#what is he like some kind of fucking robot you can just reset to factory default settings 💀

[cat-scarr]

the thing about Ben's character being "reset" is like the weirdest conspiracy theory in this fandom

[hamsterclaw]

Anywhere but here

You wake from a traumatic injury to find everything around you isn't the same.

Pairing: Jimin x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Nurse Jimin, smut, angst

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: Swearing, sex, traumatic injury, hospitals, memory loss

When you wake, it’s like you’ve been reset to factory settings. You’re not a robot, but there was a you before, and now there’s a you after.

The accident cut your life into halves, and that’s the reality that you’ve been dealt. 

The people around you are nameless faces apart from your family. Your parents, your younger sister and a man you don’t know but he says he knows you.

You can’t imagine what it’s like for them to lose the woman that was the old you and pick up the new you, metalwork in your thigh and a scar along the back of your head that they gave you an uneven choppy haircut to fix.

You don’t have the headspace to try and remember the names of everyone else who cares for you.

There’s the slim woman with a ponytail and kind eyes who always smiles cheerfully when she greets you.

There’s the stern looking older woman who never smiles but has gentle hands.

And then there’s the young guy who looks like he belongs in a magazine who you find a little intimidating, to be honest.

The brain injury means you take longer to process, sometimes you know what you want to say but the words won’t come. It’s annoying but you’re assured it will get better.

More pressing is the frame on your leg from where you broke your femur in multiple places. It took you a while to get used to trying to get around on crutches without help, because there was no way you were going to ask the young guy to help you to the bathroom. 

You don’t think there’s anything left of your dignity but you’ve got some pride still.

You’re sitting awkwardly on your bed, listening to the man you don’t know but who seems to know you, trying to shift positions because your leg is singing a chorus of pain, when the young male nurse walks into the room wheeling a portable blood pressure monitor.

‘Time for some observations,’ he says, politely.

You take the opportunity to move into the chair and hold out your arm.

The nurse frowns a little. ‘Your blood pressure and heart rate are up. Are you in pain?’

‘A bit,’ you admit, an understatement. 

‘I’ll get you pain relief,’ he says.

It’s another fifteen minutes before he comes back with the meds, another fifteen minutes after that before you can draw a breath.

The man who you don’t know but you’re told you used to love is telling you about people you don’t know, and it’s not nearly distracting enough.

When he leaves you want to cry with relief.

The door to your room opens, the nurse walks in. He checks on the IV that’s running, you hold out your arm because that’s the routine.

As he disconnects the drip, he turns to you. 

‘There’s a call bell,’ he points out. ‘If you’re in pain don’t wait, just call and one of us will come.’

‘Thank you,’ you say. You’re wrung out, emotionally exhausted, physically stretched, and all you want to do is pull the covers over your head and be alone.

You’re never physically alone in hospital, there’s no fucking privacy, and somehow you feel lonely anyway.

***

The calendar on the wall orientates you to the day and month, and you’re not so bad that you can’t remember the year.

It’s your birthday today they say, another year older even though you’ve gone nothing but backwards since the accident.

Your family bring you cake, fluffy slippers, and love that makes you feel warm. The man, you know he’s called Taemin, that you were about to marry him, why do you think of him as ‘the man’ in your head?

He calls you sweetheart and you think he means it less and less every day.

Today he kisses you, lips on yours and you weren’t expecting it, weren’t ready.

He pulls away, a flicker in his eyes that looks like disappointment that you see before he can hide it.

You want to say that it’s not fair, that you can’t be expected to be the person you were before, but the words don’t come.

You stammer an apology, make it worse.

You only feel relief when he leaves.

Lately they’ve been letting you wheel yourself down to the restaurant, out to the front of the hospital. 

It’s tiring, but it’s nice to be out of your room. 

You press the call bell, and the male nurse comes in. 

He looks rushed, busy, but he’s already here so you might as well ask.

‘Can I borrow a wheelchair to go downstairs?’

He says, ‘yes, of course. It’ll take me a while because it’s quite busy at the moment, but I’ll try and bring one up when I can.’

You thank him and settle in by the window to wait.

The late afternoon sun turns into early dusk, and he doesn’t come back.

You’re getting ready to manoeuvre yourself back into bed when there’s a knock at your door.

It’s the male nurse, dressed in his street clothes instead of scrubs. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It got so busy, I completely forgot.’

You look at the wheelchair he’s handling.

‘Would you still like to go?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re worried you sound desperate but you’ve been cooped up in your room all day and you want to go out even if you don’t get to see daylight.

He helps you into the chair. The ID badge tucked under his jacket says ‘Jimin.’

You try to commit it to what remains of your memory. 

‘Jimin,’ you say, hoping that saying it will make it stick. 

‘Y/N,’ he replies, giving you a smile that makes his eyes scrunch up.

‘Were you on your way home?’ you ask.

‘Yeah,’ he says. 

‘Thank you for this,’ you say. You put your hand on his arm, and he moves it away so quickly it’s hard not to feel stung.

‘Sorry,’ you say, putting your hands in your lap.

He’s quiet as he pushes you to the lifts.

‘I can push myself,’ you tell him. ‘You should go home, it’s past your shift.’

‘I’m heading down anyway,’ he replies, very politely.

You sneak a glance at his profile as the lift descends. 

He’s pretty, even fourteen hours into a thirteen hour shift. His nose is straight, lips full, and his skin glows like it’s lit from within.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirrored wall. Your uneven hair that you’re still growing out makes you grimace.

You look down at your lap quickly. 

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

You force a smile. ‘I know the docs saved my life, but they ruined my hair,’ you say, trying to make a joke of it.

Jimin’s quiet again.

‘I was joking,’ you say, quickly. ‘I’m grateful for everything.’

Thankfully, the lift doors open.

‘Good night,’ you say, smiling at him.

He asks,’will you be ok?’

‘Yes,’ you say. Wild horses couldn’t drag any other answer from you.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then he nods and turns to leave.

***

Physical therapists are demons in disguise, you think disgruntledly to yourself as today’s therapist tries to encourage you to get out of the chair.

Your thigh is screaming in pain, you’re tired and dizzy and sweating from exertion.

As soon as the therapist leaves, you press your call bell and a nurse arrives.

It’s not someone you’ve met before, you know they’ve been short staffed lately.

His ID badge says Matsu. 

You ask for pain relief.

He says, firmly, ‘you shouldn’t ask for pain relief unless the pain is bad. The last thing you need is an opiate addiction.’

You’ve never been denied pain relief before.

You feel a wave of shame.

Is he right? Are you addicted? Does it matter?

The pain’s bad though, your stomach’s churning and clenching.

‘The pain is bad,’ you say, dignity be damned, pleading.

‘I’ll check on you in an hour and if you’re still in pain I can give you some then,’ he says.

He’s out the door before you can formulate a reply.

You sit very still, try to distract yourself. The pattern on the ceiling’s swirling, you’re concentrating so hard.

The door opens, the male nurse called Jimin comes in, and you bite your lip so hard you taste metal on your tongue.

He’s saying something, but you can’t hear it over the rush of blood in your ears.

He comes closer, leans over you, voice firmer now. 

You can hear your name.

You gaze up into his face, and he looks so kind, and concerned, the tears start trickling down your face.

‘Please,’ you whisper. ‘I’m in pain.’

Jimin leaves and comes back, hangs an IV on the drip stand above your head, connects it up and opens the port.

The cold trickle through your veins makes you shiver but soon enough relief comes, so sweet and welcoming you start crying again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you realise Jimin’s still in your room, typing notes into the computer. 

He says, ‘don’t let it get that bad next time.’

His voice is quiet, neutral, but you can’t help the flash of anger.

‘I asked for the painkillers, and the nurse told me to hold out as he didn’t want me to be addicted,’ you reply, sharp. 

You can hear the tone of your voice as it comes out, and you hate it. The thing that you resent most about the constant pain is the way it’s draining away your generosity, your indulgence, your humour. 

You can’t stand yourself.

Jimin, instead of snapping back, somehow manages to reply with a kindness that makes you feel even worse.

‘I’m sorry the nurse said that,’ he says, sounding regretful. ‘Please know you can ask for pain meds anytime.’

You’re still crying, indulging in your moment of self-pity, wallowing in it. 

God, you hate yourself.

The only thing you hate more is the pain.

***

You’re going for another trip out, you’ve started spending more time outside now that the weather’s better.

You’re waiting to be let out of the double doors to the ward when the nurse, Jimin, passes by.

‘There’s a hairdresser in the hospital,’ he tells you. ‘They’re open now, and they didn’t have any customers when I checked.’

You look at him, considering.

‘Since you said you didn’t like your hair,’ he adds.

You smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll check it out.’

You look at your reflection in the mirror of the elevator on the way down, and impulsively, decide to visit the hospital hairdresser.

It takes you a bit of back and forth to find it, you’re sweaty and frazzled by the time you press on the buzzer.

A woman with bright orange streaks in her hair answers. She gives you a once over, then smiles, kind.

‘You must be Y/N? Jimin said you might come.’

You’re surprised. ‘You know Jimin?’

‘Honey,’ she says, taking the handles of your wheelchair and pushing you in front of one of the mirrors, ‘everyone knows Jimin. He’s a sweetheart.’

‘He’s easy on the eyes too,’ agrees another woman, smirking. The tag on her chest says ‘Suzie’.

‘Jimim said those neurosurgeons did a number on your hair,’ the first woman says. She winks at you. ‘Lucky for you I’m an expert on cleaning up after them.’

You’re startled into a laugh. 

Her smile brightens. ‘You’re so pretty! And you’ll look even better when we’re done.’

An hour later, you find yourself in the lifts on the way back to your ward.

You can’t stop staring at yourself in the mirrors.

Is this what you used to look like? You’ve seen a few pictures of you. Taemin’s lockscreen is a picture of you and him on a beach, but you don’t think you look exactly the way you looked before. 

Rhonda, the hairdresser who greeted you at the door, had waved you away when you tried to pay her, saying all patients got their haircuts on the house.

You’re waiting to be let back into the ward when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s Jimin, smiling at you so broadly you blink a little at how pretty he looks.

‘You went! Your hair looks beautiful,’ he says.

You look at him searchingly but he seems perfectly sincere.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him. You give him a half-smile. ‘They like you a lot down there.’

Jimin laughs. ‘That’s because I let them do whatever they want to my hair.’

He rakes a hand through his hair to illustrate, and you notice he’s got a new undercut beneath the blonde curtain of his hair.

‘Pretty,’ you say, admiring.

Jimin glances at you. ‘Just like you,’ he replies.

You laugh, because he can’t possibly be serious. ‘Please, in this old thing?’

You pluck at a fold in your hospital gown, and Jimin says, deadpan, ‘the green specks in the fabric really complement your eyes.’

You laugh again.

Jimin asks, ‘Need a push back to your room?’

‘Nah,’ you say. ‘I can do it.’

Jimin nods. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

It’s only when you get back to your room that you realise that your conversation with Jimin, short as it was, is the first real conversation you’ve had in a long time.

***

Taemin’s looking at you very seriously, and a sudden flash of intuition tells you what he’s going to say before he says it.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he tells you.

You concentrate hard on the hand he’s put on top of yours. 

Was his touch ever familiar to you? All you feel is detached.

You search his face, the curve of his brow, the line of his jaw. He’s attractive even now, but did you ever really love him the way he said you did?

It’s only been a few months since the accident. 

Did he ever really love you if he’s this keen to move on without you?

The tears come as a surprise.

He looks alarmed now, as the wetness spills from your eyes, down your cheeks.

You know it’s unfair for you two to be in limbo like this, especially when you don’t think the old you is ever coming back.

It’s just the new you, the now and forever you left.

You assure him you’re fine, that it’s the right thing to do. 

He tells you he’ll pack up your things and deliver them to your parents’ house.

You tell him to throw everything away.

What use do you have for the trappings of a life you can’t remember?

It seems like hours before you gather yourself together enough to go back to your solitary room.

You put yourself to bed because you think you’ve had enough of today, and you can only hope tomorrow will be better.

***

It’s Halloween, and you’re amusing yourself with the thought that you don’t even need a costume this year to look frightening.

You’ve had another operation, your leg’s healing well enough that the surgeons have taken the frame off, leaving a collection of red scars and a leg you don’t trust without the external metalwork.

Without the scaffolding that held you upright for months.

Your hair’s grown out, the scar across the side and back of your head is covered but if you run your fingers along your scalp you can still feel it. 

The doctors tell you that you’ll be home before Christmas.

You refrain from telling them you can’t remember a home apart from this hospital bed.

Nobody likes a killjoy.

You glance up as someone knocks on your door.

It’s Jimin, a satin cape over his scrubs, plastic fangs peeking out between his lips.

‘Are you here for my blood?’ you ask.

It’s a joke you wouldn’t have been quick enough to make a month ago.

Jimin frowns at you. ‘Where’s your costume?’

You gesture to your leg. ‘I’m the Tin Man,’ you tell him.

‘You are pretty heartless,’ Jimin agrees.

You snort. ‘You’re a nurse, aren’t you supposed to be caring?’

Jimin says, ‘I do care. There’s going to be fireworks later, I got permission to take you to the park if you want.’

You can’t believe your ears. ‘The park? As in, out of the hospital? Do you mean the car park?’

Jimin smiles. ‘I mean the park next to the hospital. An actual park.’

‘When?’ you ask, guarded, not letting yourself get excited, worried he’s going to tell you it’s a joke.

‘I clock off at eight, I’ll take you then.’

You know how hard he works, you’ve been on this ward for months and you think he’s been here almost as much as you have. And you literally live here.

You want to ask why he’d spend his precious time off with you but god help you, you want to go to the park more.

You haven’t been off hospital grounds since you were admitted, a mangled mess of broken bone and blood.

Jimin’s looking at you. ‘If you don’t want to —-‘

‘I want to!’ you say, so quickly you startle both of you.

He’s still eyeing you carefully, so you say, ‘I just feel bad taking up your time off.’

‘It won’t be long. I don’t live far from the hospital anyway,’ Jimin says. 

He smiles, and he looks so kind you feel like crying. ‘So are we going?’

‘Yes,’ you tell him. ‘Yes I’d love to.’

***

You feel an unfamiliar fluttering of butterflies in your stomach as you wait by the entrance to your ward for Jimin to finish handing over his patients.

Jimin hurries up to you. He looks a little tired, but he smiles kindly at you. ‘Ready?’

He’s dressed in his street clothes, a plain t-shirt, a hoodie and jeans, and you catch yourself thinking how pretty he looks, even in casual clothes, tired after a long shift.

Shit.

Do you have a crush on him?

At least you don’t have to think about him having a crush on you, you think ruefully. All he’s seen of you are your dumb jokes which you can’t even blame on your brain injury, your hideously scarred leg and your terrible post neurosurgery haircut.

You think you’re good.

Jimin takes the handles of your wheelchair as you leave out the main entrance of the hospital.

‘Thanks for taking me out on your own time,’ you say, wishing you could see his face.

‘It’s not a problem at all,’ Jimin tells you. ‘Like I said, I live close.’

You feel lighter the further you get from the hospital, the fluttering in your stomach getting stronger. 

Is this what happiness feels like? Excitement? 

Jimin parks you by the side of the lake.

‘I’ve got some time off after this, anyway,’ he says.

‘Yeah? Going skiing?’

Jimin looks at you, bemused.

‘Sorry,’ you say, apologetic. 

Your injuries are from a skiing accident. At least that’s what you were told. You sure as hell can’t remember it.

You want to say something else, but you’re distracted by the sudden eruption of fireworks, over the lake. 

A starburst of metals burning in the sky.

You don’t realise you’re laughing until you notice the way Jimin’s looking at you.

His face gleams red and orange in the light reflected off the lake. 

He’s beautiful.

You stop, self-conscious. 

‘Don’t,’ Jimin says. ‘Don’t hide it on account of me, you look so happy.’

A shower of purple falls gently, and it’s so pretty you could cry.

You could keep watching forever.

‘I haven’t seen your fiance in a while,’ remarks Jimin.

Distracted, you say, ‘we broke up.’

Jimin looks at you sharply, you feel the need to explain.

‘He said he couldn’t do it anymore,’ you tell him. You shrug. ‘It’s ok. I know I’m different to how I was before.’

Jimin says, casual, ‘What a dick move.’

You’re startled into a laugh. ‘Isn’t it? But I don’t have any feelings for him either, not now anyway. It would have been a farce.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jimin says. ‘If you’re committed in health ——‘

‘I don’t know how committed we were,’ you say quietly. ‘I can’t remember a damn thing about us.’

You’re both quiet for a moment.

You ask, to break the silence, ‘what are you doing with your time off?’

‘I’m going travelling,’ Jimin says. He looks at you sideways. ‘I’m going to Tuscany with friends.’

You’re excited for him. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Tuscany,’ you say. ‘You’ll have to show me pictures when you get back.’

Jimin smiles. ‘Of course. But at the rate you’re healing you might not even be on the ward when I get back.’

You hadn’t even considered this. 

‘I’ll be gone three weeks,’ Jimin says, gently. 

‘Well, send me a postcard,’ you say, laughingly. ‘You know where I live.’

‘Deal,’ Jimin says, offering his hand. You shake, as the lights rain down around you, burning bright in the dark.

***

You’re struggling at physical therapy today, more so than usual. Your breathing’s heavier, and it feels like you’re fighting through mud. 

Your physical therapist, Mara, finally stops you, just as you’re about to ask for a break.

‘Are you feeling ok?’ she asks, concerned. 

‘I’m fine,’ you grit out. ‘I can do more.’

‘I think we should stop.’

You just have enough consciousness left to hear her calling for help as your vision goes dark.

The padded mat is cool under your cheek.

You hear rapid footsteps, voices, and then, nothing at all.

***

You lose two and a half days before they allow you to wake. 

First and most pressing, the tube in your throat that it hurts to swallow around, pushing air into your lungs. Breathing for you. 

The line in your neck, the stitches holding it in that itch, madly. 

You would scratch it but your hand’s tethered with the weight of a probe on your finger, another line in the back of it. 

The tube in your nose, hooked up to a pump. 

The catheter between your legs, attached to a bag hooked carelessly on the side of the bed. 

You’re in intensive care. 

When your breathing tube comes out, a cough and a splutter, you ask what happened. 

It turns out you had a wound infection that made you septic. You’d collapsed after a physical therapy session. 

If you hadn’t already lost half your life to the skiing accident, you’d mourn the loss of the last few days. As it is, all you can do is what you’ve been doing. 

Try to move on. 

Your muscles, painstakingly built up through months of physical therapy, have weakened even though you’ve only been asleep for two days and change. 

Breathing becomes an exercise in endurance that you’ll never take for granted again. 

The lines come out, one by one, and then, at the end of your first week, you’re finally line free, untethered again. 

Just your battered body for company. 

Sohee, the older nurse with gentle hands, coaxes you through your bad days. 

You think of Jimin, more than once, sunstreaked and golden in the fields of Tuscany. 

You hope that wherever he is, he’s having the time of his life. 

Your family, initially terrified by your deterioration, are now talking about where you’ll live when you get discharged. 

Trying to help you get over the setback from your sepsis. 

You’re trying not to let your discomfort show on your face as Matsu tries for the third time to draw blood from your abused veins. 

He buries the needle, deep, and you bite your lip at the throbbing that results. 

The door opens, and you look up, grateful for the distraction. 

It’s Jimin. 

He’s tanned, and glowing with good health, and he stands out like an angel in these four walls that have been your home for months.  

‘Jimin!’ you say, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. 

‘Y/N,’ he says, with such warmth there’s a glow in your chest. 

You flinch as Matsu moves the needle in your arm, and Jimin’s face darkens. 

‘Hey, Matsu, I can take over.’ 

The tone of his voice brooks no argument. 

Matsu nods, and Jimin takes his tray from his as he leaves. 

‘I had a little jaunt to the ICU whilst you were gone,’ you say, lightly. ‘It’s not as nice as Tuscany, but it was a change of scenery at least.’ 

Jimin smiles. ‘I heard. I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.’ 

His hand is warm on your arm as he prepares to draw blood. 

‘They did a number on my veins,’ you say. 

Jimin hums. ‘I know,’ he tells you. He’s gentle, thumb pressing on your skin as he searches for a vein. 

‘There goes my life of being a junkie,’ you say dramatically. ‘I wouldn’t be able to find a place to shoot up.’ 

Jimin says. ‘Tuscany was lovely. You should go someday.’ 

‘Yeah?’ you ask, interested. ‘Tell me more. Where did you stay? What did you do?’ 

You feel the prick as Jimin draws blood, and he says, quietly. ‘I’m in, you can relax, ok? I’ll be done in a minute.’ 

You close your eyes as Jimin tells you about the vineyard where he and his friends stayed. His voice is low, melodic, and he distracts you so well you barely realise when he’s done. 

He places a plaster on your hand, thumb smoothing the edges. 

His touch calms you in a way you haven’t felt in weeks. 

You turn to him. ‘Thanks Jimin.’ 

‘I’ve been doing this for years,’ he says. 

‘Not just for this,’ you say, gesturing to the plaster. ‘Thanks for the company.’ 

‘Apparently you like it so much you got septic so you’d still be here when I got back,’ Jimin says, grinning at you, easy. 

You laugh. ‘One day, when I get out of here, I’m going to make you breakfast, and the best coffee you’ve ever had.’ 

Jimin snorts. ‘Can you even cook?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ you admit. 

You both laugh. 

‘Well, I look forward to it anyway,’ Jimin says. He gets up, holding up the vial he’s just drawn from you. ‘I should get this labelled up and sent off.’ 

You’re still smiling long after he’s left the room. 

***

It’s Christmas day. 

Your family are visiting, they’ve even brought in turkey, your favourite roast potatoes which you used to love, and you haven’t had such a good day in a long time. 

You’re still in your Christmas pyjamas, looking out the window after they left, when there’s a knock on your door. 

Jimin steps in, slightly bemused at the collection of food and presents you’ve been bequeathed. 

‘I know you don’t know who you were before, but you’re very loved,’ he observes. 

You’re oddly touched. 

‘They left me a tonne of food, have you eaten?’ you ask. 

Jimin smiles. ‘I’ve been eating all day, all the staff working today have brought in things for Christmas lunch.’ 

He pauses. ‘And dinner.’ 

He laughs. ‘We’re all set until the end of the year, I think.’ 

‘Dessert?’ you offer. ‘It’s my mum’s sticky toffee pudding, I won’t be able to finish it.’ 

Jimin considers the container you show him. ‘I can heat it up and we can share it?’ 

‘Deal.’ 

Jimin disappears with your container and comes back with two bowls and two spoons. 

You eye the tiny gummy snowman candy he’s placed on top of your helping. 

Jimin sees your expression, laughs. ‘They’re good. Sohee gave me a whole bag of them.’ 

He perches next to your window, and you eat in silence. 

‘There’s a big tree in the main hospital, do you want to go and visit it after this?’ Jimin asks. 

You nod. ‘Also, I got you a present.’ 

You rummage in your pile of presents for the gold box your sister helped you get. 

Jimin accepts, looking shyly at you. ‘You shouldn’t have got me anything,’ he says. 

‘Don’t worry, I don’t expect special treatment,’ you tease. ‘I know you save the best treats for Mrs Kim in room 12 anyway.’ 

Jimin laughs. ‘May I?’ 

He unwraps the box, and a moment later is staring at the gold Christmas bauble ensconced in delicate tissue paper.

He runs his thumb over the design etched in the glass. ‘The tree of love,’ he says. 

You smile. ‘When you came back after your holiday, you looked so happy and recharged, and I thought this would remind you of it.’ 

Jimin smiles back at you so bright and pretty he’s blinding. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’ 

He puts it carefully back in the box. ‘The tree I was going to show you isn’t as beautiful as this, but shall we go now, anyway?’ 

‘Sure.’

You grab your crutches. 

‘I can get a wheelchair if you want –’ Jimin offers. 

‘It’s my Christmas present to myself,’ you tell him. ‘I’m not going to use a wheelchair again.’ 

Jimin looks at you for a long moment. 

When he opens his mouth, his words aren’t what you expected. 

‘I guess I could carry you, if the worst happened,’ he says lightly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Lead the way, Park, I’m fine on my crutches.’ 

Two lifts and a walk across the link corridor later, you find yourself standing in front of the giant Douglas fir in the front foyer of the hospital. 

It’s huge, at least 20 feet tall, and covered in blues and silvers. 

You sigh. ‘It smells so good.’ 

You catch Jimin looking at you. 

‘It reminded me of you when I saw it,’ he says. 

‘Does it also have a bad leg?’ you ask, teasing. 

‘I used to go hiking with my family, every weekend,’ Jimin tells you. He’s looking up, away from you, at the star on the top of the tree. ‘This tree reminds me of that.’ 

He turns to you. ‘My dad used to do a bit of woodworking, and his favourite type of wood was Douglas fir. You can paint it easily so it can be any colour you want, and at its core it’s light and strong. Look after it, and it lasts a lifetime.’ 

You’re trying to think about how this relates to you when Jimin says, ‘You’re rebuilding your life, painting yourself different, but you’re the same person at your core. You’re one of the strongest people I know.’ 

You don’t realise you’re crying until he reaches out, gently, to wipe your cheek. 

‘Do you believe in fate?’ Jimin asks. 

‘I don’t know what I believe in now,’ you say, honestly. 

‘I never did,’ Jimin says. ‘I wanted to leave nursing for a long time. I actually put in my notice last year.’ 

You’re surprised to hear it. From what you’ve seen, Jimin loves his job. He’s damned good at it. 

‘I was on one of my last shifts when you were brought in,’ Jimin says. He’s looking at you now, an expression on his face that makes your heart skip several beats. 

‘Seeing you pick up the pieces after you had something so devastating happen to you —-’ he breaks off, throat working as he swallows. 

‘It made me realise how much I love my job,’ he says. ‘I think I was meant to do this. I’m good at it.’ 

‘You’re great at it,’ you say, earnest. 

Jimin reaches out and puts his hand over where yours is braced over your crutch. 

‘Here’s to next Christmas, when all this is behind you,’ he says. 

You don’t know what to say, so you grasp his hand. ‘Merry Christmas, Jimin.’ 

‘Merry Christmas, Y/N.’ 

You stand there, hand in hand, admiring the sparkly tree, enjoying the relative lull in activity in the normally crowded hospital foyer this Christmas night, until your legs start to give out, and then Jimin walks you back to your room. 

***

You’re in your room, just back from physical therapy, when Sohee walks in. ‘We need your help,’ she says, brisk. 

You look up, curious. 

‘It’s Jimin’s birthday, and the tradition here is that if you work here and it’s your birthday, you get slimed.’ 

You’re incredulous. You can’t imagine anyone would ever dare to slime Sohee, with her perfectly starched uniforms and her stern demeanor. 

‘Park manages to evade us every year, but this year, he has a weakness,’ Sohee continues. 

She looks right at you. ‘You.’ 

You splutter. ‘Me? How am I Jimin’s weakness?’ 

‘He likes you,’ Sohee says, matter of fact. ‘He’d never act on it, not whilst you’re in his care, but he likes you, and this year, Park Jimin’s going to get what’s coming to him.’ 

‘What’s in it for me?’ you ask, nonchalant. 

‘I’ll get the catering staff to give you an extra helping on Sunday roast day,’ says Sohee, like she’d been expecting you to ask exactly that.

‘I don’t want to hurt Jimin,’ you say. 

Sohee rolls her eyes. ‘No one wants to hurt Jimin. But he’s the quickest out of all of us, and he’s slimed us all over the years, and no one can catch him.’ 

‘Come on,’ Sohee wheedles. ‘You’ll be discharged next week anyway.’ 

You sigh. ‘What do I have to do?’ 

***

You shift nervously in your chair as you wait for Jimin to respond to the call bell Sohee activated before she left. 

He knocks on your door and enters, a smile already on his face. ‘Are you ok, Y/N?’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ you start. 

Jimin’s two steps away when the door bursts open, and Sohee, Matsu and the other nurse, Alice, rush in. 

Jimin looks at them, then you, and steps in front of you quickly. ‘Ok, ok, you can slime me,’ he says, hands out. ‘Just don’t get anything on Y/N.’ 

Jimin stands perfectly still as Sohee and Matsu unceremoniously dump buckets of green and purple slime over his head. 

You don’t miss how the slime makes his scrubs top mould to his torso. 

Jimin turns, slips, and you reach out to stop him from falling. 

You lose your balance and Jimin, trying to stop you from falling, slides to put his body under yours as you end up in a heap on the floor. 

Jimin’s looking at you, concern in his eyes. ‘Are you ok?’ 

He looks so ridiculous, covered in green and purple slime, that you can’t help but laugh. 

A moment later, he’s laughing too. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him. 

He’s still smiling. ‘I can’t believe you helped them,’ he complains. He shifts a little, and suddenly you’re very aware of the hardness of his torso under you, how his thighs strain against his scrubs bottoms. 

‘I’ll leave you kids to clean up,’ Sohee says, not unkindly, ushering Matsu and Alice out of your room. ‘Happy birthday Jiminie!’ 

Jimin helps you get up. ‘Be careful, it’s slippery,’ he says, holding your arm. 

You’ve never been this close to him before. 

He wipes his hand on his thigh, then brushes a streak of slime off your cheek. ‘I’ll get cleaned up, then I’ll come back and clean the room, ok? Can you get cleaned up on your own?’ 

You nod. His hand is still against your cheek. 

You’re thinking about what Sohee said about Jimin liking you. Is she right? 

Jimin pulls his hand away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth. 

‘See you in a bit,’ he tells you. 

***

You take one last look back at the room you’ve spent the last few months in whilst you’ve been recovering from your injury. 

You came in, in pieces, and now you’re walking out, changed in ways you can’t even fathom. 

Your dad and mum are in the car with your things, you’ll be staying with them for a while until you learn to live independently again. 

You’ve said your thank you’s and goodbyes. To Sohee, who made good on her promise to get the catering staff to give you extra roast potatoes on Sunday. To Matsu, who you’ve seen grow in compassion since the initial days when he wouldn’t give you pain meds. To Mrs Kim who was constantly saying how much you reminded her of her daughter. 

To Jimin, who dropped by after his shift yesterday and gave you his number. He’d told you to call him and it’d seemed like he meant it. 

You close the door behind you and see Jimin, rushing down the corridor. 

‘I was worried I’d missed you,’ he says. 

‘You’re not even at work today,’ you remind him. 

‘I live close. Besides, I couldn’t not say goodbye on your last day.’ 

Jimin smiles. ‘Ready to face the big bad world again?’ 

You smile back. ‘All my monsters are in there,’ you say, gesturing to the empty room behind you. 

‘We should meet up,’ Jimin says. ‘You owe me a breakfast and the best coffee I’ve ever had.’ 

‘We can meet up,’ you say. ‘Anywhere but here.’ 

You reach out, and enclose him in a hug. 

‘I’ll see you soon, ok?’ 

He holds you a moment longer, then lets go. 

‘Yeah.’ 

You walk down to the ward doors, press the button to let yourself out. 

You give Jimin one last wave, and then, you’re out. 

***

You’re watching TV with your parents after dinner, when the news comes on. 

‘Hey, that’s your hospital,’ you dad says. 

You watch, interest piqued as the newscaster reports on upcoming nursing strikes. 

‘They should strike,’ you say. ‘They’re underpaid and underappreciated.’ 

Later, in your room, you’re looking at the number Jimin saved on your phone. 

It’s been two weeks since you left the hospital, and you’ve not got in touch with him. 

It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, but you’re worried about what things will be like, now that you’re out of the hospital. 

You think of the news report you saw, and you make a decision. 

***

It’s the first time you’ve really been out since you left the hospital. You’ve been with your mum to the store, round the corner to the park, but you haven’t made any longer trips than that. 

Your leg’s completely healed, you don’t even need crutches anymore, but some days there’s still an ache deep in your bones. 

You get headaches but they’re nowhere near as bad as they were. 

You hear the chanting, the sound of a hundred conversations, as you walk over to where there’s a crowd gathered, picketing in support of the nursing strike. 

Every face is unfamiliar, and you’re starting to wonder if it was wise to come and support the strikes when you see him. 

He’s dressed casually like the other times you’ve seen him in off-duty clothes, his hair styled back, holding a placard that says, ‘Safe staffing saves lives’. 

Like he senses your eyes on him, he turns, and your eyes meet. 

In an instant, he’s making his way through the crowd, to you. 

He stops a step in front of you. 

‘Is it really you?’ he asks. 

You smile.

Jimin wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as a group of people push past. 

‘What are you doing here?’ he scolds. ‘You shouldn’t be in a crowd like this —’ 

You put your hand against his cheek, and he stills. 

He moves his head, closer, so close your lips touch. 

You’ve wanted this for so long, and this new version of you takes what she wants. 

You kiss. 

Jimin makes a soft noise, deep in his throat, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head as your lips meet again. 

By the time you come up for air, you feel flushed, giddy, your heart pounding a million miles a minute in your chest. 

Jimin presses another soft kiss on your cheek before he pulls away. 

‘I’m so glad you came,’ he says. 

***

Jimin’s shucking his shirt over his head in the quiet of his bedroom, only the moonlight to show you the beauty of his form. 

He gathers you back into his arms like he couldn’t stand even that short time apart without touching you. You don’t think he’s stopped touching you at all since you met him at the picket line. 

You’re not complaining. 

Jimin pulls you closer so your lips meet again. His lips are soft, full, pressing against yours firmly. 

He doesn’t shy away, so you don’t either. 

He tugs your top over your head, litters your breasts with kisses, tugs the cups of your bra down so he can get better access. 

He laves your nipples with his tongue, like he enjoys the sounds you make as he sucks on your flesh. 

You can feel his hardness against your centre as he strokes his tongue and hands over your skin. 

You reach down to touch him, and Jimin grunts as you curl your fingers around his cock.

‘We don’t have to—’ 

‘I want it,’ you tell him, lips against his skin, hand on his ass. 

‘I want to give it to you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, are you sure?’ 

You’ve never been surer of anything in your life. 

Jimin rolls a condom onto himself, hissing a little. He positions himself above you, and you move to make room for him between your thighs. 

He nudges in a little, gentle as he’s always been with you, and the stretch is so good you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips. 

Jimin presses his face to yours. ‘Tell me to stop if —’

‘Don’t stop,’ you say. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’ 

Jimin seals his lips to yours as he drives the rest of himself into you. He stops when he’s all the way in, stills. 

He lifts his head to look at your face. ‘Are you – is this ok?’ 

You smile, breathlessly. ‘Can’t you tell, Jimin?’ 

Jimin groans as you clench around him. 

‘You’re so wet. Fuck —’ 

He moves, and your eyes close with the pleasure of it. 

‘Fuck, Jimin —’ 

He moves again, and you cry out as he rocks his hips against yours. 

It’s overwhelming, the weight of him against you, the way his skin gleams with sweat in the moonlight, the soft whines he makes on every thrust. The feel of him inside you. 

It’s his voice that eventually tips you over the edge. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he vows against your ear. ‘I can’t believe you’re here —’ 

You cry his name as you come, and he keeps going, seeking his own release now, gentle even when he’s taut with need. 

He kisses you again, grinds hard, deep, and then he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to ever let you go. 

***

You can hear Jimin moving in his bedroom, and sure enough, he emerges, shirtless, hair mussed from your fingers through it. 

You admire the beautiful lines of his cut torso as he walks towards you. 

‘Who knew you were packing all this under those blue scrubs?’ you ask, teasing. 

Jimin smiles, pulls you into a hug. ‘What are you doing in my kitchen?’ 

‘Making you breakfast,’ you tell him. ‘A promise is a promise.’ 

Jimin leans down to kiss your neck, and you shiver at the touch of his lips. 

‘Later,’ he tells you. ‘I’ll make us breakfast later. Come back to bed.’ 

He grasps your hand, and you follow him back to his bedroom. 

You have no idea where this is going, but you figure this is a hell of a good start to the rest of your life. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, episode 17-20 thoughts! finishing up season two! the finale is the THIRD 2-PARTER OF SEASON 2. that's so many! I wonder how many season 3 will have?

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-UERGH WHY DOES VLAD HAVE AN AI WITH MADDIE'S FACE ON IT. SOOO CREEPY. AND MORE 'CREATIONS' waiiiit. vlad is Dr. Frankenstein! (despite his ghost design obviously referencing vampires) HE HAS 'CREATIONS' HE MAKES THEN WONT TAKE REAL RESPONSIBILITY FOR!!! this bitch.

-danny was late and his friends immediately start going off about how hes inconsiderate, and has been treating them like sidekicks??? he just overslept, my god. chill. even if he has, be nicer about talking about it with him?? he really can't help that he sometimes has to chase the ghosts, or has a secret identity to protect...

-'what kind of ghost haunts a miniature golf course' umm. me as a ghost. next question

-imagine going home and theres a tiny child on your bed claiming to be your cousin. with as many cousins I have, I would probably believe her. but the 'ran away from home' BIT....SHES 12?? SHES SO TINY. I hate that they have her belly out in her ghost form, but I like how her colors are asymmetrical. something about her design...maybe the proportions?? are weird to me...anyway danny was good to feed her, but he shouldve taken her to his parents FIRST. or, tbh, probably jazz. (JAZZ DIDNT EVEN GET TO MEET HER!!! NOOO. I mean she said she'll be BACK BUT STILL)

-ANYWAY. shes voiced by AnnaSophia Robb, the girl who was in because of winn dixie, played as violet from charlie and the chocolate factory, and was the girl from bridge to terrabithia. (the movie that made me cry hysterically when I was 12 and I never watched it again because it Broke Me!) thats super cool.

-vlad sucks: the episode, basically. what's new!! I love how he's like, I'm Not A Villain. *immediately cuts to him torturing danny to make him transform, to get mid-transformation DNA, to perfect a Clone.* *immediately shows that he doesnt give a shit about his new daughter Dani and just wants a ''more perfect clone'' and will put her in danger to get that. will let her DIE to get that*

-Dani is danny's clone and is a girl? transgenderism....one of them has to be trans. or they both are.

-dani just. leaving at the end. WHAT? SHES 12. DONT JUST. NO!!! SHE WAS PROBABLY JUST BORN, A MONTH AGO AT MOST, RIGHT?? SHE NEEDS...SOMEWHERE TO LIVE. MONEY? FOOD?? A FAMILY?? AN EDUCATION???! WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S LEAVING!!! OKAY BYE I GUESS!!! D: concern!!!

-the next ep opens with skulker chasing a ghost down. ...does skulker count as a ghost hunter in the way valerie and danny do? I mean, sure, he hunts the good guys too, but he. he hunts ghosts...also, we haven't seen his Real Form since his debut episode! tiny...

-the guys in white are back! ngl, I assumed they were a gag for that one episode. you're telling me they might actually be a threat? ok.

-valerie in her lil nasty burger uniform looks so cute!! glad shes not in that mascot uniform this time. I guess she stopped hiding that she's working there now?

-gregor having white hair, dressed in black and white...and green eyes...sam has a Type, I guess.

-danny being unnecessarily hostile about gregor. danny!!! hes been nice so far. he looks a little...tall to be 14, but. danny doesnt know anything about him! (he does Suspect, but...you cant just spy on people and be rude to them from a hunch.) also, gregor kissed her, and when she freaked out, he was like 'oh no!! sorry, we can take it slow! I understand!' which was NICE. I hate jealousy plots still tho.

-altho. umm. tucker, being concerned about danny spying on them??? SAM AND YOU WERE SPYING ON DANNY AND VALERIE A FEW EPISODES AGO!!!!! im not saying its RIGHT, but dont be a hypocrite!!! AND THEN SAM BEING MAD ABOUT IT, TOO.

-DANNY IS A 7 ON THE SCALE OF ECTOPLASMIC POWER!!! out of 10? so I want to know where the other ghosts rank...I mean it's a list from the guys in white, so, it may not even be accurate, like, they havent seen ALL of his powers, have they?

-Lancer being like 'im not cooperating with the FEDS' until they said they could access his tax records. they already did that joke with jack, but like, its still funny. kings of tax evasion.

-tucker's aggressive third-wheeling. but gregor being super into it. gregor/tucker is the real ship here. then gregor kissing danny on both cheeks after hugging him. bi poly king gregor. (he does turn out to be a liar with a phoney accent. unsurprising, BUT THE CONCEPT OF HIM BEING GENUINE AND THEM ALL DATING IS FUN)

-THE...GUYS IN WHITE THINKING GREGOR IS DANNY PHANTOM. LMAOOO. GET HIS ASS. or,, Elliot. lmfao

-sam saying tucker is part of the package because theyre friends was super sweet <3 but also 'part of the package'...polyships are obviously the solution to these dumb jealousy/love triangle plots.

-danny crashed a whole plane. the collateral damage...

-is he....

-you know....

.... (ITS NOT GAY IF YOU'RE DOING IT TO PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE YOU'RE NOT, AND LIE TO A GIRL. RIGHT? he was getting a little too into pretending to enjoy tucker's company, and the above...c'mon, guy.)

-lmao, freakshow is in actual prison. I didn't expect a follow up, or for him to show back up! in the finale of this season, too!

-THE SICK TATTOO GHOST IS NAMED LYDIA!!! more Lore On her. freakshow seemed genuinely concerned about her. also, is she mute? I don't think she talked the first time we saw her, either. and we didn't know freakshow 'envied' ghosts, either, the first time, we just knew he was controlling them. interesting!

-...they literally stole the infinity gauntlet from marvel and called it the reality gauntlet. is that legal. what the fuck. even with the gems in the lil slots, having different powers...they had freakshow in jail, but didnt check his pockets??! hes just still in his lil outfit??? what kind of ...oh, its in amity park. yeah, all of the adults are idiots, okay, sure.

-'freakshow!' 'in the anemic flesh!' dude take some iron pills then. also, sure, the red eyes could be contacts for his aesthetic, but the whites of his eyes are yellow! does he have jaundice?! he severely needs more...like, every kind of vitamin. (this is what im worried about as freakshow attacks danny with giant robots)

-again, goth circus is a sick theme, and I love his goth train.

-oh FUCK every single person saw danny transform. on a stage. including his parents via TV. oh god. the guys in white and immediately like 'youre coming in for experiments!' SCARY. at least the crowd is willing to help him to escape...perks of now being a local celeb! even the kids at school are accepting :) this is what, the third time his family has found out? its always been an alt timeline tho. and danny fully intending to just rewrite things again instead of...I dunno, trying to roll with it this time? hes really worried his family won't accept him, huh...

-'maybe our son IS THE GHOST BOY, but its not as if our family's ghostly activities have EVER PUT YOUR FAMILIES IN DANGER' maddie. mmmmmmmmmmmm. okay.

-danny 100% prepared to run away from home because of this :( oh :( and saying his parents are 'looking for him, or a scalpel to dissect him with' ouch...

-THE GUYS IN WHITE TRYING TO ARREST A 14 YEAR OLD. fuck da feds.

-side note (another one about voice actors...) freakshow's voice actor, Jon Cryer, was lex luthor in pretty much every DC tv show, which is why I recognized his voice, because my dad loves those shows so I've seen a good bit of them without seeking them out...)

-the old man saying 'hey, i still had minutes left!' and danny saying 'you gotta watch those roaming charges!' about danny destroying the people in the diner's phones so no one could report seeing him...would kids today understand these things. can you even BUY minutes anymore...I remember my first phone being a flip phone, and the fact I always had minutes when my sister ran out super fast, because I didnt have friends calling or texting me like she did...:/

-the fentons being genuinely like 'why didnt danny trust us and tell us this, we love him :(' and JAZZ LAYING INTO THEM WITH THE 'DISSECTION/MOLECULE BY MOLECULE' LINES. LITERALLLLY. they need to apologize

-technically, lydias stronger than you! -jazz lesbianism moments! when did you even learn her name!!! but also get freakshows ass. lydia is also cooler looking. looove her design sm still.

-jazz psychoanalyzing freakshow... (also, her also having ghost envy? au where jazz is a ghost!! id like to see it)

-im glad the kids still got to go to their respective vacation things, even if they cant really stick around and enjoy them much...

-furry: confirmed. (also tucker calling her hot. tucker is a furry confirmed)

-danny being mad someone at the comic con is selling comics of him without permission, lmfao. give him his royalties!

-freakshow > thanos because hes a drama clown and does use his gauntlet to be FLASHY AND DRAMATIC.

-jazz's 'USE PYSCOLOGY' to danny about freakshow LMAOO. AND THEN IT WORKING. but, oh, freakshow's ghost form sucks. I like him as a clown better tbh. good thing danny took away his ghost powers!

-his parents hugging him and saying theyre proud :"( and saying 'of course you lied to us, we never gave you a reason not to!' and saying they were in the wrong basically for always talking about hurting ghosts aaaa :""(

-then he WIPED THEIR MEMORIES AGAIN!!! FUCK. I can understand him wiping the goverments/student bodies' memories, but why his parents?? they were being accepting!! ARGHHH. season 3 couldve been them all trying to adjust to them knowing!

-I know, on a meta level the showrunners probably wanted to just reset things to the status quo of him having a secret identity. But. We've been doing that for (2) seasons, I'd love if season 3 could be like, his parents adjusting to this and trying way harder to learn more and accept it (and the shenanigans that could come from that) and for fun, if he didn't wipe the students memories, it could be him being popular for a while, then everyone slowly realizing, oh, he's still Danny. Like. he might have ghost powers but hes Just The Same Guy instead of putting him on a pedestal (and seeing them all try and help him hide it from the giw/people who don't know!!)

-fuck they didn't even explain WHY he wiped everyone except sam, tucker and jazz's memories. he just Did It right when his parents were saying they loved/accepted him!! and sam and tucker didnt question it at all!!! HELLO??? very annoyed about this turn of events.

-anyway. onto season 3! I know its shorter than the first two seasons, and is the last season... I might just do it in 2 bursts if I can... :3c depends on the episodes' content and how much I want to say about each!

[ryosei-hime]

Sex and Therapy: The Mending

Cog begins the extensive repairs on Fizz and Concord grapples with the fear and rage battling for his attention. Waiting for the new episode slowed me down in writing this one as I was way to excited to be too productive. Also available on AO3.

Concord burst into Cog’s apartment without knocking. He’d run the whole way and fell several times on the stairs. His knees were skinned, the thin pajama bottoms he’d thrown on ripped, and he clutched a blanket around his shoulders. He hadn’t the patience for a shirt but still tried to retain some sense of modesty in his panic. 

He found Cog elbow deep in Fizz’s chest already. He ran to his other side which gave him a good view of his crumpled chest plate. He put his hands to his mouth as he kneeled beside him. He had blood on his face and for a moment Concord forgot it couldn’t be his own. 

“Fizz! Oh, Fizz, no.” 

Tears were already streaming down his cheeks. One of Fizz’s arms had clearly been broken,  longer than normal as he brought the hand up to Concord’s cheek. His thumb tried to wipe away the tears there, but it seemed glitchy in its movements. 

“No crying.” 

Concord grasped the hand on his cheek and hid his face in the palm. He couldn’t stop the tears. He’d been so afraid Fizz would be hurt while working and now it had come true. He knew it would and he’d let him go out there every night just because he’d been depressed. 

“Who did this?” Concord sobbed. “Who hurt you?”

“Can’t say. Confidentiality.” 

Concord’s eyes dried up suddenly and widened. Him. He’d kill him! Pure rage washed away the guilt that had been threatening to eat him alive, a dark overlay of a cross shape in his pupils as the wrath imp in him came to the forefront. 

“Tell me where this happened!” 

Fizz shook his head softly. 

“You can’t fight him. Look what he did to me. And, Concord, he has my paperwork. He still...technically owns me.” 

“No one owns you!”

Fizz’s eyes flickered and Cog pulled her arms out of his chest. 

“Concord I need you to...just go make some tea or something. I need to concentrate!”

Fizz smiled at him. 

“Go on, baby. Cog’ll fix it.” 

Concord let the anger seep from his limbs, the rage in his eyes abating. It left him tired and scared. He kissed Fizz’s hand and reluctantly released it.

“I love you. Please be okay.”

“I love you, too, my sweet Concord.” 

Concord pulled himself away and did as he’d been told. He puttered around in the kitchen but never got around to making the tea. He just watched the water boil down to nothing and eventually turned the stove off. He paced back and forth, absently wandering back towards the living room from time to time. Cog told him to get out each time without taking her eyes off her work. He felt like a puppy being scolded. 

After hours of work, Cog met him in the kitchen. He tried to run by her and to Fizz’s side, but she grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him back. 

“Wait, Concord. I need to talk to you.” 

Concord’s face screwed up in agony as he backed up and fell into a chair. Oh, no. He knew that tone. Something bad had happened. He’d died. 

“He’s alive,” Cog stated pointedly, recognizing the fear in his eyes.

Concord choked out the breath he’d held and clutched the blanket to his chest. He tried to give Cog his full attention as she went on, but he also kept trying to peek around her to get a look at Fizz.

“But the damage is extensive. It’s more than just the chest cavity and the arm. A lot of very small, delicate, and important bits got broken when his chest collapsed. It’s gonna take me a while to get him back to full functionality and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find what I need here in the Pride Ring. I won’t get technical but there’s a very important piece that needs replaced as soon as possible. It regulates his power source. He’ll be experiencing power drops and surges. If he doesn’t respond, he’s not dead. Don’t panic.”

Concord pulled the blanket up to his mouth at that. 

“But what if he...does just. Shut off and doesn’t wake back up because I can’t tell the difference between a power drop and...and….”

“Calm down. I’ll show you how to check. But, Concord, you should know, there is the risk that his system does a factory reset with all the fluctuations he’ll be experiencing. And if it does...he won’t remember you.” 

Concord felt the tears spilling down his cheeks again, a hollow feeling digging out his insides. He darted around her and she didn’t try to stop him this time. He rushed to kneel beside Fizz once more, taking his hand. He tried to get his tears under control and put on a brave face. 

“See,” Fizz said, smiling up at him. “Cog’s got everything under control.” 

Concord nodded, fighting back more tears. Fizz had so much confidence in Cog. He thought of her as some kind of miracle worker. But no matter how good a mechanic she was, she couldn’t do everything. Her resources were dictated by their location and their status. He knew how being an imp could limit your business.

“Did Cog tell you anything about your condition?” 

He shook his head. 

“Okay. You’re….you’re going to have some power surges and drops, she said. And there’s parts you need that will be hard to get. But you’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. We’ll get you fixed up.” 

Fizz squeezed his hand. 

“I know, baby. I’m not worried.” 

Concord wanted to yell that he should be. Things were so bad. And he was so scared himself. And so angry. He rubbed his face against the back of Fizz’s hand, letting the anger pull him back up from the sea of despair that threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Fizz, I need to know who he is. You have to find a way to tell me.” 

“No.” 

His voice was sharp. 

“Please, Fizz. He can’t get away with this.” 

“Oh, he didn’t. I bit that bastard’s nasty dick before I got away.” His teeth were particularly sharp as he grinned evilly, blood still staining them. “Hope the fucker bleeds to death.” 

He looked tired suddenly and his eyes began to dim. A power drop! Concord felt his system kick into panic mode.

“Too bad he’s so…..high status….has the best doctor. Probably come out with a bigger dick.” 

Even in his panicked state, Concord’s mind filed that clue away. High status meant visibility. He’d be in the public eye. Something to use later. Right now, he had to pay attention to Fizz. He leaned over to kiss him gently on the cheek, a tremble in his voice.

“Don’t go, please?” 

“Just tired. Not going anywhere.” 

Fizz slipped his hand behind his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. Somehow he missed his lips and ended up sucking on his neck, teeth scraping across the skin lightly. Concord smiled shakily as he gently coaxed him away so he could sit back up. 

“You’re determined to bite me no matter what, aren’t you?” 

Fizz’s tired eyes glowed a little brighter as a small bit of energy came rushing back. 

“Mm hm. My Concord.” 

“Oh, is that what that’s about?” Concord joked, trying to keep his own spirits up as well as Fizz’s. 

Fizz took Concord’s hand in both of his, fingers sliding up his wrist before bringing it to his mouth. He bit down lightly, pressing his teeth into Concord’s soft skin for a moment before kissing it gently. 

“Mine. My beautiful Concord.” 

“All yours,” Concord assured him, tears threatening to return. “I’ll always be yours.” 

Fizz smiled groggily and pulled him down onto his chest. Concord felt his whole body seize up as he tried not to put pressure on his injuries. Fizz pressed kisses against his horn between assertive murmurs. 

“Mine, mine, mine.”

He could see Cog standing in the door of the kitchen wincing as a hand reached futilly towards them. He pushed himself off as delicately as he could. 

“We have to be careful of your chest.” 

Concord laid down next to him carefully and curled in towards him, hoping that would satisfy him. Fizz tried to turn on his side as well. Cog actually stepped out of the kitchen this time, but Concord sat up to stop him. 

“You have to stay on your back for now.” 

“Mmm but I wanna fuck ya,” Fizz moped. 

Cog blushed and retreated back into the kitchen quickly. Concord laughed a little. 

“We’re really getting to the core of your psyche today aren’t we?” 

“You’re so cute, it makes me wanna wreck ya.” 

Fizz made grabby motions at his face and Concord leaned in to let him have it. 

“Is this what every power drop is gonna be like?” 

“If you’re lucky, baby.” 

Fizz winked at him and Concord had to kiss him again, his own fingers ghosting over Fizz’s cheek to cup his jaw. 

“Silly robot.” 

“You love it.”

“I do,” Concord whispered, brushing the circle on his cheek with his thumb. “I love you .” 

Concord stayed at Fizz’s side, Cog joining them when Fizz’s power had evened back out. Concord was worried that while he witnessed several drops over the next few hours, he wasn’t seeing any of the surges Cog had talked about. Cog was of two minds on this. She agreed it was troubling in that it meant the regulation was skewed dangerously low. But she also had concerns that surges would make him hard to control and he might hurt himself further. Either way, there was nothing they could do about it.

She eventually bid them a good night and headed to bed, leaving Concord some blankets on the couch. But Concord couldn’t find it in himself to leave Fizz’s side. He clung to Fizz’s good arm, eyes locked onto his face, watching for any sign of another power drop. He couldn’t let Fizz out of his sight for even a second. If he looked away, he would die or reset. He knew it. Fizz’s free hand rose to his face, fingers tracing his jaw softly. 

“Go sleep on the couch, baby. I’ll be fine.” 

Concord shook his head, tears flowing once more just at the sound of his voice. Tears of relief or fear, he wasn’t sure. He pressed his face against his arm. 

“No, I want to be with you.” 

“You need to sleep.” 

“I can sleep here.” 

“You know you won’t.”

Concord was surprised to find his arm coiling around him. He lifted him and brought him close enough to kiss before depositing him on the couch. He even pulled the cover from the back of the couch and tucked him in. 

“Goodnight, Concord.” 

Before Fizz could even get his arm entirely retracted, Concord hopped off the couch, bringing the blanket with him, and cuddled up to his side again. 

“No. I want to be here with you. Please? I’m so scared.” 

“Okay,” Fizz sighed, wrapping his arm around him.

He pressed his face against his side gently before hearing a slight shuffle from the hall. 

“Get on the damn couch, Concord,” Cog commanded. “What part about not jostling him did you not understand?” 

Fizz tried not to laugh, but it got away from him. 

“I’ve been overruled.” 

Concord pouted as he sat up, keeping his back to Cog. 

“Okay, fine.” 

He waited until she’d disappeared back down the hall before leaning over to kiss Fizz on the forehead. 

“Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“You will, I promise.” Fizz ran a hand down his arm.

When Concord woke in the afternoon, he immediately scrambled off the couch and across the floor. He hadn’t actually opened his eyes yet so he didn’t make it far before he cracked his head on the coffee table and had to fall back to nurse his wounds.

“Careful, baby.” 

Fizz’s arm wrapped around him and lifted him over the table to place him at his side. The hand came up to check his head as his arm unwound. Concord almost started crying again between the pain and the gentle touch of Fizz’s fingers in his hair. But he held it together, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. 

“See,” Fizz assured him as their eyes met. “I’m still here.” 

Concord nodded, taking the hand as it slipped from his head and pressing it close to his cheek. He could hear movement from somewhere else and the sound of tools being shifted around. Was Cog up already? Before he could gather the energy or wherewithal to look, she came over with her tools again. 

“Outta the way.” 

Fizz decided to save Concord the trouble of moving and simply picked him up and placed him on his other side. Cog dropped down next to him and immediately started working again. 

“Did you eat?” Fizz asked and Concord was a little surprised to see him do that to someone else.

“No. I can eat later.” 

“Eat.” 

“Sorry, I’m not Concord. You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Fizz said with a smile. “What are you doing now?” 

“Stabilizing some more. Once this is done you can move around again. But only a little. At least enough to get home and sit up.” 

“Don’t want me on your floor for another night?” 

“Yeah, I’m not interested in babysitting. If you two want to ignore my warnings, you can at least do it where I can’t see you.” 

Concord cleared his throat and excused himself, leaving Cog to continue her work. He retreated to the kitchen and sat down at the table, putting his head in his hands. He let himself cry for a bit before wiping his face with his arm and sucking it up again. He had to focus on something else. Something that made him feel like he was getting things done. 

He took out his phone and called Lannah.

“Lannah, I need a favor. You know how I always asked you to recycle the magazines from the waiting room? Yeah. I need you to get them from wherever it is you hide them and bring them to me. No, Lannah, I’m not mad. No...Lannah...Lannah! I need them. It’s an emergency. Yes. An emergency that requires a ton of magazines. Thank you. I’ll text you the address. Just bring them when you can.” 

Concord hung up and carefully placed his phone on the table, hands shaking. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stared down at the picture Fizz had taken of them on the couch. The two of them, smiling, no idea what would happen in a few short hours. 

The darkened cross shape slipped into his pupils again. He’d find this monster if it was the last thing he did. He had to appear in some article or news story somewhere over the course of the past six years. If Fizz couldn’t give him the name, even if he couldn’t tell him yes or no, Concord would know when he saw him. He knew the look of trauma well. 

Once he’d managed to calm himself down, he returned to Fizz’s side to wait for Lannah, watching Cog work. While she was in there, she also showed him how to check the regulator to make sure it wasn’t dead, though she assured him that was highly unlikely to occur. She seemed to be carefully avoiding any mention of the possibility that he’d reset but they shared a few looks as she skipped around the subject.

Just as she was explaining a more technical aspect that Concord, honestly, wasn’t grasping, there was a knock on the door. Cog looked up in surprise and Concord realized he’d never filled her in on his plan. But she had already moved to answer it before he could speak up. She opened the door to reveal Lannah holding a very large stack of magazines in one hand and a can of soup in the other.

“Hey, did you guys know there’s like a million cans of soup in the stairwell?” 

Cog stared for a moment before reaching out and taking it from her slowly, the look on her face saying “don’t you judge me.” 

“...Soup is easy and affordable. Who are you?” 

Lannah looked her up and down with a smirk and Concord could feel his secretary’s attraction from where he sat. That’s what they needed right now. Although Cog didn’t seem to react to it in the least. 

“I’m Lannah. That’s my boss on your floor with his sexbot boyfriend.” 

Cog took another long moment to respond as Concord covered his face with his hands. 

“I really wish I knew how this became my life.” 

Lannah slipped by her with a giggle and let the magazines fall on the floor next to Concord as Cog closed the door.

“There’s one stack. What do you need these for anyway?” 

“Identification.” 

Concord held up the first magazine so Fizz could see it and pointed to the cover, finger landing right in the eye of Lucifer himself. Fizz gave him a tired look. 

“Concord, I did not belong to the King of Hell.” 

“I’m not skipping anyone,” he replied. “I’d die trying, but I’d still try.”

Fizz reached out to hold Concord’s chin in his hand, bringing his face down to better stare into his eyes. 

“That’s sweet, baby, but don’t be crazy.” 

Concord kept his face serious as he opened the magazine and pointed at the next famous demon without even looking, eyes locked onto Fizz’s. But Cog snatched it from his hands before Fizz could respond. Concord’s eyes snapped to her in shock. 

“Do you mind if I finish what I’m doing first?” Cog demanded. He could see she’d been pushed to her limits and shrank from her a bit. “You know, the life-saving stuff? It’s bad enough we can’t get the regulator in the pride ring. Who knows when I’ll be able to get it, and the longer it takes, the more dangerous this becomes. You’d think you’d be a bit more concerned with his survival than your revenge.”

Concord’s cheeks colored as he bit his lip and tried not to look at anyone. Cog had never gone off like that before, and Concord felt bad that he’d pushed her this far. She was also right. And now he felt ashamed of himself. How had he let his priorities get so skewed? 

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Cog. I’m not thinking straight.” 

Cog settled down next to Fizz to finish her work without responding and an awkward silence fell over the room. 

“I have a car, you know,” Lannah spoke up suddenly. All eyes turned to her. “If you need to go to another ring to pick something up, I can drive you.”

Concord wanted to agree immediately, but he looked over at Cog as she closed Fizz back up, a tired look on her face. She sighed and sat back. 

“If we leave soon, we can probably be back in three days.”

“Thank you, Cog, thank you.” Concord grabbed her hands but released them immediately. He didn’t think Cog appreciated her personal space being violated.

“It’s fine. I don’t want this idiot to die either.” Fizz stuck his tongue out at her playfully. “All right, Lannah. Go pack a bag and we’ll drop these two off on the way out.”

Lannah gave Cog a wink and a couple of finger guns before hurrying out the door. Concord could see a shadow of confusion on the mechanic’s face, but it was overtaken with exhaustion as she stood. Fizz sat up and as Cog headed for her room to pack a bag, he stretched his arm out to grab her wrist. 

“Eat.” 

Cog sagged visibly before turning towards the kitchen instead. 

“Fine. I’ll have some damn soup.” 

Fizz smiled and Concord watched him with a gentle expression. He’d gotten so good at taking care of people. It made him happy to see it wasn’t just him that Fizz cared about that much. Concord put his arms around his neck and fell into him now that it was safer to do so. Fizz wrapped him up in the coils of his good arm and pressed his face into the hair between his horns. 

[medusasterling]

Avengers: Infinity War Headcanon

(This kinda got long and kinda rant-y)

So... call me crazy if you want (believe me, I've been called worse) but ever since watching Infinity War 1 there's this headcanon for IW2 I just can't get out of my mind.

So, imagine when Thanos is vanquished and the good guys reverse the snap thingy? Wanda's gonna come back. It won't bring back Vision, since he didn't die because of the snap thingy. The problem? We saw Wanda look happy/relieved when she turned into dust. Remember what happened when Pietro died? Her powers went ballistic. Now imagine what happens when someone with that kind if power is left losing her boyfriend lover true love? whatever (who I don't doubt is her biggest anchor to sanity). I don't think we want that (unless that's the plot for Avengers 6 5 [edit: whoops, Civil War is Captain America, not Avengers...] then I'm gonna laugh my fucking ass off).

Now how to bring Vision back? ... we can't.

Mind Stone? Sure as hell won't work. I'm not a computer expert but I really doubt ripping out the processor and then stuffing it back in is gonna make the computer work again... at the very least not the way it used to...

Soul Stone (because what else should the hardest to obtain stone do, be like the cloak of invisibility in Harry Potter? Just for completion?)? Vision is technically still an AI in a robotic body and therefore has a conciousness but no real soul

Timestone? Could work but I doubt it would. It's not like Vision's body was alive in the first place. He's a robot. His "hardware" suffered only minor damage from basically ripping out an integral part. Turning back time might repair the hardware but I don't think it's gonna bring back his mind. And even if it would work in some way, I think it would be more like resetting a computer to factory settings. Fresh Start. It wouldn't be the same Vision anymore. (Maybe he'd just reboot if you're lucky but this is the MCU, when was the last time someone had this much luck?)

Reality Stone? Biggest chance so far, but we haven't seen it do more than create illusions and turn Quill's weapon into a soap bubble gun, so it can form reality but I doubt it can bring back Vision (at least as he was)

Space Stone? Zapping a computer with energy doesn't sound like it's gonna work the way we intend... then again, "Forget what you saw in movies, that's not how defibrillators work" was like the first thing I learned in First Aid class so maybe this is one of those "technically that's not how this shit works but we go with it anyway" cases.

Power Stone? Same as Space Stone

Good ol' computer science? We get outright told that extracting the Mind Stone is gonna kill Vision as we know him because of the way the Mind Stone is woven into his programming. Anything salvagable (because I bet they made at least a partial copy while working on him in Wakanda) would probably turn out totally different (again with the luck)

So what do we do then? Combining them still leaves problems. All conceivable possibilities still run an immense probability that whatever comes out of it is not going to be Vision in the sense that it may be all the parts of Vision but with a new personality and maybe without or with damaged memories because in the end, there is no soul to balance out any discrepancies between what was and what is left.

And this is where my headcanon turns to weird conclusions. Prepare your tinfoils everyone!

We do a two-for-one kinda deal and bring back not only Vision but also Pietro. Well kinda. We get Pietro's body from wherever it's peacefully rotting away and turn back the time for that so it's young and fresh and not-rotten. Then we hook the body up to those fancy computer-surgery thingies they have in Wakanda and kinda download what's left of Vision's mind into him and use the Soul Stone to bring back Pietro's soul (if the Time Stone doesn't include that) to anchor/balance the conciousness. So we have at the very least better chances that when he wakes up differently - which he still will - he's unlikely to turn into a homicidal/genocidal Ultron2.0 (or if he does, Wanda should be able to at least somewhat rein him in). And there you got it. A Pietro-Vision-fusion with two sets of memories which only minimally overlap and a shitload of love and care for Wanda that might just be enough to make this shit work. Once everyone gets over the initial weirdness of mashing up her twin brother and her lover that is, but hey, apparently there are continuities were Pietro and Wanda are a thing so... whatever. And hey at least Wanda gets to be happy(ish).

Or Wanda just uses the Infinity Gauntlet to will Vision back into existence. And hopefully Pietro while she's at it.

And there you have it. My own convoluted headcanon on how to bring back Pietro and Vision. (Maybe it'll let me sleep now)

Is this highly unlikely? Yes.

Do I love it anyway? Absoluetly.

Do I believe this is going to happen? No.

Will that stop me from enjoying this idea? No way.

So... this got long. And it's late. I got little to zero knowledge of computers (or the infinity stones) and did all of five minutes research on this. If I got anything fundamentally wrong, feel free to tell me (but please do stay polite, yes?) as long as it's not comic based (I'm doing this solely based on what I saw in the movies)

[sevenfists]

s/g robots in disguise

And the-undoubted-queen asked for accidental love confession. So here’s some tragic hockeybot Geno. I interpreted these prompts kind of loosely, uhhh the heart wants what it wants?

(I think I’ll do maybe one more of these? Some of y’all sent me fantastic prompts that are too much for a little tumblr ficlet, so I won’t fill them now but maybe check back in six months.)

Geno was charging in the locker room when Sid got to the arena: slumped over at his stall, the flap open at the back of his neck, the long cord extending to the outlet near the door. His eyes were open and unseeing, fixed on a random point on the floor. Sid hated to see him like that, had always hated it, but it was worse now than it had been before. He didn’t need the reminder that Geno was a thing: an object. He knew.

By the time Sid had looked over his gear, the indicator light at Geno’s nape had turned from orange to green. This was Dana’s job, usually, but Sid knew what to do. There was no reason to go pry Dana out of the skate room.

He unplugged the cord from Geno’s neck and shut the flap, smoothing his fingers over the skin until the seams closed. Geno always felt hot when he had just finished charging, like a person running a high fever. Sid tugged up the hem of Geno’s shirt to expose his lower back and the activation button there, tucked beside his spine, where it was protected by his pants during a game. He pushed and held, and waited for the three beeps before he let go.

He stepped back. Geno blinked a few times, and then straightened from his slouch. His hands settled on his knees. He stared vacantly ahead of him, still booting up. Finally he blinked again and turned his head, looking around the room.

“You’re at the arena,” Sid told him. “It’s Thursday. We’re playing the Kings tonight. I just got here and I’m about to go tape my sticks.” It never took Geno long to reorient, but Sid didn’t see any reason to let him drift in confusion for even thirty seconds.

Geno nodded. “Thursday. Okay.” He nodded again. “Thanks, Sid.”

“No problem,” Sid said, and then forced himself to leave the room. Geno wasn’t his to care for any longer.

+ + +

Geno got into a fight with Williams early in the third. Sid didn’t see what started it, but by the time the whistle blew, Geno was on top of Williams on the ice, punching his head. Geno wasn’t much of a fighter; he hadn’t gotten in a single fight last season, and there had only been a handful in the years before that. But he was fighting now, and then he started glitching in the penalty box, the distinctive jerky hand to face motion that had the box attendant leaping to his feet and calling for a stoppage of play.

Stewie and the team’s bot tech were in the box with Geno for way longer than Sid would have liked, but Geno was upright when they emerged—sagging, but on his feet and skating between Stewie and Noah. The crowd clapped, the guys tapped their sticks against the boards, and Sid exhaled and sat down hard on the bench.

“The fuck’s wrong with Geno?” Kuni muttered to him, and Sid shook his head. He knew a fair amount about bot maintenance, but glitching wasn’t maintenance, it wasn’t common, and it meant that something was pretty wrong.

Geno didn���t come back to the bench, and he wasn’t in the locker room after the game. Sid talked to the press. Nobody asked him about Geno. They had shut out the Kings; it was a good game. Nobody even asked him about Geno’s fight.

When he was done, he went down the hall to the mech room. The door was closed, but when Sid tried the handle, it wasn’t locked. He let himself in.

Noah had Geno sprawled face-down on the exam table. The big panel of Geno’s back was hinged open, exposing the mess of wires. Geno’s feet twitched slightly, dangling over the end of the table.

Noah looked over at Sid and frowned. “You need something?”

“Who is it?” Geno asked, muffled. He was still powered up, then.

“It’s Sid,” Noah said. The league was pretty serious about bot rights. The door to the mech room stayed closed when they were being examined; they got to have their privacy. Noah was fiercely protective of Geno and Olli both, and he wouldn’t hesitate to tell Sid to fuck off if Geno didn’t want him there.

Geno didn’t respond for long enough that Sid’s heart sank. But then Geno grunted and said, “Sid is okay,” and Noah shrugged and went back to poking around in Geno’s back with his sensor, a slim metal rod like a knitting needle.

Sid pulled up a stool and sat at the head of the table. There was a cutout for Geno’s face, like a massage table. He couldn’t turn his head to look at Sid, but he reached out with one hand, and Sid brushed their fingertips together: hi, I’m here. It was the most they ever touched off the ice, these days.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“Don’t know,” Geno said. “You know, it’s fight, maybe I’m angry. But I fight before and no problems. But then—”

“Yeah,” Sid said.

He sat quietly with Geno while Noah prodded and muttered. At last Noah sighed and returned his sensor to its charging stand. “I’ve gotta run full diagnostics on you. I’ll set the door so nobody else can get in, okay?”

Geno didn’t say anything as Noah closed and sealed his back panel. When he sat up, he was frowning. “Nobody?”

“I mean, the fire department has override access if the place starts burning down,” Noah said. “But nobody else. I’ll boot you up first thing when I get here in the morning.”

“Okay,” Geno said begrudgingly. He was paranoid now about powering down overnight anywhere except his own house. Nobody blamed him, not after what had happened to him.

“Come on, let’s get you in the dock,” Noah said.

That was Sid’s cue to leave. “See you tomorrow, G,” he said, rising to his feet, and Geno gave him an absent wave.

Sid went home. There was a dock for Geno in his bedroom, but it hadn’t been used in months. Maybe it didn’t even work anymore.

+ + +

Geno was fine for a few games, and then they went on the road and he glitched out while they were playing the Wild, pretty horribly, twitching and spasming on the ice near the net. The arena went silent as Stewie and Noah rushed out. Geno looked and acted so human that it was easy to forget he wasn’t, and this was the real uncanny valley shit, watching him move in a way that no human could.

“That’s bad,” Olli said.

Sid glanced at him. “You know something?”

Olli shrugged. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t tell Sid. He and Geno had been thick as thieves before the Olympics, and it hadn’t taken them long to get close again afterward. Bot solidarity.

Geno couldn’t skate off, this time. He left the ice on a stretcher.

Somehow they won that game. Sid phoned it in with the press. Nobody asked him about Geno, but one of the local beats said, when they were wrapping up, “Really hope Geno’s going to be okay,” and everyone murmured agreement.

“He’s a tough guy,” Sid said, and what he meant was, Me, too.

He went to check on Geno when he was done. The Wild didn’t have any bots, and they didn’t have a designated mech room, so Geno was face-down on a table in the trainers’ room, getting his innards poked through while Stewie worked on Tanger’s hamstring.

Geno was powered down, limp and unresponsive. His arms were raised above his head and crossed at the wrists. Sid touched his shoulder, where Noah couldn’t see. “Is he, uh.”

“I’m working,” Noah said tightly, without looking away from Geno’s back.

“Okay,” Sid said.

Geno wasn’t on the bus back to the hotel that night, but he was on the flight to Winnipeg in the morning. He seemed fine. He played cards the way he always did. Sid could worry about him, but it had to be the worry of a captain for his alternate, and Sid couldn’t remember what that felt like. After more than six months, his feelings were as fresh and raw as they had been the day they all boarded the flight to Sochi.

+ + +

The game against the Jets was physical and wild. Even fucking Flower took a slashing penalty. They won in overtime, and the locker room was in giddy turmoil afterward. Geno was grinning and jumping around with Suttsy: dancing. Back to his new self.

The next day was a travel day, with a late morning flight. It was inevitable that they would go out. Sid didn’t care where they went as long as he could order a steak.

There was steak, and also shots. Sid sat next to Flower and watched Geno across the table, laughing with Olli, neither of them eating or drinking anything, but out with the team nonetheless, to celebrate.

Sid drank steadily. Flower’s frown deepened, and after Sid’s fifth shot, he said, “You’re going to regret that in the morning.”

“Probably,” Sid said.

“I know you’re worried,” Flower said, “but—”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Sid said. He was riding a hard buzz. He knew he should stop, but he wasn’t going to.

“Not with me, no,” Flower said. “Maybe you should talk with him.”

Geno balled up a napkin and threw it down the table at Suttsy. It uncrumpled in mid-flight and landed on Desi’s plate. Sid said, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Flower sighed. “Sid—”

“He doesn’t remember,” Sid said.

“Maybe he will, if you tell him,” Flower said. “You know. Like you forget about something until someone reminds you.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Sid said. “It’s gone.”

“Fine,” Flower said. “Okay. Keep making yourself miserable.”

“Glad you approve,” Sid said, and reached for another shot.

The Russian national team hadn’t wanted any conflicted loyalties, in Sochi. They had done a soft wipe: not a hard reset to Geno’s factory settings, but a wipe to his base personality. He came back from the Olympics as the guy he had been as a rookie: shy, volatile, unable to speak English. He still liked animals and McDonald’s, but he had forgotten the team and everything that had happened to him since he came to the NHL.

The Penguins had a personality backup, of course. But backups were expensive, time-consuming, and infrequent. Geno’s was a year out of date, and there was stuff he would never get back. The brutal playoffs sweep by the Bruins. The birth of Max’s daughter. His entire relationship with Sid.

“They murder me,” Geno had said, cold with fury, and that was the clip that made the rounds on every news channel for a week, until the next scandal hit and people lost interest.

All Sid had left was a few pictures, and the unused dock in his bedroom. Otherwise he might have thought he invented the whole thing.

The night went on. Sid didn’t feel too drunk until he got up to hit the washroom, but his head spun profoundly as he stood at the urinal, and he knew he would regret everything. His chest hurt. He needed to leave.

“I gotta go,” he said to Flower, when he got back to the table.

“Good plan,” Flower said. “Hey! Geno!”

“No,” Sid said, but it was too late: Geno had looked over, and then he and Flower were talking, and Sid drained his water glass and waited for someone to tell him what to do. Everything was fuzzy. He wanted to lie down.

“Come on, Sid,” Geno said, there beside his chair, one hand on Sid’s shoulder, and Sid stood up and pulled his coat on with clumsy hands. It was cold outside: Manitoba in November.

They walked for a while. The hotel could have been two blocks away or twenty. Sid could walk mostly in a straight line. He didn’t know where he was going. It was good that Geno was there with him, to keep him from getting lost.

“You’re glitching,” he said.

Geno glanced at him. “Not right now.”

“You know what I mean,” Sid said. “I’m so fucking worried about you.”

“You drink too much,” Geno said.

“Yeah,” Sid said. “Oh, God. I really did.”

“You drink water, get in bed,” Geno said, and then the hotel was there, or at least Geno was steering him into a lobby, and then into an elevator. Sid slumped against the wall as Geno pushed a button. Sid didn’t remember which floor he was staying on. He didn’t know if he had a room key. Did he have his wallet? He patted his pockets a few times.

“Here,” Geno said. He reached into Sid’s coat pocket and extracted his wallet, and pulled out his key card. Geno had everything under control. He wasn’t drunk. He was a bot, and his memory was perfect, except for the things that had been erased from him.

Sid blindly followed Geno down the hall. Geno opened a door, and herded Sid inside. That was Sid’s bag on the end of the bed. This was Sid’s room.

“Get undress,” Geno said, and went into the washroom.

Sid fumbled out of his clothes. He left his underwear on, because he didn’t get naked with Geno anymore. He sat on the bed. Geno came out of the washroom with Sid’s water bottle, filled with nasty hotel tap water that Sid didn’t want to drink. Geno put the bottle in his hand, and Sid drank.

“Good,” Geno said.

“I drank too much,” Sid said.

“I know,” Geno said gently. “Sid, why you do this? It’s not like you.”

“I don’t know,” Sid said. “I don’t know. I still miss you. I’m sorry. I still love you. I tried to stop. I don’t know how.” He took another sip of water. His throat hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“Sid,” Geno said, and Sid glanced up. Geno had a weird look on his face. He was so handsome. The pain in Sid’s chest and his throat squeezed tight, merging together into something that felt shameful. He was going to embarrass himself. He probably already had.

“Sorry,” Sid said.

“You—love?” Geno said.

“When they wiped you,” Sid said. “You don’t remember me. Noah said—it would confuse you. So I tried not to—but I miss you. I’m so sorry.” He raised one hand to his face. His skin felt hot and tight.

“Sid,” Geno said. He moved in close and put his arms around Sid. He smelled the same. He was a little too warm to be human. Sid hadn’t been so close to him since before the Olympics. Sid leaned against him and closed his eyes.

“I know you don’t remember,” Sid said.

“Okay,” Geno said. “I stay here tonight. Okay? Wake you up, make you drink more water. Then you plug me in. We talk in morning.”

“You need your cord,” Sid said.

“Yes, I go get,” Geno said. “Tell Olli what I do. Then I come back.” He pulled away slightly and cupped Sid’s face in his hands. Sid was too drunk to interpret Geno’s expression, but it made him feel sick and scared and hopeful all at once.

“I didn’t mean to,” Sid said, and he didn’t even really know what he was talking about.

“It’s okay,” Geno said. His hands were still on Sid’s face. “You get in bed. I come back soon.”

“Okay,” Sid said. Geno pulled back the covers, and Sid swung his legs up onto the mattress and lay down. He tugged the blankets up around his shoulders. He was so tired. He was going to pass out right away.

“You sleep,” Geno said, and ducked down to brush a gentle, earth-shattering kiss against Sid’s cheek.

[queencanaries]

Like do u hate felicity bc she took laurels spot? Like cmon the chemistry between Stephen and KATIE just did not exist. It was bad. Like I love laurel, she was so much better apart. Also I'm sorry but Emily's acting is 100000x better than Katie's, katie is a brick. I'm not TRYNA hate but I just wanna understand why you're so hateful towards one female character? Why not just support both?

For starters, I don’t think Felicity “took Laurel’s spot.” The only character that exists to take Laurel’s spot is “Dinah Drake” and I have problems with that for reasons I’ve listed time and time again (and especially, most recently in a post that probably hasn’t escaped the first page of my blog). 

As for Felicity, there are a laundry list of reasons why I stopped enjoying the character. She’s a “reset to factory default settings” kind of character in that she’s one-dimensional and isn’t allowed to grow or evolve beyond what and who we’ve known her to be (which I think is a result of the writers thinking they’ve struck gold with her and don’t need to develop her). For a character to be that way, and get the level of attention/focus/screentime that she pulls week to week, it’s frustrating. There have been multiple instances where the writers have given her a great story, and chosen to do nothing with it, for example, when Felicity was attacked by Darhk and ended up in a wheelchair, the writers didn’t use it to propel her down an interesting, and character-building arc, instead they had a magical chip that restored her ability to walk and she was made to be completely fine — restored to factory default settings. I also find her to lack empathy, and empathy is a quality I admire in characters of fiction and people in real life, so it’s hard to relate to someone who refuses to put themselves in someone else’s shoes to understand their actions and their choices and somehow makes it all about themselves instead (eg. the entire situation with Samantha Clayton, and Oliver’s son). I think her storyline in Season 3 ruined her for me, specifically in her treatment of Ray. I will never understand how she could have played with his feelings like that and talked to Oliver as though she would drop Ray like a bag of shit the second he was willing to give in to his feelings for her (which she kind of ended up doing anyway). And to refuse telling Ray that she doesn’t love him, and has feelings for Oliver, but to still rock up at his place of business and be like, “hey can I borrow a jet?” And ya’ll can say “yeah but it was to save Thea” but she was like “lol let Thea die, it’s not worth it, Oliver.” Her entire romantic relationship with Oliver was forced and rushed and the feelings were fabricated for plot-purposes at the beginning of Season 3, and so it was impossible for me to enjoy them as a couple (and yes, it’s important to bring up because Felicity was basically just a love interest for Season 3 and Season 4). I also hate the fact that we’ve seen no fucking long-term consequences and/or guilt for her nuking Havenrock and for her losing Billy Malone. Ten thousand innocent lives are dead because of her, and she was guilt-ridden for a single scene in Season 5. And we had to see another shot of Emily Bett Rickards “trying to cry” over losing Billy, but we never got the time to invest in that relationship, and she never seems to acknowledge it in a real, human way but instead can use it as a way to justify being pushed into Helix? Again, it ties back to her being a “reset to default factory settings.” And most importantly, I hate that she never has to earn anything on the show — she never had to earn her job at Palmer Tech, or earn becoming CEO, she never had to earn being the main love interest of the show and that development is literally non-existent, she never had to earn being somewhat competent in the field to take on the League of Assassins or the Ghosts, or whoever else she’s fought, and in a show about earning your role as a hero and facing a crucible to become something else, she’s literally done shit all to get to where she’s been. And look, I was a huge fan of her in the first season. But I remember slowly getting sick of it in S2 because her dynamic, and her role was growing very stale. I know people like to think it’s because I’m a Laurel fan, and a Lauriver fan, but it’s not true. The reason I don’t like Felicity Smoak, in a nutshell, is because I fundamentally disagree with how she is written and until the writing changes to fix the issues that I have, there’s no way I can “support her.” But that’s the beauty of the world — we don’t all share the same opinion, and you coming into my inbox trying to say “support both” whilst not-so-subtly dragging Katie Cassidy... it’s not incentive for me to agree. 

I hope that answered the first part of your question. 

On the topic of terrible acting, my initial problem with Emily Bett Rickards was the way she spoke her lines — it often felt like she was reading off a script, and they were very monotonous and almost robotic. Moments where it felt a little better was when she was able to have some personality behind it, and/or some passion. And then it felt like she was improving (specifically the “keep fighting” scene in S2). But it’s still how she delivers the lines, and so I’m not a big fan of it. And beyond that, I don’t think she’s cut out to do serious and dramatic scenes that involve extreme emotions, like being distraught. As funny of a meme the “No, Ray, Olibur” thing is, it comes from a place of how awful the acting and the writing was in that scene to the point where it’s comical. But she’s great at comedy, and she’s great at being the comedic relief. I just don’t think she’s mastered the art of doing serious drama. I mean, did you see the episode of Legends where they tried to make her a superhero? Anyway, you opened the floor on discussing acting ability and so I thought I’d share as well :) 

Now, onto the chemistry part of the question. Chemistry is subjective. You don’t see it for Laurel and Oliver -- that’s fine! Frankly, when I look at Oliver and Felicity, it’s kind of awkward. She looks way too young for him, or he looks way too old for her, or maybe it’s both. And the truth is, I don’t see romantic chemistry between them. I see that it’s written in the script for them to kiss and say “I love you”, and that’s how it feels. Scripted. Forced. I like the kind of chemistry that isn’t one-dimensional. I like that Laurel and Oliver can fight, and scream and have conflict and drama because they’re mature about it and it feels real and it feels like there’s all this history between them that bubbles up to the surface during those heated moments. I like that when they are together, romantically, it feels and looks like they belong and all that history has culminated in something beautiful and logical. I like that when they’re friends, you see a gentle side to them and a platform that was established and that will hold through anything. I don’t get that with Felicity and Oliver (mostly because the writing for them never warranted the relationship in the first place, but also because of the romantic chemistry lacking). But as I said, it’s subjective. You think Katie is a brick when she acts? Fine. I think Emily has very limited range and a lack of experience that shows in close to every episode. Each to their own. 

(I do want to say, though, that despite not being a fan of one’s acting ability, I have nothing against Emily Bett Rickards personally and actively do my part to make sure people from the LL don’t direct hate towards her on Twitter, which is more that I can say for the Olicity fandom that targets Katie)

Now, the reason I don’t and can’t support both is because I’m not willing to overlook serious flaws and spend my time on my blog being fake. If you go all the way back through my blog, you’ll see that I used to be a fan of both and I used to adore Felicity Smoak. I don’t anymore (for some of the reasons I mentioned above). Hope that answered your questions! 

[itsbenedict]

i just finished Horizon: Zero Dawn, which holy dicks, might have been my game of the year if persona 5 hadn’t also come out this year. spoiler-heavy impressions (in the form of chatlogs with zero) under the cut:

god damn this game is just fun to play all the sneaking around and shooting stuff is really satisfying, and it feels great encountering some new machine that you don't know how to handle, and figuring out how to deal with it the balance is just right- strong machines can fuck you up, but nothing's a one-hit kill- if you fuck up, you get to chug health potions and run like hell until it loses interest, and then you try again it welcomes and rewards experimentation you organically develop strategies for taking them on stuff that seems intimidating and impossibly hard at first eventually becomes easy- not because you leveled up and got stronger numbers than it, but because you've done this before, you know how to dispatch these things in a matter of moments the giant crocodiles- scary, but you can knock off two thirds of their health by igniting their blaze canisters, and then play keepaway with their easily dodged ice blasts while you chip off the rest with easy headshots the swarms of hawks- overwhelming at first, but they completely flip out if you shoot two fire arrows at them, and you can keep them all downed while you work on taking them out the giant charging desert bulls- a couple ice bombs from the sling more or less immobilize them and make them take massive damage you always start terrified, trying different ammo on different weak points until you find something that works and then you feel like an invincible badass despite not really being any stronger in absolute terms

Zerovirus: that's the good shit

Benedict: it reminds me of the witness, in that you progress and gain abilities by learning systems and getting good, rather than by getting abstract experience points and leveling up i mean, you do level up, but it's just more health mostly

Zerovirus: health, more inventory, better harvesting abilities is what i think it was? and some jump ambush skills

Benedict: it's health and skill points the skills are pretty cool- none of them feel mandatory, but they all make something slightly easier like one gives you a few seconds of bullet time to line up a shot- it doesn't let you do anything you couldn't before, but now you're more likely to succeed and then there's the stealth melee takedowns that i barely use because everything in the fucking game notices you if you get too close no matter how quiet you're being for the same reason, i haven't used overriding since the game made me for a quest early on my advantage is in staying far away and hidden and able to disengage at will getting in close is always such a bad idea

Zerovirus: on the other hand, i'm pretty sure eventually you can override t-rexes and just watch kaijus fight

Benedict: oh yeah the cauldrons the first time i encountered one of those was incredible like, okay, here's a post-apocalyptic wilderness, but OH GOD TETRAHEDRON SPACESHIP ZONE

Zerovirus: were they disorienting for you as a player?i kept getting lost watching the lper navigate them they were really damn cool though what a great total environment change

Benedict: no not really so far they're pretty linear anyway they'd be cooler if the reward for completing them wasn't "now you can do that thing you never do to more things"

Zerovirus: just do the one that lets you do that thing to t-rexes it's entirely viable to go for an override playstyle with sufficient bolas and big boss monsters to hax i mean, you have the bolas, right the.. i mean, the ropecaster the thing-what-lets-you-tie-robots-down-and-make-them-easy-killings

Benedict: oh, right i uh haven't used that either like at all, i haven't tried it yet

Zerovirus: dude try out the ropecaster the ropecaster is what makes override viable as a playstyle it's basically 'shoot it three times in any part of its body to totally immobilize it for a few seconds' (bigger ones might need more than three i think)

Benedict: honestly i haven't thought about it much since my other weapons are so cool, but huh i think the reason i didn't try was because it seemed too good to be true "yeah, this thing you just shoot and it stops the enemy"

Zerovirus: no dude the ropecaster is easily the coolest weapon really locking down enemies is super effective well, that and setting up wire traps and just letting your enemies walk right into them that one never gets old either

Benedict: i use the tripcaster... probably not as intended

Zerovirus: ==>?

Benedict: like you're supposed to put it in an enemy's patrol path so they walk into it but the problem with that is they're usually around other enemies and if you go in to capitalize, you'll get ganged up on

Zerovirus: what the lper i watched did was set up like eight traps in a ring around himself and then make lots of sound and just watch the mobs walk into his death circle it was, frankly, really amusing

Benedict: i tried that once- it failed because i tried it on sawtooths, who, uh they jump. over. the wires. and kill you. oh my favorite enemy to fight right now is ravagers they're huge and scary, but it's so easy to kill them one tearblast arrow to the exposed gun pick up gun fucking annihilate everything in sight there's only a few things that really bug me about this game so far one is that the voice actors are way better than the writers, and it feels so weird hearing good voice actors try to breathe life into really fucking tedious dialogue there's been maybe two characters with more than one personality trait

Zerovirus: the plot of this game isn't super deep or anything don't worry about it too much it's very hollywood robot apocalypse scifi

Benedict: yeah, i'm not- i'm here for the cool robot hunting the game does some pretty ham-fisted stuff to explain why the player is the only one who can do a quest 90% of the time it's "this area is taboo, and everyone but you is too superstitious for some reason" also: the inventory screen is bugged out wrt the little exclamation points to indicate you have new shit i can't discern a pattern, they just seem to be placed at random 

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

Benedict: so zero you told me not to worry about the writing, the plot isn't super deep or anything but holy fucking shit almighty horizon zero dawn got so damn cool i think my gripes with the writing early on were a product of how the nora suck they're an offensive native american caricature, a bunch of nature-worshipping tribal dimwits with more superstitions than brain cells as soon as the writers stopped writing the nora, the writing improved immensely and i'm pretty much almost done with the plot at this point i reached zero dawn and went and heard gaia's message in all-mother mountain and holy fuck this plot got so cool i honestly wasn't expecting explanations for stuff the beginning of the game got me thinking they'd be more interested in treating the whole sci-fi backstory as a mythology for the world like yeah cauldrons make machines, they're like, some fuckin factory whatsit the Mysterious Ancients made instead of what i got, which was several extended sequences of crawling around in ancient ruins and getting a meticulously thought-through backstory through audio logs and stuff my jaw was hanging open for like the whole zero dawn facility section "no, they didn't stop the robot apocalypse halfway- they let it play out until the robots ran out of biomass to eat and reduced the earth to a lifeless hunk of rock, and then deployed a friendly AI to re-seed it with biological life" holy shit incidentally: holy FUCK was the Hades subsystem a phenomenally shitty idea hey gaia try this: if you fuck up, reset things yourself!! you don't need an autonomous ABSOLUTE DEATH GOD that fucking takes over your systems and fights you for control!! it was just such a terrible plan that it breaks my suspension of disbelief a little with all the audio logs in the zero dawn facility with candidates second-guessing and questioning the entire project, no one thought to bring up "hey, maybe the WIPE OUT ALL LIFE AGAIN adversarial subsystem we're building carries a few inherent risks" the conflict here kinda seems like a diabolus ex machina, honestly they could have easily just had Hades be an accidentally reactivated Horus unit- the Faro robots kind of already have a wipe-out-all-life directive that would make perfect sense technobabble your way into saying the Faro plague hacked Gaia somehow, and boom but fucking Hades the whole conflict driving the plot is the equivalent of the supervillain who builds a big red self-destruct button on his machine that aside, this game's plot has turned out to be really fucking cool i came close to tears a few times in the zero dawn facility humanity's best and brightest having various visceral reactions to the shock and despair of the project's nature god damn was that one of the coolest reveals i've ever had in a video game i'm really pleasantly surprised by how much detail it gave me- it really made "find out what the fuck is the deal" the player's central motivation i think the nora shit in the beginning got me expecting that their worldview would be more or less validated by the narrative but now i come back to the starting area to save all their asses, and it becomes abundantly clear that these people are small and backwards and the world is so much bigger than them likewise the moment where fuckin whatshisname dadmurderer captures you and puts you in the sun-ring right on the heels of all the huge plot reveals he's standing there monologuing about prophecy and the sun and how important he is and following what i'd just gone through, it was so, so pathetic to watch this half-naked thug go on and on about how this, this moment of knocking me out and capturing me for some gladiatorial shit, was the most important moment in the world and i'm just sitting there shaking my head at him like, dude, you ain't shit. you ain't even in the vicinity of shit.oh, you've got a corrupted behemoth for me to fight, totally unarmed? don't make me fucking laugh, i eat that shit for breakfast (sorta took the wind out of sylens' rescue at the end when whathisface sicced two corruptors on me) (like dude i had this. two corruptors is god damn child's play.) i'm so fucking overpowered right now, i've completed every single sidequest save the armor one, where i still need the core from the last area oh, corrupted thunderjaw pinning down the entire nora tribe? Y-fucking-AWN ice bombs plus actual bombs, dead in two minutes not that the combat has become boring- attacks still hurt, i have to dodge and get the fuck out of the way and heal off hits that take off more than half my bar, it's really tense- but i can always heal, can always dodge, there's a great rhythm to attacking and dodging and attacking and dodging

[appliedvillainy]

070. Do me a solid

(Xeno’s walking home from work at night when suddenly, Etran tackles him from out of nowhere.)

Xeno: Dude, what the fuck?!

Etran: I’m in trouble and I need you to help me.

Xeno: Hell no! Get off!

Etran: It’s okay! You don’t have to do anything! Well, besides let me kidnap you.

Xeno: Fuck you!

(Xeno tries to hit Etran with something, but Etran zaps Xeno with a taser hidden in his fingers. Xeno passes out.)

(He wakes up some time later, inside a literal cage in Etran’s spaceship. It looks like just a normal dog cage, fresh from the pet store.)

Xeno: You know damn well I can break out of this.

Etran: And I’m asking you to do me a solid and not do that.

Xeno: What the fuck is this about?

Etran: Okay. The guy coming to check on me is supposed to come today, right? Except it’s not my usual guy. It’s this other guy, they just broke him out of space jail or whatever, and he’s serious business.

Xeno: What’s this got to do with me?

Etran: Just sit here and look like I’ve been experimenting on you. He doesn’t like you so act miserable, okay.

Xeno: Doesn’t like me? Oh god. Don’t tell me.

Etran: Don’t tell you what?

Xeno: Is his name Atmajyoti?

Etran: Yeah, dude. Commander Atmajyoti, former leader of the Grey Federation’s military, now he’s the leader of our confederation.

Xeno: Etran, I can’t be here. He’ll try to kill me.

Etran: No, you’re safe. I’ll tell him I need you alive for my experiments. Just act miserable so he buys it, okay?

(Etran starts poking some electrodes through the bars.)

Etran: Put these on your head. It’ll look more convincing. Don’t worry, they’re not hooked to anything.

(Xeno rolls his eyes and puts them on.)

Xeno: If this goes south, I’m breaking out.

Etran: I know. I know. That’s why the shitty cage.

Xeno: So, what. You’re actually giving me an escape route?

Etran: Yes! This isn’t a serious kidnapping!

Xeno: Except for the part where you seriously kidnapped me.

Etran: But I’m gonna let you go. I just need to convince the commander that I’m still making progress, so please just play along until he leaves, okay?

Xeno: What’s the plan, then? You’re just banking that if he sees you’re making me miserable he won’t ask questions about the time machine?

Etran: Maybe! Hopefully! Now be quiet, he’s coming!

(Xeno rolls his eyes, then decides to just pretend to be unconscious. Any more complicated acting is beyond him.)

(A door opens. Atmajyoti enters, regarding Etran coldly. He gives slightly more attention to Xeno pretending to be knocked out in the corner.)

Etran: C--Commander! It’s an honor to finally meet you.

Atmajyoti: I know it is. What’s with the shell?

Etran: Oh, this? I uh, I didn’t really see the need in spending a lot of time on my humanoid shell. They’re kind of stupid, you know? They just think I’m a kid in a costume.

Atmajyoti: So why do you have Indrid’s medium over there?

Etran: Uh, well. He has some, uh. Some data, in his brain, that I need to do my work. So I’m extracting it!

Atmajyoti: I feel like this is a process that shouldn’t take very long.

Etran: He’s fighting me on it. Indrid put locks on his brain. It’s all very complicated, but I’m making steady progress.

Atmajyoti: Hmm.

(Atmajyoti stares at Xeno meaningfully. Xeno, even with his eyes shut, can sense the alien’s eyes on him, and it’s very uncomfortable.)

Atmajyoti: So have you made any progress on the time machine?

Etran: Oh, yeah! Yeah, absolutely!

Atmajyoti: Show me.

Etran: Uhh. Well. It’s all on the software level. A lot of numbers. There’s, see, there’s a lot of probability calculations that have to be run.

Atmajyoti: Did I ask for an explanation?

Etran: Well, no, but I just don’t think--

Atmajyoti: SF-402. Why are you resisting me.

Etran: I’m not! And call me Etran, it’s easier to say.

Atmajyoti: What.

Etran: Look, I’ll go get the data.

Atmajyoti: No, stop. You aren’t programmed to talk back, and you’re sure as hell not programmed to have a name.

Etran: I can have a name if I want to! It’s not like it interferes with my work.

Atmajyoti: You’re not programmed to do it!

(Atmajyoti pulls up a holographic computer screen and starts typing into it.)

Etran: What are you doing. Stop that.

Atmajyoti: I’m getting to the bottom of this.

Etran: Stay out of my code!

Atmajyoti: I’m authorized to edit your code, SF-402.

Etran: Says who?! Get out!!

(Etran tries to reach for the screen, but Atmajyoti types something and Etran freezes.)

Atmajyoti: Have you been hacking your own firmware? Lord, this is a mess. What the hell is this even for?

Etran: Stop it!

(Xeno, meanwhile, has opened his eyes a little and is watching Atmajyoti carefully. He may not like Etran very much, but he doesn’t like the way this is going down.)

Atmajyoti: This won’t do at all. I’m going to have to remove this entire function.

Etran: No!!

(Etran screams out a weird distorted digital noise. It sounds painful. Xeno’s had enough. He kicks the pet cage open and stands up.)

Xeno: Hey, leave him alone!

Atmajyoti: Are you kidding me.

Xeno: He told you to get out of his code.

Atmajyoti: Yes, and I’m sure every time your computer spouts some nonsense message at you, you listen to it.

Xeno: My computer isn’t a person!

Atmajyoti: Neither is this thing. It’s a piece of software, and I’m debugging it.

Xeno: That’s complete bullshit.

Atmajyoti: Excuse me, but what business is it of yours?

(Atmajyoti pulls a laser gun. Without losing a beat, Xeno swings the pet cage around and pelts Atmajyoti with it. Then he uses his telekinesis to get the laser gun off of him, grabs it and points it at Atmajyoti.)

Xeno: Get the hell out of here, before I call Smith to kick your ass again.

(Atmajyoti narrows his eyes, then teleports out. Etran makes a digital noise.)

Xeno: Oh shit, you’re still stuck.

Etran (with distorted voice): Flip open the panel on the back of my neck, then hold down the red button for fifteen seconds.

(Xeno does so, with a little bit of difficulty. After the fifteen seconds are up, Etran collapses onto the ground.)

Xeno: Fuck. Are you okay?

Etran: No.

Xeno: Uh.

Etran: Shit. I’m so fucked.

Xeno: Yeah uh. I can’t imagine your guys are gonna be happy with you.

Etran: You think?!

(Etran’s voice cracks into more digital noises as he says that. He cringes.)

Etran: God. He made a mess in here.

Xeno: Can you fix it?

Etran: The fuck’s it matter? They’re just gonna come back and factory reset me.

Xeno: I dunno. Just. That’s kinda fucked up?

(Etran sighs.)

Etran: My usual guy doesn’t know how to read code.

Xeno: They shouldn’t tell you what to do with your own code. That’s like, you.

Etran: So I added some plugins, what’s the big deal? It gets boring in space. I have to amuse myself somehow.

Xeno: Yeah.

Etran: And it’s--it’s private! Some of those plugins are really, you know.

Xeno: I think I get the picture.

(Etran sits up, looking shaken up. Xeno sits down next to him.)

Etran: You called me a person.

Xeno: So?

Etran: You usually call me a robot or some shit.

Xeno: Yeah but. You’re a person under that.

Etran: I’m not, though. I’m a hammer.

Xeno: Hammers can be people. Like me, you know?

Etran: Hm.

Xeno: But you don’t have to just be a hammer. You don’t have to keep being a hammer, either.

Etran: But I was coded this way. I was coded to obey. I was coded to do their work. I was coded not to run away.

Xeno: You already hacked yourself so you can talk back and have a personal identity. I think, if you worked at it, you could get around your programming.

Etran: But--my life’s work! That goddamn time machine!!

Xeno: So just… make it yourself? Make it for whatever reason you want to make it for, and not for what they told you to use it for. Or maybe get rid of the programming and decide for yourself if staying on their plan works for you.

Etran: … yeah. Yeah maybe.

Xeno: Remove the restriction against hiding. Go hide somewhere where they won’t find you. Rip all their stupid instructions out of you. Then decide for yourself if you still want to, uh. Destroy Indrid’s people.

Etran: Yeah. Yeah.

Xeno: And uh. I know you hate his kind, but I could probably get Smith to watch your ship to make sure that guy doesn’t get back in.

(Etran thinks about this.)

Etran: I have to land to drop you off. He can send his medium.

Xeno: Oh good, even easier.

(Etran goes to the cockpit to land his craft. Xeno shares a brief phone conversation with Clovis. Etran comes back once they’re landed.)

Xeno: Smith has guys chasing Atmajyoti down as we speak. He shouldn’t have any chance to come back and give you shit for a while.

Etran: Good.

Xeno: And Clovis will be over in an hour. Do you want me to stick around?

Etran: No, no. Go. I’ll be fine.

(Xeno thinks for a moment whether Etran’s being truthful, then shrugs. He starts to leave.)

Etran: Oh and thanks.

Xeno: Hm?

Etran: I know you hate me, so, you know. Thanks for the help.

Xeno: Well, thankfully I hate Atmajyoti more.

Etran: Heh. Yeah. But really. Thanks.

Xeno: No problem.

(Xeno waves, and leaves. Etran stands in the darkness of his ship, looking very much like a lost child.)

--End: Episode seventy.