name. 

At first, she wonders if she’s hungover; the lights are dimmed but too bright, and she feels sick with a hollow emptiness that tangles her stomach into knots. She sits up with a groan, and scrubs at her face with her hands until flashes of recollection start to surface from the depths of her foggy mind. They are more sensation than anything else, brief impressions of moments in time. Blood. Please. Pain. I’m sorry. Cold. Stay with me.

Blood… no, she is decidedly not hungover. She had woken up before, she recalls, feeling stiff and strange all over, and upon trying to stand up had been overcome with a tidal wave of nauseated exhaustion so strong she’d had to sit hunched on the edge of the bed holding her swimming head between her knees until she’d stopped feeling like she might pass out. Her second attempt had not been much more successful, and she had resigned herself to laying back and irritably shoving at the scratchy sheets until someone came to explain why she was once again in the Agency’s medical wing.

She had remained entirely silent while Elidor gently explained what had happened, pushing aside complicated swirls of emotion and focusing only on the concrete facts, of which there were three. In order, she’s been going through them again and again, turning them over in her mind like puzzle pieces which don’t quite fit into the rest of the picture.

One- she had been mortally wounded.

Two- they’d turned her; there had been no other option to save her life. Which means that:

Three: she is not going to die. Not now, perhaps not ever.

It’s a short list, but she repeats it religiously- one, two three, one, two three- because otherwise, her mind will start wandering. The trek from these simple isolated truths to their messier implications is a short one she can’t stand to make. Will she have to leave Wayhaven? It had been in her plans, eventually, but there’s a difference between moving and having to slowly disentangle yourself entirely from human society as an unforgivable amount of time passes you by untouched.

More pressing, how will she leave this hospital room? Because beyond this controlled environment, with its drawn shades and soundproofed walls, is a noisy, chaotic world that had already at times overwhelmed her until she couldn’t breathe.

And there is one more concern; she has pointedly not allowed her train of thought to drift in that particular direction, but the seed of fearful doubt is rapidly taking root in the back of her mind anyway, snarling around her spine and curling purposefully at her throat. After all, it is one terrifying thing to love someone knowing that your lives run on different tracks, that you must fit the vast expanses of your devotion into the span of 60 or so years. To promise your eternity to another person is another animal altogether, and she cannot ask Nate to give her that- it is a gift she doesn’t deserve, and why would he want to offer it anyway? She knows how much he misses humanity, seeks out the echoes of it wherever he can- without hers, will he recognize her, or just see the chasm where that mortal part of her used to be?

It doesn’t bear thinking about for long, the inevitable, and so she pulls her focus back to the safety of the past, the proven. She’s managed to delay whatever is going to come next so far, having asked Elidor for some time alone to rest. It had been a flimsy excuse, but he had kindly pretended to believe it and let her be, staring blankly at the wall and mentally reciting the concise points that comprised her list until sleep had claimed her.

Perhaps it had helped after all; she still feels hollowed out and numb, but the sickly dizziness is gone and the lights above her no longer leave sharp, star-like patterns in the backs of her eyes. The signs are promising enough that she decides to try standing again, shoving the blankets off and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. This time, she does manage it, though she immediately stumbles upon making contact with the ground as a strange, shaky sensation skitters up her calves, pins and needles pressing against the soles of her feet and making her wobble like a newborn foal. She grabs at the pole where an IV bag would usually be hanging for support, wincing at the bright spark of unexpected chill where her hands make contact.

Did this get shorter? she thinks distantly, and then remembers that the pole isn’t shorter, she’s just taller now, and she wonders if that means she’ll have to buy new clothes. Which is just so stupid, so ridiculously not important a detail in the grand scheme of things, the fact that her mind jumped there first makes a laugh just left of hysterical fizzle in her throat, and it is so profoundly unlike her that it makes her feel sick. She stumbles to the adjoined washroom as she feels her chest constrict painfully in feverish panic, dragging the IV pole behind her half for balance and half for comfort, and leans over the sink, gasping for breath, until her heart stops beating against her ribs like a caged animal and she can inhale without the air stabbing knife-like at her lungs.

Slowly but surely, her breathing evens out, and she glances up at her reflection in the mirror- then freezes.

The differences are slight, so much so that at first she thinks it must be a trick of the light, but the more she casts her gaze over the face reflected back at her, the more she is sure it cannot be hers. Or, more accurately, it is hers in the way that an old picture is one’s self- similar enough to recognize but changed enough to be almost another person entirely.

It looks as though she has never lived in this body, never tested its limits by climbing that one unsteady tree branch and knocking a deep, jagged scar into her forehead for her trouble. Never pierced her own ears with a needle and ice cube in a misguided attempt at rebellion. Never stayed up through the night and marked the sleepless hours by the dark circles under her eyes. She grips the sink as she searches for familiarity in the reflection before her; the porcelain crumbles like sand beneath her shaking fingers, and this too is hideously unrecognizable, the strength and the unintentional destruction it can bring, the need to exist cautiously.

The more she looks, the more untethered from herself she feels, unmade and reformed by an architect with little regard for detail, the outline and not the shape itself. And she supposes she has been, in a way- she remembers, if nothing else, the searing agony as her bones had separated and knit themselves back together. It shouldn’t be real, it shouldn’t be possible for these traces of her life, the storms she has weathered and the consequences of her recklessness, to be wiped from her body as if they had never existed. A map unmade. A history forgotten. Even the scar she’d gotten from Murphy is vanished, a feat not accomplished even by the Agency’s healing magic. And for some reason it is this, the absence of a scar she never wanted, that finally breaks her as she sinks to the floor with a dark dismay rising in her throat like bile.

---

The linoleum floor is cold against her shins, but she welcomes the bracing shock it gives her, focuses intently on the sensation of it pressing on her legs as another swell of dread threatens to drown her. Her hands find each other, twisting anxiously until she realizes she does not recognize them either; the familiar divots of old scars and callouses are gone, as are the crooked slant where she had broken her fingers. Frantically, she wrenches them apart, despising their unfamiliarity.

Enough of this, she reprimands herself sternly, one clear thought in a swirling sea-storm of panic and confusion and what-ifs. She latches onto it desperately, presses her hands, still fluttering nervously as they seek out the comfort of a repetitive motion, flat against the cold floor and thinks it over and over again- enough, enough, enough- until the word has lost its meaning and she feels somewhat calmer again.

Her mind is still spinning in anxious circles, tying itself in knots the more she thinks. There’s only one surefire solution she knows of to ease the worried maelstrom; it’s time to remove herself from the equation, consider this from a more scientific standpoint. This doesn’t have to destroy her. Or maybe it does- after all, creation is a promise of violence, in and of itself born from destruction. Cells beget new cells by ripping themselves in two; the body is constantly sloughing off parts of itself which have outlived their usefulness. And this must still be true, even though so much is different, because stasis is death to the thousands of systems constantly at work to keep someone operating. Maybe there is some comfort there, then, that even though she cannot see it, at the smallest level, the familiar processes are continuing.

She imagines she can hear them now, blood rushing from her heart to deliver oxygen to the rest of her body, cells splitting apart and bursting as they die only to be replaced instantly, even her DNA unwinding and reforming as it encodes new strands of her genetic information. How much of it changed along with her- which genes were snipped out of existence and remade in a different, ‘better’ image?

Damn. Not even two minutes later and she’s already cycled back to her horror at the transformation, visible and invisible- perhaps this won’t destroy her after all, she’ll just do it herself fixating on the sharp, shattered pieces of the dissonance between the self she recognizes and the one she sees reflected in the mirror.

A worried voice cuts through the thick miasma of dismay choking her like poison- Elidor, knocking at the door and asking if she’s alright. Is she? No, she thinks, even as she calls out, “Yeah, just a minute,” and feels so much sudden relief to hear her voice, unchanged, that she nearly blacks out. Slowly, and with much aid from the IV pole, she pulls herself to her feet and chances another glance at the mirror. Immediately, she feels an overwhelming urge to punch it, to shatter the glass until her reflection is torn apart by the spiderwebbing shards, but she shoves it down forcefully, searches for resolve in the eyes looking back at her. She finds nothing there, but knows Elidor is waiting outside and opens the door, resigned.

“I was wondering where that pole had run off to,” he says with a teasing smile that falters the moment they make eye contact. Well, that was a short-lived act. “Kira, what’s wrong?”

Nothing that can be fixed, nothing that she doesn’t just have to get over and deal with. She starts to tell him as much, but her throat is so tight that her voice grates painfully as she speaks and she gives up halfway through the sentence, ending with a dismissive wave that falls too far flat of insouciant to be convincing.

Elidor’s brow furrows in concern. “I’ll get the rest of the team, and-”

“No!” she cuts in, flinging a hand out to stop him. If there’s one thing she’s absolutely sure of, it’s that she cannot be around them right now, can’t let them see that she can’t handle this, can’t deal with their thoughts or feelings or opinions when her own are still such a confused mess. And she especially cannot see Nate, not when she knows what’s going to happen; of course, he is going to be perfectly kind, even as he tells her this can’t work, she’s too different now that she is divorced from her humanity, he had never intended for this relationship to last centuries.

His gentleness will cut deeper than the words themselves, and if she could, she would do it herself, end it for him quickly and impersonally so she can spare them both the pain. But she is too unmoored right now, too frustratingly unsure of herself, to face a reality that has fundamentally shifted. “No, please, just- can you tell them I’m not awake yet? Or- just, anything?” Some small, unchanged part of her mind rebels violently at that, hates her for the cowardice, but it is too easily drowned out by the tumult of dazed doubts and worries shadowing her to be heard.

It takes about ten minutes of pleading for Elidor to uneasily agree to give her more time; eventually, he concedes, and leaves the room with a concerned glance over his shoulder. The door closes behind him, and she lets herself sink to the ground once more, curled over like she could belatedly shield herself from the injury which necessitated all this, until she drags herself back into the bed and seeks relief in unconsciousness.

[spideywars]

tell me the world’s alright

chapter one; new shapes 

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader 

a/n: I’m so excited to share this!! More chapters to come :)

words: 5.8k 

warnings: swearing 

summary: 

After the blip and when everyone including you disappeared, you realized that things weren’t really as safe as you thought. Even under your father’s iron wing, you knew the world was going to be a very dangerous place.

-

The web fluid bubbled from the heat as you squinted down at the suit in front of you. The wires were so small and delicate you had to have stupid magnifying eye-glasses on that were heavy along the bridge of your nose. It caused your gloved finger to flick at the frame to push it back up because of how much it slid down.

“Come on,” you mumbled. Your lip was raw from biting it so much, your muscles were sore, but you were so close you could see the finish line. This was something that not even your father was able to do, with constant trial-runs and annoying training sessions that end in failures. But the answer hits you at the strangest times.

In particular, this time it was when you were eating dinner. Pepper and Tony were sat between you arguing as you sat at the end of the unnecessarily large dining room table. You picked at the last of your roasted red peppers, and just one flick of your wrist and a glance down at one pepper slipping off the plate and landing on the table, it came to you.

So now you’re here, and you won’t let either of your parents into the room. Pepper is more worried, her knocking becoming so frantic you had to yell at her to back off. You’re in a zone, another world where finally, finally you can get Peter the suit that he needs to survive anything that comes his way.

It’s one spark from the wire as you connect it to your new design when the suit came to life in color. It illuminated the room, his spider symbol in the middle shining onto the ceiling. It was brighter, everything was, something that reminded you of Black Panther’s suit, but minus the vibranium.

“Oh my god.” You had to chuckle at yourself, hands throwing the magnifying glasses onto the lab table and pushing your stool away so you could stand back and stare at your invention.

Peter can now heal ten times faster, you’ve managed to mix his DNA in with the suit to cause triple the amount of cell healing. A bullet is just a scratch, a machine gun is a bruise. Everything that can kill a human being in one go will be nothing to him.

“Y/N” It’s Tony this time, probably being forced by your mother to do the parenting now. But you’re smiling ear to ear, eyes watering with joy as you witness the thing you’ve been struggling with for months since the blip.

“Listen kid your mom is raging at me right now cause of you and I’d appreciate if you’d come out and give her some reassurance you’re all good.” You blink slowly out of your daze, now moving towards the suit again to power it off and place it on the charger.

“And uhm, if you don’t come out soon I’m blasting my way in and I’m taking the damage costs out of your bank account.”

You giggle at that, quickly fixing up the suit and cleaning up the area before rushing towards the laboratory door and unlocking it. You open it to see Tony leaning against the door frame, one of his brows immediately raising at your lab coat and gloves.

“What’s up, Einstein?” His question makes you roll your eyes, and you don’t say a word to him as you maneuver around his body to get upstairs. He’s hot on your heals though. You can just feel the irritation radiating off him.

“I don’t really appreciate the silence after you’ve just come out of my laboratory looking like you’ve just cured cancer. Mind sharing with the man paying for your equipment?” He’s on thin ice, and Tony knows how to pick and prod at your emotions until you spill the beans. But you feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now. You don’t really know what to say, who to tell.

Well, you know exactly who you’re going to tell. But that person isn’t present at the moment. He’s probably studying for a biology quiz or swinging across the city.

“I-I just need time to think.” You say without faltering your steps up the stairs and towards the kitchen where you see your mother gathering dishes and placing them in the dishwasher.

“That’s great, wonderful.” The sarcasm is dripping from your father’s mouth, but that’s the usual. You ignore it easily, moving towards the trash can near the dishwasher to throw your gloves inside just so Pepper can see you have finally exited your little cave.

“Jesus, finally.” Pepper breaths out as she drops one of the plates a little too roughly into the wrack before maneuvering around it to give you a hug. It’s a short pulse before she’s putting you at arm’s length to give you that disturbing stare where she looks inside you and at your soul. It makes you shiver, and you prepare for what’s bound to happen next.

“You scared me by just getting up and leaving like that. Especially going downstairs to lock yourself in that lab.” She shakes you a bit, and you place your hands onto her own that are squeezing at your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“It better not be anything to do with Parker and that damn suit. I told you I would handle that.” Tony cuts you off, and that throws you off completely. Well, not completely. You know your father doesn’t like you involved with his…other work. But Peter was your best friend and someone that you couldn’t risk losing.

After the blip and when everyone including you disappeared, you realized that things weren’t really as safe as you thought. Even under your father’s iron wing, you knew the world was going to be a very dangerous place.

You needed to step in.

“Dad, you know I can’t just back off from this…” You glare at him over Pepper’s shoulder. He glared back with just as much force.

“It’s easy, especially when you have school and work and friends to hang out with. You have something called a life and this,” he motions with his hands towards you and your lab coat, “is not your life.”

That makes your jaw clench. He doesn’t really have the right to own your life. But apparently, since he owns basically everything in the world, he’s entitled to own you too.

“God, I’m not one of your toys. You can’t just program me to do what you want, not this time.” You throw your hands in the air and shift out of your mother’s hold. Pepper looks upset, torn between the fight with her brows furrowed and lips tight.

“Oh don’t bring out the ownership card again Y/N Stark. You know the only reason I’m doing this is to-”

“Protect me!” You yell, stopping your stomp out of the kitchen to twirl around and point an accusing finger right at your father’s reactor. He blinks at you, surprised but still showing the sparks of anger flowing through him.

You don’t allow him to speak again. You’re grabbing your coat and shuffling on your shoes before he can even blurt out another snarky remark.

“Y/N,” it’s Pepper this time, eyes wide and concerned as she rushes into the front hallway where you stood with the front door slightly ajar. You halt in the middle of your exit to stare back at her, listening.

“If you’re going to him, please, just be careful. Call me.”

That’s enough to make you nod with the smallest smile before you slip out and slam the door behind you.

-

You could’ve taken the car to Peter’s house. But grabbing the keys would’ve started another argument on top of the one you and your father were already having, so you settled for the bus pass you had still stuffed in the pocket of your coat.

It was nice for a change too, to see the world around you without focusing on the road and bad drivers. Everything kind of passed by you in a blur, and now you can sit with your forehead smooshed against the glass of the bus as you travel to the apartment you know all too well.

The next stop echoes throughout the speakers in the almost empty bus. You gather yourself up to walk towards the door. The driver waves his hand as a goodbye before you step off into the night once again, but this time in front of your best friend’s apartment.

It’s dark and gloomy with the constant police sirens blaring in the distance. You always blink up at the night sky, just to see if you could catch the blur of a red and blue suit or the remnants of webs along the building walls. Nothing tonight, maybe he was too caught up on homework.

It’s only five long strides before you’re inside the building. You hated the look of it every time, but it was almost soothing. A home away from home. It was a breath of fresh air from the million-dollar technology and new-world atmosphere that you were surrounded by because of your father. This reminded you of reality, a normal person’s life.

Maybe May would be home, she should be with how late it is. But she works late a lot and sometimes spends…quality time with Happy at his house.

You don’t judge, Happy deserves a beautiful and kind person like her.

The elevator dings as it opens and you make your way inside, the world being pressed on fast forward as you zone out. When you have to lift your hand to knock on the door you feel yourself coming back down to Earth.

You hear footsteps, and now May is opening the door in Spider-Man pj’s. Of course.

She looked annoyed, but it quickly turned into the softest smile as she looked you in the eyes. It’s not rare for you to come at this time of night, and all she does is nod her head into the direction of the man you’re looking for.

“Guess you can’t climb up the side of the building and into Peter’s room, can you?” She makes that joke almost every time, and, of course, you laugh at it no matter how many times you hear it. Your giggles make her smile grow a little wider, and the two wrinkles at the sides of her eyes turn to four with happiness.

“Peter wouldn’t mind me as his sidekick.” You joke, waiting for her to open the door wider and do her little nod. She does it almost on queue, and you smile before giving her a side-hug and a wet smooch on the cheek.

As you make your way towards the bedroom door with a chemistry poster taped onto the front of it, you can see the glooming light of his iron spider suit charging on its dock. You remembered watching your father make that, having a laugh when it malfunctioned and made the little arms come retracting out from the back of it to strike the tables, denting them and making Pepper severely annoyed.

It was such good times, such good inventions. But those were all the memories made by Tony. Why couldn’t you be the next Tony Stark?

“Peter?” You knock lightly, grabbing at the knob and pushing it slightly until you were looking into your friend’s room. It was clean, usually that way because of how much of a nerd Peter was about cleanliness, but you could still see the walls covered in trails of newspapers and red strings, photographs of missing people and all-too-familiar evil faces. It was a neat mess, and that’s the best way you could describe it.

Peter was sat at his desk, and he whipped around in the office chair. He smiled, that same soft smile May gave you, always welcoming. There is pen and highlighter ink all over his wrists and hands, and you sneak a look to see that you were very correct. Biology quiz and he’s apparently on question ten.

“Seem’s like you’ve been busy. Set the suit aside for the night?” Peter chuckled at your observation, his eyes flickering to his closet where his other suit was hung neatly on its own special hanger. Curtesy of May.

“May saw my marks last term, she would kill me if I didn’t pass this year. I don’t need to be pushed back another year, the blip already did that for me.” He scratched at his head, which he always did when he was nervous. He never fails to do it around you, you’ve noticed.

“You seem to forget you’re not the only hero in the world, I’m sure Queen’s can handle a night without The Spider crawling around.” He rolls his eyes at the nickname, moving to return to his work that you know he won’t do while you’re around. He just taps the end of his pen on his notebook, chewing on his lip and staring up at his collection of newspapers.

But he seems to freeze, the pen being settled down onto his desk as he slowly turns himself back around. This time he’s in hero mode, you can tell by the glisten in his eyes, the purse of his lips and the shadow that seems to cast across his face.

God, you pay way too much attention to this boy.

“What’s wrong?” He raises a brow, brown eyes scanning the lab coat you know he notices.

You laugh almost too loudly at his concerns. How could you have thought the best way to run from your problems was to run right into a man with a spidey sense?

Your eyes meet the ceiling, trying to think of what to say. No lies will work, and beating around the bush won’t work either. You are trapped in the webs of Spider-Man once again, and all you can do is stare right back into his eyes and tell him the truth.

“I did it.” You say bluntly, shoulders dropping as if you released ten pounds off your shoulders. He looks just as more confused, now leaning his elbows onto his knees to stare into your eyes, even deeper than before. It sends shivers down your spine, but you continue.

“You know how we wanted to figure out how to heal you faster? Like you had bulletproof skin? Well, I figured out how to connect your DNA cells with the suit…they are completely compatible and I scanned everything, checked my blueprints, did tests on the suit and…Pete, I think I did it.”

Your smile is wide, hands high in the air and body feeling like it’s on cloud nine. But your mood drops drastically, just like at your house, when you see Peter’s face fall and eyes sadden.

“What?” Your tone is snippy, but you’re tired. You thought out of everyone, Peter would be by your side in this. That’s why you came here in the first place, to feel like you actually succeeded.

But Tony has a tight grip on Spider-Man and has been warning Peter about your plans. That can be the only explanation with your friend’s reaction.

Your blood boils.

“Y/N this is dangerous stuff you’re getting yourself into…” before Peter even finished his sentence you were standing up and shaking your head, a loud and frustrated huff passing your lips.

“You seem to forget my own father is Tony Stark aka Iron Man, one of the leaders of The Avengers who has created the most dangerous and successful high-tech weaponry for the United States.” You turn sharply on your heals to glare at your friend, but Peter doesn’t look fazed at all.

But he also isn’t looking at you, his eyes staring down at the ground so deeply it’s almost like he could break the floorboards with the gaze alone.

“Which means he has his enemies. Probably more than any of The Avengers combined.” Peter stands up, and he’s towering over you, finally meeting your eyes. They aren’t angry, but more sympathetic.

But the last thing you need is sympathy right now.

“I did this for you.” You growl out, pointing your finger into his chest, rough enough to push him back the slightest bit. It’s funny because you knew that would’ve done nothing to him, but Peter Parker has his guard down completely with you.

He’s not looking at you again and it looks like he is fighting something. A battle is going down in his mind, and you can only imagine what Tony said to him to make him feel like this.

And you didn’t think you could get any angrier at your father.

“What did he say to you?” Your voice is wobbly now. You can feel the tough-girl shield you had surrounded yourself in flicker away and weaken. You’ve been able to hold it all in for a year now, but your weakness is standing right in front of you.

“I-”

“What did he say to you, Pete?” You cut him off, voice growing louder. You know May is bound to hear you both soon and that’s going to be another mess in itself. She’ll probably sit you both down on the sofa to ‘talk it out.’ Oh god, she may even call Happy.

“He said enough to make me worried about your safety, Y/N. If you dive too deep into my life you’re gonna get hurt and everything is still on high alert after Thanos.”

“Which is a perfectly good reason to have this suit!” You retaliate. You try to keep your voice quiet, keeping an eye on the bottom of the door to watch for the shadow of May’s footsteps.

“They’re gonna find out how much you’re doing for weaponry, what you’re inventing for Tony and being in his place.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him to stare out his bedroom window, glaring down at the city below. He keeps talking.

“They know he’s your weakness, they know you’re my friend. God, you’re lucky people haven’t kidnapped you simply because you’re Tony Stark’s daughter. But now you’re not only that but an inventor of something that could heal people?”

You feel his presence grow closer behind you, and now his face is in the reflection of the window, still sympathetic.

“It can’t heal everyone, I haven’t gotten that far yet.” You mumble under your breath, meeting his eyes through the glass.

“And you won’t.” He replies, and that’s where the conversation ends for you. Peter has picked his side, and that’s all the information you need.

He won’t just let you leave though, and you know this as you take your first step towards his bedroom door. His body steps in front of you, hands coming out to lightly touch your upper arms. You shake him off, shoving past him and stomping your way to the door.

“Y/N.” He huffs out, and you flinch when a web shoots out and sticks to the doorknob before you can grab at it. The door won’t budge, you know how strong that web formula is.

“Don’t leave like this.” You’ve never heard Peter’s voice sound so small before, like a kicked puppy that’s whimpering behind you. You refuse to turn around though, knowing how easily you will cave in if you look into his eyes. You’re a stubborn girl. Pepper said its genetics that made you this solid with your decisions.

“I just want support. You’ve always been on my side through everything.” Your bottom lip wobbles, threatening your walls to break. You start to scan your surroundings, there has to be something in here that can unstick his webs.

“I know you don’t see it, but this is still me being on your side.” He sighs loudly, and you can just tell he’s scratching at his head again. “I just want you alive. You know how close of a call it was with your dad…how much it crushed us all while he was recovering. We can’t go through this again.”

You close your eyes tightly, flashbacks rotating rapidly throughout your mind. So fast as if the damns broke. There are memories of Tony laid out on the special hospital bed in the room made into your house. Half his body being nothing but burns and dead muscle. The way he looked into your eyes and told you this may be it, that you need to take care of Peter and Pepper. The way you sobbed, how hard you cried into Peter’s arms. The way you came back to a ruined world, five years went by and no memory of it.

“You won’t.” That’s all you could say, and you knew if you said anything more you would crumble. You promised yourself you wouldn’t let Peter see you like that again, so vulnerable.

“… at least let me swing you home.” Peter was now beside you, forcing you to look at him. You just knew he could feel your pain, no matter how many concrete walls you built around yourself. You liked to think you were invincible at least.

“I need time to-”

“Y/N.” He interrupts, and you could feel your last shield throwing itself down. Nothing was left between him and your heart.

You nodded silently, allowing him to shuffle on his suit and hoist you up onto his back. You had to admit, you really did like when he took you on swings around the city. Of course, you weren’t scared of heights, you kind of weren’t allowed to since your father went on so many private planes and took you and Pepper on so many vacations. This was just another exhilarating adventure high in the sky, but with just a little more of a breeze on your cheeks.

- 

He lands on your balcony perfectly, having done it many times before. You can tell your cheeks are red from the cold, and they feel numb as you climb off Peter’s spandex-covered back. You don’t say anything, awkwardly opening your room and clicking on the lights.

He’s still there, mask still on as he stands on the balcony right outside your doors as if he wasn’t allowed in. It almost made you laugh, but you remind yourself you’re mad at him.

You can’t help but give him the smallest smile, gesturing to let him know that he’s allowed to come inside. You can’t help but want to challenge yourself, maybe you could get him to rethink his place in all this, maybe even get him to try on the suit and do a test.

He steps in and waits for you to turn on the darkened setting on the windows from your tablet. He takes off his mask with a huff, hair tangled as usual but easily fixed with a soft swipe of his hand through it.

There’s an awkward silence filled with tension, and you hate it more than anything.

“You know, the suit feels less suffocating now that I’ve gathered lighter materials and technology to fit into it.” You throw him a bone, giving him a sly smile from where you’re hiding behind your tablet as you pretend to search for something.

He just blinks at you, not impressed.

Strike one, but you keep trying.

“It’s got about a hundred new web-shooters compared to the last one.” You set the tablet down, staring at him with wide eyes as if they would hypnotize him and change his mind.

His eyes widen about, but he shakes his head with a huff.

“On top of the already 500 web-shooters stored in there? My head is gonna explode.” That makes you laugh, your body rocking over until you’re kneeling on top of your bed. You crawl towards him and swipe the mask from his hands, running your fingers across the stretchy material and bumps from the web-like stitches.

“You’ve got way better senses than any average human, you can handle a thousand and probably more, but I can’t make up that much different designs yet.” You thumb at the eyes, staring into the plastic eyes.

“I should probably get going, Y/N. Cause, you know, the biology quiz.” He points a thumb behind him towards the balcony, and that’s strike two.

You don’t have much time left, and all you can do now is hold as tightly onto his mask as possible and bolt up from your bed.

“What-what are you doing?” He snorts out a loud laugh when you dangle the mask in front of you from the other side of the room. It is funny to him to see an intelligent being like you thinking they can beat a superhero like him.

“Come on, I need to go. It’s on you if I fail.” He walks forward, one hand coming up to whip out and grab his mask. But he’s not trying, and you easily slip past him and run towards your balcony. You close the doors in front of you, now standing outside and allowing the breeze to coldly cover your body.

You can hear Peter jog over and see his gloved hands touch the glass. The windows are still darkened from the setting you put it on, and all you make out is his silhouette.

“Try the suit on.” You say, loud enough for him to hear from the crack in between the doors. You hold the mask tighter, arms wrapping around it and hugging it into your chest. This is strike three, and you just want him to move past those Tony Stark obstacles in his mind and realize everything is going to be okay.

The doorknob wiggles, then slowly opened until you’re face to face with him. Peter’s eyes soft-always soft-as he looks into your eyes.

“Okay.” He says, and he looks caved-in with weakness. All the energy is taken out of him, surrendering the battle inside his brain. He knows nothing is going to hurt him, that you’re here to help him navigate through this world full of loss.

That makes you smile, your arms coming out to pull Peter in for a quick and tight hug before you grab his hand and rush towards your bedroom door. He shoots a web out to your balcony doors, closing them shut behind you both so unwanted visitors don’t come in. You thank him in your head since there was no time to waste.

Tony and Pepper were still home, but lights were dim and the house was silent. They were either in bed, the living room, or garage. For Tony, the garage sounded more like him. Which made things slightly easier and less worrying if you made some noise.

But now it was the task of getting through Tony’s security and the many cameras and scanners he had littered around your house. The man was paranoid and had every right to be.

Luckily, you were Tony Stark’s daughter, and just as smart and ready for a challenge as him. Plus, if you knew how to make a super healing suit, you definitely knew how to disable a silly little security system.

“You know stealth mode, use it.” You whisper behind him, and Peter rolls his eyes, reluctantly following behind you. He’s like a feather, and it’s really only yourself that you hear with your shoes still on your feet, trying to avoid every loose floorboard and squeak of the bottom of your shoes.

You both make it down the stairs and snake your way through the hallways. You can hear the tv faintly from the living room, some cooking show being played. Pepper, of course.

The basement door is in view, and you take a long stride to the door, hand slowly moving to type in the disabled code to the basement before you rush inside, keeping the door open to let Peter in before you close it behind you both.

You use the second security system inside to lock it behind you, and now you can breathe.

Peter only laughs, but its a nervous one as he descends the stairs in pitch darkness. You don’t worry too much, you know he can see way better than you can.

One last double check is made on the security system before you turn on the lights, allowing the laboratory to be illuminated. You have to squint your eyes at first, adjusting to the light before they land on Peter who is now standing in front of your invention and his newest suit.

He looks in shock, and you quickly rush down the stairs in excitement.

“Thoughts?” You gush out as you gather things for the test, grabbing at a remote and letting glass separating another room from you both open up.

You don’t receive an answer, but you instead sneer at Peter’s wide eyes and open mouth, a hand slowly moving towards the suit as if it was going to come out and bite him. When he did make contact with it, his fingers caressed the material, smoothing down the slight wrinkles in the fabric as he ran them down the chest and arms.

“Try it on.” You say, not caring that your friend was speechless. It was more a compliment towards you and your hard work. You basked in the pride that bulbed up in your body. You needed this.

“I-” He cut himself off, stepping back from the suit and finally meeting your eyes. That battle wasn’t totally over like you thought, and Peter’s eyes flickered nervously around the room.

“Please.” You don’t let him think, quickly grabbing the suit off the charger to throw into his arms. He seemed surprised by the lightness of it and gave it one last look, hesitating, but he was already walking towards the corner of the room.

You knew the drill, so you turned around to give him a small bit of privacy. You needed to set up some sensors and other equipment anyways.

There weren’t any doubts in your mind that this test-run wouldn’t work, from the way everything was compatible and successful with the data you collected and the tech tests you did on your own, you felt confident that this was going to be a breakthrough in your life, and obviously Peter’s.

“Where do you want me?” Peter asked, moving towards the room that was now accessible.

You couldn’t help but stare, almost tearing up with how good the suit looked. It wasn’t too different. It had the same fitted frame, red and blue and the smallest bit of blue embedded into the web design. His eyes were mechanical and had motion sensors just like the one he has now. So very similar, but so very different and the bad guys won’t even see it coming.

“Just over there. There should be an ‘X’ on the floor that I’ve taped down.” You point to where you need him, and he quickly steps towards it and stands where you asked. He’s fidgeting and not able to stay still, his knees bopping around and feet shifting. Still so on-edge.

You feel bad, and it doesn’t really calm him down when you start hooking him up to machines and typing away on computers nearby. His spider eyes never leave your form, always observing as you do your finishing touches. You need to move faster than you would like to, but this doesn’t have to be the last test-run.

“Alright, this is just going to be quick, something small that doesn’t freak you out too much.” You move back to the other room, grabbing at a knife from one of the drawers in the lab tables. Peter stiffens, and you can’t help but snort.

“Woah there,” Peter takes the smallest step back, making some of the sensors get caught off guard by his sudden movements. You don’t worry too much about that, they’ll regenerate themselves.

“I’m not gonna stab your heart out, Parker, just give me your hand.” You’re stood in front of him, making sure he is back on top of the 'X’ on the floor before you take his hand in yours. The fabric of the suit is cool to the touch, and his hands twitch in your palm, awaiting whatever comes next.

It’s funny, this boy has had bombs thrown at him, machine guns attempt to shred him apart, and too many close calls with alien devices no one can even identify…but he is still scared of his best friend holding a knife in front of him.

Your hand tightens around the handle, and quickly, before there is too much thinking again, your hand swipe’s down, cutting a thick stripe down his palm.

You both would’ve missed it if you were looking away for just a couple of seconds. Because before you even took the blade off Peter’s skin, it was healing, and by the time you had your hand to the floor, nothing was there. The suit wasn’t even ripped, the cells inside it multiplying and reconstructing themselves until nothing was ever done in the first place.

“Holy shit,” Peter speaks. His voice is wobbly, spider eyes shrinking and widening rapidly as he examines his hand. He balls it up into a fist, shakes it out, and you can tell he doesn’t feel any pain.

“What did it feel like?” You ask anyways, spinning on your heals and rushing towards the equipment to save the data for later. You take a quick glance at each one, and smile at the green word spelling 'success’ displayed on each one.

“It felt like…nothing…maybe a pinch?” Peter takes off the mask, still glaring at his hand in shock.

“That’s good. That’s really good.” You’re smiling from ear to ear, now standing in front of him again. It’s strange how fast the awkwardness clouds over the atmosphere again. You both know the unsolved problem still hanging in the air.

“You really did it, Y/N.” Peter mumbles, but it doesn’t sound happy. God, it sounds almost mournful. It sends your emotions plummeting again.

“I did, and you can use this to stay alive and healthy now. To fight crimes of all kinds.” You say, trying to hold back the frustrated tears building up in your eyes. You just want to scream. You really thought this would win him over.

Peter just shakes his head, not meeting your eyes as he starts to undress the suit.

You don’t watch him as he maneuvers behind you back to the other side of the room. You just blink at the walls, bottom lip wobbling, hands tightening to fists at your sides.

“I really need to get-”

“Just go, Peter.” Your voice is hard, no emotion in your tone. You don’t look at him as you rush up the stairs and turn on all the security but the back door, still in the right mind to let him sneak out.

You can hear him calling your name, but there’s not much he can do when you open the basement door, rushing out and back up the stairs to your own room. He knows the way out, and who knows, maybe he will say hi to your father on the way out since they’re apparently way better friends.

–

next chapter  

I hope everyone loved this! Chapter two is going to be even longer.

taglist:

@fckingchile @the-crazy-fanfictionist @littlemissporter @werecoyote-diaries @eridanuswave

[victorlimadelta]

Pidge is actually trying to take this a tiny bit seriously. Last night, while she was working on moving her work station into the makeshift pharmaceutical laboratory she’s set up for herself over the last few months, she was putting together a presentation, like it’s a business pitch or a grant funding exercise. Still, it’s easier to illustrate her point when she has diagrams to go off of. The fancy little holograms from her PADD can even be manipulated in real-time in three-dimensional space, for added cool factor.

It also means she can keep her thoughts together as she goes through the theoretical aspects of this with @swordsedge Ulaz. Before she begins, she takes a shot glass, fills it with the Olkari root extract she’s come to love so much, and knocks it back like it’s so much liquor. That should keep her going for the next eight or so hours and stave off the fluorescent-inspired headache she’s guaranteed to get if she works down here too long. She offers some to the Galra in front of her, but he declines. Reasonable. He doesn’t know what it is, and she could have tampered with it, so she’s not offended.

They’d had a brief conversation last night, as well, about how to structure this upcoming week. Pidge had asked Ulaz what the Galra Empire would do for someone who had a genetic degenerative disease. The answer, unsurprisingly, was a mercy cull. For an empire driven by expansion at all costs, a disabled life is not one that can be afforded. Ulaz did show the correct amount of disgust as he explained, at least, which reassured Pidge that he was here for the right reasons, to do the right thing. What wasn’t so reassuring was that he hadn’t actually encountered this specific problem before, as a medical officer.

Tilting her PADD against her empty glass so the holograms can project onto the table, Pidge launches into her explanation. “so, you understand what we need to do here,” Pidge reminds Ulaz. “this is different from just keeping shiro in stasis and keeping disease from progressing. this is total genomic overhaul.” She flicks the first diagram out from her screen to the table, starts spinning it--a puffy little X shape made of squiggles. “what we’re working with is the x chromosome, a location on the short arm called p21.2-p21.1.” When she zooms in with her fingers, there's a noticeable length difference between the two top arms of the chromosome. “there’s a deletion here--not one of the worst, but not in a good place, either. this codes for dystrophin: the protein that builds human muscle. without it, the muscles we’re born with can’t be effectively re-built when they’re damaged. usually, you’d have a backup on the other matching pair in your chromosome set, so your body could just use the one that works and ignore the one that doesn’t, but shiro can’t do that, because he doesn’t have a second x chromosome, he has a y chromosome. which, don’t tell it i said this, but it’s pretty useless, aside from sry. poor little thing. smallest in the human genome.”

This is probably stuff Ulaz already knows. Based on what Pidge surmises about Galra, just from pure conjecture surrounding the fact of Keith’s existence, they also must have a similarly-based biology, with double-helix DNA, ACGT pairs, X/Y sex chromosomes, even the same number and arrangement of chromosomes. Otherwise, Galra wouldn’t be able to reproduce with humans, or proliferate so far with so many other alien races. Still, it helps to start from the common denominator and build up to more complex premises.

Pidge pinches her fingers together, then spreads them to zoom in on her DNA diagram--to the portion that’s missing. “there’s maintaining the dystrophin shiro still has, and there’s teaching his body how to make it for himself. two different things. he already had weakness in his legs, to be expected, but now you’re telling me he’s having trouble breathing. that means his diaphragm can’t repair itself. he’s too weak to work his own lungs. that’s... that’s advanced. the only way it could be worse is if it was in his heart, and we don't know that it's not. so, we can’t just plug this with pharmaceutical intervention. giving him the actual dystrophin protein isn’t, by itself, going to get him where he needs to go. he needs to do it for himself, and he needs to be able to rebuild what’s been lost on top of it. that means...”

Another diagram flicks next to the first. This one's the clip of what's missing. “i have to get this, here, but... everywhere. as far as you're telling me, this is something the galra weren’t even interested in devoting resources to. it’s something humans haven’t quite been able to achieve, even with crispr, our most advanced gene splicing engineering technology.  altean alchemy isn’t suited to this, and i can’t see that they've ever attempted a genetic cure, just an amino acid replacement. the olkari seem to find it anathema to attempt it, even with their advanced biohacking abilities. but i’m--we’re not dealing with just one set of medicine. we’re not limited here. i can use all of this accumulated knowledge and make something bigger than the sum of its parts. i just need to run this by you, theoretically speaking, to see if it’s even possible in practice.”

Dismissing the first diagram to focus on the second, she twists her two hands, pulls them apart, and it zooms in on the individual molecules making up the DNA helix: red adenine paired with green thymine, yellow cytosine paired with blue guanine, clumped in threes (that’s a slight liberty with the illustration, but it works for these purposes). “coran’s taught me how to use this lab to make pharmaceutical compounds i thought would be impossible with the materials we have. apparently all you have to do is ask these atoms and molecules nicely to create their bonds. so far i’ve been... moderately successful in using it.” That’s false modesty. Pidge has been able to synthesize a full medication line for Shiro by now, from advanced corticosteroids to muscle relaxers, from gene-targeted therapies to painkillers. “but, i mean, dna is just a bunch of molecules, when you get down to it. huge, snarled-together molecules, but molecules all the same. the backbone of the helix is the same. the a, c, g, t are the same. if i can teach the lab to make the individual components, it’s just an issue of putting the building blocks in the right order and making them stick together. that part, actually making the gene i need, that’s the part i have the most confidence in. i know i can do it. what i don’t know is how much time it’s going to take, or if i can accelerate it by redirecting non-essential ship power to this one resource. and i won’t know for sure until i get started on it. but, the good news is, i know what i need to make and how i need to make it. easy.” Relatively speaking, of course.

The next image Pidge pulls up is entirely new. “this--this part’s more complicated. this little device is crispr. technically it’s a repeating genome sequence that humans synthesized from a bacteria, but you can use it for genome modification. depending on what kind of rna you attach to it, you can use it to snip out genes entirely, or cut and paste from one mis-transposed location to another. notice i didn’t say insert. it needs to get the material from somewhere to insert it in the first place, and creating the right sequence out of nothing was always a little too difficult to stabilize in human trials. plus, there were ethical concerns with using it on stem cell lines. no such worries here. if i use altean alchemy to create the missing piece, and if i use the right rna to point it at xp21.2 through .1, it should plunk it right into place. and there’s no medico-ethical dilemma present for doing this with a full-grown person, like there would be if we were trying to fix it in a zygote. it doesn’t even generate the should-we argument. now, getting the rna to target the right location, and getting the delivery mechanism to be stable, and getting it to lock into place, that’ll be a little more difficult.”

What flashes into the set of images Pidge is using, this time, is a series of ones and zeroes. “that's where the olkari technology comes in. their tiaras use human brainwaves, sent as binary code, to modify messenger rna, to redirect plants on what genes they should be expressing at any given time. it unlocks a gene’s potential. this should be the key to not only targeting the right location for the gene insertion, but also in making sure that it’s getting used correctly to code for dystrophin. the question you’re probably about to ask is, how does this work with dna when dna isn’t written in binary? but it’s not about reading it, it’s about finding it. rna will read it for itself, pull the correct amino acids, and make dystrophin. cells are pretty smart that way.”

Dismissing all those prior symbols, Pidge finally pulls up a diagram of the human body. “so, congratulations. using a series of increasingly unstable chemical reactions pulling from the most advanced medicine, science, engineering, and coding from three different starfaring species, we created, spliced in, and activated exactly one copy of the dystrophin-coding gene, into one cell.” The hologram zooms in to some generic muscle strand of the forearm. “that cell could die before undergoing mitosis. even if it survives, that’s no guarantee that the new, fixed genome will propagate very far, even within the same physical location of the body.” A red flash, indicating failure.

“but, if i’m understanding your research correctly, there’s something you can do with filtered quintessence to not just make it stick around, but to get it to actually change the whole body genome. this is the part that i’m the most skeptical about,” just in case Ulaz couldn't tell from her tone. “i don’t know how quintessence works at the best of times. as far as i care, though, if it does what you say it will, then it can be literal space magic--as long as it works by a set of fixed principles. if you’re saying we can wash out the old genome and, i guess, dye the new one into place by steeping shiro in enough quintessence, it’s worth a try.”

Presentation over. Pidge collapses her diagrams, puts her PADD face-down on the table. When she catches Ulaz’s face, his expression is unreadable. Just like always, really. “so, after all that, i have two questions for you. one, does that sound like something we can, theoretically, even do? i don’t want to waste time or energy on research if it’s not going to pan out in real life. and even if it does, question number two, how much quintessence would it actually take to do something like that? are we talking on the level of a d-cell battery, car battery, aircraft engine, starship-class balmera crystal, the type of energy it would take to hold strand in stasis for eons--what do we need, and can we actually get it?”

[dwaynepride]

Bruised

Summary: The team’s recent case gets in the way of you and Jimmy’s date night, until it doesn’t.

Words: 1,862

Warnings: None

Tags: @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @stanathanxoox @pageofultron

Notes: I haven’t written a Jimmy oneshot in a long time and i reckon he deserved one so here’s Soft Boy

The past minute or so has been peaceful, in comparison to the utterly exhausting chaos that this case has brought to the team. It wasn’t really peace that you were feeling; no matter how hard you tried, the office ambience wouldn’t let you forget about the stupid amount of work to be done before Gibbs returns. He’ll want results that you can’t possibly have.

Still, hiding your face in your eyes and shutting your eyes did provide a small break. Not quite the one you needed (or deserved), but it served its purpose of letting you rest your eyes. To do something other than scan over bank statements for the next couple hours.

You let your mind go blank for a few moments, which wasn’t very hard to do. Everyone was exhausted, and if you laid your head down, you’d probably fall right to sleep. The short, blissful moment of thinking about nothing was cut short when your belly rumbled. Loudly.

Right - you skipped lunch. A sacrifice to follow a lead that McGee dug up and lead nowhere. You were still mad at him about that.

A sudden loud call of your name makes you drop your hands from your face. And you didn’t have to look up to know who it was who greeted you; his voice was unmistakable in its bright cheerfulness. Normally, hearing Jimmy’s voice so jovial was a nice change from Gibbs and his grumbling. But right now, it made you exhale a small puff of air.

You loved him. You really did. But he was too damn happy right now.

You finally look up when Jimmy stops beside your desk, stepping in behind it so he can bend down and press a quick kiss to your cheek. Had the day been a little better, you would have returned it. And Jimmy picks up on that with a furrow of his brow. “You look really stressed out,” he comments.

“We all are, Jimmy,” is your flat reply; there just wasn’t enough energy in the world to make you put more enthusiasm into your voice. “This case is kicking our asses.”

He looks a bit sympathetic, but that smile doesn’t disappear. In fact, it gets even bigger as Jimmy straightens up and sets a brown paper bag down on your desk. You didn’t even notice he had it, until just now. “Well, it’s a good thing I brought you something to eat. Maybe it’ll make you feel better. I bet your blood sugar’s just a little low; that outta make you tired...”

Jimmy puts his hand against your forehead, but you barely hear whatever little ramblings he spits out. Because you’re pulling the bag closer, opening in and savouring the way that the smell of food hits your face instantly, and you’re belly growls again.

Alright. Maybe having his cheery self around here isn’t so bad.

You don’t talk much as you eat - just idly listen to Jimmy as he tells you about the autopsy and what came from it. How he sent all kinds of different samples up to Abby, so one of them is bound to give the team a couple clues. And he doesn’t even mind that you respond with a little hum here or a nod there. Jimmy is honestly content to watch you eat, knowing you needed it.

And the sight also makes him a bit sad. Because he wishes you didn’t work so hard that a simple sandwich and fries would make you the happiest person in the world.

Jimmy pushes the rising melancholy away and nudges your shoulder to get your attention. “So, do you think you guys will finish things up early tonight?” He asks. And when you frown a little in confusion, his weight shifts. “We have dinner reservations. Remember?”

You immediately stop chewing and swallow thickly. Fuck - you completely forgot about those reservations. Thank God it was nobody’s birthday or something, and the dinner was just for the sake of spending some time together. But even with that rationale, you feel guilty about shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean, this case is taking up a lot of our time. Tony had to skip on breakfast with this girl because of it...”

Jimmy’s smile was fading a little, and that’s what made you trail off. If it weren’t for this case (and the threat of death from Gibbs), you’d go. But it was just impossible.

The disappointment is still clear on Jimmy’s face, even after he pushes his smile back into view. “I understand, really! We can just reschedule. It’s not a big deal,” he promises earnestly. And before you could say much else, Jimmy is leaning back in to kiss your opposite cheek. “I should get back to autopsy, in case Doctor Mallard needs me. Enjoy your lunch. I love you.”

You mumble out a weak ‘I love you’ as he walks away toward the elevator. And despite his attempts to shrug off another missed date night, that sad look on Jimmy’s face weighed on your heart for the rest of the day.

--

You never truly knew what a science experiment felt like until Tony was bent over beside you, his eyes completely locked onto your face.

And you really tried hard to ignore him. If he didn’t get a response, he’ll get bored and go back to his desk. There were more important things to be doing; since Abby identified some DNA on the murder weapon, the team was led to what could only be assumed as the suspect’s house.

It was so empty - so quiet - you didn’t think anybody would still be there.

You were wrong. He was definitely there. And you had the injuries to prove it.

“I wonder how much more your eye is gonna swell up,” Tony spouts out, his head tilting a little while he continues to stare.

A harsh, frustrated huff comes up, and it pulls on your ribs to remind you not to breathe too heavily. But you still whirl your head around to DiNozzo, trying your best to glare at him with only one eye, since the other was big and bruised. “I don’t know. But keep staring at me, and we’ll have matching injuries.”

The angry tone of your voice was enough to convince Tony to pull away and return to his desk. You’d think with the first solid lead of this case, he’d be eager to work before it got cold.

You shift in your chair, hoping a new position would be easier on the annoyingly-sensitive bruised ribs that keep inhibiting your breathing. But moving only jostled the injury, and your eyes screwed shut at the sudden sharp pain in your flank. This was just great.

“Palmer! What are you doing up here?”

A small sigh comes up at Tony’s rude greeting, and you force your eyes open so Jimmy doesn’t notice the pain on your face.

He already did. You watch him cross the bullpen in a few long strides, eyes wide as dinner plates and his jaw hung open in shock at your condition. Gibbs is trailing in behind him; he must have told Jimmy about what happened. Because he crouches by your chair, hand gently resting on your knee. “Are you okay?” Jimmy asks softly, eyes examining your face. The black eye, mostly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just got knocked around, a little.” That was downplaying the battle, but Jimmy was worried enough.

He looks doubtful at your answer, though. “Well, maybe I should take you to the hospital. Just to be safe.”

“I don’t need a doctor, I’m fine.”

Jimmy looks ready to argue, but it’s Gibbs who speaks up from his desk. “Maybe not a hospital, but you’re goin’ home for the rest of the day,” he states. And unlike Jimmy, his tone leaves no room for debate.

Still, for some reason, you try. “But Gibbs, the case-”

“No ‘but’s. Palmer, take ‘em home. Make sure they rest.”

He’s all too happy to obey that order. You hesitate for a moment, but you have nowhere near as much strength as you need to argue with Gibbs about staying. Plus, Jimmy still has that fearful concern in his eyes. And that’s what truly prompts you to let him help you up and downstairs to the car.

“You drive like an old lady,” you tell him. Trying to tease but everything hurts just a little too much to really be believable.

“I’m just being careful. You know, even the smallest pothole could aggravate your ribs. They might not be broken, but bruised ribs aren’t something you can just shrug off...”

That’s how his scolding comes through; telling you just how bad your injuries around and how much worse they could have been. In this state, Jimmy wouldn’t of had the heart to outright scold your actions.

He’s talking about the dangers of black eyes by the time he finally pulls into your home. And slowly, gently, he helps you inside. Even assists in shedding your work clothes for something more comfortable. Jimmy frowns heavily at the ugly sight of the blotched bruises fanning your flank. It makes him a little sad. Even a kiss to his cheek doesn’t truly chase it away.

And then Jimmy has you sitting on the couch, carefully gravitating over you as he cleans every little cut and gash. He touches a particularly nasty one, and the sharp pain comes as a surprise. Jimmy immediately pulls away. “Sorry! I don’t think this one was cleaned very well.”

You just let out a hum of acknowledgement. Words weren’t coming up as easily as they should. As if your brain just wasn’t running normally, because before you knew it, Jimmy had finished cleaning you up, and your head was resting against his shoulder.

He was warm. Comfortable. Smelled a bit like the sterile environment of autopsy, but underneath that, pure Jimmy. It was his scent that became the last sensation you registered before closing your eyes and slipping into a comfortable blackness.

Jimmy was the last thing you smelled before falling asleep, but it was the tantalizing aroma of food that woke you up. And everything was blurry, at first. You weren’t even sure how long you were out. But right now, your injuries were still numbed with sleep, and the only thing you can focus on the was smell of food.

Your eyes blink open when Jimmy sets something down on the coffee table. Turns out, it was a plate of food. Chicken and mashed potatoes and a couple other things that instantly made your stomach growl. “Jimmy...?”

“Hey,” he greets lightly, crouching down into your line of sight. He’s changed out of his autopsy scrubs, and was smiling brightly once again. You missed that optimistic smile. “We missed our dinner date yesterday. I figured since you finally have a night off, we could make up for it.”

You’re injured and hurting and still frustrated at being sent home early. But Jimmy looks so hopeful and soft and earnest in his efforts, you just had to mimic his smile.

Even if it hurt your eye.

[thattimdrakeguy]

Bendis has gone from one of my secretly favorite writers to one of my least favorite. Like not only has he made the last so many issues of Young Justice contain some of the most bare bones writing, not only has he made some of the most un-logical decisions of Tim’s fictional life (which is jaw dropping), but he also can’t write Damian worth a damn. He showed he couldn’t get more then two things right about him in 6 pages.

Like I’ve already made it clear that I think Damian’s writing for a while now has just been horrid even if no one talks about it, but just ... no, Bendis, no. Bendis can’t even get one of the simplest trademarks of Damian right.

Damian has a very particular way of speaking, it’s something that even fan fic writers can get right, but just, right away Bendis has him say “Yo”, like, it’s so nitpicky, but it’s just such an obvious thing to avoid. Damian’s way of speaking is so straight forward and obvious, so so obvious. How does one get in the position to write a character in an official medium and get something so obvious and simple wrong?

Is it like on the application to be a DC writer “make sure you never read our character’s before”, because I keep reading current comics every now and again and I wonder.

Has Bendis ever read Damian before? It’s like he just had him described to him as he was dozing off, like, how can you be so bad at writing him? He makes him mean and snarky, but like, come oooon, stop being a parody of bad writing. Why is everything with you lately so bare bones and awful?

Damian would not have a card collection, you absolute dolt.

I’m plenty aware that other writers act like he’s a normal kid and crap, but those writers are absolute crap too. You don’t choose the bad writers to be your inspiration.

Do you know a single thing about what you’re writing?

Why are you writing something you clearly don’t understand?

Damian is such a simple and specific character, it should not be this hard to get more than only two things right with him. 

You couldn’t get the simplest things right with him.

These are such small things, but it’s blowing my mind how reoccurring these things constantly happen.

Even the artist, I love David LeFuente so much, like he’s one of my favorite artists, and I love his Tim and all that, but like, why doe he choose to draw some of the characters so weird?

I love the way he draws Jon, but why does Jon look older then how he drew Conner? They’re the same age currently aren’t they? Conner’s like a young adult now by the way they act. Very late high school years at the very least since they don’t actually specify how long he’s been in Gemworld. So why does Conner look about 4 years younger then his Jon when if anything he’d be older? Like Lefuente’s Conner didn’t look like Conner at all. How did he make Conner look younger than Jon?

And why does Damian look 5? I know a lot of artist struggle to draw younger kids, but why do they constantly get artists that seem like they never seen a 13 year old to draw Damian. It cannot be that hard to have an artist that knows what a 13 year old looks like to draw Damian. There has to be at least one person that can do that. DC, just hire a guy that can draw a 13 year old, to draw your 13 year old character, please. If they’re going to draw them, that should be one of the requirements, you know, actually being able to draw them.

Like why is it so hard to find artists that can draw Tim and Damian? Neither one of them has an easy time finding creative teams that get them. It seems like both of those guys have such struggles finding artists and writers that seem like they actually know what they look like and act like.

Even the language used to describe the issue feels off “These two best buds”, like I don’t make it a secret Super Sons is garbage, and the whole progression of their relationship when it became a thing is some of the worst I’ve ever seen in any comic ever, but like, DC clearly loves them, Didio has said so, and it’s no surprise DC can’t even get what they love right, but “two best buds” doesn’t sound like it’s referring to a thing describing Damian.

It’s another nitpick, but it’s another that’s like, so easy to avoid, because it’s like “oh hey maybe this doesn’t sound like it’s referring to a Damian thing, maybe we should change it. Like it’s so simple, so freaking simple. It’s not a big deal at all in the big run, but something that takes a literal nanosecond to realize is off isn’t that hard to fix. It’s so simple, so genuinely simple, and they got it wrong. All these things they’re getting wrong just keep adding up to the point it’s becoming parody-level’s of stupid it keeps happening.

DC is so inadequate at such basic things at this stage in the game. Even describing things to fit what they’re describing is becoming hard for them. Damian is not a character you describe like he’s a bro or something, it’s not that hard.

Damian is not that hard of a character to get right at all. He’s genuinely very simple. If you never seen him in your entire life. It would take like 3 to 4 issues to understand his character. How he acts, what his thought processes are like, and his life style, but somehow they keep messing that up.

I want Damian to be in a comic that actually knows what to do with him so badly. Like I’m so sick of every comic he’s in getting the most simplest yet obvious things wrong with him.

A big flaw of this specifically, is just how much Super Sons doesn’t work as a concept. It’s very superficial why people want them together, and yet somehow the way they put it together doesn’t work even worse. They have to ignore a lot of obvious stuff to make it even be a thing, which is exactly what they did, so anything involving them is right away so forced that it’s gut-wrenchingly distracting.

But it’s like stuff like this, with the smallest details, just sort of represents a lot about DC, and I think this is why it’s bugging me so much. The amount of obvious stuff they get wrong or at least off is becoming more grating to me.

DC has a massive habit of avoiding the most obvious simple stuff, to instead make a crap load of dumb ideas in.

In this case it’s super small, like a few choices of words, but at this stage it’s just slaps in the face. Get one freaking thing right.

You some how think Tim would change his name just like that, which is just stupid.

You forget almost everything about Damian’s character to put him in places he doesn’t belong.

You think Batman would beat up his kids. His parents died when he was a kid, that happened, but he didn’t become Batman because he was a psychopath, he became Batman to avoid crimes like that happening. That’s the very DNA basic level of Batman, and you got it wrong multiple times in the past few years, and he is your most popular character. You can’t get the basics of your most popular character in Batman right.

And you seem to think doing everything people don’t want is going to get you sales, when after a while people are just gonna leave.

You cannot get the simplest of things right, obvious, simple things, that take a nanosecond of thought, and you get them wrong.

A character that never wanted to stop being Robin like Tim, probably isn’t going to randomly change his identity to match a person that just tried to kill him like how you’re acting. It should take no thought at all to realize that’s a very dumb idea, but you seem to be doing it when you probably shouldn’t.

A character who became a crime fighter to stop crimes, probably isn’t going to beat the crap out of his kids for doing nothing wrong. He didn’t even try to find out if Jason did something, he just assumed without doing any detective work, and he’s a detective. He hit Tim in the face so hard he fell to the ground because Tim wanted to help him. That’s so stupid. I don’t care if Batman’s being mentally tortured by Bane during that last bit, the very basic morals of Batman would probably kick in considering it’s like no one’s ever tried to mentally torture him before. I’m pretty sure hitting a kid in the face isn’t gonna be his first thought when all the kid did was try to help him.

These small minuscule things that they can’t get right. The people that do that are in charge of major things in a company that used to give people something to be happy about each month, are just like this. Even simple (most likely barely noticeable to most people things) things escape them.

Damian is more then just being a snarky, mean, dude.

I’m so unreasonably upset that they keep messing up this character in the simplest of ways.

They’ve already ruined the whole point of his character development, they ignore half the bad stuff he does almost like they purposely want to avoid character development, the very simple basics of his character they ignore to pander to a very easily amused audience, and it’s just tiring.

Damian is like that unmentioned horribly written character, and I think it’s because his arrival was that beginning of the end era of DC were all the crap we hate now started. Like his character ever showing up at all was ridiculous and I won’t pretend otherwise, but at least as an Elseworld’s character he had promise. 

Like because his character showed up in the beginning of the end, a lot of the fans that are still around care less and less about stuff, so no one comments on it. Compared to someone like Tim who been around since 1989, so when they got the smallest but most simplest of things wrong with him it got called out more. Plus, the somewhat surprisingly large amount of people that are that easily persuade by easy pandering praise some of the stuff, so other people assume nothing is wrong.

DC, please, just get writers and people in-charge that can actually think for more than a nanosecond.

Within 6 pages they already got the basic trademarks of a very simple character wrong, and couldn’t even realize that two measly words were bizarre choices. He is not a little kid bro-ing around with his school bestie. I know Super Sons probably did that, but because a comic did it, does not make it a good idea. That’s still completely ridiculous and out of character for Damian to do, seeing how he showed no interest until it suddenly happened. He is a stubborn, half-way anti-social character, he is not going to kidnap, terrify, threaten, and stalk a little kid, to then have the kid he did that to, mostly ignore all that and be okay with it, while no one barely does a thing about his behavior. They set those kids on a trip together. That makes no sense. I get Jon is a superhero with powers, but basic parenting says don’t force your kid to be around someone who would realistically traumatize them. Like, basically, it doesn’t work. At a molecular level, it does not work. Fiction that can be as fantastical as superhero comics is typically maintained by following human logic, or at least in the modern day of comics, but they just ignored that completely.

I don’t expect every writer ever to get everything right about every character, but they couldn’t even get the way he talks right. They couldn’t even realize that “hey, maybe he wouldn’t like this stuff”.

I’m so tired of Damian being reduced to tropes and archetypes that don’t fit, and seeing people actually cheer it on.

He’s not a normal kid, he’s never been shown to be interested in the stuff they act like until they suddenly acted like he was. 

He was a unique character that had stories that could’ve been told but instead people chanted for him to be one of those blood curdlingly generic characters ever.

He’s just a school bully type of character now with a secret heart of gold or something.

He was more then that, and he deserves to be more then that.

Why is the generic and simple being cheered on?

He stuck out like a sore thumb, and had unique stories that could’ve been told, but instead it seems like so many people just want him to be the most bland, generic excuse of a character ever because they find it cute or something.

To me, Damian should’ve never been made, at least not have been put into the main DC universe. I believe that his introduction broke a lot of the Bat-Family because of writers constantly making everyone out of character to try and make him work, when just letting characters react like how they would react would be much more interesting and unique. I think in the long run he was a very bad idea, BUT, if you’re going to do it, why are you constantly ruining the character that you soiled a lot of stuff for to begin with just like that? You can’t even care about that? 

You are a comic book company, your basic design should be to create characters and stories that entertain people. Your basic structure shouldn’t be to just bastardize the stuff you made when people were enjoying it.

Even the stuff you went out of your way to do and partially left a mess you later on just butchered.

How is a company that produces fiction run by people that can’t understand what’s in their own product?

I wouldn’t be nearly, even close to as upset as I am unreasonably so right now if this stuff didn’t keep happening. If this obviously avoidable stuff didn’t keep showing up. If this was one time weird thing then what ever, but this obvious stuff keeps happening, like no one knows why they’re writing what they are.

Like this isn’t about so much as Damian saying “yo” and implied to have a card collection, as it is me being upset that DC keeps getting the simplest things about their own characters wrong to such an extent that even the most bare bones obvious thing about a character is even being done wrong. They couldn’t even get how a character that talks very distinctly speaks right, they couldn’t even get their very straight forward and simple life style right.

I wish DC would just go bankrupt or something, because it’s so stupid that every comic I read there’s a bunch of ridiculous stupid garbage in it.

But OH HEY, NIGHTWING’S COMING BACK.

Tynion’s a bad writer, but he at least knows that maybe fans would like their favorite character to be called by their actual name. So I guess one of the dumbest decisions DC’s probably made ever is being undone, but the fact the decision was ever made to begin with is ridiculous.

[mysticandskepticmuses]

MEET Rori LuAnne* Dearing.   ( Altered Carbon based original character. )

                *Please note.  Any use of her middle name in character will result in her losing her shit because who the fuck names their child LuAnne in the 25th century it’s so 400 years ago….

                 First things first, OOC, yes, this is the same face claim as I use for Saori; it’s intentional / for plot purposes w/ certain characters where that holy shit it’s like looking at a ghost trope is lots of fun so…  Also, I think it’s particularly interesting in a world where bodies can be custom made and DNA is literally just a playground for scientists for there to be this freak natural repetition / recreation after 250 years.  It is something that family members remark on from time to time, but it’s not something that a lot of them really pay that much attention to, it’s the oh you look so much like so and so, but since none of the living family members even met Saori they don’t realize just how identical the resemblance is.  And most people that meet her wouldn’t know enough about her history / lineage to know though so.  She’s just a pretty, long-legged, pierced and tattooed cutie pie.    [ Any of those rare survivors from Envoy era that were at Stronghold or on Harlan’s World, or any that might have VR’ed in to a conference or something w/ Saori are totally free / encouraged to notice and react of course !!! ]

                  Yes, Rori is the great-great-great …. whatever many great-granddaughter of my other / latest original character, SAORI DEARING, an uprising sympathizer who lived on Harlan’s World during the Envoy war / during the time of the destruction of Stronghold.  [ the battle of stronghold is widely known as the battle where the Protectorate finally defeated the evil Envoys, murderers of children and women and whole families, terrorists who used sabotage, infiltration, mass murder, torture, bombings, wide spread terror attacks, etc. etc. etc. to try and overthrow the protectorate who wanted to do nothing more than keep the peace in known space etc. ] Rori and her older sister, CLAIRE DEARING, currently know nothing about their ancestor’s involvement with / support of the Uprising – which is probably for the best because Claire would probably die of mortification and Rori would loudly and proudly blast the news from the rooftops.  

                   Claire, written by Liz @magicandsciencemuses, is a (mostly) upstanding citizen who works earnestly to better her way of life and has a great amount of respect for the law and a more than healthy respect / knowledge of what the Meths are capable of; she is one of the directors of the Bay City branch of Psychasec as well as being a well renowned scientist in the field of genetics and body mods, cloning, synth, etc. etc.  She is very much the model child, works hard, works long hours, pays her taxes, follows the rules, tries very hard to keep out of trouble and avoid drama.    ADDITIONAL NOTE:  CLAIRE IS 200+ YEARS OLD.  Rori is in her forties (even though she appears in her early twenties) – in Meth years, Rori is practically a BABY.  

                   Rori, on the other hand, is pretty much the exact opposite.  While she is also intelligent and well educated, she was the wild child from the get go and was always the one that came home with the scraped knees and the bloody noses and the torn clothes, whether it was from actually just falling the frack over her own feet or getting into a fight with someone twice her size in defense of someone else or because they offended her with some smart ass / ill thought out comment that provoked her short-fused (but typically short-lived) temper.  She was almost always involved in some form of protests, some form of protect the planet, protect the species, protect the people, protect the sleeves movement, and became more and more focused on protecting the equality (or what is left of it) as she got ‘older’.  

                   She believes that a lot of what is acceptable and norm when it comes to the treatment of sleeves when it comes to the prison system and victim restitution as a whole is beyond fucked up   She believes that the whole essence of the prison system, stacks in storage, etc. is a huge step backwards and one that just does no good to anyone except those profiting financially from the system.  Ripping someone out of their sleeve and sticking them into storage seems entirely opposite of helpful to her.  There is no longer any opportunity for reform in the penal system.  Being on ice doesn’t give you time to think.  It doesn’t give you time to reflect on your life choices and realize what you’re missing.  It doesn’t give you time for soul searching or to learn methods in which to cope, it doesn’t allow you to better yourself in any way – literally the only thing that it does it rip you out of one time and then toss you back out into the world in what was just a blink of an eye to you.  Nothing changes.  Worst case scenario, you’re in a stranger’s body, a hundred years later, maybe you’ve got a family member or someone that was told about you enough to show up and give you a place to crash for a few days while you get your shit sorted but.  

                   Now you’re a stranger, with no working knowledge of the world, the politics or laws that have changed, the events in history that might have been world shatteringly important that you missed, no relevant job history, no contacts, no resources, and depending on what field of study or what kind of job you had, you might be entirely irrelevant plus - you’re a convict so what does that do for your likelihood of finding gainful employment - especially while in whatever broken down sleeve they give you on release ???  It pretty much guarantees the only life the newly released have to go back to is – crime.  

                And that’s not even getting onto the topic of renting out people’s bodies and how that just feels inherently wrong to her – they don’t even bother to try and use it as a deterrent tactics, it’s just a WAY OF LIFE and it just seems cruel and unusual to her.  There have always been accrued costs of prison, one way or another, sticking a body on ice / suspending it / cryogenic storage or whatever is WAY cheaper than actually housing criminals used to be.  And how easy is it for someone that’s corrupt to play that system ???? Want a particular sleeve for yourself or your partner but they won’t sleep with you?  Get them convicted and rent it for a week.  Have a Neo-C that you need out of the way at your job or that’s married to someone you want to pursue or that you have a grudge against and want to see them suffer / their family suffer?  Set them up for even the smallest crime, because once they’re yanked out of their sleeve that’s it, bye-bye.  

                   And it’s not just punishing the criminals! Seeing someone else walking and talking in the sleeve of your lover, your brother, your mother, your best friend and knowing it’s not them - it doesn’t matter how tough you are or act like you are, that hurts – knowing that that body is being used for god knows what and you can’t keep it safe / protect it ???  Knowing that the person’s sleeve is out and about because you couldn’t afford the mortgage payments to keep it hanging out empty until the person’s time was up and they can get put back in it ? That is brutal and cruel and unusual punishment to people that did nothing wrong but care.  

                   So… yeah.  Human rights / sleeves’ rights activist.  Has had the occasional brush with the law in terms of protesting, the occasional riot or act of vandalism, threats against particular organizations or Meths or whomever it is that she’s up in arms against at the time but, generally low level stuff that hasn’t gotten her in a ton of hot water legally speaking.  She actually does have a semi decent relationship with some of the beat cops or a detective here or there, she’s happy to turn over intel and information she finds about acts of actual violence or terrorism that she catches wind of and is especially happy to turn over anything she hears that deals with corrupt cops, politicians, Meths influence on anything with policy or wrangling positions of power for their chess pieces in law enforcement or political circles etc.  

                   She does dabble in some drug use, she drinks, she smokes, she swears, she sleeps around, she has tattoo and piercings that fluctuate a lot - she is still in her birth sleeve (though second clone after an airtram derailment a few years back).  She gambles, she shoots pool, she gets into the occasional fist fight, she has no problem calling anyone out on their bullshit but – she has a good heart and does her best to help out people in trouble around her whenever she can.  She drifts through a lot of circles; she has friends in all manner of walks of life in the underworld and legit circles, she makes it pretty clear she doesn’t have any interest in being involved in drama outside of her choosing and tends to usually manage to keep from pissing off the wrong people (she’s way more likely to have enemies among the politicians, the Meths, the policy makers than get caught up in a turf war etc).  

                   She has a loft apartment in Licktown, but she also has four or five other roommates and it’s very crowded and busy so she tends to prefer to crash at her hookup’s place when an option and also makes a semi regular habit of showing up at Claire’s in the middle of the night and crashing on her couch for a few days.  Despite their glaring differences, the sisters are actually pretty close and as much as they rib on each other, they would not hesitate to come to the defense of the other if necessary, in a heartbeat.  

                     Rori does come from a family of Meths.  Her lifestyle choices, her behaviour, the fact she lives on the Ground and in Licktown are all huge sources of embarrassment for the majority of her family.  The only reason she isn’t actually just cut loose and written off as the black sheep of the family is because Claire wouldn’t stand for it.  Rori does have access to a large stipend, which she does live off of at times but in general she prefers to make her own way - she works as a bartender, a tattoo artist, odd jobs here and there.  Whatever she doesn’t use of her monthly allowance, though, she does pull out every month and donate to a number of different activist groups, shelters, etc. - wherever needs it the most at that time.

[rahimaldemir]

GamesRadar+ - DYING LIGHT 2

By Josh West March 13, 2019

One day, we will look back upon the last decade and come to realise that the greatest trick developers pulled this generation was in convincing players that they had any agency over the virtual worlds that they inhabit.

Our fascination with even the most rudimentary inclusion of choice and consequence metrics makes complete sense; we feel empowered when we feel as if we are in control, be it over the direction of a branching narrative or the characters that populate them. But, the truth is, many of the choices that we make in so many video games are binary. Pick between a thinly veiled Option A and Option B to immediately receive a reward or response. Basic morality systems leave us to deliberate over the concept of right versus wrong in an arena that is free of any real consequence. Systems bend around colour-coded sliders, having only the most tangential impact on the direction of a story or the way in which a game is played. There has to be another way, right? Techland believes that there is and it's putting it on full display in Dying Light 2.

If you listen to Dying Light 2’s producer Kornel Jaskula tell it, the studio has one hell of a pitch for the future of open-world sandbox design. “We believe that Dying Light 2 is the first game of its type. It’s going to be a game where your choices will have genuine consequences, from how the world looks, to how the game plays, to the events that occur throughout the story. This is an open-world game where you should treat the narrative as a gameplay mechanic.”

As far as statements of intent go, this one piqued my interest. The studio is attempting to build a game world that is forever shifting underfoot. Techland has set out to “create a complex matrix” of choices that constantly feeds back out into every facet of the game. This is an experience where you will feel the weight of every one of your decisions, each of them reflected in the narrative, game and visual design. “Everything can change,” Jaskula teases. “The state of the world is always the result of the decisions that you make. The choices you make allow you to make your own version of this city."

Making a dream a reality

To make this dream a reality, Techland has poured resources into constructing new proprietary technology, a necessary expense (and headache) to engineer something as ambitious as Dying Light 2. “You could say that it has been quite the challenge,” Jaskula laughs. “All of this has forced us to change the technology behind our games. We created a brand new engine – the C-Engine – to support the focus on choice and consequence that runs through the story and the gameplay.”

But all of this will be for nought if Techland can’t sell the concept of its ‘narrative sandbox’ to prospective players. The truth is, it’s incredibly difficult to demonstrate something so inherently systemic. The entire game is layered in such a way that even the smallest interactions, decisions and actions can feed back into the simulated world at large. If every one of your actions feeds into the wider scope of the story, as well as the gameplay opportunities that pervade the experience, simultaneously, how do you possibly convey that idea to the players?

The best way to think about the structure, Jaskula suggests, is if you cast it in the context of going rogue with a LEGO set. “The player does have an overall goal in Dying Light 2, but it’s up to you to decide how you get to it,” he tells me of the overarching narrative, one which sees you charged with trying to locate an object that can potentially turn the tide of the zombie apocalypse in your favour. “It’s like having LEGO bricks and being given the goal of building a house. We give you the bricks but not the original set – you don’t have the instructions that can take you through it step-by-step. You only have the goal and it’s up to you to decide how that house will look by the very end – but it is going to be a house. It’s up to the player to figure out how the bricks can connect, how they influence one another, and how the building and its interior takes shape…”

Building a better world

As far as analogies go it’s admittedly a little messy, but I think it works. Take the demo shown to the public late last year; In it, you’ll see a group of smugglers seize control of a water tower in a dilapidated district of the city and begin rationing resources that are vital to survival. One of the local factions, The Peacekeepers – the last bastion of law and order – send us in to investigate after an emissary goes missing. Assist The Peacekeepers in eliminating the squatters and the area will evolve accordingly as a result, introducing new gameplay and narrative opportunities to you.

The Peacekeepers may begin to gradually move into the district and bring their considerable wealth and influence with them, which in turn could give you benefits such as free health stations and new traversal options to better assist your movement when night falls. Decline the offer and choose to side with the smugglers, on the other hand, and you’ll have to pay for clean water like everybody else, but you will get a monetary cut of the illegal businesses that begin cropping up in the area and may even see new hubs appear, such as black market retailers selling high-end weapons and rare crafting materials. You could choose to ignore this strand of the game entirely, forcing a whole other set of opportunities to unfurl.

If the choice seems clear-cut on paper, Techland is keen to assure us that this is still a world of grey areas. There are no clear ‘right or wrong’ decisions; The Peacekeepers are authoritarian by their very nature, so while the area may become more overtly safe – shifting the locations of Dark Zone areas and hordes of zombies, for example – the group will begin to crack down on any behaviour that doesn’t fall in line with its own. Siding with the smugglers, on the other hand, will turn the district into a criminal den, but it won’t be under the iron fist of the government, giving you more freedom to move and space to act as you please.

Every faction in Dying Light 2 has its own goals and motivations; They have their own enemies, friends and plans for the future. Interfering with any of these elements will have an impact on something else in the city, with the game working behind the scenes to constantly generate new scenarios and world states, all of which will steadily lead you towards the end-game objective. Of course, little of the change in the city will happen overnight. Techland wants the city to feel like a living, breathing space. For this to work, Dying Light 2 has to feel as if it is being constantly shaped by player-driven decisions, rather than being altered by scripted moments triggered at pivotal points in key quests.

The shifting space of the city

Some of these changes may be immediately apparent, while others will be smaller and established over time – such as gradual alterations to the topography of the city, a change in population types, or the location of human and zombie enemies, among other things. As we said, every decision yields a different result, and it is only as these outcomes begin to layer up on top of one another that you will begin to see them manifest in the world as completely different combinations of gameplay, story and visual elements. “Changes aren’t immediate,” Jaskula reaffirms. “They can take some time to manifest because they aren’t binary changes… when we showed how the vista of the city changed [in the E3 2018 demo] it wasn’t based on any one decision, there were many decisions that the player would have to make leading up to that moment and each of those decisions can create something different.”

Techland doesn’t know exactly how many different branching and divergent paths Dying Light 2 will have just yet, or if it does it isn’t saying – it must be, after all, difficult to pinpoint. To support this direction, Techland has had to create, frankly, an incredible amount of content. “We are designing the game with the foundation that some of the players will miss content and we are okay with that,” says Jaskula. “It’s almost like we are creating several games worth of content right now. But, thanks to the variety of stories, of missions, content and assets, we believe that it will make players want to play the game again and again or try to play with other players in co-op to see their worlds. That’s something that we established as a foundation at the very beginning, it’s one of our design goals, and it’s something that we still keep in mind.”

All of this work is being done to give you the opportunity to build your very own world and story within Techland’s sandbox. In theory, that means every player’s experience will be unique. Dying Light 2 is designed to increase depth in open-world action adventure games in a way that we haven’t quite seen before, and it is purpose-built to cause conversation and enact storytelling sessions between friends.

Or, better still, you’ll be able to jump into a friend’s world and experience it for yourself if you want to. “Of course, Dying Light 2 will support co-operative gameplay. It’s in our DNA,” Jaskula confirms, before revealing how the four-player co-op system will bend to each player’s unique world state. “Whoever plays the game, it is their game. You can join my game – with your experience, your skills, your equipment – but it’s going to be my world, built by my decisions and I’m going to make the decisions that continue to shape it. But I can then join your game and it’ll be completely different, with completely different outcomes shaped by your decisions.” If you’re looking for the word to describe all of this, it’s ‘wild’.

The unlikely success of Dying Light

So what has emboldened Techland to take on such an evolutionary stance to game design? It probably has something to do with the unlikely success of the first Dying Light; a game that seemed to arrive out of nowhere, from the ashes of Dead Island, to prove that there was still work to be done in the open-world space yet. In fact, since its release in 2015, Dying Light has become something of a cult classic of this generation.

The game may well have eluded the attention of the media for the last three years, but the players have certainly taken notice of Techland’s dedication and responded in kind. “We haven’t been talking to the media! We have been talking directly to the players, so maybe that’s why it has been such a success,” he says, laughing. “No, no, the truth is, we have this huge community now. If you compare the original title, when it released three years ago, to how it looks and plays today, it’s almost like it’s a completely different game. We made a lot of changes and gave it a lot of support – a lot of additional content, most of which was free. That has gotten us a lot of support from the players and we just want to give them more freedom and more of what they want.”

I recently had the opportunity to view a fresh behind-closed-doors demonstration of the game in action and I was, honestly, left in awe of what the studio is attempting to put together here. It’s also gave me cause to reflect on the last three years – on the success of Dying Light and how that passionate community has pushed the studio to broaden its horizons

[Video in original article]

By pouring so much time and energy into supporting Dying Light, Techland had the wits to gather key feedback on the minutiae of its creation by entering into an honest and open discussion with the players. The huge variety of content on offer, from smaller-scale DLC such as Cuisine & Cargo and The Bozak Horde to larger standalone expansions, such as The Following and Bad Blood, has effectively given Techland the time and space that it needed to properly process what a full sequel could or should look like.

As proof of its commitment to this process, Techland even put Hellraid on hold back in May of 2015 (much to the dismay of some corners of the community) to focus on serving the burgeoning Dying Light community. All told, all of this extra work has been instrumental to get Techland to where it is today. “Our community has a voice,” continues Jaskula. “That’s why we are still supporting Dying Light even now, four years after its premiere. There are still more than half a million players playing the game each week. They have given us a chance to gather important feedback – we are constantly talking to the community. We are getting this feedback from them and we are putting it all into this bold sequel to the original game.”

‘Bold’ barely covers it. While a lot of the studio’s creative energy has been focused on creating the engaging, dynamic world and narrative that we’ve just scratched the surface of, it has also spent considerable time improving upon the core pillars of the original game.

Expanding the scope of play

The size of the new urban play area is huge. Remember, Dying Light took place over two huge sprawling open-world maps, which was later expanded to a third in The Following – which was actually twice the size of the previous two combined. Well, Techland is promising that the new city will be coming in at some four times the size of the map found in the original Dying Light, it's an impressive accomplishment. “Not only is the city bigger at a 2D level, but it’s also more vertical – it’s higher, you could say because it’s like a European metropolis,” says Jaskula of the principal differences between the new city and Harran. “There’s also a lot more space to fight on the ground now, especially against human enemies. We needed more space to really challenge the skill of player fighters.”

The movement has been entirely overhauled, with Dying Light’s famously slick traversal now made even better by the inclusion of double the number of parkour moves – navigating this open world should be an expression, Jaskula tell us. As too should the technical combat, with Techland pushing to ensure that its robust melee, weapon crafting and AI systems work in tandem to create memorable and engaging experiences.

This, we’re told, is a perfect example of how feedback has influenced the development of Dying Light 2. “We’ve been watching a lot of PvP matches of Dying Light to influence our direction. We observe how the players behave and react to each other’s actions, and,” Jaskula explains, “we are creating our AI systems to be as reflective of real players in PvP matches as possible. We want you to feel like you are fighting real players instead of AI.”

Combat is heavier and more deliberate as a result. Encounters with battle-hardened human survivors – Dying Light 2 takes place 15 years after the original infection, this city is the last that humanity has – will now be real challenges to survive. Enemies fight smart and look to overwhelm, pushing you to block, dodge and work for your openings. If that should fail, you’ll now be able to unleash parkour attacks, allowing you to traverse more aggressively than before or utilise physical objects in the world as part of your combat strategies. And should that fail, well, you’ll still be able to add a litany of ridiculous makeshift improvements to your weaponry – the studio estimates that more than 50 new customisable effects can be added to your custom builds.

This is still just scratching the surface of Dying Light 2. The day and night cycle has been completely re-worked, as to has the artificial intelligence of the infected and the general progression systems. All of this is impressive, but we’re still struggling to pull our attention from what it is trying to achieve with its intertwined story and gameplay.

Dying Light 2 is first and foremost an open-world action game, there’s no doubting that. It's fast and ferocious, a game that still derives real joy out of its free-flowing movement systems and kinetic combat. But it’s an action game that draws from RPGs in a way that we weren’t expecting. This isn’t about micromanaging stats or skill trees, nor is it concerned with having you pick through rudimentary dialogue choices or in making you sit back and watch as a game reacts and shifts to your decisions in a cutscene. Dying Light 2 treats its narrative design the same as it does its gameplay – this is a sandbox, a true sandbox. It’s a game about choice and expression, about feeling like you’re in full control of your character and their destiny, in a world that is constantly reflecting your successes and failures, no matter how large or small they may be.

It can be easy to scoff when Techland announces that Dying Light 2 might indeed be the “first game of its type”. But after seeing it in action, after speaking with the team working so diligently behind the scenes, we’re honestly struggling to find ways to argue with the assertion.

[jq37]

Ok last one. What's the tea on Prompocalypse?

So...that was something, huh?

This is gonna be quick and dirty (relatively speaking, it’s still too long already as I come back and make this edit) because I have work tomorrow and there are def stuff I want to talk about more and I will (esp if I get asks) but I have work in the morning so let’s just get some words onto the screen aight.

The episode titles have had a pretty consistent naming scheme up until this point so the one word, non alliterative title had me at a 7 on the foreboding scale before we even started.

Everyone was in prom wear! And lol, Siobhan is the only one in a dress. That's almost exactly what I pictured Adaine wearing to prom. That exact shade of blue-green. And Emily looks like a waiter. 

I wonder what Bren's plan was for if they'd thwarted the crowning entirely. Got baller initiative, some nat 20's on crown keepaway and smashing, and killed Penelope/Dayne before the bad guys could finish them. Would he just try to crown someone else or would the curb stompage have stood? Not that Goldenhoard would have been a pushover I imagine but jeez. He couldn't have been as strong as his true form.

Sidenote: One of my favorite little character things is Zac and Siobhan helping each other do math.

Fig dimension dooring Gorgug to the stage and then skateboarding away. Amazing.

"I'm going for her crown vs. his crown."/"In this climate?"

OK, shoutout to Zac fo asking for those bombs because they are OP as hell. 

I love how they just charged in and started trying to kill people, no questions asked, no explaining themselves to the other students, just bombs out immediately. 

My man Riz just couldn't catch a break. I understand the out of story reason the police haven't shown up is that Murph was rolling garbage, but what's taking them so long in story? Where? Is? Sklonda?

"I'm going to jump on the back of the Hangman."/”Presumptuous."

But also, by the end of the fight he's just like, "Do anything any party member tells you to!"

Lou losing it over Riz claiming best friend status. But damn, they kinda are the closest to each other in the party. Wild. 

"You know what baby girl? Why don't you ready an action until I get there," said Siobahn to Ally, hilariously for a number of reasons. 

They keep saying Teen Wolf and I have no idea what part of the movie they're referring to. This is the second ep in a row.

Lou trying to recruit a super sad Ragh.

They started off this fight really strong. Doing double digit damage and rolling over 20s. I was like, "Damn, they've leveled up. They're doing great!" Of course, we were still in the first third of the ep so I didn't know where we were going. But Lou was right. "Wild first turn."

"And then I shoot him."

I'm half convinced Riz jinxed everyone by saying, "Remember the corn fight?"

Kristen cast ONE spell and then said, "I don't have a lot of spells left." THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY AND SAVE ADAINE'S WORTHLESS FAMILY. YOU ARE THE HEALER. YOU NEED ALL YOUR SPELLS.

The students running to get food on the way out. Mood.

They messed Dayne *up*. This was the high point of the battle, objective-wise.

Sidenote, why would Dayne have needed to be at the Seacaster Manor raid? It feels dumb to ris him when he was such an important part of things. Was it literally just because he didn't like Fabian? And he disliked him enough to try and kill his parents? Yeesh.

Kirsten @ Ragh flipping out over Dayne: I see what's going on here.

Ragh really made this fight harder than it had to be. If Gorgug hadn't been grappled before Penelope got the crown they might have had a fighting chance.

So Penelope just straight up let what's her face (Sam I think) get palimpsested? Major yikes. Like I know it's a good thing they killed her but I kinda wish they hadn't so we could learn exactly what the insane thought process was there. She comes off as crazier than Biz because Biz was trapping girls he didn't respect, not his actual friends, you know? Like, did Goldenhoard say he was gonna make her an actual queen or something? Because all this isn't worth just being prom queen.

"Sometimes you make a villain and they die in the first two rounds," said Brennan, as if he didn't know what he was about to unleash on the party. Geez, I don't know how long they would have survived if Penelope and Dayne had been in play for a large chunk of the fight.

Murph's idea to blind him was a good one.

I almost was like, "Thank God Gorthalax got kidnapped," because that was the only good explanation for him seemingly ditching Fig.

Ally: Was that his best friend? (Emily: What./Siobahn: NO.)

"I'm like an advertisement for chicken."/"What chicken adverts are you watching?"/"It's like if you went to prom and there was a dangling chicken leg."/"What prom did you go to?"

Fabian full on clocking Penelope in the face like he's playing Punch Out.

"I killed my father today. Yes."

"This is against the rules but I don't care." In hindsight, this feels like foreshadowing.

"Well, that's the risk you take when you go to Aguefort Adventuring Academy."

"Get on the fucking right team!"

Lou (a la Gimli): And *my* D6.

Brennan pulling out that GIANT final form Goldenhoard figure.

For some reason, it didn't occur to me that he'd be just a legit dragon in his true form. I was picturing like the lich from Adventure Time or something.

Also, I was kinda expecting him to "Drop the act," and majorly change in personality but he was basically the same. Just a dick.

Gorgug rolls a 4. Brennan pauses for a second. The entire party: No.

Zac goes all in every time no matter how dumb it is. I love him.

"Father, stop this."/"What?"

"Not clever enough for the library and not brave enough for the world." Oww, I felt that one. Did Brennan have that waiting to use or did he come up with it on the spot because that was brutal.

Goldenhoard goes through the whole party, trying to hit their weakest point and he gets what might have been a great hit on Fig (You're so unloveable your father would rather go to hell than stay with you.) but she just says, "You have got to stop flirting with me," and completely diffuses the moment. As unflappable as Brennan is, he had to take a sec to jump back into the insult parade after that.

"I'm going to eat you."/"OH MY GOD."/"I'm not making it sexual!"

"*The* ball, bitch."

OK, I was wondering what the deal was with Riz's dad. Because giving him that gun implies a chance to kill his dad's killer but I didn't think it could be Goldenhoard directly because of the binding. That's another point towards Riz being the one to finish him off.

Wild that they weren't able to get any of the kids (save Ragh eventually) to help them with the fight. You go to adventuring school! Cowards! You would never make it at Sunnydale and that school was mostly normals!

The one dude still just getting food while Goldenhoard has turned into a full on dragon.

When an 18 wasn't a high enough roll for Fig to make her fear check, that's when I realized my earlier apprehension wasn't misplaced. I mean, maybe it should have been when he turned into a dragon but it is what it is.

But Fig skating away and then going, "Just kidding bitch," because she got it on the very next turn was hilarious.

Kristen still not being 100% on whether Ragh is gay or not.

Who was gonna kick Ragh off the team for being gay? Maybe Daybreak would have but Gorthalax def wouldn't have. Maybe he means he would have been bullied off?

Siobahn to Kristen/Ally: Stop outing students.

I can't believe Gorgug had to kiss Ragh in the middle of this fight to get his head in the game.

Also, I didn't get into it before because I knew this scene was coming but poor Ragh. Like, I could have told him things were gonna go this way and he's a big dummy for thinking otherwise, but poor dude. And then he finally gets it together and he gets wrecked.

"EMILY, I SOMETIMES CAN'T TELL WHEN YOU'RE REALLY FUCKING WITH ME OR NOT."

Siobhan doing the D&D equivalent of reminding the teacher they had homework.

The amount of dice that Brennan rolled for Goldenhoard was truly horrifying. That's permadeath damage.

AND HE GOT THE HEALER DOWN FIRST. This was the next moment I started sensing a TPK.

"HOMOPHOBE!"/"You hit both of the gay ones!"

Kristen taking damage from Goldenhoard's libertarian speech.

I find it such a Fig move to be like, "Can I use charm person to snap Adaine out of it," instead of the spell actually made for that purpose. 

Rolling low perception and getting no information is the worst because then it's like...OK I know something's out there but what dammit?

When Brennan said Fig would have to do opposed athletics against Adaine, that was the first time I was like, "Oh thank God she's so weak."

Murph forgetting to uncanny dodge until midway through the ep was uncharacteristic. Really shows how wild the fight was. 

"This kid likes to get his ass beat to a soundtrack."

Fabian refusing to just use the stairs like a normal person. 

Penelope going, "What's your deal?" like she's not helping an evil dragon who wants to rule the world. 

JAWBONE

JAWBONE JAWBONE JAWBONE

My man Jawbone shot way up on the list of cool adults today.

For real, the scene with Jawbone and Adaine was my second favorite moment of the episode and it would have been my favorite if not for a bit of divine intervention later. 

I already made a post about this but Jawbone notices Adaine flipping the hell out and he asks her if she has panic attacks and if her parents gave her any meds for it. She responds in, like, the smallest, most broken and defeated voice with a tiny head shake, "My parents just left and I don't know where they are." Gah, my heart. She was half crying. I was half awake and being kicked in the face with the full force of human emotion. It was a lot. I felt like I was a kid watching that one scene from Fresh Prince again but British-er. She gets that her parents suck and she hates them but she's 14. Everyone wants their parents to love them. It's like in our DNA.

And then Jawbone launches into the wildest motivational speech ever (including all of Kristen's, which is saying a lot) which starts with him sucking off a border patrol agent. (You understand me?/No!)

Ally, MVP of Terrible Speeches: *That* was the point?

Siobhan trying not to crack up and break character throughout that whole scene was great.

I love that Brennan was clearly trying to not encourage people to mess with their med dosage irl because he was very specific about that but also he was like, "A dragon is about to end the world so please shotgun this bottle of magic Xanax and hop on that bike."

I love that Adaine has all the magic stuff in her inventory and then also Xanax.

Aww, Jawbone offered to let her live with him because her house burned down. (I guess that info was on the news?)

And then Adaine rolls a 20 with the help from her meds (and buffs) right away! It's great when the dice cooperate.

"I came here to FUCK SHIT UP. And help children."

"Jawbone rules. I'm so glad we helped him get his life together."

Jawbone is such a sketch person but such a good counselor.

Siobhan calling Goldenhoard and absolute fucking unit sayed be at 5 in the morning when I watched this.

"I AM A CHILD. YOU ARE ATTACKING A BUNCH OF CHILDREN YOU COWARD."

"Then why is your dick out?" Adaine joining in Fig w/ the taunting Goldenhoard via accusations of flirting. 

"Why are you guys partially singed?"/"Because he's been attacking us Dad! Also Dad, he kind of used to come on to me all the time."

"Play the drums more and we'll have a full band on stage!"/"...Instead."

"You ruined prom!"/"I RUINED PROM?"

At this point I was thinking, "Geez, there's not a lot of episode left and Penelope isn't even dead yet. How could they possibly defeat Goldenhoard AND have time for tying up loose ends?" TPK vibes increase.

Adaine getting a nat 20 on Arcana, "Yeah it is what it is. You're screwed."

Hell yeah for Adaine giving Goldenhoard her low divination roll to ensure her lightning bolt hit. Not that it ended up mattering that much but still. Sick.

"Well you could have told me before this very moment!"/"I was dead!"

I just checked on the stats of an an adult red dragon in 5E and it's got 256 HP. 256! And look at the other stats! They're wild.

"This is the number of dice?"/"Yeah."/"God."

Fig goes down. Their secondary healer. So, not good. Very not good.

Brennan letting Emily burn Goldenhoard's tie as she passes out because Emily refuses to do nothing.

And Riz goes down too! The one with the med kit! At this point I was like, there is no way this can end well.

"How far away is the hospital?" I love it when they try just normal solutions in this magic game like calling their parents and going to the hospital.

It is an hour and 47 minutes into the episode before Adaine remembers she's wearing a magic coat that can make her anything (within reason). Which, to be fair, it took me a little bit too but, in my defense, I'm not staring at her character sheet.

Real talk, I didn't think she was gonna get anything from the jacket from that ask. Something to beat Kalvaxis is such a big ask.

When Brennan started going into the jacket stuff I was like, this is a really weird deus ex machina if that's what this is. But also, the kids have been hilariously chill with just having Adaine walk around in a jacket filled with people.

There was a lot to unpack there and I'll got to it in another post but I can't do another 4k epic this week y'all. I have work in the morning.

Adaine yelling for Basrar to get them their ice cream before they freaking die.

Aww Gorthalax tried to heal Fig instead of attacking.

"Daddy that was a waste of a turn."

Gorgug who has a million hit points went down and all the healers are down. There are less than ten minutes left in the episode. TPK for sure, I'm thinking.

Adaine flipping people off with a vengeance today.

Also the fact that she totally forgot that she could ask for a healing potion which is totally a thing that she almost def would have been able to get is hilarious. I mean it wouldn't have been as funny if the episode ended differently but, as it stands, hilarious.

"Does the Hangman know medicine?"

"What about this student? Is he studying to be a cleric?"

Adaine is down. That's everyone down but Fabian. Three and a half minutes left. And that's when I realize. There's not enough time for a good ending, but there's not enough time for a bad ending either. But there's no S2. This is an anthology series. What's going on here my sleepy 6am brain is saying.

Fig giving her dad bardic inspiration while passed out because Emily is Emily.

Everyone (exceptt Riz) was making their saves. I'm thinking, "Is next season different characters, same setting. Maybe a bunch of years in the future? Legacy characters?" I'm trying to put together the fact that this is the finale with 2 minutes left with the fact that they're playing different characters next season. The pieces aren't fitting. 

And that's because I couldn't have predicted what was about to happen.

Ally, clearly joking says, "Can I roll for a nat 20 and just be alive?"

Brennan, barely thinking, says, "Sure, go for it," as casually as if he was okaying a perception check.

Murph and Lou are cracking up at the absurdity of the ask. 

Ally says, "This is to the corn god," half solem, half smiling.

Siobhan holds her hand over the dice like she's blessing them.

"I know I left for a while," Ally starts as the dice are cast and...

"NAT 20 MOTHERFUCKER!"

Everyone goes WILD.

Ally punches air.

Brennan looks like someone slapped him.

Emily: You have to rip up your comparative world religions book.

BONUS EPISODE UNLOCKED

And what did we learn today? A 5 percent chance is small, but not insignificant. 

OK, there’s one thing I want to address before I tap out for the night (and it’s not spell checking. I’ll do that in the morning).

I saw some people discussing the possibility that they faked the ending. Like, they just edited it like that to give them another chance because they were all about to die. Beyond the fact that I just trust them to not have done that, the other big reason I don’t think that’s likely is because there was a much more seamless way of stacking the deck in their favor. Brennan could have had Adaine pull literally anything out of her jacket. And I truly mean anything because this is a finale. Even if he gave her something game breaking, it wouldn’t have set a precedent because it’s the last ep. And that’s beyond all the NPCs that could plausibly have come in because they know something is up and teleportation is a thing in this world. Nah, I think that was just good, old fashioned, luck of the roll and thank Helio because they needed it.

OK, that’s it for now! Join me at some point between now and next ep to unpack this because it’s a lot and apparently we have another episode to get through. Hoot growl baby!

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 9

Summary:  After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

The next morning, Demyx tried to stomach breakfast. It had been hard to sleep, and everything around him seemed dull.

Even barged into the kitchen, looking peaked, his eyes on fire. “Have you a moment?” he asked breathlessly. Demyx half expected Even to yell at him. He’d barely stood when Even had seized him by the wrist and towed him towards the lab.

“Are you mad at me?” Demyx asked.

“I suppose, in a sense,” Even said. Once they reached the door, he let him go, and the momentum nearly caused Demyx to fall. “Your DNA has caused me to lose countless hours of sleep.”

“I...I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I’m guessing you didn’t find anything.”

“No. Precisely the opposite. Come here.” He gestured him towards one of the long tables, where several microscopes were lined up along with masses and masses of papers. Demyx didn’t know why he assumed Even was organized; the table was an absolute disaster.

“I’ve parsed everything you’ve given me. Looking simply at your genome, I was… frustrated. It’s normal. See, have a look. If you compare yours--” Demyx peeked into the microscope, seeing nothing but a double helix. “--And mine, aside from the average differences owing to our makeups, they’re the same. But then… I decided to look at your epigenome. Have you heard of it?”

“Um… well… isn’t that stuff like… how I was raised?”

“Well, it’s countless different factors, like the amount of oxygen you received in the womb, and the food you’ve eaten. Which is why it’s taken me so long to isolate them, and then to make sense of them. Now, again, I used myself as the comparison point. If you look at yours…” He pulled out a folded, taped piece of paper, full of little lines with notes trailing each. “...And mine, it started to make sense. Of course nearly all of the markers are going to be different. Take a look at these.” He lay the two papers side by side. “These markers here… they’re kind of like the amount of time your body’s spent in the environment, so to speak. Hard to tell just by looking at the regular genome. I can tell from your genome that you’re roughly twenty-two years of age, and you can tell from mine that I am… well. It’s accurate, I can assure you. But these… these!” His nostrils flared. “Your temporal markers should at least slightly resemble mine. They don’t. If I’m right at all… your little theory might have some purchase.”

“So you’re saying--” His throat was dry. “It’s true?”

“The initial tests seem to indicate that, yes.”

Demyx slumped against the table.

“I had the precise same reaction,” Even said.

“It’s why I don’t remember,” Demyx said.

“You’ve no memory?” Even asked.

“Only the dreams. Only what I’ve told you about.” He was shaking. “Am I really… did I really live through the Keyblade War?”

Even sighed. “You may very well have.”

“How? Why?”

“I’m thinking it has something to do with some sort of self-preservation. We all know that when the body and heart are in danger, especially if one is a Keyblade wielder, a person can produce otherwise impossible feats of magic. This had to be what Xemnas, and by extension, Xehanort saw in you.”

Demyx couldn’t breathe. His mind flashed to the piles of bodies from his nightmare. It must’ve been real.

“I don’t know if it’s possible to awaken those memories. It would most definitely be too much for your new heart to take.” Even shook his head. “Fate… is cruel.”

“I don’t want this. I just… I just wanted to play sitar,” Demyx whispered. The walls seemed to be closing in on him. He took one last look at Even and ran out the door.

Demyx spent the rest of the day, and the next several, in a numb, dissociated daze. He did everything on autopilot. A small part of him, the only part that seemed at all alive, missed Ienzo. He hadn’t seen him at all, and he hoped he was okay. It was hard to tell.

He decided to bring him lunch, if only to have something to look forward to. He made several sandwiches and brought them through the long, meandering corridors to the computer room. The castle felt empty and hollow, but then again everything did at the moment.

If Even’s lab was a disaster, Ansem’s was positively apocalyptic.

Whatever counter space surrounded the computer console was a sea of books, papers, and empty glasses. Posters covered the walls, connected with disjointed bits of tape. There was so much mess that Demyx barely saw Ansem in the sea of white.

“Hi. Sorry to interrupt,” Demyx said. “I brought you guys some food.”

Ansem’s head snapped up from the computer. Ienzo was nowhere to be found. “That’s very kind.”

“...Where’s Ienzo?”

“Ah, coincidentally, he went off looking for you.” Ansem looked positively zombie-like. Even through a small pair of reading glasses, his eyes were glassy and red. “I’m pleased you two have struck up a rapport. He could use a free-spirited friend his own age.”

We’ve struck up something, alright . He bit his lip. “Thanks. I think.” He set down the bundle on the smallest pile of papers close to Ansem. “Well, if he’s looking for me I should try to find him. And… er… Master?”

Ansem chuckled. “You’re not my apprentice. You needn’t fuss with the honorifics.”

“You should take a break too. No offense, you look terrible.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Ansem sat down on one of the chairs in the room. He reached for one of the sandwiches. “Yes, perhaps I… will take a few minutes…”

Demyx nodded and treaded the path in reverse, backtracking almost all the way to his room. He saw the wisp of white as Ienzo crossed into the kitchen. Demyx followed him and stopped cold.

Ienzo was covered in blood, clutching his nose and mouth.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice high with stress. “What happened?”

“Nosebleed. Very bad one. Nothing to worry about,” he said around the cloth pressed to his face. “Air too dry.”

Demyx guided him over to a chair. He really had lost a scary amount of blood. The white jacket was most likely ruined. He poured him a glass of orange juice. Demyx watched with a morbid fascination as he switched a soaked handkerchief for a dry one. Concern welled up in him. “Lean forward,” Demyx said. “You don’t want to swallow it.”

“It usually doesn’t take this long to stop,” Ienzo said, flinching.

“Do you usually get them?”

“Only when I… oh.” He exhaled.

“Only when you overwork?” Demyx asked. “You haven’t rested at all since the last time I saw you, have you?”

Ienzo took the cloth away from his face. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but he was dangerously pale.

“Drink your juice,” he said, scowling.

Ienzo reached for his cup. His eyes were glassy, and hollow, like Ansem’s. He flinched and touched his head.

“You should lay down,” Demyx said. “Please.”

“I will. I…” He hissed in pain.

“Do you want me to get Even?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“You lost a lot of blood.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Ienzo stood; or rather he tried to. Demyx sensed what happened before he saw it. Ienzo collapsed into an exhausted heap. Demyx caught him under the armpits. He seemed completely unable to support himself. Demyx eased him to the ground.

He hadn’t fully lost consciousness; he had a dizzy, vacant look on his face, which was somehow worse. Demyx patted Ienzo’s cheek. “Hey. Hey, Ienzo. Talk to me.” Maybe he’d gone mute? Was that it? “Squeeze my hand.” No response; he was totally limp. Demyx’s breath caught. He tried to raise his voice, to scream for help, but fear had sealed his throat shut.

Demyx was able to lift Ienzo himself, but only barely. Thankfully his bedroom was only a few doors down. He lay Ienzo down on the bed and then ran for Even. Hurriedly he explained what happened and then they were both running back. Demyx tried to keep his distance as Even fretted over Ienzo, taking vitals and sticking him with needles of this and that, leaving him with a hanging bag of fluid.

“I told him,” Demyx whispered. “I told him to take care of himself.”

“He only listens when he wants to,” Even said. He shook his head.

“Is that what this is? Something because of overwork?”

Even sighed. “He’s really done a number on himself. Exhaustion, dehydration, low blood sugar, cortisol levels dangerously high. The blood loss must have only exacerbated his condition. Best you found me when you did. With rest, and the proper care, though… he’ll recover.”

Somewhere in this Ienzo stirred, the vacant look in his eye clearing slightly. “Demyx?” he asked dazedly.

He took Ienzo’s hand and crouched by the bed.

“What…?” he asked, very weakly.

“You passed out. I am going to yell at you when you get better. Just a warning. I can be scary.”

Tears clouded his eyes, but he didn’t fight them.

Without thinking, Demyx kissed his forehead. “You’re going to be okay. You just have to get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”

He nodded and shut his eyes, too exhausted to put it off any longer.

“So. That is the nature of your connection with Ienzo,” Even said.

Demyx turned, bright chagrin washing through him.

Even raised an eyebrow. “He has mentioned you an awful lot. But I must admit I am flabbergasted. What is it you two even have in common?”

“I don’t know,” Demyx said. “But I… I care about him. And I think he feels the same about me.”

Even exhaled. “It is not up to me any longer to try and stop that boy from making mistakes,” he said. “But if this ends poorly… you realize there will be hell to pay.”

“Yes. I know.”

“That is all I have to say about that. At least until I process this. I am much too tired.” Even shook his head. “I’ll come back to check on him. If there’s any unusual change, notify me at once.”

“I will,” Demyx said. And they were left there alone.

Ienzo slept. And slept. Even came and went several times to change the fluid and give him a few more shots. He moved so rarely that Demyx worried he was actually comatose and not just deeply asleep.

Demyx was afraid to stray too far from him. After a little while, Ansem arrived, looking more haggard than ever. He stroked the top of Ienzo’s head. “I feel I have failed you already,” Ansem said to him. He stared down at him for a long moment, then looked to Demyx. “May I have a word?”

Demyx sensed what was coming. He nodded. Once they were in the hallway he didn’t let Ansem get a word in edgewise. “This needs to stop,” he said. “The way you two are working, you’re going to kill yourselves. And that’s not fair to him.”

Ansem said softly, “I agree. Several days’ rest are required.”

“Longer,” Demyx insisted. “Even said that if he had pushed himself any longer it could’ve been worse. And I’m sure you’re sick too. Let him look at you.”

“That is a… very empathetic reaction. Yes. I agree. We will rest.”

“I’m not going to let him near that lab. I’ll…” He didn’t know what he’d do, but it would be something.

Ansem chuckled. “Before I go sleep, I want to address your relationship with Ienzo.”

There it was. “Even told you?”

“Yes. At first I was… opposed. You are both dealing with the trauma of your pasts, and the newness of your humanity must be even more intense at your young age. But I haven’t seen Ienzo happier or more at ease in a long time. I would be loath to take that from him.”

This was Ienzo relaxed?

“You have a compassion that I did not anticipate. And in the end, this isn’t my choice. Treat my boy gently.” Ansem squeezed Demyx’s shoulder. “Treat yourself well too.” He headed off towards his quarters, whistling softly.

Well. At least there was that.

Demyx resumed his vigil. About eighteen hours after he initially collapsed, Ienzo stirred again. Demyx crossed over to him. “Hey,” he said. “Nice nap?”

Ienzo rubbed at his eyes, noticing the tube in his hand. “You’re still here.”

“Well, of course. You scared the crap out of me.”

Ienzo glanced down at his shirt, faintly stained with blood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I should have listened.”

“Why don’t you trust me?”

“I do trust you,” Ienzo said.

“Then why didn’t you listen?”

He looked out the window. “I thought I was so close to a solution,” he said. “And… when Roxas and the others visited, seeing their faces so full of hope… and knowing that I gave it to them… I could not in good conscience take myself away.”

“Okay, but, you know if you had gone much longer without sleep, or even water , you might not have woken up.”

A long pause while he digested that. “Is it true what you said?”

“What?”

“To Even.”

“You… you heard all that?”

“Yes.”

He felt the blood rush to his face. “Yeah. It is. I care about you.” Demyx touched Ienzo’s cheek. “Why else would I get up in Ansem’s face?”

“You… did that?” He blanched.

“Yep. And he says I’m right. You’re going to rest. You and I are going to hardcore chill for at least a week. You’re going to learn from the expert.”

“A week away from my work? With you? That might be…” He nodded. “That might be manageable.”

Demyx kissed him once, lightly. “I’m glad you think so, because unfortunately it’s out of your hands. Doctor’s orders. Well… is Ansem a doctor?”

Ienzo shrugged. “He has at least one doctorate. I’m unsure if it’s in medicine.”

“Yeah. Well, either way, I’m right.”

Ienzo stretched. “I should like to clean up and change. Perhaps eat. I slept for so long but I could very nearly go back to sleep.”

“You need it. Do what your body wants.”

He nodded. After a moment’s pause, he kissed Demyx again. “I have missed you.”

Demyx squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ienzo slept the rest of the afternoon and into the next morning. When he finally came into the kitchen, he was looking a bit mussed, but his color was almost normal.

“Oh hey, you don’t look like a zombie anymore,” Demyx said.

“I do feel quite a lot better,” he admitted. “Not… good, but better.”

They had breakfast. Ienzo was wearing some thick green sweater Demyx had never seen before. He wondered how much of his white coat getup was actually a uniform. “So what do you want to do today?” Demyx asked.

“I’ve really… no idea,” he said. “I think we have different ideas what constitutes leisure.”

Demyx snapped his fingers. “I think I’ve got it. First thing we’re going to do is go back to bed.” When Ienzo blanched and turned bright red, Demyx started to panic. “Not like that! God, get your mind out of the gutter, Ienzo. Haven’t you ever spent the day in bed?”

“Well--maybe when I was very ill,” he said. He was still blushing. Demyx couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever thought about sex, but then before he could go very far down that path he abruptly cut off the train of thought.

“Maybe that’s what you need. Sometimes it’s good to just do nothing. ”

“That sounds… very nearly boring,” Ienzo said.

“Kinda the point. You gotta give your brain a rest. Away from all the stimuli.”

“Okay. I’ll try,” he said. “If only because my critical thinking feels dangerously frazzled.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They returned to his room. There was just enough room on the bed that they didn’t have to touch. Ienzo settled back down against the pillows. “So we just do nothing ,” he repeated.

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I guess you could read, or something. But nothing strenuous.” He got back up and turned towards the bookshelf and picked what seemed to be the first book in a series that took up a big part of it. “What about this one?”

Ienzo cracked a smile. “That one? I haven’t read it since I was a boy. It’s a silly fantasy story.”

“All the more reason to revisit it now. And besides, there’s got to be a reason you’ve kept it.”

“All right… well… I suppose…” But there was an eager glint in his eye.

Demyx settled down next to Ienzo on the bed so they could both see the page. The text was large, and Demyx wasn’t a slow reader by any account, but of course Ienzo was faster than him. “Can you go back? I missed that whole part.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He flipped back. “I have a better idea.” He began to read aloud in a low, soothing voice. At first it felt a little perfunctory, but then Demyx saw him disappear into the story, which was about ancient heroes and impossible magic and endless quests with disparate twists and turns. Somewhere in the reading he leaned against Demyx, apparently distracted, resting his head against his chest. Demyx let his arm curve around Ienzo’s waist. He didn’t tense or flinch away. The warmth and weight calmed him, easing an ache he hadn’t previously been aware of.

Several of the long, meandering chapters later, Ienzo marked the page and set the book aside. “Throat’s dry,” he said, and reached for the glass of water at the bedside table.

Demyx could listen to Ienzo talk for hours. But the silence was fine, too. Ienzo leaned back against him.

“Yes. I… think I could do with a week of this,” he mumbled.

For a long time they held each other. Demyx stroked his hair. The sleepy, comfortable tenderness of the moment lulled him into a sort of daze, and the next thing he knew he was waking up. They’d both slipped down against the pillows.

“We fell asleep,” Ienzo said softly. He cracked his neck and then winced at an apparent crick.

“Just a nap, I think.”

“I feel… soft, if that makes sense.” He ran his fingers through his hair to fix it, shook his head, and let it be a lost cause.

“Because you’re actually relaxing for once. All that tension you carry around all the time isn’t supposed to be there. The fact that this feels unfamiliar to you is more than a little concerning.”

“Times like this make me uncomfortably aware of my unusual upbringing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Maybe I was wrong about you. In the Organization, I mean. Maybe you weren’t as lazy as I thought.”

Demyx laughed. “No, I was. I really was.”

“Not so much anymore.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You haven’t been around a whole lot lately. You don’t know what I get up to.”

“What is it you do all day?”

How could he admit that he was just waiting for Ienzo to get back? “Just kinda wander,” Demyx said. “Through the castle. Through town. I like exploring.”

“As do I. Part of the reason why I always looked forward to reconnaissance missions. People are so very fascinating . But now… it seems like I need a better understanding of myself. How do I synthesize Zexion and Ienzo? At some point do I draw a line between the two? How much of him still lives in me?”

“I think about the same thing every day,” Demyx admitted. “I feel like the last month or so has been one very long, very tedious identity crisis.”

““Tedious” surely is the right word for it.”

“Stressful.”

“Wrenching.”

“Annoying.”

Ienzo smiled. “I’m glad you understand.”

“‘Course I do.”

Ienzo hesitated for a moment, then threw his arms around Demyx, hugging tightly enough that he could actually feel his heart racing. The air shifted infetismally. Ienzo looked up at him. “May I ki--”

But Demyx, who had already picked up the hint, was already kissing him. There it was again, the sense of things becoming still deeper, still more intense. He understood Ienzo’s trepidation. It would be so easy to get lost in this, to let it unground him. Ienzo’s hands, at the small of his back, trembled. He pulled back the fabric of Demyx’s shirt until he found bare skin. As much self-control as he had, he couldn’t stop his body from reacting, and he got hard. If Ienzo noticed, he didn’t say anything, instead continuing to trace light patterns across Demyx’s back.

All the while he’d been waiting for Ienzo to be ready. Demyx wondered if he wasn’t as prepared as he thought. He broke away from the kiss and instead trailed across Ienzo’s jaw and throat. The soft gasp Ienzo made sent another flush of warmth through him.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” Demyx whispered.

“I don’t,” he said, in the strangest voice Demyx had ever heard from him. Demyx rested against him for a moment, feeling his heart going completely wild. They both fought for breath. “You’re shaking,” he added.

“Am I? I feel so much --”

“I do too.” He kissed him again. He delicately worked off Demyx’s shirt. Things between them were becoming heavy, and weighty. Ienzo didn’t resist when Demyx took off his sweater, but before things went much further than that he saw the scarring.

That day in the study room, the scars hadn’t looked very prominent. But now they were impossible to ignore. They cut across Ienzo’s collarbone and the base of his throat. Suddenly Demyx understood his preference for high-collared shirts.

But--Zexion hadn’t had those scars--

Ienzo seemed to come to his senses for a moment. “It’s how I passed,” he said quietly. “As a Nobody.”

Demyx touched them. The skin was soft, slightly ridged; he pressed his lips against it. Ienzo pushed up against him and and Demyx noticed for the first time that he was also--

He shifted his weight, pulling Ienzo under him, and for a moment they were all hands and mouths and a disjointed tangle of longing before they pulled apart.

“I can’t,” Ienzo stuttered. “I want to, but I--”

Part of him was relieved. “I know. Me too. It’s just so… much. I thought I was ready. But I…” He lay back down on the bed next to Ienzo. He gave him as much space as the bed allowed. Ienzo stared up at the ceiling. Demyx thought he had gone nonverbal, but then he spoke.

“...Does it hurt?”

Demyx blinked. “Does it--you mean--?”

Without making eye contact, he nodded.

“No. I mean, it’s uncomfortable the first time, a little, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“So you’ve done it, then?”

“...A few times. Not that much.” He swallowed, feeling self-conscious. He sat up. “To clarify, we’re talking about sex, right? Not astrophysics? Because if that’s the case I’m hopeless.”

Ienzo laughed.

“Like I said. When we’re ready. If we’re ready. I shouldn’t assume--”

“When,” Ienzo said quietly.

[writing-yj]

Nightwing x Reader: Mockingbird’s Betrayal

Summary: Mockingbird finally had enough. Her authority constantly being challenged by her younger team members, being blamed for reckless behavior, and every decision was criticized by Batman or the Justice League. The moment one of the younger heroes made a quiet, snide comment that suggested she should leave the team was the last straw.

Word Count: 3915

Warnings: There’s some blood, a bit of gore

This has nothing to do with the Robin x Reader Soulmate AU series, aside from Mockingbird’s abilities!

“Mockingbird is too reckless, dangerous, and don’t get me started on how she helps lead us. She needs to be kicked off the team.” The bitter, whispered remark made the hair on the back of your neck bristle. It was one of the girls walking to the showers, and your nails dug into your palm.

Nightwing could sense your anger from across the room. “Are you okay, Mockingbird?” He asked. He unfortunately knew of how rude the younger members could be to you, and he spoke to them numerous times, but it never worked for long. Despite being in love with you, he wouldn’t try to keep you on the team if you wanted to leave. You didn’t deserve this treatment.

You turned your head a little, just enough to see him. “I’m fine. Just a little wound up, is all.” Your voice was so calm that it was almost scary. It was decided; this team didn’t need or want you anymore. A dark part of you thirsted for revenge, and you gave in with little resistance. 

The good part of you, the light and loyal part wanted you to stay. You were still good friends with the original six members of your team. Your feelings for Nightwing were so strong, it was almost painful. That thought arose for a moment, but was soon snuffed out by the dark. 

‘They don’t want me as a hero anymore, hmm? Then I guess a villain will suffice.’ The voice of your conscience was one you didn’t recognize, but was there any point in turning back?

‘No. There isn’t.’

After that day, you used most of your spare time training with everyone. You trained with each team member, one by one, and you learned their tactics and battle styles. You committed them to your memory, should you have to fight them later on. You were already capable of defeating almost all of your teammates, but this excessive training helped you succeed. 

You even sparred with Black Canary, your mentor, almost every other day. Her face was one of a proud mother when you defeated her the first time. Not even she suspected the dangerous intentions that consumed you. Because of this, you were getting stronger and stronger by the day, and you were capable of defeating Superboy and Wonder Girl with ease.

However, sparring or even just speaking with Nightwing temporarily calmed the tempest inside you. Sometimes you yearned to stay, to never think about betraying them again, but the rage always came back eventually.

Overtime, bits and pieces of classified information stored in the Watchtower’s computers went missing. The disappearances were so small that they were unnoticeable at a first, maybe even a third glance. You were the thief who was slowly hacking in and stealing the classified files, for the sake of having exceeding information about missions and material evidence of black mail you could use, just in case. That’s how bad it got.

The adults and the team began to notice the small changes in your behavior. You were being more secretive and somewhat anti-social, but strangely more tolerant and passive. No one thought it to be a bad thing, so it wasn’t concerning or suspicious.

But Nightwing noticed that something was wrong. He knew you well enough to see the smallest adjustments in your attitude, and how your schedule was altered. You didn’t take as much time to hang out with him anymore, and the look in your eyes continued to change as the days went by. You spent less time at Mount Justice, and more time… somewhere else. He had no idea where you were going, and he wanted to ask, but he thought it would be best to stay out of your personal business.

You were in the kitchen, taking care of the dishes you used for your midnight snack, when you heard a very quiet tap behind you. You memorized that sound long ago, and you said, “I thought you would have stopped trying to sneak up on me, Nightwing.” You said nonchalantly, turning around and leaning on the counter.

“Damn it…” You heard Nightwing curse under his breath, but he smiled when your eyes met his. “You got me. I thought I was silent this time!”

“I know every distinguishing sound that comes from you and the rest of our teammates. Good luck getting past me.” You grinned.

After a couple moments, he cocked his head. “Have you been alright these past few weeks? You’ve been acting a little differently.”

‘How the hell-’

You nodded your head without missing a beat. “I’ve been perfectly fine, Dick. There’s nothing to worry about.” You lied through your teeth. Anyone one had a right to worry.

“That’s exactly what you say when you aren’t fine.” Nightwing’s voice and attitude got serious. “What’s wrong, (Y/n)?”

‘Of course he noticed!’

No words came from your open mouth, so you looked at the floor. You were afraid that one wrong word would make him dig deeper, and it’s better to stay silent to avoid exposing yourself.

He stood in front of you and sighed. “Is it how the younger members have been treating you?” Nightwing’s face expressed his concern, and he repeatedly tried to get you to look at him. “I’ve been talking to them about it. They’ll come around.” He gave you a small, comforting smile.

“Some of them want me off the team,” you said firmly. “Did any of them tell you about that bit?”

Nightwing looked a little stunned at this new information. “I’m sure they don’t mean that-”

“They do mean it!” You raised your voice unintentionally. “What the hell did I do to deserve any of that!? I’ve been on this team since it was first formed and I’m getting insulted and disrespected by kids.” You spat out, but you didn’t move away. “Everything I do is either scrutinized by the Justice League or judged by the others! I’m the one taking the heat for their reckless choices, and none of them have bothered to take responsibility their own actions! I haven’t been as reckless as them for almost six years!”

He shook his head in sympathy and disbelief. At least he, M’gann, Conner, Barbara, and the other heroes you grew up with didn’t treat you that way. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them. I can talk to Batman about it and-”

“Don’t even bother. I’ve already tried; Black Canary hardly ever listens to me anymore.” You quieted down turned away from him, running both of your hands through your hair. “I’m getting tired of this, Dick. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this.”

‘Not for too much longer…’

“You’re a strong woman, (Y/n). I bet you could push through it, but,” Dick trailed off for a moment before getting back on track. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave. I sure as hell would want to if I was treated like that. So I won’t stop you if you want out.”

His words were touching, and your heart melted a little before hardening back to ice. “I’ll sit on it for a few days. Let’s see how I feel in a couple months or so.” You gave him a fake smile and you walked past him.

Dick reached out and grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you back a couple feet. Even through his mask, you could see the care in his eyes. “Feel better, alright?” He almost whispered. Then he gave you a soft kiss on your forehead, and he promptly left the kitchen with a grin on his face.

The simple but loving gesture made your heart stutter, and you almost blushed until your conscience said otherwise.

‘Get him out of your head! Don’t let him stop you; some of them may be your friends, but this team deserves this!’

About four and a half weeks later, many different things were off. Specifically missions. For some reason, the enemy always knew, or had a good idea, on how to deflect the team’s tactics and plans. They knew drop off and extraction points, entrances and exits, and sometimes even where the heroes were stationed. One mission ended up with Wonder Girl and Bumble Bee being carried back while unconscious, and you had no regrets.

You stooped low enough to share small amounts of mission plans with the opposing side, since nothing had changed back at Mount Justice. When the Justice League started to suspect a mole, you immediately started making plans to cover up your tracks, method of escape, and you continued to vigorously trained with any hero who may attempt to stop you if it came down to confronting them.

Sometimes your heart twinged when you realized you were going to betray a few of your closest friends. M’gann would be extremely hurt, Conner would probably launch into a now uncharacteristic rage, Wally would be distraught, Artemis, your best friend, would be purely heartbroken, Kaldur would possibly cut himself off, and Dick? He would be completely shattered.

Now it regularly made you want to stop your plans, to stop back-stabbing them, but you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. Your mind was dead-set on vengeance; it was like a claw had taken hold of your heart and mind and refused to let go. You fought and fought, but you had no choice but to permanently give in. The night before, you went into a trance that lasted nearly two hours. There was some major stress on your mockingbird DNA, and that was a big red flag. Your friends noticed, but the mission you opted to not go on made them forget.

Just as you finished downloading more classified information, you heard a zeta tube announce someone coming in. You quickly shoved the flash drive into your pocket and you booked it out of there. Right after you escaped Green Lantern’s sight, your stomach dropped and you went deathly pale. You realized you took and extra file. One would think that one extra file wouldn’t be bad, right? 

Wrong. You had purposely been taking an exact amount of information that would go unnoticed, but this wasn’t going to go unnoticed. You swore and cussed over and over as you started to throw things together into a bag an you loaded your new utility belt with smoke pellets and sleeping gas. In the bag, you had water and medical supplies, solely for making sure none of your soon-to-be former teammates die or get too injured. Injuries of theirs were inevitable; it was too bad none of the supplies could fix broken hearts.

On your wrist computer, you pulled up footage of the Watchtower as you got onto your motorcycle that you previously upgraded immensely. Sure enough, Batman, Black Canary, Zatanna, and Aquaman were looking at the absence of files, and then looking deeper to discover that several important files were missing.

Something inside you wilted when you saw them pull up past footage of you leaving the rooms after files disappeared, and Black Canary’s broken and betrayed face made you feel sick, almost guilty even.

You put on your helmet and the engine of your motorcycle roared as you sped out of Mount Justice, the place you practically grew up in, one last time. You got out just before Batman put it on lock down, but he was too late to catch you. Your heart was pounding, but it calmed when it turned to stone once again. Your friends and mentor always messed with your heart, but not anymore. What you’d done was barely forgivable. Forgiveness would be almost impossible to get back.

‘One less thing to hold you back…’

Fifteen minutes later, you took a sharp turn into the forest onto an overgrown trail you knew by heart. Some leaves whacked and brushed by your helmet, and you ran over some bumps, but the small above-ground cavern a couple minutes after. The cavern was a place you found long ago, and you would go to it when you needed to clear your head. 

You parked just outside it and you slid off the shiny black motorcycle. You removed your helmet, flipping your hair and running a quick hand through it as you put the helmet on the seat.

You pulled the flash drive out of your pocket and examined it; it was brand new and shiny in your palm. You pressed the button on the side and it acted like your wrist computer, revealing a hologram of the information it stored. You designed it yourself, and it served its purpose quite well.

You felt like screaming in anger when you heard a twig snap behind you. Of course she found you. Of course she knew where you would go. Of course she was going to be the first one to confront you. “Mockingbird…” Black Canary said sternly, but her voice cracked at then end. “We need to talk.”

“About what? Is something wrong, Dinah?” You asked innocently, but your voice was laced with evil. You turned your head at her out of the corner of your mask. “You seem sad, why is that?”

“Why would you do this!?” Dinah cried out, a couple tears spilling from her eyes. “Why would you betray us!? And your friends!?”

A brush of leaves to your right let you know that Green Arrow was there, too. You gritted your teeth and growled, “Have you not noticed how you and the rest of the Justice League reprimand me for my ‘mistakes’, and tell me that I’m the one being reckless? When those kids are the ones responsible?” Your heart started pounding again from how furious you were. “And you know what? They disrespect me left and right. They don’t obey and damn thing I say and they completely disregard my rightfully earned authority. Then one of them said I shouldn’t be on the team and that I should be removed from it.”

“You could have told us!” Dinah took a step in your direction.

“I did tell you! I went to you countless times- you might as well come out now, Oliver, I know you’re there -and you did nothing!” You roared. “I’m done with all of that shit! If I’m going to be treated like a foe among heroes, then I might as well become one. You and that team of children are to blame for this.”

Dinah took another few steps forward, and she was getting too close for your comfort. Oliver stepped out of the shadows and lowered his hood. “We can work this out, (Y/n). Don’t make it worse than it already is.” He said calmly, but you could see the pain in his eyes. However, the sight of him still having a death-grip on his bow just made you even more hostile. 

“Don’t you dare take another step, Dinah. If you get any closer, I won’t hesitate to fight either of you. You both know I can.” Your voice was dark, and your eyes were nothing like your old ones.

Oliver slowly drew his bow as if he knew what was coming next, and he did. (Y/n), please-” Just like you warned her not to, she moved forward. 

And you didn’t go back on your word. You whirled around and landed a punch on her jaw with your right hand, and you caught Oliver’s arrow with your left. When you once taunted Oliver, saying that you could catch any of his arrows any day, you weren’t kidding. Your constant training and studying came down to this moment, what it all was meant for. they thought they knew your moves, but you were not only mocking sounds, but the unique fighting moves of those you sparred with.

In one rapid and smooth movement, you plunged the arrow into Dinah’s shoulder with emotionless eyes. You purposely avoided any area that could give her a fatal injury; you weren’t aiming to kill. Her shout of pain left you numb as you ducked and avoided Oliver’s swing. You elbowed him in the jaw and punched him so hard that you broke his nose. Blood poured out immediately and his head snapped back on impact.

You were moving faster than they had ever seen you and that made things even more of a challenge. For them, that is. At some point, your shoulder got dislocated and relocated in a short span of five seconds, and your cheek was cut open. Dinah fought to the best of her ability with tears in her eyes, despite having an arrow stuck in her shoulder. But she was losing, and all three of you knew that. Oliver’s bow and quiver were on the ground several yards away; you knocked them from his hand a minute earlier. He felt like he failed as a parent, and that thought was going to drag him down for the rest of his days. 

You used a move Dinah taught you herself to flip her over your shoulder. It knocked the wind out of her, and add that on top of her current injuries, she was down for the count, unable to keep fighting for the time being. That left Oliver.

He elbowed your throat and you gagged, which pissed you off even more. It was a dirty trick in your eyes; if he was going to play dirty, so were you. “’Oliver, stop! You’re hurting me!’” You cried out, using Dinah’s distressed voice.

That made the man you once called your father falter and stop in his tracks. His adrenaline rush prevented him from registering it as a trick, until you hit him with a mean uppercut to the jaw. You kicked him in the stomach, then punched his face again, and that sent him to the ground like a pile of rocks.

Dinah opened her eyes and squinted to see you, trying to rid herself of her blurred vision. “(Y/n)… Please don’t…-”

“I’m not here to kill you,” You pulled out a smoke pellet. “Unless you don’t stay out of my way.” All traces of (Y/n) (L/n) were gone, replaced with an ice-hearted machine that was hell-bent on revenge. You threw down the smoke pellet, and the small clearing filled with non-toxic smoke that hid your position. 

Black Canary and Green Arrow heard the growl of your motorcycle before you sped off, disappearing into the night.

Almost an hour later, Dinah and Oliver supported each other as they walked out of the zeta tube, beaten, bruised, and bloody.

Recognized: Green Arrow 08, Black Canary 13

Batman, as well as your former team, turned to look at them and they were all alarmed to see them in such terrible condition. Batman was briefly stunned that you took down two Justice League members single handedly, but he remembered your relentless training. So that’s why you sparred every chance you got.

“Whoa, what happened!?” Conner asked and he ran over to help. M’gann and Batgirl followed suit, and they were shocked to see one of Green Arrow’s arrows deep in Dinah’s shoulder.

Dinah looked up and tried to explain, but she went limp again with a quiet sob. She grunted when her shoulder was jostled, moving the arrow painfully. Oliver could barely talk anyway, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about what you did. The team still didn’t know what happened and it started to scare them.

Batman averted his eyes before turning his gaze back to the young adults in front of him.

“Batman… What happened?” Nightwing asked cautiously, and then he noticed the lack of your presence. “And where’s Mockingbird?”

With an inaudible sigh, Batman delivered the grave news no one ever expected to hear. “Mockingbird went rogue.”

[sassmastercas]

Golden

Series Title: Golden 

Word Count: 1272 

Pairings: Jack x Reader, (mentions of) Dean x Castiel

Series Summary: Jack may have been successful in opening the gate to the apocalypse world where Mary is trapped, but at what cost? Sam and Dean are in the “Bad Place” while the Reader and Jack are stuck in a world where everyone undoubtedly wants them dead. The trek to get to Mary is a treacherous one, with impending death at every corner, but together, they just might be able to make it back alive. 

A/N: I have been working on this for the longest fucking time and if I don’t get this out of my face now it may be a few more months until I do post this so here’s the best craptastrophy I could muster up. I do not have a tags list cause I write so infrequently (not true I write a lot I just post infrequently), but I’m super excited about this series so let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! Also, sorry about the google-translated latin and beware of season 13 spoilers. As always, feedback is always appreciated <3 

Masterlist 

Warnings: mild language 

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing a beaten and battered earth. The sound of dark, water-filled clouds colliding with each other reverberated through your bones. Years of destruction and chaos rendered the land infertile, with nothing but sand for as far as the eye could see. As you propped yourself up on your elbow and brought yourself to your feet, you recognized the landscape from the vision Jack gave you of the apocalypse world. But as you noted how subtly the streaks of lightning flickered through the overcast sky, the realization that your brothers were nowhere to be found sent what felt like even stronger waves of electricity through your veins and panic flooded your body. During your brief frantic search of the nearby premises, you spotted the half angel kid, unconscious, about 10 feet away from you. A fleeting wave of relief splashed your mind. You would have utterly lost your mind if you had lost both your brothers and Jack. As much as you wanted to have your guard up and be wary of the golden-eyed angel boy, you couldn’t help the little fire that was beginning to spread like wildfire in your heart. After all, he did bring Castiel back and found Mary. It didn’t help that he was also pretty easy on the eyes. But with the life you lived, you couldn’t afford to let your heart call the shots. Jack may have done good now, but he’s still the son of Lucifer. That’s what you keep telling yourself whenever you felt your heartstrings being strung for him.  

As you approached him, he started to stir back to life. Lending a hand to help him rise to his feet, you faltered, “Jack, Where are Sam and Dean?!”

At first, Jack didn’t realize that the Winchesters were missing, but he too was perplexed, “I… don’t know.” He paused to recollect what happened earlier in the abandoned boatyard. “Kaia kept switching between worlds, I couldn’t see anything clearly.” He paused again, knowing fully well that what he may say will set you off. “I think Sam and Dean are in the other world.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and disbelief, as did your heart rate. “You mean to tell me that my brothers are stuck in what Kaia calls ‘ The Bad Place’?!”

He started to say something to you but you just turned your shoulder; seeing his face would only make you angrier. With a million thoughts running through your mind, all you wanted to do was scream.

“I don’t wanna hear it Jack. Sam and Dean trusted you! To think … I was starting to trust you.” You pinched the arch of your nose to push back the impending headache and the tears. “You know what? It doesn’t matter, because we’re getting them back.. right now” Sam and Dean may only be your half-brothers, but they were the only family you had left. Them and Cas. The thought of losing any of them threatened to shatter you into irreparable pieces. But you couldn’t afford to fall apart, not now. So as any good hunter would do, you decided to channel those feelings into drive, a byproduct being anger.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t mean for this to happen. But we can’t go back… not yet” He replied.

“I’m not asking for your permission.” You spat. You didn’t know the first thing about the laws and rules of the universe you were stuck in, but there was no way you were going to let that stop you from attempting to use your magic. Your mother, as involved with the supernatural as she was, made sure to foster the prodigy in you so you’d never be unprotected.

“(Y/N) that’s not what I meant. I meant that Sam and Dean would want us to find Mary first. We can’t leave here now without her.”

You didn’t care to admit it aloud, but the Nephilim was right. You wanted to so badly to get your brothers back, but they would want you to find their mother. As you let the cool air fill your lungs, you swallowed your pride and agreed to stay in apocalypse world with Jack until you found Mary.  

“Let me see if I can locate her.” Even though the pocket knife Dean gave you probably only had a trace of his DNA left on it, a half - witch of your caliber could use even the smallest amount to trace the closest relative. Plus, this was a great way to test your magic in this universe.

To your dissatisfaction, locating Mary took longer than usual, but it was better than nothing.

“The place she’s being held in is about a two-day walk north of here. Let’s make it one.”  You gave Jack a sarcastic half-smile before turning on your heels, beginning your journey.  

--

You knew the search and rescue mission to find Mary Winchester wasn’t going to be easy, but you sure as hell didn’t expect to be bombarded by angels only hours into your trek. They literally came out of nowhere, plummeted to the ground like comets and materialized from the dust and debris. You were surrounded by 6 angels, all in dark military gear. The tall brunette with curly hair stepped towards you and Jack.

“This being, I don’t recognize his grace. Who are you?”

“I’m Jack. I…” before he could say any more, you grabbed his hand to get his attention.  Lucky for you, your eyes were always very expressive, easily getting the message across to him.

“We’re not from around here.” You added.

“That is not an acceptable response.” The commanding angel stepped back. “Ready, on my command” she ordered.

“Fuck” you muttered under your breathe. Even though you were itching to use your magic, you didn’t really intend on using it to ice angels. Then again, things never really go according to plan for Winchesters anyway.

As their eyes glowed a bright blue, you yelled for Jack to get down near the ground before chanting “exitium junctis alitibus angui sit”. And just as quickly as they had arrived, they had immaterialized into dark gray clouds of smoke.

“You alright?” you checked in with Jack. He nodded to confirm. “Good. We better get moving then, there’s probably a lot more of where that came from.” In that moment, you realized that no matter how fuming you were at Jack for the mess of a situation, you cared for him, a genuine feeling that would eclipse any nihilism when it came to protecting him. As much as you wanted to keep your guard up, as much as you wanted nothing more than to not give a crap about him, the stupidly handsome angel planted a seed in your heart that had sprouted and refused to stop growing.  Little did you know that all of his little nuances like being excited about zombies and utterly failing at making dinner for everyone had set the stage for something more than just “bunker-mates”

Jack, on the other hand, was both shocked and impressed at how unfazed you were by that encounter. Unbeknownst to you, he was actually drawn to it, to your strength and resilience. And until he saw how Dean and Cas behaved around each other, he didn’t even know what to make of the thoughts and feelings he had about you. But they were there, and Jack believed there was nothing you could do to change that. Even at your angriest, he still saw the best in you, and he knew that sooner than later, he’d get you to accept him as well.

[sherlysylvia1897]

Is Blood Sugar Defense safe to use?

What are the raw ingredients of honey?

Modern civilization has become far removed from nature. Most of us would not know how to survive if we were stranded on an island. Fortunately, things are slowly changing, and people are taking an active interest in natural health, which leads us to talk today about the benefits of bee pollen.

Bee pollen is a health food that has been around for centuries in Eastern cultures, but has only recently started showing up in Western health stores and online.

There has been quite a stir about the health benefits of these little golden granules, from helping you lose weight to helping with seasonal allergies.

First, what is bee pollen?

Bee pollen, sometimes also called bee bread, is plant pollen that bees collect and bring back to the hive to pack and use as a food source for the colony. As a result, the characteristics and nutrition of bee pollen depend on the plant from which it was collected.

Typically, people take a bee pollen supplement or sprinkle a tablespoon over their oatmeal or acai bowl. Bee pollen is made up of carbohydrates, fats, proteins, vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants.

A tablespoon of bee pollen has about 40 calories, 7 g of carbohydrates (including 4 g of natural sugars), and 1 g of fiber. Also, bee pollen can have more than two grams of protein per tablespoon, that is, more protein than the same amount of chicken or beef.

One teaspoon of bee pollen contains over 2.5 billion nutrient-packed flower pollen granules. Bee pollen is the richest source of vitamins in a single food.

A nutrient powerhouse of eighteen vitamins that includes a B complex, all essential amino acids, fatty acids, RNA / DNA nucleic acids, enzymes, and is at least 25% protein.

13 benefits of bee pollen according to science

Bee pollen can have many good compounds for the human body, check out just 13 of them below.

1. Fight inflammation

Capillaries are the smallest blood vessels in the body. These little ones need constant restoration, which is possible through the body's collagen production.

A key component in the creation of collagen is rutin, which is a bioflavonoid that helps synthesize collagen. According to Russian research, bee pollen contains one of the highest concentrations of this bioflavonoid.

Capillaries use collagen to stay strong and increase elasticity, which means that inflammation could be reduced and prevented. Inflamed capillaries can cause hemorrhoids, high blood pressure, and high cholesterol.

2. Salmonella surrenders to bees

The benefits of bee pollen are wonderful in fighting important bacteria like salmonella. This infectious bacterium enters the body through contaminated food and causes all kinds of problems.

This includes problems like diarrhea, fever, chills, and abdominal pain. The problem could go as far as dehydration or blood in the stool. It is an infection that nobody wants to experience.

3. Bee pollen drives the heart and blood circulation

Blood and heart can "scream" when they are happy, and their happiness comes from healthy blood circulation. The role that bee pollen plays in blood health and blood circulation is helpful due to some of its natural properties. For one thing, it appears that pollen components help increase red blood cell production.

You already know that bee pollen can reduce inflammation, which leads to high cholesterol, but there is more. Pollen appears to contain enough ingredients to increase high-density lipoproteins and decrease low-density lipoproteins, resulting in a balanced cholesterol level. Your heart should beat effortlessly with the consumption of bee pollen.

4. The immune system improves with bee pollen

Bee pollen increases the production and power of various substances in the body that are responsible for fighting all kinds of harmful pathogens. We are talking about bacterial infections, viruses, mutated cells, metabolic waste, and disease.

Studies conclude that components of bee pollen, like vitamins, appear to produce things like lymphocytes and immunoglobulin.

5. Goodbye to those damn allergies

Bee pollen has been used to treat allergies through an effective process called desensitization. The idea behind this technique, mentioned by the Journal of Allergy, is to slowly introduce allergens into the body.

The body will slowly begin to create antibodies to that particular allergen, but the key is to begin this process at least six weeks before allergy season begins.

One of the most beneficial aspects of taking bee pollen is that your body is creating antibodies to millions of types of pollen, which should provide you with more efficient antibodies.

6. Strength and endurance can be yours

That title may sound cheesy, but you have the power to increase your strength and endurance simply by taking in bee pollen. And the benefits of bee pollen go further with the amount of protein they have, which is greater than eggs and meat.

The amount of protein in bee pole is so high that most nutritionists estimate it to be about five to seven times greater than meat or eggs.

The British Sports Council found that strength increases by 40 to 50 percent with regular consumption of bee pollen.

7. Bee pollen can improve fertility

The University of Egypt conducted some research on bee pollen to deepen its fertility properties. The study was carried out in rabbits. Preliminary results found that sperm quality improved a lot, which helped fertility.

Bee pollen is packed with vital vitamins, enzymes, proteins, fatty acids, and a host of other unidentified components that could explain the effects it can have on people looking to get pregnant.

8. Improve your skin with this gift from the bees

Bee pollen has many nutrients. This concentration of nutrients can be quite helpful for your skin. The nutrients in bee pollen stimulate new skin growth while preventing premature aging. It seems to decrease dehydration, which is how skin is smoothed.

You can add bee pollen to your diet or just apply it topically from time to time.

9. Attack rheumatoid arthritis with the help of bees

Rheumatoid arthritis is an autoimmune problem that causes your immune system to attack the joints. In essence, your body is attacking itself and causing unnecessary pain or inflammation.

This problem is usually associated with an immune system that is out of balance or lacking in certain nutrients, causing it to misbehave.

Bee pollen contains several nutrients that improve the immune system, so some of your symptoms can be reduced if you consume bee pollen regularly.

10. Pollen can help your kidneys do their job

Bee pollen helps the kidneys in two different ways. For one thing, the abundance of nutrients helps ensure that the kidneys stay strong, which can prevent infection.

Infections are common with the kidneys because they are responsible for removing toxins and waste from the body. Bee pollen helps detoxify the body, which should make the kidney's job much easier. Do you see why you have to consume bee pollen regularly?

11. Get rid of that yeast infection with bee pollen

Candida or yeast infection is something that affects most people in one way or another. This could be thrush, viginitis, or even athlete's foot, although there are other forms of infection. The problem is very difficult to solve because it feeds on processed foods and sugars.

Bee pollen, along with a sugar-free diet and processed foods, could kill the infection and restore your immune system's grip on the candida infection.

12. Breast cancer victims have a friend in bees

If you are being treated for breast cancer, you are probably aware of all the negative symptoms associated with this condition. This could include hot flashes, hair loss, forgetfulness, depression, trouble sleeping, and painful sex.

It seems that the infinite amount of nutrients in bee pollen can control some of these symptoms.

Of course, it is wise to speak with your doctor before attempting treatment, but it may provide some relief during these difficult times.

13. Helps free you from addictions

Addictions come in many forms, like alcohol, cigarettes, and even sugar, but the only thing they have in common is that they trap you. Bee pollen won't cure you of your addiction, but it does help regulate digestion and nutrient intake.

These nutrients reach the nervous system and should restore balance.

This balance could prevent the body from reacting to addiction in the same way. This is why bee pollen could help a person trying to break free of an addiction.

Final notes

It should be noted that scientists have not been able to identify all the ingredients in bee pollen. This means that there may be other benefits that we just don't know about at the moment, making bee pollen look a bit like that box of chocolates full of surprises. Don't wait to treat your body with all this kindness.

Glucose is a sugar that comes from the foods we eat, and it's also formed and stored inside the body. It's the main source of energy for the cells of our body, and is carried to each cell through the bloodstream. Our brains depend on glucose to function, even when we're sleeping.

Blood Sugar Defense

[gettingitwrite]

Rabid: The Virus

DISCLAIMER: While this is based in real science, I don’t pretend that it’s accurate or even possible. This is also a really long post. I tried to cut it down….but I only ended up making it longer.

What is it?

The rabid virus is not a naturally occurring pathogen. The virus was developed, intentionally, in a military research lab. It was engineered to be the most devastating bioweapon possible, capable of wiping out entire continents once it was released.  The virus’ official designation is CMD-7, and it was developed as part of the top secret Project Isolation.

Why make this kind of bioweapon?

If you’ve noticed, Australia is an island, and CMD-7 is not airborne. Anyone we happen to be at war with is going to be across the ocean, meaning that dropping the virus on them wouldn’t endanger us. The hope was that it would only ever have to be used once, and only as a last resort; once the world had seen what it could do, they’d never risk messing with Australia again.

How does it work?

Buckle your seatbelts, it’s time for some science.

CMD-7 is not just a virus, it’s a provirus. These things are nasty, because in addition to hijacking your cells to create more copies of themselves, they can integrate their DNA (or RNA) into your own. These things can literally change your DNA, and if that doesn’t scare you, it will when you hear what this particular virus does.

Most proviruses insert themselves into the host genome in order to make more copies of themselves. However, CMD-7 has been engineered to insert far more than that.

What does it do?

The idea was CMD-7 would kill by causing infected individuals to starve to death within a matter of hours, if not minutes. How does it do this? Well, that’s where the name CMD-7 comes from. It stands for Cellular Metabolism Disease (with 7 being the number of iterations they’ve gone through), and its primary function is to drastically increase cellular metabolism. This means everything the cells would normally be doing, they’re now doing a lot faster (this is what causes the increased healing ability of rabids, as all bodily functions are now occurring at an increased rate).

However, that wasn’t enough. CMD wasn’t lethal enough when its only function was to increase cellular metabolism, so the researchers on the project took it one step further. The virus has a number of secondary functions that all increase the speed at which the body’s energy stores are depleted.

First, it switches off starvation response (also known as starvation mode). Starvation response is the body’s way of trying to preserve calories when they’re being burned faster than they’re being used, and does so by reducing cellular metabolism. As this is kind of the opposite of what they were going for, starvation response had to go.

CMD-7 makes it super easy for the body to break down all its fat by messing with two hormones: insulin and glucagon. These guys are responsible for controlling your blood sugar level, as insulin takes glucose out of the blood, and glucagon puts it back in. Normally, there’s a carefully maintained balance that keeps blood sugar levels at a relatively stable level, but not anymore. CMD-7 supresses insulin production while vastly increasing glucagon production, meaning all those fat stores will be burning in no time (this increased blood glucose is what causes the milky white eyes observed in rabids. Glucose collecting in the lenses of the eyes can then be converted to sorbitol, creating cataracts and causing the eyes to take on a cloudy appearance. This is also why rabids can see you better when you’re running away, rather than staying still).

Now, once the body has burned through all its fat, the next natural step is for muscle tissue to be broken down for energy. However, CMD-7 has another neat little feature designed specifically to speed up death by starvation. CMD-7 not only prevents the breakdown of muscle, but also causes muscle hypertrophy, instructing the muscles to grow. (Not only does this consume more energy, but is it also the reason that rabids exhibit almost superhuman strength despite being on the verge of starving).

As if that wasn’t enough, CMD-7 goes even further to speed up the process of energy depletion. Little bit of science background (that I’m sure most of you already know), cells get their energy through cellular metabolism. Normally, aerobic respiration occurs, where oxygen and glucose are broken down into carbon dioxide and water, releasing energy. This oxygen is distributed through the body from the lungs, by the red blood cells. CMD-7 disrupts this system, causing cells to receive insufficient oxygen and turn to anaerobic respiration. Not only is this far less efficient in terms of the glucose : energy ratio, it also release lactic acid as one of its by-products, further damaging the body. (This lack of oxygen is what causes the grey skin exhibited by rabids).

What went wrong?

The plan was to turn people’s bodies against them, killing them as quickly as possible. The thing was, they still needed a delivery system. Trials of CMD-7 in animals (yes, it’s cruel, but it happens in real life) found that after a certain amount of time, even herbivorous animals resorted to straight up cannibalism of both other infected individuals and even those that weren’t infected. It was at this stage they realised two things.

a) They’d created zombies. b) This solved their delivery problem.

Now, obviously, you can imagine how bad it would be if something like this got out. And unfortunately, wouldn’t you know it, that’s exactly what happened. I’ll probably do a more detailed post later about the outbreak itself, but for now, there was a lab accident, three of the lead researchers were infected, and nobody realised until too late what had happened to them. They escaped, the virus started spreading across the continent, and after that, there was no coming back.

Why did they turn to cannibalism?

While the researchers never got enough concrete data to be certain, the leading hypothesis was that a number of factors (lack of oxygen, lactic acid in the bloodstream causing lactic acidosis, and the brain breaking down its own neurons for fuel) contributed to brain damage that eliminated higher brain functions and caused instincts to take over. In a situation where someone’s body is tearing through energy at an insane pace, and the nearest source of fuel happens to be another person, that’s bad news.

And, I mean, this is just the observed effects of CMD-7 on the brain. Who knows what else might be happening, things they never realised before the outbreak, things they never could’ve imagined.

Infectivity

CMD-7 is a highly infective virus. The exchange of any bodily fluids with an infected individual, even the smallest amount, is enough for infection to occur. However, not everyone that gets infected turns rabid. Some burn through their energy stores and simply die, as was the original intent of the virus. This is especially true for those who were injured in the process of getting bitten, as the healing process takes a lot of energy.

Resources

For more about viruses being used to change human genes, and how something like this could be possible, here.

More detail on how proviruses work can be found here.

Read about the effects of starvation on the human brain here.

Detailed breakdown of insulin and glucagon here.

A better description of glucose causing cataracts here.

[i-was-once-a--tortoise]

WBJ 3: People

Still a bit behind, folks, but we’ll be catchin up soon enough, don’t you worry none. Let’s talk about mutants and aliens and robits. Maybe birds, as well. There’s a lot, tbh. 

Evolution didn’t stop affecting humans the day we achieved sapience. Compare yourself to our ancestors just a thousand years ago, an amount of time so small on an evolutionary scale that it’s not even enough time to blink, and you’ll likely notice one thing: your ancestors were pretty short, at least compared to you. Over just a thousand years, and the average human height has increased by almost 5 inches. Some other differences include the ability to drink milk (unless you’re lactose intolerant, of course, which, up until early humans first arrived in Northern Europe, was literally everyone) and the ability to metabolize ethanol, thus allowing you to get drunk without actually getting poisoned and dying.

Sapience itself is now just another tool for evolution to wield. The advent of medical sciences in the 19th century increased the average human lifespan dramatically. We became immune to diseases before they could fully run their course. With more time to live, we had more time to reproduce, and the human population grew wildly, like a globe-spanning ant colony. We conquered our world, and branched out into others. We harnessed the code of life itself, melded man and machine together, created new, complex life out of just one cell. 

And then, in a forgotten war, we fell. But we didn’t die out. And so our evolution didn’t stop just yet. It just changed course. Then it changed course again. And again. Again.

Until we’re here: 1 million years hence. The human race is a lot less singular than it once was, as the beginnings of new species are starting to appear.

Modern humans can mostly be put into three categories: mutants, cybers, and baselines.

Mutants are mutated humans whose DNA has been altered heavily via some external, often unnatural means, ranging from genetic modification to radiation to an artificial virus. Mutants vary wildly in shape, form, and culture, and are the most numerous category of human in Aedra. An example would be the Armored Folk, who live out in the Jungle Desert east of Vermillion. The Armored Folk’s ancestors were survivors of the Mechanomachy (the most recent great war between humans and robots), and deliberately modified themselves with UV-proof armor, to protect themselves from the then shattered atmosphere. While the threat is no more, the Armored Folk’s thick, insect-like carapace remains. Lucky for them, they’re hardly the weirdest looking mutants living in Aedra.

Cybers are humans who have modified themselves purely through cybernetic implants, replacements, and other such technologies. Most cybers are born either mutant or baseline, but their self-modification has turned them into a completely different kind of human. Examples of cybers include the ancient Priests of Virr, who cybernetically attached their brains and optic nerves to large virtual reality goggles, and the bio-mechs of the Just Seers of Vermillion, who sew their brains and vital organs into large battlemechs to protect their city’s rulers.

The last category are baselines. Baselines are humans whose DNA has been untouched by external forces such as GMing, and while some baselines do possess cybernetics, they’re usually non-extreme (i.e., a cybernetic arm prosthetic or an eye implant). This isn’t to say that baselines look exactly like what you’d consider “modern” humans. Baselines are, on average, tall, about 6 feet. They possess fast reflexes and an uncanny ability to detect above-average levels of radiation, as well as being a bit tougher. Diseases that would fatal to you would be shitty for a baseline but not inherently deadly, for instance. Baselines make up the smallest population of the humans, worldwide.

Humans aren’t the only people, though. It’s a crowded world, and humans share this world with several other sapient folk.

For instance, the Crultu: bird people. Literally. 

The direct ancestors of the Crultu were genetically modified chimeras, made up of the DNA of the American crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos) and several species of psittacine (parrots). Initially, they were engineered to be pets, but also as a way of preserving the DNA of the extinct parrots (somewhat ironic, as it was in part the pet trade that ultimately resulted in the extinction of most parrot species in the wild). Unfortunately, the resulting birds didn’t fare well in captivity. They were too smart for their own good, and a large number of them escaped and bred in the wilds of a rapidly changing North America. The leap to full sapience didn’t take that long. 

Today, the Crultu are a thriving people, being found almost anywhere a bird can roost. Small, fast little people with a sharp and somewhat meanspirited sense of humor, Crultu and humanity often don’t mix very well, often due to how funny Crultu think it is to steal your personal belongings and then watch you look around desperately for it. Despite this, the Crultu do enjoy living near humanity, to the point where they have their own unofficial district within Vermillion, called Uptown. “Unofficial” because it’s on the roofs, and most city officials aren’t even aware of it.

The Crultu are just one other race aside from humans on Earth. There are the various machine races, who are just as old and varied as humanity, having gone through their own strange cycles of sped-up evolution. 

There are the Invaders, creatures from another planet who attempted to peacefully colonize Earth some 800 years ago. Most of them left upon the discovery of sapient life on Earth, but a few “starter colonies” were accidentally left behind, along with some samples of their native flora and fauna. Tentacle covered centaur-like beings, Invaders keep to themselves, living in fear in a world that is much less friendly than they’d hoped.

And finally, the Delphinians. Their ancestors were sapient to begin with, and have arguably been “people” long before humans ever were. They had but one drawback: they lived in the sea. See, the Delphinians are dolphins. Civilization is almost impossible to build underwater, where fire can’t occur, so for millions of years, the Delphinian’s ancestors were tribal people, living in pods. Then, sympathetic humans lent a helping hand. Or rather, hands. Hands of metal.

Armed with cybernetic enhancements, the dolphins leapt into cultural advancement at a whirlwind pace, making up for lost time, as it were. It seemed innocent, at first. Until, some 2000 years ago, right on the heels of the Mechanomachy, the dolphins launched their conquest of the land. The human population was too small and exhausted to fight, and so, for almost 500 years, the Delphinian Empire ruled North America. Their empire eventually collapsed after a massive civil war, followed immediately by an attack from the enslaved humans and machines.

While Delphinians are far from extinct, their days of glory seem to be over. Though, within their hidden rivers underneath the Grey City, their leaders still tell of future glory to come. Whether their will someday be a Second Delphinian Empire, I can’t say for sure, and matters of the future are not worth talking about here, in our tour of the Earth -- 1 Million Years Hence!

[darnedchild]

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 2

On FFdotNet and Ao3 

Also, I haven’t had a beta look it over because I like to live dangerously.  Mostly, though, because I literally finished it about two minutes ago and I really wanted to post it so I could go to dinner.  SO - My first Khanolly-ish sort of fic thing.

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 2 - Not On The Side Of Angels (Fanworks focusing on Dark!Molly)

Descent Into Darkness

John Harrison was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and she was going to make sure he died a slow and painful death.

The bombing of Section 31 had rocked Starfleet.  The massacre at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco had ripped through the command ranks, leaving the fleet vulnerable without many of their senior and most experienced officers.

Both were acts of terrorism that hit far too close to home for many.

Molly was one of them.  She had been scheduled for duty at the London building the day of the bombing.  If there hadn’t been an unexpected delay with the public transport system out of her suburb, she would have been buried under tons of rubble just like many of her friends.

The knowledge of just how close she’d come to death had nearly knocked her to her knees.

And then the revelation that the devastation had been caused by John Harrison had finished the job.

The section supervisor Doctor Anderson hadn’t wanted Harrison in his labs; as Harrison wasn’t a doctor or biologist, there was no reason to allow him access to any of their projects.  But word had come down from high (the rumours even whispered that the order had come from the office of Admiral Marcus himself) and there had been no choice.  Eventually, even Anderson had agreed that Harrison had offered a few insights on some of the experiments, including ones that focused on some unique tissue and blood samples they had been given to analyse; samples, they were told, that had been acquired from an unmarked, derelict spacecraft found in deep space.

At first Molly had enjoyed Harrison’s visits.  He’d walk into the lab full of barely suppressed energy, listen to the other scientists as they discussed their current experiments, and then rattle off suggestions.  It didn’t hurt that he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, and watching him walk amongst the work stations was a treat.  He’d even stopped by her station a few times that first month, before moving on without a word.  She suspected he had found her experiments to be inconsequential; which they might have been on their own, if they hadn’t tied into the larger project she’d been assigned.

The top secret one that no one without a very specific clearance, not even Harrison, was allowed access to.  Nearly an entire year of Molly’s blood, sweat, and tears.

Those inconsequential projects had been stepping stones for something far bigger.

While the others worked to identify applications and uses for the samples, Molly worked on finding a bio-agent that would bring the mysterious lifeform to its knees should Starfleet ever encounter another one. Her orders were to create something that would weaken the alien, and slow or temporarily stop its regenerative abilities, so that the creature could be more easily subdued (if necessary). Early testing indicated the alien shared large amounts of DNA with humans, which complicated matters considerably. She would need to create something specifically engineered to stop a powerful creature that was a distant relative of humans in its tracks, without risking the safety of the men and women of Starfleet (and the Federation as a whole).  

Months after he’d begun his visits to the labs, Molly had looked up from her microscope to find Harrison watching her. His pale gaze had seemed to burn into her, as if he could read every emotion or thought that passed through her mind.  She had blushed and blinked, and when her eyes opened again, he’s expression had transformed into a friendly smile that she had reflexively returned.

Soon enough, Harrison began to make a point of coming by her station whenever she was there during one of his rare visits (which wasn’t as often as before now that her main work was being conducted in a secure area).  He’d ask about her project and then her day, her cat, the trip into work that day, what she’d chosen for lunch.  The sort of small talk she would have assumed he abhorred.

Molly had thought, mistakenly it appeared, that they were becoming . . . something, friends at the very least.  

Through months and months of light flirtation, unexpected meetings in the canteen, long conversations about the work going on in the labs, and one single perfect, passionate kiss after he had pulled her into a disused cupboard two day before the bombing . . . through all of that, Molly had never once mentioned or even hinted at her secret project or that she suspected that John Harrison was more than he appeared (if he wasn’t one of the infamous ‘mysterious’ lifeforms, she’d eat Anderson’s prized cactus).

Only an idiot would look back on all that and not put two and two together.  He’d been using her to try to gain information, and once she was no longer useful he had condemned her to the same fate as everyone else at Section 31 without a second thought.

Fair enough, she hadn’t felt more than a brief twinge of guilt when Admiral Marcus himself appeared at her flat and asked if she’d be able to recreate the bio-agent she’d been close to perfecting at Section 31, and—more importantly—if she thought there was any way to make it lethal.

Which is how she currently found herself in the sickbay of the Vengeance, partnered with a man who took orders well enough but clearly had no clue what it was he was helping to synthesize.  

Admiral Marcus had reassured her that her serum was only to be used as a last-ditch effort if all other attempts to apprehend and subdue Harrison failed.

She looked up from the terminal she’d been working at when the ship’s computer warned that the warp core had shut down and it had switched to the sickbay to auxiliary power.  All non-life support systems would be temporarily shut down.  

That was unexpected.  

Molly saw her companion pull a phaser out of a drawer that should have only held medical supplies, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.  He set the phaser to the side, but she noticed he kept at least half his attention trained on the door from that moment on.

Molly started when her terminal screen flickered as the ship’s full power was restored.  In the list of executable medical programs was one that shared the same name as her cat, ‘Toby’.  She was positive the program hadn’t been there before the power down.  She cast a furtive look toward her Richards (who was, apparently, more comfortable holding a phaser than he had been running a centrifuge) and accessed the program.

A password request popped up.

She frowned.

The program was probably nothing, an inside joke left by the ship’s programmers.

Then again, hadn’t it been well known that John Harrison had been heavily involved in the design and programming of the Vengeance?  If there was the smallest chance that the program wasn’t a joke, that it had been rigged to appear only if certain ship systems had been rebooted . . .

The entire idea was farfetched; but she still found herself searching her memory for anything that stood out, anything that Harrison might have expected her to remember and make note of.

There was one thing.  They had been talking about Toby, Molly had told a story about when the feline had been a kitten and had managed to get into a bit of trouble. John had mentioned having a pet once. He’d only discussed it briefly, and then his face had clouded and he’d changed the subject as if the memory pained him.

What was its name?

“Redbeard.”

“Pardon, Doctor Hooper?”

Molly jerked and realized she must have spoken out loud.  “Red blood. Cells.  I think I’m going to need another look at the results from the last run on those blood cells.”

Richards nodded.  “Do you need me to set anything up?”

“No, I can manage.  Thanks.”  She waited until he turned back to his station, then typed in ‘Redbeard’.

File after file sprang to life across her screen. Molly skimmed each just enough to get the general idea, then moved on to the next.

There were schematics for torpedo cases and cryotubes. A list of names, ages, and serial numbers.  Page after page of technical information that Molly didn’t recognize.  And a document with her name at the top.

“Molly,

If you’ve found this, it means the delay with the 7:15 train was sufficient to keep you out of harm’s way.  Unfortunately, it also means that you have put yourself back into danger by boarding the Vengeance.  

I need you to do one last thing for me, Molly.  Somewhere in the galaxy, there are seventy-two souls who are sleeping in cryostasis. They are my crew, my family; and they have been taken from me by Admiral Marcus and his men.  Everything I have done, I have done for them, to rescue my family from the hands of those who would use and destroy them.

Regardless of your feelings for me, I ask . . . no, I beg you to help them.  

Do not trust Marcus.  

Do not trust anyone.

Above all else, you must survive, Molly.  My Molly.”

She stared at the screen and tried to process what she’d just read.  Even without a signature, she knew who had written it.  

What the hell had been going on in Section 31?

“Marcus thought something like this might happen.”

Molly turned just in time to catch the butt of the phaser against her cheek.  As she hit the floor, she saw Richards frowning at the terminal screen. “Sickbay to the Bridge.  Khan left a love note for the good doctor.”

Who the hell was Khan?

Marcus’ voice came across the comm.  “Not important.  Is the serum finished?  Does it work?”

“Close enough.”

Richards stepped over her toward the carefully stored vials that contained the serum.  Molly tried to reach out and grasp his ankle as he passed, hoping to pull him off balance, but he jerked free.

“We’ve got visitors.  Khan and that idiot Kirk will be coming straight here, so I need you to bring it to the Bridge.  Marcus out.”

Richards grabbed a hypospray and loaded it with the serum.  “Nothing personal, Doctor.  I wish I could say that the Admiral will be lenient on you, but we both know you aren’t going to make it home.”

“Neither are you.”  

Both Molly and her assailant jerked at the sound of a third voice.  Before Richards had a chance to turn toward the door, he was already down.  

Molly looked up to see John, phaser in hand.  

“Have you read it?”

She nodded, and cautiously stood up.  “Parts of it.”

“And?”  He stood tall and alert, and she thought she saw his fingers shift against the handgrip of the phaser.  

“What do you need . . . Khan?”

Some of the tension seemed to melt away from his face and the hand holding the phaser lowered to his side.  She wondered what he would have done if she hadn’t given him the answer he wanted.

“My crew is on the other ship.  As soon as I’ve dealt with Marcus, they’ll be transferred to the Vengeance.”

Her mind had already begun making lists of what would need to be done to wake Kahn’s crew from their cryosleep.  “I’ll prep the sickbay.”

He darted forward and wrapped his free hand around the back of her head to pull her into a kiss that stole her breath away. Almost immediately, he released her. “Kirk and the engineer will be looking for me.  Secure yourself, things may get a little bumpy.”

And then he was gone.

Molly looked down at Richards’ stunned body, and quickly leaned down to snatch up his dropped phaser.  After a second’s hesitation, she picked up the hypospray and tucked it into the pocket of her tunic.

Khan had told her himself.

Do not trust anyone; and above all else, Molly needed to survive.

[pixiteapps]

Vector or Raster? A Guide to Image Formats

Image formats are known to most of us as three-letter acronyms like GIF, JPG, PNG, etc. These formats control how a computer compresses and decompresses the image data into something we can display or print. Some image formats use tricks to make the image small enough to load quickly on the web (png). Other formats are designed to carry transparency information (gif). Others are designed to carry dense enough data for high quality printing (tif). For our purposes, we are selecting digital images to color. So which format is best for us? Image formats fall into one of two categories of information storage: raster or vector. In general, raster images are better for greyscale coloring, hand-drawn artwork, photography, etc., while vector images are better for traditional “black line” coloring pages and for creating graphic design elements, such as a company logo. Understanding how these two format categories differ can help you choose which type is right for your creative needs.

Raster images like GIF, JPG, and PNG store image information in the form of pixels. Pixels are actually the smallest element of a digital image, the "atom" of a digital image. A pixel carries exactly one piece of information: color. A raster image is a defined grid made up of millions of dots (pixels), each one carrying a color value. When we look at the image, the pixels are so tiny that we see a picture and don’t see the dots at all. It is important to understand that raster images often do not respond well to dramatic changes in size because the clarity of any given raster is determined by how many pixels fill a specific amount of space, like an inch. If a raster is resized dramatically, those little dots of color information are squished or shoved apart, and the result is the all-too-familiar “pixelated” image—Blurry, jagged, and not very pretty! Vector images like SVG and even PDF take another approach for encoding the image as data. Instead of storing a grid of dots with values like a raster image, vector images encode the mathematical instructions required to draw the image from points, lines, curves, and polygons. When you display a vector image, the software follows those instructions and recreates the image in a nanosecond. It can be helpful to think of vectors as blueprints or as the DNA for creating an image. Vectors resize easily, without losing quality, because all that changes is the math or basic instructions for making a line, curve, or polygon larger or smaller.

Thanks for reading - now get out there and create! Team Pixite

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