#yeah the engineering types i work with say there’s no way to prevent a complete collapse except to maybe build extra pylons

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

I’ve had a sucky week. I know you might not see this for a while but can I please have some weird animal facts when you get a chance to answer? :]

I’m sorry your week sucked, have some TURTLES.

Behold: one of nature’s best examples of min-maxing.

Armor plating isn't uncommon in vertebrates. Pangolins, ankylosaurus, armadillos, and placoderms all share similar stat allocation to name a few.

Some, like pangolins, just throw all the keratin they can into their skin and end up with tough scales. That's the same stuff fingernails and hair are made of, and also the stuff that makes our skin waterproof. Others, like ankylosaurs, also grow little bits of bone into their skin. A bunch do both. These are common, efficient, easy-to-evolve traits that occur multiple times in history.

Turtles said fuck all that.

I'm doing it my way.

(Well not ALL that, they do still have keratinized scaly skin on their limbs, but still)

They took their rib cage, sternum and spinal column- you know, things that normally go inside your body, and put 'em on the outside instead. Shoulder blades and hip bones grow inside the rib cage, too. Then, as if that wasn't enough, they covered the whole deal in keratin scales. Some turtles even have a hinge on their belly (plastron) that lets them close up completely. I promise, there's a turtle in there.

What could go wrong reverse-engineering an exoskeleton onto a vertebrate?

Turns out, a lot.

Take a nice deep breath in, and exhale it out. Can you feel your ribs move? Feel them expand and contract, working with your diaphragm muscles to pull large quantities of air into your body?

Show-off.

Yeah, when all your ribs are fused into one big dome it turns out you lose a lot of lung function. The good news? With your body fully enclosed and stabilized in bone, it's not like your abs and obliques are doing anything now. Might as well put them to work pumping your lungs. Except, not directly. Some muscles pull on the liver, which attaches to the right lung. Other muscles pull on the stomach, which pulls on the left lung. It’s pretty inefficient all around, so you may not get enough oxygen exchange to be a marathon runner, but as long as you don't have to worry about predators you know what they say about slow and steady.

However that's not always enough. What if, say, you did have to worry about predators a little. What if, hypothetically, you took a few points away from pure defense and gained a little more swim speed and mobility? You, like many semi-aquatic turtles, would need a backup source of oxygen. A breathing plan B.

In turtles, plan “B” stands for Butt. Some turtles (lots of freshwater semi-aquatic ones) can pump water in and out of their cloaca, which is sometimes enlarged and lined with specialized membranes that maximize surface area for gas exchange. Basically, improving any part of this fucked-up breathing apparatus is so difficult that it’s evolutionarily better to evolve proto-gills in the ass.

I was going to make a different joke here but these turtles are literally called “Northern Red-Bellied Cooters” and I really can’t top that

Turtles are cold-blooded, which of course means they don’t do shit in the winter. Turtles who are unfortunate enough to live in places that get winters bury themselves in the mud in a type of hibernation called ‘brumation’. You may wonder, how do they breathe THEN?

Easy, they don’t. They slow down their metabolism a crazy amount and spend the winter months doing anaerobic respiration. We can do this too, it’s why your muscles burn after working out. If your body doesn’t get oxygen, your cells can still burn fuel much less efficiently and produce a lot of lactic acid as a byproduct. Turtles can counteract the extreme acidity, buffering it and sequestering it with the bone in their shell. Literally, they leach calcium and magnesium out of their bones to prevent their acidic blood from killing them over the winter.

Just waking up from the winter, chock-full of acid and ready to snap.

The most infuriating thing, personally, is that all of this bullshit min-maxing works. Turtles are the longest-lived land vertebrates. The oldest recorded one lived to 187. There’s a little box turtle at my workplace that’s almost 90. This isn’t a glass cannon like a horse is, this janky tank build WORKS.

[filipinoizukuu]

class 1-a hcs based on science and shit: part 1

u cant tell me any of these characters smell completely normal. or good in a way u can make candles out of them. this is my hc list and i am RUNNING with it. @emogaeness this 1's for u, my dude

Aoyama: one of the only 'normal' smelling ones. he defs uses french parfum but also he probably smells like heated metal and cheese all the time. Energy doesnt really have a smell til it interacts with gas so i think he probably just smells like however he wants to.

Mina: IM SORRY TO SAY BUT MISS MAAM IS STINKY AS HECK. mina is an acid producer and therefore smells acidic--and going by what we know of acid, she smells PUNGENT. dairy-like but also sour. BUT her body is probably evolved to be antacidic and she's a gymnast. after reading like, 2 research papers, gymansts chalk (magnesium carbonate) neutralizes acids (caus its 10.5 ph) and so i think while she does kinda smell, it wouldnt be AS bad even if she's training. its possible for her to wear perfume if she wanted, since usually they're around the 7 pH range.

Tsuyu: Oh. wet grass. and just. damp. she probably smells like marshlands or just nature in general, because thats part of camouflage. she probably also has an underlying sweet scent from venom? idk. on the normal she'd probably just smell neutral if a little musty.

Iida: ok i had to wiki this but i dont think he smells like much? he faintly smells like exhaust--but when he overuses his quirk and inevitably combusts whatever engines he uses, the chemical reaction creates sulfur which would make him smell like rotten eggs. otherwise he smells like orange juice (his choice of 'fuel'), sweat, and cologne.

Uraraka: I think she just smells like mochi lol. gravity doesnt really alter her body so i think ochako's normal--if a bit sweet bc she generally seems to like sweet stuff in canon

Ojiro: OK HES JUST GOT A WEIRD LUMP OF FLESH ON HIS BACK FOR A TAIL THO LIKE?? IDK HE SMELLS NORMAL?? maybe a bit like spray-on shampoo and deodorant, but that's it. does a third limb of pure muscle smell like anything? no? godspeed, mashirao, godspeed.

Kaminari: he smells like ozone. He's probably crazy static since he generates the electricity inside of him constantly and is canonically a terrific electricity conduit, so unlike aoyama he'd definitely smell like frying electricity. also. (minor manga spoilers) he bathes enough to be able to call midoriya stinky, so he definitely has basic hygiene. other than that i think he smells like sweaty leather bc of his hero costume and candy.

Kirishima: not quirk related but he probably just smells like sweat. and like, meat. maybe dirt. i love this boy but i'm also a sheeple bc i believe in the hc that he smells like axe body spray. and really good conditioner bc of how fucked up his hair would be by now if he wasn't taking very good care of it.

Kouda: smells like animals. like. bunnies and hamsters and birds and stuff. its not bad per se, but he definitely smells like he's constantly hanging out with the city's local rodent and avian population. other than that he probably just smells neutral/like nothing, since that's more approachable to the prey animals that he seems to favor.

Satou: baked goods and candy.

Shouji: I think Shouji is probably the most hygiene-conscious of all the kids in 1-A. Because of the amount of open/accessible body parts like eyes, nose, ears on his limbs--he probably takes very good care in showering and all that stuff to prevent random infections or just generally damaging any of his senses. Dude's chill--smells like mild soap and laundry detergent.

Jirou: Ah, not gonna lie she probably smells a bit like burnt electrical wires. She's a bit like Kaminari in terms of smell, except her's have that more 'metallic' and burning sharpness whenever she uses the stunning part of her quirk. Other than that... probably also leather because of her hero costume, or just like the inside of an instrument shop (wood, ivory, brass, etc.)

Sero: Packaging type. you know when you pull like, a large strip of tape and--? yeah? that. smells like tack. other than that, excellent hygiene! bergamot and pine or whatever.

Tokoyami: he smells like bird, but only faintly. dude mostly smells a little musty caus he probably never airs out his room. Dark shadow is described like "dark energy" which, similar to aoyama, kaminari, and jirou, probably makes the air around him smell different bc thats gas interacting with energy. Aside from that, he most likely smells neutral. (... maybe with a bit of leather and metal because thats just how his fashion probably works)

Todoroki: Sweat, but not like, a lot. He definitely doesn't smell bad after battles because steam kills bacteria like, fairly effectively, and would eliminate most foul odors. I think he'd smell like Expensive herbal soap or whatever most of the time. He doesn't seem like the type to be unhygienic.

Hagakure: ????? fuck dude she probably tries her best to smell like nothing, caus if her whole schtick is being invisible then its probably best if she just smelt like nothing. imagine being a villain and then promptly getting kicked in the nuts by a gust of wind that smells like strawberry peach.

Mineta: i cant explain it but just... warm grape juice. his... orbs. have oily/sticky like substances to act as adhesive and ill be damned before u tell me he doesn't smell like anything even remotely artificial-grape-flavoring adjacent. he also smells of like,, axe body spray but stronger.

Yaoyorozu: herbal tea on a normal day. most likely the digestive kind just because i think thats the most practical tea to have with a quirk like hers thats reliant on eating large quantities of food. other than that, i think she smells like basic weaponry-grade materials like iron, polished wood, copper, and gunpowder.

Bakugou: stinky boy. canonically, his hygiene's great but that's likely for a reason. he sweats a lot and excessively, and while his sweat is described as 'nitroglycerine-like' it doesn't mean it smells like caramel. the common description for nitroglycerine according to the brittanica encyclopedia is that it's toxic and has a 'sweet, burning taste'. the sweet scent is described as sharp at best--so while its totally okay if you wanna think of his sweat as caramel-like, i just wanted to clear up the misconception that thats what it factually is. ASSUMING his sweat still has a similar molecular makeup to nitroglycerine and has nitric dioxide, it would smell sickly sweet, if slightly neutral due to the nature of sweat itself being odorless when clean. other than that? bkg is definitely just a smelly, smelly boy. smells like sun and smoke and teenage body odor and burnt plastic.

Midoriya: SMELLY STINKY. deku sweats like, a lot. not only does ofa expend a ridiculous amount of energy and probably strains his muscles like crazy (forcing him to expel all that lactic acid in the form of sweat), but he also spends a lot of time just outside in general. science slightly aside, deku smells a lot like grass and dirt and just,,, the outdoors in general. he, like kaminari, smells very strongly of ozone (clean, chlorine-like) because of the sheer amount of energy output OfA has. Not expounding past the manga, Black Whip is described as a quirk that produces tendrils of pure black energy. This probably creates the same effect/smell as an area struck by lightning.

[tteokggukk]

summer heat → jjk

–pairing: twin!jungkook x reader

–genre: fluff, mature (? but no smut), drabble, a minor attempt at humor, best friend’s twin brother type of thing

–words: 2.9k

–warnings: explicit language, sexual tension, tiny bit of humiliation, a hint of jungkook and reader having some sort of “history” if u squint hard enough

–summary: in an attempt to calm you down and prevent your mood from swinging due to the blazing heat, your best friend decides to go out and buy you some ice cream. you’re shocked, however, when he quickly returns and looks different, making you see him in an entirely new light and leaving you trying to resist the urge to give in to your raging hormones and just jump on him.

–a/n: i was thinking of this scenario in the shower but didn’t have the brain power to turn it into a full length story so i might just add this to a pile of drabbles that i may or may not develop heh + ive been in my jungkook feels too lately sigh + also this is unedited 

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum  @mochisjoon​ @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd​ 

It was a scorching hot summer’s day. Sweat was beginning to trickle down your temples and your shirt was getting stuck to your skin, causing an irking feeling of discomfort. Looking around, you quickly grabbed an empty long folder from your best friend’s messy desk and began fanning yourself to cool down. The two of you were just there, sitting in his room in a not-so-comfortable silence.

You were currently plopped down onto a chair with your legs resting on the desk in front of you, too lazy to come up with ideas to kill your boredom.

It was a tradition for your family to travel every summer and visit a new country you hadn’t been to, but this year you had to pass the plane tickets and sight-seeing due to your best friend, Junghan, asking begging you to help him out with a month-long film project. You didn’t have the heart to decline, so you told your parents you’d stay behind and help him out which resulted in you having to stay over at Junghan’s place for the rest of the summer.

You had to admit though, a small part of you felt disinclined to stay because the project sounded like it would’ve been a tedious workload, but working with your best friend was so much more fun than you’d imagined and even the project itself turned out to be enjoyable. So far, your summer break has been spent filming and hanging out with Junghan—though hanging out usually meant staying in his room and watching romcoms all day while crying over fictional characters, ranting about how you two would never meet such perfect men in real life. It was great.

Until the air conditioner broke down.

You glanced over at Junghan, who seemed to be just as spiritless as you were while he sat in front of a fan, eyes looking empty and distant.

“I told you the air conditioner needed to be fixed,” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling, completely missing the harsh glare he sent you.

“I said I was gonna get it fixed,” He replies and turns back to the fan, his voice quieting down a little, “But the number for repair wouldn’t answer.”

“Right,” You muttered absent-mindedly, eyes staring at the ceiling while your mind was too busy trying to come up with suggestions to beat the heat, “We could go to the pool?”

“Closed,” Junghan grunts, “The mall?”

“As if we’d both drive in this state,” You rolled your eyes as you tried to get your shirt to stop sticking to your skin. Junghan glances over at you when he hears you grumbling, one of the many cues that you were beginning to feel peevish. Deciding that it was pointless to keep tugging on your shirt, you opt to take it off instead.

“You don’t mind do you?” You asked before completely removing your shirt, only leaving you in your bralette. Though you knew he never did because of the countless times he’s helped you change and pick out different outfits, you always asked out of politeness. Additionally, his zero interest in women made you feel much safer and comfortable enough to undress around him.

“I really don’t care,” He says and stands up. You hear him rumbling for a moment while you were neatly folding your shirt, and seconds later you recognize the jingling sound of keys.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“The nearby grocery. You’re about to get grumpy and I am not going to listen to a rambling bitch for the rest of the day,” He says, rubbing his temples as he makes his way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna leave me here?” You asked, too exhausted to even glance at him. He probably wasn’t, you only asked for the dramatic effect.

“No, dumbass. I’m just gonna go and buy ice cream. See you in a bit.”

And with that Junghan leaves and closes the door shut. Only a few minutes later after the sound of the engine had gone did you decide to exert a little effort and move over to his previous spot to sit in front of the fan, the air immediately cooling your skin. You sighed in relief and grabbed a few tissues to wipe your temples dry before grabbing your phone and texting Junghan to buy some lemonade, followed by a second text telling him you’d pay him back once he returned.

You were surprised to hear, not even ten minutes later, that the car was already back and pulling up in the driveway. It couldn’t have been Junghan’s parents as they were out working, and it was only you and Junghan around—not like you two had many friends who would come and visit. Instead of rationalizing with yourself on how Junghan came back home in supersonic speed, you decide to drop it and wait for him to come up back to his room.

Someone knocks on the door, causing your brows to furrow in confusion. Since when did Junghan knock?

“Come... in?” You answer, though it came out more as a question. Your head turns at the sound of the door opening, and your eyes widen at seeing Junghan standing by the doorframe.

Looking oddly different.

“Dude,” You stood up from your place and stared him up and down, “Is that what you were really wearing when you went out?”

His eyebrows raise in shock and you catch his eyes taking a quick glimpse from your chest before quickly looking back at the perplexed look on your face, a small smirk forming on lips. You decide to ignore it.

“What a warm ‘welcome home’,” he chuckles.

“You didn’t answer me,” you replied, still oblivious to the difference in his tone.

He was wearing an all-black ensemble—a black cap, a black leather jacket, black pants that outlined his toned thighs (how have you never noticed?), and some chunky black boots—a huge contrast to his normally colorful and baggy clothing. You were genuinely curious because you hadn’t noticed what he looked like before he left the house as you were too tired and lazy to even look up and say goodbye.

“Uh, yeah. This is what I was wearing?” He narrows one of his eyes, looking confused, “Why?”

“I don’t know… since when did you wear all black?”

“Since way back then? I don’t know,” He replies, and you now noticed how his voice was unusually low. Junghan steps inside and averts his eyes from you, looking around in his room before scrimmaging through drawers as if in search for something.

“What are you looking for?” You asked, folding your arms and following him around.

“A charger,” He replies, and a chill runs down your spine at the sound of his voice. You thought maybe you’d detect how he was just trying to change his manner of speaking, but it was effortlessly low; like he wasn’t faking it or anything. It was weird because Junghan normally sounded a little more high pitched. 

“What charger?”

“A laptop charger, mine broke,” He continues searching and not once does he meet your eyes.

“Oh okay, let me help you then,” You begin to look around and help him search, “Though I don’t know what it looks like, I’ll let you know if I see a charger.”

He looks up at you and smiles, but you don’t catch him watching you as you were already busy searching, “Thanks.”

The two of you continue searching in silence, though occasionally you’d look up and glance at Junghan. What exactly was he doing? Was this for his film? Is he supposed to be in character? This new look and manner of talking that he somehow adopted after a quick trip to the grocery store did things to you. Every time he grunted in annoyance after a failed search, something in your stomach would twist and you found yourself suddenly feeling drawn, or maybe even more than drawn, to your best friend. Your gay best friend.

You shook your head to get rid of those thoughts.

Only a few minutes later did you find something that looked like a charger hiding underneath a pile of unfolded clothes before presenting it to Junghan, “Is it this?”

“Yes! Exactly that,” He jumps up from crouching over one of the drawers at the bedside and walks over to you, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t know why you took such a long time searching for something in your room, though,” You rolled your eyes.

“My room?” He smiles, voice a little deeper but with a hint of amusement.

God, you could just jump on him right now.

“Yeah?” You knit your brows, “And stop doing that!”

“Stop doing what?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he was looking up at you. He leans back a bit a folds his arms, a smile still tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Maybe it was the summer heat doing things to your head and making you think about all these things that you never thought you’d ever want to do with your gay best friend, but he seemed so in character it was actually beginning to bother you. What store did he go to exactly? And where the hell is the ice cream?

“That! What’s up with your voice? And your outfit? You look so different, it’s weird,” You folded your arms as if to mirror him.

“Weird, huh?” He asks and looks at his clothing before looking back at you.

“Not in a bad way. It looks good, it’s just not you,” You squirmed slightly before shaking your head to snap out of it, “I don’t know what store you went to that made you look like this—and congrats I guess, if you’re trying to switch up your fashion, but you completely missed the ice cream, so good luck trying to handle this rambling bitch.”

He laughs at the words “rambling bitch” and oh god that is not what his laughter sounded like before. When did the sound of his laugh sound so deep and sultry? You subconsciously sucked on and bit your lip at the sound of his laughter, trying your best not to visibly drool in front of him. He catches your subtle action and his brow raises at the sight.

“Despite all the things you said, you think this looks good?” A playful smile rests on his face and your heart beats erratically at his expression.

“Y-yeah, I don’t know,” You mumbled. He shifts on the edge of the bed to move closer to you.

“And because there’s no ice cream, you’re going to turn into some rambling…” He reaches his hand out, the back of his fingers feeling the skin on your exposed waist before resting his hand on your back to pull you in closer.

“…person?” he continues, brows raised and eyes staring intently at yours, not using the vulgar word you had just used to describe yourself (or the word he had just called you before he left to go to the store).

“I...um, we’ll see,” you replied, and he only chuckles deeply. Your voice had transformed into a murmuring mess and it annoyed you, but you couldn’t really do anything about it, right now he reminded you so much of—

“I think you look good too, you know. Maybe I did miss you a lot more than I thought I did,” he whispers, pulling you in even more so you were now standing between his thighs.

Missed you? After an eight minute trip to the grocery store?

You didn’t question it. Your mind was blanking out, malfunctioning, even. Here was your best friend, your gay best friend (as you had to keep reminding yourself), placing his hands on your bare skin in a way that you knew wasn’t going to turn out to be so innocent. Right now you were extremely attracted and possibly even turned on by whatever the fuck he was doing, all you could do to save yourself was blame it on the heat. Was this absolutely weird? Hell yes. Did you want to stop him? Fuck no.

Were you now completely devoid of all reason and logic?

Definitely.

Softly, he tugs on your arm and pulls you into him so you were now sitting on his lap with your hand resting on his chest. One of his hands was still attached to your waist, the other was resting itself on the bed, gripping on a blanket.

Chills run down your spine for the second time now as his mouth moves closer to your ear, “Lucky for you I know the perfect way to handle rambling bitches.”

Your breath hitches for a moment and Junghan moves back to face you, his lips grazing your cheeks a little before you meet each other’s gaze. The summer heat was definitely nothing compared to this, but you didn’t mind. Your faces were only mere centimeters apart now and you could’ve sworn he was beginning to lean in by the look in his eyes, which were now fixated on your lips.

Seriously, you could just grab him by the collar right now and speed things up. He’s the one who pulled you in first, anyway, you just wanted to get things going. Though you haven’t exactly a clue as to where this would end, you wished he would hurry up a little to find out.

But for some strange reason, your senses were enveloped with the distinct smell of a signature fragrance that you knew did not belong to Junghan and it snapped you out of your thoughts. The scent was strong enough to flash some memories back in your mind, making you frown. Did he use this perfume on purpose? Or was your mind just playing tricks on you? In a flash, you could suddenly think straight and you couldn’t help it, the moral side of your brain had turned far stronger than your currently raging hormones (thank goodness). Something was definitely off.

“But, Junghan… aren’t you… gay?” You asked, your voice trailing off a little.

His eyes widen and he pulls back from you. He stares at you for a few seconds before it hits him, and he starts erupting in laughter. You narrowed your eyes at him and got off his lap, moving over to the side and sitting beside him instead.

“Junghan?” He stresses on the name. You’re staring at him blankly now, like you knew he was just messing with you. His laughter eventually dies down and he places a hand on your thigh, though it seemed much more innocent now, “I’m so sorry, ____, you’ve got the wrong person.”

With one hand, he quickly grabs the blanket off the bed. The back of his other free hand endearingly caresses your jaw, and you notice how he lingers for a while as he moves a bit lower down to your neck—before wrapping the fabric around you and covering your whole torso with it. Your face immediately turns pink as you clutched onto the blanket to further cover yourself, feeling slightly humiliated, though you were still confused.

“Wrong person? What do you mean?”

“I was wondering why you had no shirt on, I thought that was just a regular thing for you now. But it’s probably cause you’re more comfortable around my brother, huh?”

“Your brother…?”

“Has it really been that long?” He chuckles, and instantly your mind began connecting the pieces together. Could it actually be him? You haven’t seen him in years, and no one even bothered telling you he was coming back today. No way, surely this was Junghan playing a joke on you.

“I’m not Junghan. I’m his twin brother, Jungkook. Remember?”

You hastily stood up in defense, still clutching the blanket close to your chest, “Shut the fuck up, Junghan. No one said anything about Jungkook coming back today!”

Junghan Jungkook only laughs and stands up, the melodious sound filling the room, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the wide open bedroom door. 

“What a shame, but it was a surprise. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home today,” He folds his arms, “And if I am Junghan, then who is that?” He points at the doorframe and true enough, Junghan was standing there holding grocery bags in his arms wearing his usual oversized colorful jacket and khaki colored pants.

You and Junghan both looked at each other with mouths dropped down to the floor before you looked back at Jungkook, who had the same smirk tugged on his lips, clearly amused at the whole situation.

Jungkook bends forward and leans in to your face, his voice in a lower tone but still audible enough for his brother to hear, “Probably shouldn’t take your top off so leisurely around the house anymore, huh?” He grins and winks at you, causing you wince and force an awkward smile, internally cursing yourself at everything that just happened.

“Anyways, I should probably rest up in my room. See you around,” Jungkook flashes you a smile before placing a chaste kiss on your (now dry, because your body had frozen up) forehead before walking away from you, taking the charger and dangling it in his other hand. He taps his confused looking brother on the shoulder before turning his head back to take one last look at you before walking out, leaving you and Junghan staring at each other in shock.

Junghan walks in slowly and sets the bags of grocery on the floor, shutting the door behind him.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asks you, eyes wide in anticipation.

Your mind replays everything that had happened between you two. Was Jungkook really just about to kiss you minutes before? Heart racing, you clutch on your chest from underneath the blanket he had covered you with. No way was Jungkook back. No way is he back and looking even more attractive than he did the last time you saw him. Not when you had just gotten over your small crush on him a couple of years ago.

The heat returns to your body, but it mainly pools on your cheeks. You look back at your best friend, but no words of explanation come up. 

“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing.”

↣ all rights reserved © 2021 tteokggukk. please do not repost. translations/modifications are not allowed.

[mymoonagedaydream]

you find peter kissing mj a couple weeks after you two started dating.. :(( storming off upset you drive and go into bucky’s room just to cry until he comes back from a mission n he comforts the reader

Unfaithful

Summary: Even after you chose someone else, Bucky was still there to help you pick up the pieces

Pairing: Peter Parker x y/n x Bucky

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Language 

Author’s Note: I had no idea how to describe the pairing here lol I did my best

---

It’d only been a few months, but working as Tony Stark’s lab assistant was already turning out to be everything you’d hoped for. You had your dream job, you got to live in Stark’s insanely beautiful compound and you’d been welcomed so warmly by everyone else who lived there- you genuinely couldn’t believe your luck.

It wasn’t long before you started getting close with Peter. He was clumsy and charming, his face lit up whenever you walked into a room and he made sure you were always looked after. Just being around him made you feel like a giddy little kid with a crush. 

You were a little surprised that you also found yourself gravitating towards Bucky. At first he seemed to keep his distance, but as he slowly got more comfortable with your presence at the compound, he really started opening up. You found yourself unintentionally drifting towards him but, because of the age gap, you assumed he was only interested in you as a friend.

So you focused all your romantic energy on Peter. 

It took months of mutual flirting and making excuses to be around each other before he eventually plucked up the courage to ask you out on a date, a proposition which you jumped at with slightly more intensity than you’d intended.

After a couple weeks of spending almost all your free time together, Peter went to stay the weekend with his Aunt May in Queens. Before he left, he seemed a little downcast about missing out on two full days of quality time together, so you decided it’d be nice to surprise him with a visit. 

Besides, you were more than a little curious about his life outside the compound, especially his Aunt. Tony spoke about her a whole lot. 

On Sunday morning, you hopped in your car and drove to Queens. It’d only been a couple days but you were really excited to see Peter, excited to see his face light up with surprise. 

You climbed the stairs of his apartment complex and knocked on the door, slightly taken aback when an incredibly attractive woman opened the door and gave you a wide smile. Tony, you dirty dog. 

‘Hi, I’m y/n, Peter’s friend.’ There was no recognition in her face, but you and Peter had only been dating for a few weeks, so you could forgive him for not telling her about you. ‘Is he here?’

‘Oh yeah, he actually has a friend over but I’m sure he won’t mind if you go right in.’ She gestured over to a closed door. 

Walking into the apartment, the first thing you noticed was the cosiness. The compound was huge and beautiful, but Tony’s futuristic taste in decor didn’t exactly make the place homely. It felt more like a hedge fund office than a home. 

You pushed open Peter’s door and immediately felt your heart drop into your stomach. 

He was sitting on the bed, next to a girl you didn’t recognise, holding her by the waist and pressing his lips against hers. As soon as he heard the door creak his head shot towards you and his face dropped. 

‘Y/n! It’s not- I don’t-’

You were frozen in shock, really struggling to process what was happening.

After a few seconds you spun round and made a beeline for the front door, running out and down the stairs as fast as you were able. Reaching your car, you fumbled for your keys in your pocket and hesitantly glanced over your shoulder, quickly realising that Peter hadn’t even tried to follow you out.

You jumped into the driver's seat and sped away from the apartment complex, racking your brain trying to figure out what to do. Peter was the person you usually went to when shit like this happened, he always knew what to say to calm you down. 

You drove back to the compound, tears clouding your vision, unable to prevent increasingly horrible scenarios playing out in your head. Had he been seeing her the whole time? Or even since before you were together? Were you the other woman?

Pulling up and flicking off the engine, you yanked the door open and ran up to your room, just hoping to god that you wouldn’t bump into anyone on the way. The last thing you wanted to do was have to explain to someone why you were so upset, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to get the words out.

As soon as you turned into the corridor, you couldn’t help but notice that Bucky’s door was slightly ajar. He never usually left it open, you’d never even seen inside his room before. 

You shuffled towards it and poked your head through the gap, a little disappointed when you saw that he wasn’t in there. You didn’t know why, but you found yourself walking over to Bucky’s bed, moving almost involuntarily. Climbing up onto it and crawling to the middle, your face collapsed into his pillows and you started bawling. 

For some reason, all you wanted to do was stay there. Maybe it was because you knew that your bed would smell like Peter, or maybe it was because staying meant that Bucky would eventually find you.

You lay there for what felt like hours, before slowly drifting off to sleep. 

---

You felt your shoulder being tapped gently. Bucky’s deep voice washed over you, pulling you out of your fractured sleep. 

‘Y/n, are you alright? You don’t look so good.’

You peeled open your puffy eyes. He was perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at you with eyes full of concern. Sitting up slowly, you ran through everything again in your mind, trying to figure out if you could word everything in a way that wouldn’t set you off again. 

But it was no use, you started welling up before a single word had escaped your mouth, soon enough feeling the trails of hot tears running down your cheeks. 

Bucky shifted himself slightly and threw a strong arm around your shoulders. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I went to see Peter, I wanted to surprise him.’ You choked back your sobs. ‘I caught him with some other girl.’ 

His face instinctively dropped into one of complete shock before he managed to compose himself, taking a deep breath and stroking your upper arm tenderly.

‘Jesus. I didn’t think he was the type.’

You shrugged weakly. ‘Me neither.’

He brought his other arm up and pulled you into a tight hug, holding you firm against his chest and planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You buried your face in his neck, his closeness prompting soothing waves to wash over your body. 

‘Forget him then.’ Bucky mumbled gruffly. ‘Not worth your time.’

You lifted your head up to face him and gave him a faint smile, noticing for the first time that his face was mottled with some small cuts and bruises.

‘You don’t look so good either Buck, are you alright?’

He gave you a reassuring nod. ‘They’re just flesh wounds, don’t worry about me.’

You leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, before bringing your legs up to drape them over his lap and slotting your head back in the crook of his neck. He kept his arms tight around you, gently stroking his chin over the top of your head. 

The two of you stayed there for hours, just relaxing in each other's company, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you got it wrong the first time. Being with Bucky just felt so right.

---

[immacaria]

Box of Memories

Happy belated birthday, A-Sang! Wish you all the joy and love life has reserved for you!

Almost three weeks after the actual birthday I've finally finished this thanks to my dear school (grinds teeth angrily). Anyway, this is a bit short, like almost 4k or something, and I took this insanely amount of time because of school, but it's alright I finished it now. So I hope you guys enjoy this and I can make your day a little brighter with it. As always, stay safe and healthy!

_____________________________________________________________

It was Nie Huaisang’s birthday and Jiang Cheng was more anxious than when he had to survive Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao’s shove talk one after the other. For the heavens and all above, they had been dating for four years now and met each since they were five and six! There was no reason for him to be so nervous! They passed so many birthdays, with so many presents exchanged and Jiang Cheng was still nervous. And just because he made the present with his own hands and it turned out horrible!

Like not the ‘you can’t even look at’ type of horrible, but the ‘didn’t meet my expectations exactly what immediately makes it horrible’ type of horrible. He started doing it exactly two days later after Nie Huaisang said he wanted it and guaranteed that nobody would buy it for him, exactly nine months and eight days before his birthday. He had seen it on Pinterest, in a video where a girl was making a “box of memories” (as Jiang Cheng came to call it) for her younger sister.

She had chosen their favourite memory and made something like a box of shadows to show it. There was a light bulb in the middle with various metal plates cut in the shape of the memories. When turned on, the metal plates started to revolve around the light bulb and create images on the wall, recreating the memory with the shadows. Nie Huaisang loved it and showed it to every person who he knew could give one for him or make one. Thankfully, none of them could give it right away which gave Jiang Cheng enough time to plan how he would do it.

It all began with him asking what memory he would use of all his favorites and asked what happened there, memorizing them to the heart and writing everything down the second he saw himself alone. His drawing skills weren’t as good as Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen’s, but as long as they remained a sketch, they would do. After sketching it all, he went to Nie Mingjue and asked him to teach him how to cut the metal plates and arrange them properly in the other metal pieces. Apparently, there was a machine that did that for them, the only thing they needed to do was insert the images and the sizes of the plates and let it do what it needed to do. Which led Jiang Cheng to ask for some draw lessons from Lan Xichen and digital design from Lan Wangji, which cost several years of his life but he guessed he was bound to do everything needed for his boyfriend.

He planned everything on the little planner he bought (if it was specifically brought for that no one needed to know) and every day he ticked something off. Besides the box of memories, he wrote a letter everyday to him and hid it in the last drawer of his wardrobe under piles and piles of clothes. From Open it now to Open it when you are sixty years old and Open it when you are in doubt about us, everyday a letter for 281 days and too much ink, paper and ideas, too much feelings engraved in those. But should he regret it, knowing that it would make Nie Huaisang happy? The boy loved this kind of old, romantic things like handwritten letters, so why shouldn’t he give it to him too? Handwritten letters with little doodles on the edges of the paper and little trinkets.

At the beginning of May, Jiang Cheng started putting it all together, doing the last reviews and adjustments. Once the plates were done, he called Wei Wuxian to help with the electric part of the thing, the shameless idiot being graduated in electrical engineering somehow. He had to endure his little ramble about how he had become so romantic and how considerate of somebody else’s feelings, how he was going miles out of what everyone said was normal. It would be a lie if Jiang Cheng ever said that he wasn’t slightly proud and happy upon hearing that.

They made slow progress but the present was ready six days before the due date, which gave Jiang Cheng enough anxiety and stress for the rest of his life (good thing he took on his mother’s side of genetics and wasn’t getting any white hairs until a very, very old age). Would Nie Huaisang find out the present before his birthday? Would he hate it or love it? Would he simply be neutral about all the gifts? Would he fake liking it? What could possibly happen once he gives it to him? Would it destroy their relationship?

On March 20, Jiang Cheng was about to have a stroke or an aneurysm or both of them probably. Just some more hours and they would see if Nie Huaisang liked the present or not. Since it had been ready, the poor present had been tested countless times to see if it worked properly (it did, thank gods), changed locations incessantly while he wrote every single letter by hand before making a wooden box and putting all he had made in there. The memory box, the 281 letters and some fans he bought in the Yunmeng market that reminded him of Nie Huaisang.

Early on, he had promised Nie Huaisang that he would help him with the birthday’s decorations and preparations for everything . After that, he made a quick run to his house to take a bath and try to calm himself because he couldn’t throw up in the party, he even got time to test it again, watching as Nie Huaisang’s favourite memory of all time played on his bedroom wall. It was practically memorized by now, the way the images followed one by one in quick succession, recreating a story that he could tell even if he had amnesia.

Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue and their parents were the main characters in the memory. Nie Huaisang was maybe four or five years old while Nie Mingjue was something like sixteen or seventeen years old and they were travelling to the small cabin they passed the holidays. He always said that that weekend was the best one of his life, one where his entire family was together and happy, complete. This memory in particular was one where Nie Huaisang was being thrown in the air by his father to land in the arms of one of his mothers while Nie Mingjue and their second mother were suffering a heart attack. Even though there was some melancholy in his eyes, he always spoke fondly and laughed about the face his brother made when he landed on their mother’s arms and passed the rest of the weekend guaranteeing that their father wouldn’t do another one of those again.

Jiang Cheng would die as a happy man if he could make him as happy as he was on that day, even if for one day. Well, not die, he was still too young to die, but he would feel fulfilled and satisfied. So, he tried to focus on that when he stepped inside the party, clutching to the wooden box and breathing deep. He’s going to like it, he’s not going to hate me, he’s going to smile because of the present, everything is going to be fine, we are not breaking up. Okay, maybe he was a little bit paranoid and afraid of what was going to happen, but he was fine, he was going to be fine. He just needed to loosen up and enjoy the party until it was time to open the presents.

“A-Cheng!” Nie Huaisang said, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his neck. Jiang Cheng only had time to pull the box to the side to prevent him from getting hurt before putting an arm around his waist and kissing his temple. “Tell your brother to stop being mean to me on my birthday.”

“If Lan Wangji can’t control him, what makes you think I can?” He said, still holding him. “Happy birthday, Huaisang, many years of life and happiness for you.” He kissed his temple again before stepping away and showing him the present. “For you.”

“Oh, A-Cheng! You didn’t need to! You are already present enough.” He gasped, taking the box of his hands while Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him. He always said that but he remembered very well what he did to Jin Zixuan when the man showed up without his present. He didn’t want to be in the same ending of his fury, thank you very much.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes again, bending a little to let Nie Huaisang kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know what you gave me, but I already love it.” He smiled brightly at him, walking to the kitchen and carefully choosing a place to put it. The kitchen was loaded with presents, some big, others small, colorful wraps or black and white with an interesting pattern on it, some didn’t even had proper wraps around it. There were a lot of presents and for a moment Jiang Cheng’s brain simply went blank and decided that, for sure, there was one that topped his present. Which was nonsense, but still served to increase his stress and anxiety (once again he thanked his genetics for not getting white hairs early). “C’mon, let’s go to the living room. Da-ge is telling some story from when we were children.”

“Is he telling the green incident? Because if he is, I would rather stay in the kitchen.” And check if the other presents are better than mine so I can throw them out the window.

“Of course not! Da-ge doesn’t remember that story anymore.” He waved him off, entering the room in the exact moment Nie Mingjue said:

“Then a bucket of green paint fell into his head.” His thunderous laugh filled the room as he started to tell the amazing story of how Nie Huaisang managed to dye himself green after he dumped a whole bucket of paint on his head when he was seven years old.

“Da-ge!” He screamed, going red instantly. “What are you doing?!” He yelped, high-pitched, as he threw a cushion at him. “Shut up!”

“What? I was just talking about the green dye you did on your skin.” He laughed again, dodging the cushion and showing his tongue to him. It was strange to see a man of his size acting like that, but sincerely Jiang Cheng sometimes forgot that he too was human and (kind of) young. “Hey, Wanyin, do you want to sit here?”

“Hey, hey, hey. No stealing boyfriends on my birthday or ever, Da-ge. You already have two.” He wrapped himself around his arm, glaring at his brother. “Stop being so selfish, Da-ge.”

“Selfish? Take that back, brat, before I break your legs.” He narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger at him.

“It’s his birthday and you don’t get to threaten the birthday boy, Jue-ge.” Lan Xichen sighed, pulling his hand down. He was beside Nie Mingjue and sitting next to Lan Wangji, talking quietly between the two of them before the threats started rolling out.

“Stop covering him, Lan Xichen.” He turned to him as Nie Huaisang pulled him to the bench next to the window and between two high bookshelves full of sketchbooks, some completed, others completely blank.

“So, what’s your present?” He suddenly asked, playing with Jiang Cheng’s fingers.

“What? It’s a fucking surprise, A-Sang, I can’t tell you.” He spurred, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

“But, A-Cheng, yours were the heaviest of it all. What is it?” He shook his arm, doing the puppy eyes. The fucking puppy eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Stop, A-Sang.” He growled, avoiding looking at him. “You know I can’t take the puppy eyes.”

“A-Cheng~.” He laid ahead, searching for his eyes. And, heavens, who taught that boy that? Nie Mingjue for sure was not. Maybe Meng Yao. Yeah, definitely Meng Yao. Jiang Cheng was going to kill Meng Yao for teaching Nie Huaisang that. “Please~. I want to know.”

“Ok, ok, ok. Just one part, okay?” Jiang Cheng pushed him away, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“From how many parts?” His eyes were shining and attentive which meant that he was probably making a million combinations on his head, comparing and guessing what he could possibly ever get him.

“I’m not going to tell you.” He scowled, taking a deep breath. “One part of your presents is fans, okay? I got you some fans.”

“Really?!” His eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his bangs. “I love fans.”

“I know, A-Sang.” He breathed out, kissing his fingers.

“But I love you more.” He smiled, leaning to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I love you so much more than the fans.” He murmured against them, hands on his neck.

“Idiot.” He chuckled, kissing him back while smiling. He always seemed to smile easily when he was near him, breath was easier too. Sincerely, Nie Huaisang just made things easier just by being near him, just his presence and, maybe, it was the reason why he wanted to do everything in his power to make him happy as he could be. “I love you too.”

“More than dogs and A-Ling?” He sat between his legs, back against his chest.

“Don’t push your luck.” He may love A-Sang, but dogs and his nephew were more important, they always brought instant happiness with them. Next to him, Nie Huaisang was chuckling quietly, pulling both of Jiang Cheng’s arms around his waist and putting his hands above before starting to talk with Meng Yao about some new exposition of them and all the technicalities involving it.

Jiang Cheng let himself fall back into the security of all the conversations around him that didn’t involve him and the warmth of Nie Huaisang on his arms and against his chest. Slowly his panic disappeared from his mind as the time passed and the presents weren’t mentioned not even once. Almost everyone was there, the only ones missing being Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli and their newborn Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng’s little sweetheart, who were overseas to look over the inauguration of Jiang Yanli’s new restaurant in Las Vegas (To say that Jiang Cheng was crazely proud of her would be an understatement).

Either way, no amount of time would be enough to prepare him for when Wei Wuxian and MianMian appeared in the kitchen bringing the cake and the tray of sweets. The candle was already lit up and displaying the number 23, as if nobody knew how old Nie Huaisang was. He dislocated his hands enough to clap but not remove his arm from around his waist. Nie Huaisang laughed, clapping according to the music, but sunken further on his chest, refusing to move another millimeter as his ears went adorably red.

“Happy birthday, Nie Huaisang!” Everyone screamed when the song ended, blowing confetti over them. The screams and whistles became a cacophony as Nie Huaisang blew out the candle and laughed out loud, putting both of his hands over his mouth.

“Happy birthday, Nie-xiong!” MianMian hugged him after Wen Qing, her girlfriend, took the cake from her. “Many, many years of happiness and fulfillment to you, my dear. Hope you enjoy mine and A-Qing’s present.” She winked, mischievously.

“What have you given me, MianMian?” Nie Huaisang said, eyes wide.

“Nothing you can open in front of Da-ge.” She laughed, absolutely delighted at his terrified face and Jiang Cheng’s groan. He had noticed that everyone had a tendency of calling Nie Mingjue ‘Da-ge’.

“No! You stole my idea!” Wei Wuxian complained, giving him a half-hug and equilibrating the tray of sweets on the other arm. “Many years of love and laughter, Nie-xiong, may time and life treat you well.” He fully hugged him once MianMian came back to take the tray away from him, calming Jiang Cheng’s anxiety.

“I want to see what those two gave you. No excuses.” Nie Mingjue said, serious, before crushing him in a tight hug. “Happy anniversary, didi. I’m very proud of you and what you have become. Ma, Baba and Mother would be so, so proud of you and happy for all the friends and people you have around you.” He may or may not have sniffed on that part, hiding his face on his brother’s neck.

“Thank you, Da-ge. They would be very proud of you too.” Nie Huaisang whispered back and Jiang Cheng saw him blink repeatedly to avoid the tears from falling out.

“He grew up so fast.” He mourned, resting his head on Lan Xichen’s shoulder while Meng Yao hugged and wished him a happy birthday and life. Once he was done and it was Lan Xichen’s turn, Nie Mingjue wrapped himself over him, sniffing loudly. After that, the other guests did a quick succession of ‘Happy Birthday’ and wishes for a good and long life. Not for a moment Nie Huaisang stepped away from Jiang Cheng, always at arm’s reach of his hands. Not that he had tried to pull him back when he stepped away, Jiang Cheng would never do that.

“So, A-Sang, now that all the wishes have been given and Wangji-ge and I have cut the cake. For whom is the first piece?” MianMian asked, holding a plate with a piece of cake to him.

“A-Cheng!” He quickly answered, turning to him. “For being the best boyfriend a man could ask. And not being too scared of Da-ge.”

“I’m not that scared of Mingjue-ge, but thank you, I guess.” Jiang Cheng said, taking the plate from his hands and completely refusing to look over where Nie Mingjue was.

“Woah, he didn’t even hesitate.” Wei Wuxian said, surprised. “I could swear he was going to give it to Da-ge.” That was it, Jiang Cheng was now certain that everyone, except for maybe Wen Qing, saw Nie Mingjue as an older brother. But, well, were they wrong?

“Da-ge has received many first pieces in his life. It’s A-Cheng’s time.” Nie Huaisang scrunched his nose at him before jogging to the kitchen. “C’mon people! Eat, eat! I want to open my presents!”

Jiang Cheng chuckled, starting to eat the cake as the others were doing a line to receive their own piece and, fucking hell, he understood why they wanted one. The cake was divine! It was fluffy and tasty, exploding in the mouth the moment you bite it and it wasn’t too sweet. It was possibly the best cake he ever had the pleasure to eat and by the look of the other’s face, they thought that too.

“Nie-xiong, who made the cake? I want their number.” Wei Wuxian said, pleasure written all over his face. “It’s so good!”

“Oh, it was Wangji and Da-ge.” Nie Huaisang said, pointing at them. Everyone turned their heads to them, looking in awe.

“Lan Zhan?! But he never did one of me.” Wei Wuxian complained, pouting.

“Mingjue-ge made the dough and I did the frosting and the decorations.” Lan Wangji passed a piece of cake to Wen Ning.

“And the sweets. He did the sweets too.” Nie Mingjue said, throwing one of the sweets in his mouth.

“Which are fucking marvellous!” MianMian exclaimed, doing a thumbs up for him.

“No speaking while eating.” He and Lan Xichen said in unison, without looking at her. After that everyone focused on eating the cake and the sweets. Nie Huaisang came back to sit beside Jiang Cheng, taking the sweets he didn’t like to his own plate. Most of them got a second piece and more sweets because those things were really fucking good.

“Now, the presents!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, excited and sending Jiang Cheng’s heartbeat to space. “I’m excited.” He was jumping on his seat.

“Whose present will you open first?” Lan Xichen said, getting up and going to the kitchen.

“A-Cheng’s.” He smiled as he started to bring the presents from the kitchen. Jiang Cheng prayed that his panic weren’t showing on his face nor his anxiety because his mind was running a mile per hour.

He was going to open the present and see how horrible it was that box of memories and they would break up. Maybe not now because of the fans, but once he started reading the letters and seeing how messed up he was, it would be an endgame. No one, being in their right mind, would stay after reading those letters. Before he could be totally swallowed by his traitorous mind, he heard a scream and someone throwing themselves at him, arms around his neck.

“Thank you!” Nie Huaisang screamed in his ear, pulling him against himself. “Thank you so much!” He sounded happy, but he was crying too.

“What the fuck, Huaisang? Are you crying?” He said, trying to look at his face where it was hidden on his neck. “Why are you-...” He started, before seeing the box sitting on his lap. “Oh.”

“A-Cheng.” He whined, looking up. “Look what you did to me. I’m crying like a baby.” The tears were falling two by two, big fat tears that he did not like to see on his face. “When did you buy it?”

“I made it.” He blurted out, focused on wiping the tears.

“What?” He blinked, sniffing loudly.

“I made it. I made most of the things in the box, including the box. The only things I bought were the fans, I still don’t know how to make fans like you.” He kept wiping the tears, putting his sleeve over his nose for him to blow. “You know I’m not good with handcrafted gifts but since it’s your birthday I tried.”

“I love you so much.” Nie Huaisang hugged him again while Wei Wuxian took the box from his legs and turned it on.

“What memory did you use?” He asked and, oh yeah, Jiang Cheng never told any of them what memory he was planning to use. He instructed MianMian to turn the light off, rearranging it on the small coffee table in the center.

“One from when me and Da-ge were younger.” Nie Huaisang answered as Nie Mingjue’s eyes filled with tears at recognition. “Best present ever.” He whispered, leaning on him with a small smile on his lips and watching as the memory came to life again. Jiang Cheng smiled down at him, passing an arm over his shoulders and watching as he told the story about how Nie Mingjue, who had many comments on how it was being told, almost had a heart attack when he was seventeen.

It was, indeed, the best present ever.

[rosebloodcat]

Toonkind Storyline Idea

Not too long ago, I got an interesting idea for a DnD storyline thanks to some interesting spells I found in the Player’s Handbook. I’ve also been listening to the Toonkind DnD recordings as well. So, as one would expect, the two have been slowly melding together into (what I think) is a fun/interesting story that could be played.

The only awkward thing about it is that I’m not actually in the Toonkind Discord (I’ve got my eye out for the next invite link and I’m praying I’ll be online and aware enough to join in then), so I can’t really share the idea and see if anyone would be up for it. This awkwardness is only increased by the fact that a character I want to see/use for it is one that isn’t mine.

Because of that, this idea has just been festering in the back of my head for several days now and I just- Need to talk about it now.

Like, the fear of possible embarrassment is being replaced by the pure need to talk about this. It’ll probably just sit in my posts/notes forever and not get used, but I want to have it down and out there. (Keeping hopes/expectations low on that front.) I mean, what are the chances that, even if I At’d the players here on Tumblr, they would actually read through the idea? Or want to talk with me about it? Pretty low as far as I can tell.

So honestly, there’s nothing actually stopping me from just rambling into the aether about this. Might as well go for it.

Anyways, let’s get into the meat of this.

I’ll start off by telling people that I had been curious about spells to revive/bring back the dead because I was curious about how many there actually were. 

Unsurprisingly, I found four spells that involved reviving/bringing back the dead.

Surprisingly, though, only three of those spells were necromancy spells! (Revivify, Resurrection, and True Resurrection.)

The Fourth spell was called Reincarnate and was a transmutation spell used/learnable by Druids. (If you’re curious about it, you can check out the exact details here! https://www.dndbeyond.com/spells/reincarnate )

A quick summary of it goes like this: If someone has been dead for less than 10 days, you can touch them (or a piece of them) and create a new body for that person and call their soul to it. The spell causes their race/subrace to change, and the new one can be decided by the DM or via Dice Roll. All their abilities and memories stay the same, but their racial stats/abilities are exchanged for ones matching their new race/subrace.

And I thought, “What if this spell (or a variant of it) was used on a character that died in one of the Toonkind games?”

(Also, I realize I should mention this before continuing, Spoiler Warning for anyone who’s never listened to the Taffy Train Saga and the Coup De Blues games? This involves characters from those.)

I can’t think of too many toonkind characters who are actually Dead-Dead, but I do have one that I have a little bit of a soft spot for. One who was killed in the very same game he was introduced in.

Victor Tim, the (very dead) accountant for Dodo Studios.

(Who has been played by both @modmad and @snailcomicz and I’m not sure which of them he actually belongs to, so I guess he just goes to both for now. I know he was presented as a tool/not very liked character, but I just found him weirdly charming. I can’t explain it if I tried.)

Thus, the seed of an idea was planted in my brain.

What if Victor Tim was brought back from the dead by someone using a variation of this spell? Either as someone experimenting with magic or something. Heck, it could even be done with a machine instead of a spellcaster. (I’m not opposed to the “Illegal or at least Unethical Science” route for a villain. Seeing if they can expand the limit for how soon the spell can be used.)

I mean, considering the chaos brought by Dora Z Scale after the Taffy Train, would it really be so crazy to say that someone took advantage of it?

Someone could have noticed Dora robbing graveyards, seeing that the reports on it were few and far between, and decided to piggyback off her and snatch up remains in her wake. Get some free test subjects that didn’t need to sign waivers whilst everyone was focused on the Engineer and later Dora drama in the papers. Of course, they could have also been a bit more careful and waited until after Dora was captured/arrested before starting their experiments. To give more time for people to forget about them (if they had been spotted during that time) and let their focus be taken up by the former actress instead.

And it probably took a while before they got around to Vic, likely from how little they had of him due to Dora drinking a large portion of him. The Perp probably took their time refining their materials/process since they didn’t want to lose what little they had of him.

All things considered, the extra grave robber probably wasn’t noticed for a long time thanks to the sorting that needed to be done with Dora’s undead army. After figuring out who came from where and sending them back to their proper graves, I’m sure the police were very surprised to find that there were still a number of graves that remained empty.

That lovely little problem was probably kept buried to prevent the public from panicking/getting the police in even more trouble. Especially if The Engineer or Mrs. Tim found out that Vic’s remains were among those missing.

(Not to mention the field day the press would have about it. Like that one, very intrepid young reporter. The one with the dog, you know who.)

I’d say that Vic, when brought back, is still a toonkind but probably a different subrace. (Maybe a Frankenalie? Or a Warne? Unless Mod or Snail see this and think of something that would be more fun/interesting.)

He also probably has no idea what’s going on. Just that he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be dead but somehow he’s not and he’s stuck somewhere he doesn’t recognize and are both his eyes facing forward? And “Oh no this is bad. I’m pretty sure there is a bad thing happening and I’m alone with no help, oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Because definitely not-okay, illegal/unethical experiments tend to mean the “Subjects” are basically captives/prisoners of the person responsible and need to either be rescued or find a way to escape.

Both routes could go in fun/interesting directions.

Cause, on one hand, there’s the possibility of getting the info out and having Engie pulling/being part of a rescue mission, or at least someone from the studio/Taffy Train may want to check it out. (I mean, who fakes being a dead guy? That’s weird enough that someone would want to look into it.)

On the other hand, there’s also the fun of Vic managing to bust out with the help of other victims in the same situation. Which could actually be a cool set of stories/games to be played. (I’d- I’d actually love to make a character to play that out if I’m being completely honest here. I may have one slowly being drafted out in my head as I type this.)

There’s also the potential hitch of Vic having to try and convince people/prove that he really is Victor Tim, the guy who was murdered by Dora Z Scale. Or that Vic’s note/message really was from him. Even more so if Vic’s talking to people who actually knew him before. (Powerful potential Angst and feels right there if they don’t believe him. Or it could be really funny, depending on how it’s played.)

There are also some fun shenanigans that could happen too. Mostly from Vic trying to figure out how his new race/abilities work. Like (if he was a warne)  accidentally using Expeditious Retreat and yeeting himself into a wall. Or (if he was a frankenalie) getting into a heated argument with an animal via Speak With Animals but not knowing it.

(“Uh, Vic?” “Wha- Oh! Sorry,  I was caught up talking with this guy-” “Vic, you’re talking to a dog.” “...Oh. Suddenly this makes a lot more sense.”)

But- yeah. That’s my idea for a potential storyline for Toonkind DnD, Victor Tim brought back from the dead but not as a Yupyaen and all the possible chaos that could entail. 

Honestly, I have more thoughts on the story, but it’s one of those things that would probably go better if I was able to talk with others about it.

This will probably sit in my posts for who knows how long and never actually get used/played, but I have said my piece now. Who knows, maybe I’ll use the initial idea in something and just remove Vic from the equation.

(... It would be cool if I actually got to use/play this in Toonkind though.)

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 5

November 21st - Part 2

Erik’s tablet chimed as he finished up the dishes. He set aside the leftovers for later and went to see what DeeDee had to say.

He roared with laughter at how she ended the email. Why was she so stuck on finding out if he found the love he described? Her curiosity tickled him and now he had to decide how to navigate this conversation away from that kind of talk. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about the non-existent once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that he wanted. But how do you explain to someone how you never felt you deserved it, so you never went looking for it? And therefore, you don’t have it. 

Erik sighed and reached for something stronger than water to drink. 

He took the tablet, the bottle and glass into the living room. He took a seat on the couch and cracked his knuckles and began to write his response for the Curious DeeDee. Erik shook his head and laughed again. 

Erik hoped this would be enough to get DeeDee away from asking again, but something told him it wasn’t over.

---

DeeDee had devoured half of the pizza and the bottle of wine. She went to her room to  change out of her cleaning clothes into her favorite hoodie and a pair of yoga pants. 

Her laptop went off when she returned from the back, and DeeDee jumped onto her couch in excitement. She couldn’t wait to find out that he found his true life long love. 

If she couldn’t find it for herself, there was no reason for her to not want that for everyone else. Live vicariously through her new friend, Erik. Wait, could she consider him a friend? She scrunched her face at that rude thought and opened his email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Hi Dee Dee,

I know you know I meant science, but I will answer one of those questions to quell your curiosity. I, also, commend you for pursuing your doctorate, and in advanced chemistry, no less. 

So, it’s kind of a funny story, but I never meant to leave it in there. 

Fun fact about the note, it is much older than you think. I was a civil engineering major during undergrad, when I originally wrote that note and left it in the book. 

It happened when I was returning all my checked out books from the library. I was getting ready to move and needed to get them all in to avoid any replacement fees that would have prevented the conferral of my doctoral degree. So, I turned all of those books in without checking them. Which was definitely out of character for me. Especially since I lived by all my written notes for both class and research. 

I discovered it was missing when I went to look for it after the move. I knew exactly where it was, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to get it. So, it was just out there. Besides, I knew what it said by heart, so it was fine.  

I will tell you I never expected to be discussing it years later though. It has been a very pleasant surprise.

Thank you,

E

“Of course, he would avoid the damn question.” She huffed out and poured another glass. It should not be that hard to answer, either he found it or is still in search of it. DeeDee’s hand stilled as she brought it to her lips. Nope, not going there tonight. She took a long drink of her wine.

She set the glass down, drew up her legs and crossed them before settling the computer on her lap. In a flurry, DeeDee’s fingers danced across her keyboard as she wrote her response. The alcohol heated her up to match her current mood. 

---

Erik was chilling, in a half-assed attempt to watch the movie playing on TV. He had turned the volume down because the woman’s high pitched tone was grating on his nerves. He set the whiskey down on his coffee table and leaned back with his feet propped up and closed his eyes. 

The easily recognizable email alert stirred him. Oh, she had time. It had only been about 20 minutes since he sent the last email. He sat up and opened up the email. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mr. Erik, 

So, you really aren’t going to answer that other question? Ok, that’s fine. I’ll let it slide for now.

Thank you for that. I have always wanted to work in the science field and I found toxicology while I was working on my Bachelors. I enjoy it and definitely appreciate having Dr. O as my mentor. 

That is an interesting story. The one time you lost control and you left something like the note behind. Well, I guess it is just my luck that I found it and decided to look for you, huh? Oh, and you’re welcome. 

What do you do now? I know you aren’t working in a lab or researching much anymore.  

I read a little bit about you but I don’t know much about the work that the Wakandan Outreach Centers do. I would love to hear about it.

DeeDee 

“That’s right. Quis, did say she was one of his students.” Then why was he worried about the person being a stalker. Erik set the tablet down and reached for his cell to text him. 

Erik: Quis, why were you worried about DeeDee?

Quis: What? 

Erik: About stalker potential?

Quis: Man, I didn’t even know it was her until she came and showed me a picture.

Erik: What picture?

Quis: Our Grad Student of the Year picture from the front of the Southern Digest.

Erik nodded his head, “So, Miss DeeDee knows what I look like. Or what I looked like.”

Quis: Everything good, man. 

Erik: Yeah, yeah. Just wanted a little background, can’t be too sure of people asking for help these days.  

Quis: DeeDee could never stoop to Karina’s level. She’s safe. 

“The hell, she is.” Erik picked up his glass and took a sip. “This woman is becoming more dangerous, as we speak.”

Quis: So, I take it that you can be of use to her?

Erik: Uh yeah, she is very sharp. 

Quis: You have no idea.

Erik: Thanks again. Oh, and I got the email, so I’m making plans now. 

Quis: Great. Later, man.

“If Marquis vouched for her, then I have nothing to worry about.”

Erik dropped his phone back onto the couch and picked up the tablet. 

“Here goes nothing.”

--- 

DeeDee was on Spotify. She picked a list at random and let the music take her away. She was slowly bodyrolling to Rome Flynn’s ‘Keep Me In Mind’ with a refreshed glass in hand, when her phone blinked. She walked over to it and saw that Erik had sent another email. She took a sip and picked up her phone to open his reply. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

DeeDee,

How did I go from Erik to Mister? 

I guess if you get to know me better than maybe you would find out the answer to your question. 

But you are right. I tend to have a tight rein on things, it has always been that way. So, when I lost the note, I was irritated before I realized it wasn’t going to matter in the long run. But it appears to have landed in exceptional hands. *winks*

Well, I am in the family business. My family started the Wakandan Outreach Centers. The first one was opened up here in Oakland. I am the Director of Operations for it and all the Centers on the West Coast.

My first love will always be science. So, although, I may not be active in the field according to your definition. I still use everything I learned and conduct research with my cousins on a regular basis.

Since you know so much about me. Tell me something about DeeDee. Like how much longer do you have to complete your doctorate? 

Mr. Erik

“Does he think that wink is gonna work on me?” DeeDee hid her smile behind the glass. “Damnit.” 

She locked up the phone and walked back to her couch. DeeDee traded devices and picked up her laptop to reply to Erik. 

“You don’t get to wink at me and then wash over the topic again.” 

DeeDee pressed down hard on each key as she typed. She admired the fact that his family was close enough to work together on something as big as the successful operation of multiple Outreach Centers across the U.S. But she would not rest until he answered her. 

“You aren’t cute, Mr. Erik.” She glanced over to the notebook, where the newspaper clipping of him and Dr. O was folded up inside. She recalled some dimples and a bright smile. He definitely towered over her 5’4 frame. He stood at least 2-3 inches taller than Dr. O, and she had to look up at him all the time. “Yeah, you not that cute.”

She clapped her hands and hit the ‘send’ button. Her phone went off. She saw Beverly sent something in the group chat.

Bev: Dinner and the club, tonight?

Phyll: You know I’m down. 

DeeDee: No thanks. I’m covered for the rest of the year.

Bev: Come on, DeeDee. 

DeeDee: Phyll, don’t you have work?

Phyll: Don’t try to change the subject, Dee. 

Bev: You ain’t doing nothing important. It’s not like you have something to study for anymore.

DeeDee looked at her computer. “Come on, Erik. Give me a reason to stay home tonight.”

---

Erik just brought the glass to his lips when the tablet alerted him to another email. So, they were really doing this tonight? Back and forth emails in real time. He doesn’t even remember the last time, he looked forward to hearing from someone. It had been a while since someone had his attention like that. And after a few simple emails, he found that DeeDee squirmed her way into that space. 

“What’s up Miss DeeDee?” He opened the email, “Ready to share?”

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mister Erik, 

*pouts* Fine. I don’t know why you can’t just answer the question now, but ok. 

That is wonderful. Sounds like the family business is treating you well. And you are enjoying what you do. That is all I want from my career. I want to do research and teach others. It’s a growing field so if we can get more men and women of color into STEM careers, I am here for it. 

Something about me -- I’m an only child and a legacy student. Both of my parents attended Southern. In fact, it’s where they met all those years ago. And I like to read...like I can read anything and get lost in someone else’s world for hours.

But this is hopefully my final semester, I am preparing to defend my dissertation next month. Wish me luck!  

DeeDee

“Her parents met at Southern?” Erik put the tablet down and walked over to his fireplace. He picked up the center picture from the mantle and closed his eyes briefly.  Two people were standing together in front of a large building. He rubbed his fingers over the top of the image of his parents. It read John B. Cade, it was the library at Southern University. Where his parents met and fell in love. 

Erik took a deep breath and put the picture back up. He stood there and looked at the tablet.

“Is it possible that she could be?” He shook his head before he went down that road. The image of the last woman he thought could be his one and only flashed across his mind. He groaned out. Erik walked over to the couch and grabbed the tablet. “Only one way to find out.”

Taglist: @teakturn​​ @ghostfacekill-monger​​ @shaekingshitup​​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​​ @woahitslucyylu​​ @ladymac82​​ @bugngiz​​ @eyeknowmywrites​​ @ajspencer1892​​ @arafatih​​ @issimplyaamazinggg​​ @tchallasbabymama​​

[sunsetcurbed]

you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie Words: 6,587  Rating: T Chapter Warnings: none Chapter: 10/11 read on AO3 

Chapter Summary: “Good luck tonight. I look forward to your speech.”

And that left him where he is now, completely sure that he has made a mistake in his decision.

He picks up his phone.

(15:54) lmao nvm

(*) 

Alex is not going to be Prince.

He’s not sure why he said he was going to be in the first place because clearly it’s an absolutely ludicrous idea. Alex is barely a functioning human, he can’t be a prince!

He’s pacing his room, keeping his eyes averted from the charcoal grey suit that’s laid out on his bed. He’d just taken it out of its garment bag and it has been taunting him, as if saying this is your future, you don’t belong. And he doesn’t belong, does he? The suit is like nothing he’s ever worn, not even for the dinner a few weeks ago, and if he chooses to become prince this suit would just be the first of many, and—it’s too good for him. He’s not good enough for it. He’s not good enough to be Prince.

He looks at the clock. His driver is supposed to be here to get him in six minutes, but Alex hasn’t even started to get dressed. His family has already left for the Ball, and he’s got no idea what to do.

He might not be having these thoughts if it weren’t for his surprise visitor a few minutes ago, but then again, he might have ended up here no matter what. But, really, how else was he supposed to react after Caleb Covington shows up at his door and completely runs his spirit into the ground? His decision was already standing on pretty shaky legs this morning once he’d woken up, the high from last night gone. By the time he’d taken his anxiety medications, eaten breakfast, showered, and helped his family get ready he was already starting to doubt himself. He was planning a back up speech in his mind. And then—

“Alexander,” Caleb said from the front of his porch, leaning against one of the beams. Alex’s family had just left minutes before, so he was left to face Caleb alone. “How nice to see you.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, “it must be, considering you drove out of your way to come find me. What are you doing here?”

“Such insolence. I’m just here to congratulate you on your big night. Not everyone gets to speak at the Beasigan consulate. You’ll be up there addressing hundreds of people from all around the world; quite the feat for a sixteen year old with almost no formal training.” There was a glint in Caleb’s eye, as if he had known about Alex’s anxiety, knew that Alex’s stomach was flipping as soon as ‘hundreds of people’ left Caleb’s lips. “I just wanted to stop by and ask—“

Alex shook his head. “No,” he said, willing his stomach to settle. “No—okay, I know what you’ve been doing. Chasing down Willie, stalking him to get a read on me. It’s not going to work. You can’t make me do anything.” Caleb stares him down. Alex feels himself bending, as if he’d just disrespected a superior, but he doesn’t crack, doesn’t break.

“Stalking? Please. I just wanted to get to know William,” Caleb said. “He seemed to love skating the streets of Hollywood so much it wasn’t hard to find him. I just thought, as Speaker of the House of Crane, I should be working to get to know our possible future Prince Consort. After all, he’d be around the palace a lot. What with his… duties. Counseling you and charities. He seems the just the type for that, your William.”

Alex didn’t think too much on that in the moment, just crossed his arms and sighed. “My driver is going to be here in thirty minutes. I’ve got to finish getting ready.”

“I won’t keep you. But. The Beasigan people are strong and united,” Caleb hummed, looking down at his nails, studying them as if he’d been looking for any flaws that he might have to file or buff out before the ball that night. “They can be a bit… skeptical… of outsiders. So don’t let that get to you.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “Really? As I recall, you’re the one who wanted to prevent outsiders from having a place in our country, not the people. And you were stopped. I’ve been nothing but welcomed by everyone I’ve met.”

“And you’ve met how many people?” he asked with a flat voice. “Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Do they speak for our sixty thousand? They’re diplomats, they’re programmed to be polite, being diplomatic is quite literally in their name.” He shoved off the column and walked towards Alex. “But! I’m not here to try to intimidate you, no. I’m here to wish you all the best! Whatever you decide. Truly, Alexander. I just implore you to think.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing since my grandmother showed up in my life?” Alex shot back.

Caleb huffed a laugh. “That’s right.” He turns to leave, and then pauses. “Funny thing about ruling a country—no one really knows what it’s like until they’ve been in that position. Even I don’t know what it’s like. I have experience in Parliament—and you have experience in… Well.” He tilted his head to the side and offered Alex a smile. “But you know what it’s like living a normal life. Your band, your friends, your boyfriend, all without the stress of…” He put his fingers together. “But I suppose you’re right. You have been thinking about it since Queen Louisa entered your life. And I’m sure you’ve considered all the angles, all the benefits and especially the repercussions. You must have had plenty of time to do that, I imagine. After all, you’ve had a month and a half—why, that’s practically a lifetime to consider this. It’s not like you’ve only been given a week or two to make this decision.”

Alex tightened his arms around his chest. “Mr. Covington—“

“Caleb, please.”

“Caleb, I really must be getting ready. I will see you at the ball, all right?”

Caleb nodded. “Of course. You must excuse me, sometimes I forget myself.”

“It’s no worry,” Alex said, even though he could have been rude because no one but himself and Caleb were around. Manners were so deeply ingrained in him by that point that it just… happened.

“Good luck tonight. I look forward to your speech.”

And that left him where he is now, completely sure that he has made a mistake in his decision.

He picks up his phone.

(15:54) lmao nvm

Willie, wonderful Willie, calls within two minutes.

“Hello?” Alex answers.

“What happened?” Willie asks.

Alex sucks in a breath that gets caught in his throat. It turns into a sob. “Why did I think I could do this? I’m not—I’m not cut out for this. I wasn’t born to be a prince. I don’t know why I said I would be in the first place, that—that’s so stupid, Willie, do you realize how stupid that is?”

“No,” Willie says, and then, away from the speaker, thanks someone. Alex hears a car door slam and an engine start. “No, I don’t Alex, because I think it’s a great idea.”

“Where’s the great idea?”

Willie hums. “Hidden behind a wall of anxiety.”

“Oh, cute,” Alex scoffs. “Anxiety saves lives, you know. There are times when your body is telling you something is wrong because it is.”

“Anxiety also keeps lives from being lived. Your body isn’t telling you this is wrong, your body is telling you this is dangerous. And you believe it. You didn’t believe it last night when you weren’t anxious, Alex, and that tells me that you want to do this.”

“I want to do this?” Alex scoffs. “Willie, you don’t even know what you want to do with your life and you’ve got it so much more figured out than I do. And here I am deciding to sign my life away at sixteen to a country that I’ve never been to. A country that could choose to reject me at first sight. A country that I knew nothing about a month and a half ago.”

“A country that you love,” Willie reminds him.

“How can I love it when I’ve only known it for a month?”

“Because you’ve met its queen, and you love her heart and her hopes for the future. Because you’ve met its Prime Minister and you love his ideas and his plans for the future. Because you’ve seen its people and you love them—for all that they stand for and all that they are, and because they are good people and they deserve a good leader, and that’s what you will be.”

Alex doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he keeps his mouth shut. He does love Beasiga, but it feels impossible that he does even with all the reasons that Willie just explained. He’s never even been there. Los Angeles is all Alex has known and Beasiga is 1.5% of Los Angeles’ population and Los Angeles is nearly three and half times the size of Beasiga. And Alex likes Los Angeles because it’s easy to disappear and everyone is so busy they don’t have time to notice you. Alex has only experienced Beasiga through stories and media, but he knows it’s not like Los Angeles over there. People say hi when they pass you on the street, they help you if you’re struggling to carry something too heavy, and they don’t let you fade into the background. He—he likes that, but it also terrifies him.

The silence stretches on over the phone, occasionally interrupted by Willie’s turn signal or the honking of another car, but after a few minutes, Willie breaks it. “You’re wrong, you know. I do know what I want to do with my life.”

… That’s a new development. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Be Prince Consort to Beasiga’s King,” he says without missing a beat. Alex’s heart skips a beat. “Spend my days helping you help make Beasiga, and the world, a better place. Continue to help move Beasiga forward.”

“Willie…” Alex sighs. He’s torn on being ecstatic and worried at hearing that. “You’re just being—“

“Don’t say I’m just being impulsive,” Willie cuts him off, “because I have been thinking about this since the night you first told me you were a prince. I’ve known I loved you for a long time, Alex, and I’ve been thinking about what this would mean for me since the beginning. I’ve done my research, I’ve thought it through, I’ve sat on it. I’m not just jumping at it first chance.”

Caleb’s words come back to him. He seems just the type for that, your William. No. No he doesn’t. Willie is an active mind, an active body, an active soul. He’s not meant to sit still next to Alex. “Don’t you think you deserve more than that? That if you choose that, you’ll wake up one day and regret it?”

“No,” Willie says, voice confident. “I was never going to make a career out of skateboarding or dance, and it’s not like I can’t still do those in Beasiga. If I’m doing a psych degree in college I’ll maybe look at being a therapist? And who knows, maybe part of helping move Beasiga forward is allowing me to have my own career path separate from my consort duties.”

“What if that doesn’t work? If you’re stuck being a consort without your own career?”

“Being a therapist is just an idea right now,” Willie reminds him. Alex can hear the casual tone of his voice, and it tells Alex that it really is just an idea, that it isn’t something Willie has his heart set on. Still, Alex wants that for him. “I have no idea if I actually want to pursue it or not. But if I do and it ends up not working out, then I’ll still have skateboarding. I’ll still have dance. I’ll still have the ability to make an impact in the world, make differences in peoples days and lives, work with charities, leave my mark. It’s not like I’ll be sitting bored every day. Consorts may have less to do but they don’t have nothing to do. And I can make up my own things to do. Move Beasiga forward. And… I’ll still have you.”

“… And you’re willing to do that for me?”

“I mean, it’s not just for you, it’d be for me, and even in part for Beasiga too, but… yeah.” It’s so simple for Willie to admit that. To say that he’d move to another country, adapt to a different culture, and learn the ins and outs of the country so he could properly advise Alex on how to properly rule that country. Willie’s always made comments—‘I told you, I’d do anything for you’—but Alex had never realized how literal he was being. But, well. If Alex is being honest, he’ll do almost anything for Willie, too. He knows there are things that both he and Willie would draw the line at, but neither he nor Willie would ever dream of asking the other of those things. Like Willie asking Alex to quit the band or Alex asking Willie to give up skateboarding. But Willie moving to Beasiga and serving as Prince Consort along side Alex? Is apparently something Willie will readily do. “If it’ll make you feel better, after you accept your place as Prince we can start talking to Louisa about changing the consort’s duties, so when the time comes, if I want to pursue a career, I’ll have that choice.”

“That… would actually make me feel better,” Alex admits.

“Then tomorrow, after your speech today accepting your place as Prince, we’ll discuss it with Louisa and see what she thinks. Good?”

“Good,” Alex says. Then—“hey. Wait. I still don’t—I still can’t—who said I was going to accept being prince?”

“All right, hit me,” Willie says, and then Alex does—words spilling out of him so quickly that he loses track of what he’s saying. Willie doesn’t though. He listens to Alex patiently and talks him through all of his fears, all of his anxieties. He reminds him of the reasons that, just yesterday, he decided he wanted to be Beasiga’s Prince. Willie listens as Alex questions those exact reasons, and then answers them himself without any input from Willie until it’s entirely a one-sided conversation and Willie is just along for the ride. When Alex comes to the conclusion he still wants to be Prince, Willie asks him how he feels about that, and listens to Alex stammer through half-finished sentences that don’t make sense. And when Alex calms down again, Willie is there to ask Alex if he’s okay, ask him how he can help, ask him if there’s anything he needs.

“No,” Alex shakes his head. “No, I… I’m okay. I think I really, actually am.”

“Okay,” Willie says, accepting his word easily. “All right, I’m turning on your street, come let me inside.”

“You—you’re here?”

“Where else did you think I was going?” Willie demands sounding slightly offended. “Of course I am. I’m gonna get rid of your driver and then we’ll drive to the Ball together, all right? Come unlock the door and start getting ready. I’ll be in in a minute. Where’s your room?”

“Take the stairs, go down the hall and it’s the one on the right.”

“All right. See you in a few.”

Alex does as he’s told and by the time he’s in his dress pants and slipping his button up over his arms, Willie steps into his room. Alex watches as Willie turns and shuts the door even though they’re home alone, and then walks over to him. He takes his place in front of Alex who is straightening his shirt on his shoulders and starting to button it up. They stare at each other, silent. Willie nods, murmurs, “you’re okay.”

Alex buttons up the last button of his shirt and tucks it into his pants. “Yeah,” he says. He reaches to his bed for his vest and slides it over his shoulders. He starts to button it up but Willie’s hands knock his away and take over. Alex watches him with careful eyes. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”

“You didn’t freak me out,” he says. He does up one, two, three buttons then smooths his hand down from Alex’s chest to his stomach. “I’m just… I’m kind of pissed at myself that I didn’t think of this. I should have expected this. I know you. It took you so long to decide; you didn’t have enough time to be sure of your decision. I should have known you were going to doubt yourself. You just… you were so sure of yourself last night. I didn’t think—”

“Hey,” Alex frowns, dipping his head down to look in Willie’s eyes. He doesn’t want to tell him about Caleb, not right now, not before the ball. He’ll tell him tomorrow, but right now, he needs Willie, and Willie would be livid if he learned about Caleb. “It’s not like this is on you. Even if you had thought if it, there isn’t anything you could have done—“

“I could have been here,” Willie argues, gripping the suit vest and pulling Alex closer. “I wouldn’t have had to talk you through it from my car. You wouldn’t have had to be alone.”

Alex sighs and reaches a hand up to Willie’s jaw so he can bring Willie’s face up to his. He presses their lips together and feels Willie melt against his front. Alex pulls away and lets Willie fall into him. “You were there when I needed you and that’s all that I needed. I mean, you’re going off to college next year anyway; I’m going to need to learn to survive without you at some point. I can’t depend on you for everything, and I really can’t depend on you to predict when something is going to go wrong and wait for you to fix it for me.”

“But if I can—“

“Willie,” Alex says, and then kisses him again. “You’re the reason I’m in this suit right now ready to go tell a whole ass group of people that I’ve decided I’m going to rule a whole other ass group of people in a few years. You’ve done absolutely everything you can.” Then he pulls away from Willie’s hold, eyes widening. “Shit. Shit. My speech.” He looks at the clock on his bedside table. 5:13 “I’m supposed to be giving a speech in seventeen minutes, fuck!”

“I texted Julie when I got here. She’s finding someone so she can tell Louisa what’s going on,” Willie tells him in a calm voice. “She might have already, okay? Get your jacket and tie on, get your shoes on, and I’ll go call her for an update.”

“Okay,” Alex breathes, and does exactly as Willie says.

When he emerges from his room three minutes later, Willie is standing by his front door with his hands in his pockets. He looks up, takes a hand from his pocket, and holds up a thumb and pinky at Alex telling him right away to relax. “We’re good, dude. Speech is at 6:30 now. It’s still a drive though, and we’ve gotta take Melrose to avoid 10 so we don’t hit rush hour on the highway, but it’s still gonna be shitty so we’ve gotta go now.��

What should be a twenty-minute drive ends up taking nearly an hour, so they spend the time devising a plan to talk to his grandmother about Willie’s hypothetical consort duties the next day. Willie starts telling Alex that they can wait, but Alex tells him no. If Willie is committing to Alex to this degree, then Alex wants to make sure that there won’t be any doors shut in Willie’s future. If Willie wants to be a therapist, he’s going to be a fucking therapist. Alex is sure his grandma will help them make it happen. She’s asked Willie what his plans for college are; yet she’s also made implications that he would be the one standing by Alex’s side if Alex were to be King. Why would she do that if she thought Willie would just be a piece at Alex’s side?

When they get to the consulate, Willie pulls them around back and down a driveway that Alex has never taken note of before. When Willie notices his confusion he says, “the press and guests are all… mingling in the halls.”

Alex snorts. “Did you just say mingling?”

“Yeah,” Willie grins. “It’s what Alden said on the phone. Now it’s all I can think of.”

They enter through the caterer’s entrance into a hall that Alex has never been down and Alden is there waiting for them. He greets them both and then leads the way through the hall, down another, and then another, until Alex can see his grandmother, John, and a few other people waiting at the end of the hall they turn into. He feels relief wash through him and, when his grandmother turns to look at him, he can see that same relief run through her as well.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathes out when they reach them. She steps forward and collects Alex into a hug, and then Willie, too. “Thank you, Willie, for sending Julie to inform me of what was going on.”

“No problem,” he shrugs. “I’m just glad it all worked out.”

“What on earth happened?” she demands, looking to Alex.

“Uh, minor crisis. Just… clearing my head, you know.” Next to him, Willie snorts.

“Clearing your head?” she asks.

“Uh… yes?”

She rolls her eyes and tosses her hands up in exasperation. “Well I hope your head clearing worked, because we go on in five minutes. Did you make a decision?”

His eyes flick to Willie. “Yeah. I did.”

“… do I get to know this decision?”

“You know? I waited sixteen years to find out I was a prince. You can wait five more minutes to find out whether I’m staying a prince.”

“Harsh,” Willie murmurs, but reaches forward to hook his pinky with Alex’s.

His grandmother looks down at their hands. She looks back up at Alex and shakes her head with a frown, but the effect is ruined a moment later when she breaks into laughter. “I suppose I can’t blame you for that one.”

They fall into casual conversation after that, his grandmother talking about Tasha and how she’d been asking about Willie today and admitted that he had beautiful hair that she wanted to mess around with. Alex laughs at that and Willie does too, but he notices his boyfriend’s face is several shades darker that it had been moments ago. John talks about how they had to remove two reporters for getting in a physical altercation, and seems gleeful while discussing it. Alden is all too interested in listening to the story, and is crestfallen when, in the middle of it, someone comes to retrieve them for the speech. They’re led down the hallway and as they go, the murmurings of voices grow. Alex can feel himself grow more and more tense realizing that he’s going to be under their gazes soon. Willie uses his pinky to drag Alex’s hand up, and then twists their hands in midair until their fingers are twined together.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispers.

His voice catches the attention of Alex’s grandmother who turns around and sees the look on Alex’s face. She relaxes her shoulders and reaches out, tapping her hands gently to his cheeks. “My dear, you will do wonderfully. I will be right up there with you, all right?” He nods. “Good. Now, I must go introduce you. You have a few minutes to prepare.” She turns to Willie. “Remind him how spectacular he is, will you?”

“On it.”

And then she’s gone.

“Hey,” Willie says, and Alex looks at him with wide eyes. “Hey. You with me?” He nods. “Good. Okay, so—you’re anxious right now because you’re about to give a speech and you think they’re going to be judging you for your speech, right? But those people out there are just out there to hear you step into your role as Prince. Alex, this is a good thing. Those people out there will be excited. They’re here to listen to you speak, not to judge you.”

“What if my speech sucks so bad they can’t help but judge me?” Alex asks.

“It won’t.”

“But what if.”

“Then fuck it—you had a bad speech. Everyone has bad performances. You’ve messed beats up during performances with the band and you don’t let those get to you, you brush them off and are ready to play the next gig. You remember when I was in tenth grade and kicked my shoe off into the audience during a performance and then kept slipping on the stage on my sock? It happened, it couldn’t be helped, we moved on. I moved on. If—and that’s a big if—you suck today, you’ll move on too, I promise, okay? I promise. And I’ll help you move on.” Willie leans up on his toes and kisses Alex. “You can do this, Alex. You know you can do this.”

Alex looks down at Willie and sees sincere, brown eyes staring up at him. He drags Willie in for a hug and just… just holds him. Willie returns the hug and pushes his face into Alex’s shoulder and they simply exist together surrounded by each other in a little bubble. He uses Willie’s breathing, working to match his own to it so he doesn’t start to get worked up again. Willie’s fingers are curled into his upper back and the pressure is just enough to ground him, just enough to keep him here and not somewhere far away in his mind where it really is just the two of them.

The bubble is popped a few minutes later when Alden returns to escort Alex to the makeshift stage. He’s reluctant as he pulls away from Willie, and Willie and Alden both know it, but the important thing is that he manages it. He nods at Alden and they start towards the stage, Willie at his side, right up until they reach the entrance to the hall. “I love you,” he whispers, and then stops in his tracks, leaving Alex to twirl around in surprise. He laughs, shooing Alex towards the stage. “Go.” Alex turns, casts a look back at Willie, and then walks forward.

As Alex steps out from the back hall and feels the weight of a room full of eyes fall on him, a fire roars to life in his gut, flaring up through his throat and leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Spots dance in his vision during his walk to his grandmother, but he takes a moment to think about his breathing, takes a moment to draw in a deep, full breath, filling his lungs with air, and the spots recede little by little. When he reaches his grandmother, they’re all but gone. She smiles at him and extends an arm out, sweeping her hand out to motion to the crowd, and Alex looks out. The fire burns hotter and he looks back to his grandmother. “You have the floor,” she says, and then retreats back several feet away. He wants to reach out, bring her back, cling on to her for support, but he can’t. He steps up behind the podium and looks back to the hallway he’d just come from and meets Willie’s eyes. Willie smiles at him and gives him and encouraging nod. Alex turns back to the crowd, where every eye is focused on him. He thinks: everyone is looking at him because he’s here to speak, not to judge him. He swallows, glances back at Willie once more, and quells the flame to the best of his ability.

“Hi, uh, I’m Alex. You… probably… all know that since my grandma just introduced me. Sorry. I—uh, kinda wish I had my drums, heh,” Alex laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m, uh, no good with being in the spotlight, or, uh, attention in general, um, not unless I’m behind my drums. Or… uh… it’s really more me being with my band…” He looks out at the crowd and is pleasantly surprised when he finds Julie, Luke, and Reggie’s eyes right in the front, and Flynn standing next to them. They’re all wearing radiant smiles and directing them towards Alex, and the flame recedes further down his throat on its own, and he feels himself relax back into his shoes. “Which, thankfully for me, they’re the best band ever and they’re here with me today, so, uh, no fainting or vomiting for me today. Oh—I didn’t need to add that, did I? O… kay. Uh. Anyways. Uh, I’m sure most of you know me, or at least of me, if you’re here. I’m Queen Louisa’s grandson, and Prince Frederick’s son. If you didn’t know this, yeah, neither did I a month and a half ago. Heh. I was shocked too. But, yeah, I’ve gotten used to it. Hopefully you will too.

“Uh, so. Beasiga is celebrating its three hundred and sixth formation day today. For one of the first times, the reigning monarch is not in the country to celebrate with the citizens. Instead, she is here, in the Beasiga consulate in Los Angeles, California, United States of America, with all of us. And she is here because of me.” He looks over to where his grandmother is standing off to the side, her hands folded over her midriff and her shoulders set tall and proud. The fire subsides further. She smiles at him, a motion for him to continue. “Um, my grandmother came at the end of October to meet me and begin teaching me the ins and outs of Beasiga and what it meant to be a prince and what it would later mean to be a king. She dedicated her time here to me not for me, but for Beasiga. Uh, and she did it in hopes that I would become the person she envisioned me to be, in hopes that I would step up, accept my claim to the throne, and rule Beasiga justly and fairly, exactly as she has been teaching me to do.

“What she didn’t expect to come across when she got here was a sixteen year old kid with anxiety who immediately ran away from the idea of being a prince. And I do mean that literally. I, uh. I ran out of the consulate after she told me I would be Prince and had to have my friend come pick me up.” The crowd laughs, some with humor, some unsure, and Alex smiles. Alex turns to look back at the hallway where Willie is still tucked away. He smiles at him and Willie smiles back. It’s only embers left in his gut, now. “Hm. Anyway. Yeah, so, uh, she didn’t expect that, but it’s what she got, and she helped turn that kid with anxiety into the kid who… still very much has anxiety, but can stand up here speaking with all of you. Yes, it’s still terrifying, but it’s not debilitating anymore. And she also gave me a choice. To use everything she gave me to rule Beasiga, or to use it in some other facet of life.” He draws in a deep breath. “I chose to use it elsewhere. I was never cut out to be a prince. I never in a million years dreamed that I could.

“But—could. Could is a word that is used to indicate possibility. Thanks for the vocab help, Google. So… Would it even be possible for me to rule Beasiga? I don’t know. I didn’t know. Even if I wanted to, I didn’t know if it was possible, or if I was able. Able. Be able to. The question became can I? I doubted myself, and I started asking myself that question a lot more often. And then I started asking other people. Their answers varied. Most were encouraging which wasn’t helpful because it’s not like someone’s going to tell you that you’re going to suck at ruling a country, right? Yeah, no. I surround myself with kind people, but sometimes, kind people don’t tell you what you need to hear. But then—there’s one person. I asked him, I went, ‘do you think I can?’ And he said, ‘man, I don’t know. I just care about whether or not you’re willing.’” Alex says, pausing for a long moment. “So, it became a matter of whether I was willing, which was a much, much easier question to answer. Because, well, yeah. I am willing.

“I’m willing to study Beasigan history, politics, government, culture, and anything and everything else there is to know about Beasiga to know the country as best I can. I’m willing to grow myself as a person and conquer fears that once held me hostage to know myself as best I can. I’m willing to put aside my fears and confront uncertainty to find a place for myself in this world. But I’m also willing to dedicate myself to Beasiga through the good times and the bad. I’m also willing to work at finding ways of moving Beasiga forward, at leading Beasiga into even better times than it is already in, which of course will be a challenge, as my grandmother is quite the Queen. And most importantly, I’m also willing to choose the people of Beasiga over myself.

“I prematurely chose to use the skills my grandma gave me in a different walk of life. But today and every day moving forward I will choose to use them for the country and people of Beasiga.” There’s a whoop out in the crowd that Alex can identify as Reggie’s and he can’t stop himself from grinning at his friend. However, the cheer from Reggie starts the rest of the crowd, and now the rest of them are cheering and clapping as well. Alex watches, waiting for them to quiet down. When they do, he looks over to his grandmother and smiles. It’s easier than he could have ever imagined to say, “Moving forward, I will be Alexander Charles Taylor Mercer, Prince of Beasiga.”

Once more, cheers rise from the crowd in front of him. His grandmother walks up beside him and he steps out from behind the podium to meet her. She surprises him when she pulls him in to a hug in front of all these people, but he returns it without any hesitance.

When she pulls away, there’s a man waiting beside them, a royal purple and white mantle held in his arms. His grandmother takes it from the man and turns to Alex. He leans down so she can drape it over his shoulders. It weighs heavy on his shoulders and while he’s leaning down next to her he mutters, “do I have to wear this thing often?”

“Just for the next few minutes. Then you won’t see it again until your coronation.”

“Oh, thank god.”

His grandmother laughs and he stands back up, standing beside her with his shoulders tall and proud. The audience is still cheering—he can pick out Luke, Reggie, Julie, and Flynn’s voices in particular—and there are cameras flashing as news reporters get photographs for their articles. There’s a loud whooping from off to the side, separate from the crowd, and Alex looks over to see Willie cupping his hands around his mouth, cheering. He laughs, beaming at his boyfriend who returns the expression right back, and Alex feels on top of the world.

Dinner is served in the ballroom after that, which sends a wave of guilt through Alex as he knows the kitchens plan meals down to the minute, and his delay must have thrown them off horribly. Even so, the food is wonderful and Alex gets to sit with Willie, his band, and Flynn—or, sorry, his “honored guests.” His grandmother is sat at the table next to him with John, Alden, another commercial attaché, and Jeffry and Daniel. She sends him looks every few minutes, especially when Luke or Reggie get too loud, but they’re never bad, merely amused.

After dinner he’s passed from reporter to reporter while the tables and chairs are cleared out of the ballroom and the floor is swept. Alex imagines that it’s going to take forever, but to his surprise it only takes about fifteen minutes between all the staff working. So he only gets to talk to about five reporters, each for about three minutes, and then he’s being taken back to the hall so he can enter with his grandmother separately.

The music playing is an even tempo, one that Alex has become accustomed to dancing to over the past month and a half. When he and his grandmother enter together, right away his eyes begin searching for Willie. He can’t find him even by the time they reach the center of the room, so he releases her hand and leaves her to go off dancing with whoever has approached her and begins walking circles. He has a flash of anxiety that Willie might have left—maybe Willie didn’t want to be seen with Alex as a couple in front of so many cameras? Or even he knew Alex’s dad was here, maybe he didn’t want to upset the man? Or maybe he realized—

The crowd parts to the left of Alex and Willie steps out. Alex’s heart flutters in his chest and he feels the smile take over his face, sees Willie match it.

They approach each other slowly, not hesitantly, just taking their time to look at each other, which Alex feels like he hasn’t done yet. Willie is in a maroon suit with grey accents and a white under shirt. It’s not fitted to him—not the way that Alex’s is, the way Alex’s almost hugs him. Willie’s is a bit big, a bit baggy, but still fits him well enough that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t staring. His hair is down, falling over his shoulders and coming to rest right above where his ribs begin, and Alex reaches out to grab a piece of the end of his hair, twirling it on his finger. “You look good,” he says.

“Just noticing?”

“Do you forget I was having my crisis earlier?”

Willie grins. “Right, the minor one.”

“Very minor, it all turned out okay in the end.”

“Good to hear.”

Alex drops the strand of hair he’s holding and steps back, bowing deliberately. Willie smiles and copies him. They straighten up and step into each other’s arms, relaxing into their holds.

“They’re taking pictures of us,” Willie murmurs and Alex can hear the clicking of the cameras too. “Everyone is going to know by tomorrow.”

“I’m glad. I don’t want anyone to feel like I was hiding this from them,” he says. “And I certainly don’t want to hide you.” He presses his lips against Willie’s forehead and sighs. He tips his head forward so his nose is pressed against Willie’s hairline. “Just think,” he whispers, and his voice is barely audible to even the two of them over the music. “Tomorrow plenty of people all over the world are going to see these pictures and realize how fucking in love with you I am.”

Willie pulls away from Alex and stares up at him with bright eyes full of… full of so much. Full of trust, full of care, full of respect, full of warmth, full of acceptance, full of want. “I’m gone on you,” Willie says, reaching up and dragging Alex’s head down for a kiss. Alex goes, and they keep it chaste and appropriate for the venue, but. It was needed.

When they pull apart, Alex pulls Willie closer to him again and Willie buries his face in Alex’s shoulder as they abandon all pretenses of the traditional ballroom dance and decide to simply sway together. Alex holds Willie and looks up, looking around the room to find nearly every eye on them. The eyes of his friends, his family, the press, diplomatic leaders from around the world, and his new country’s government leaders are all on him and Willie. They just saw them kiss. He laughs and thinks, with a sense of déjà vu, yeah, he’d stare at whoever was kissing Willie too.

No fire burns in his gut, no panic wells in his veins.

[365days365movies]

May 9, 2021: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) (Recap: Part One)

Welcome to the future.

At this point, we’ve mostly looked at the past, present, or the near-future (as in, the next ten years, if that). Additionally, we’ve looked either at nonexistent technology in a contemporary setting, or an extension of existing technology taken to a logical next step. But no more. No more realism, no more real-world rules, and nothing that we’re even close to in this reality.

Well...mostly.

That’s genuinely impressive, not gonna lie. Anyway, yeah, from here forwards (for a bit), we’ll be looking at the future and futuristic technology. Now, there are a couple of ways in which these films tend to go. The first big way that we tend to represent the future in film is the same way we always have: flying cars, futuristic technology, smart houses, and robots.

Now, there are countless examples of this future, and it always changes a bit depending on the present. Which, yeah, makes sense. After all, what I’m doing right now, at this moment, would’ve been seen by many people as a massive technological achievement, even around the time that I was born. Which, yes, I’m old, deal with it (because I can’t). Anyway, the way that this begins is with the first major filmed view of a seemingly idyllic future: Fritz Lang’s 1927 film Metropolis.

The overly mechanized (and politically dystopic) society seen in this film, as well as the visuals and technology, would inform our ideas of the future throughout the next century. Multiple themes and common objects reoccur throughout futuristic fiction. You know the stuff I’m talking about. Flying cars, automatic food machines, robotic assistants, video watches, holograms, jetpacks, so on and so forth.

But here’s the thing about the future. It’s always ahead of us, and eventually...well, we’ve gotten to most of those things to some degree. Either they already exist...

...or is currently being developed.

Well, one of them we’re still working on. And the development of more advanced AI is something we have yet to perfect, or even fully develop. However, the development of A.I. (and the consequences of that technology) are ALL OVER science fiction. Sometimes, they’re merely used for flavor to help establish the futuristic setting.

Sometimes, they’re characters with their own agency and conflicts, which may or may not define the plot. In these cases, they’re often simply there to back up the main human characters, and help with their development, and sometimes their own. You know, manic pixie dream robots.

And then, possibly most often, they’re the abject villains of the piece. they can be mysterious alien technology, like in The Day the Earth Stood Still, or a man-made danger that turns on the race that created and/or abused it.

But then, on occasion, an A.I. is given the chance to develop as a character, without being used to define the development of a human character. Sometimes, the question of what life truly means is raised through these characters, and we become attached to them outside of any other character. This isn’t nearly as common as the others, but it’s definitely not unheard of.

And for the record...things don’t often go well for those AIs. But still, some of those characters have quite a lasting impact. So, there’s quite a lot of potential for this type of character, from a dramatic standpoint. And that potential leads us to the guy who made this.

I WILL MAKE A JURASSIC PARK REFERENCE AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE

Steven Spielberg gives us today’s entry, and this director of a classic science fiction story about science gone awry teamed up with the director of a science fiction film where an artificial intelligence went awry. You know, this thing.

I didn’t forget about HAL. And I won’t forget about him later, either.

Director Stanley Kubrick is pretty well-know for his mind-bending films, especially The Shining and 2001: A Space Odyssey. But he also worked with Spielberg on this film before his death in 1999, as this was one of his dream projects for many years, and the two directors were well-known friends.

And so, eventually, Spielberg was given the reins from Kubrick, and results were...mixed. It’s funny, because I’ve never actually seen this movie, but I remember it through its surprisingly widespread ad campaign. I used to go to NYC as a kid a lot, and there was a massive building-side plastered with the iconic logo of this movie. So, I’ve been hovering around this movie for a long time. Enough navel-gazing!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (Part One)

It is, unsurprisingly, the future. A marrator informs us that climate change has caused the ice caps to melt, and global flooding drowns several countries. You could say that it’s a...Waterworld.

I genuinely considered watching that movie at some point, and then I decided I liked myself to much to watch 2 hours of Kevin Costner’s emotionless acting. Granted, it’s not much better now, listening to the emotionless acting of...

Professor Allen Hobby (William Hurt) is a straight-up sociopath. OK, technically, he’s a robotics engineer, but dude’s making a speech, right? He talks about how far robots have come, dissing my boi Deep Blue in the process, and notes that pain-memory response can also be demonstrated by robots. He proves this by stabbing a woman in his audience, like RIGHT through the hand. Jesus, man! Why the hell would you do that?

Oh. Holy shit, I got fooled. Advanced technology indeed. But OK, so Sheila’s a robot, and a very advanced one...to us. But Hobby wants more, and proposes to his workers to make a robot that can really TRULY love. And through love may come a true subconscious, which means making a robot that can dream. And what better robot to make than a robot child? After all, all child conception requires a license in this futuristic world, so many childless couples are yearning for a child.

Which is why, twenty months later, the first robot child is offered to Henry and Monica Swinton (Sam Robards and Frances O’Connor), a couple...with a child. Um. Guys. You JUST SAID that there are legit childless couples who need a child, and those people would be best suited to love that robot child back (a VERY GOOD question raised by one of Hobby’s subordinates). So why give it to a couple whose son is still alive? Yeah, he’s got a rare disease that they don’t have a cure for yet, and is currently in cryostasis, BUT THEY HAVE A KID! Surely, that’s going to be a potential emotional conflict! And what if the kid wakes up or some shit? This is a TERRIBLE goddamn idea. Think this shit through, guys.

And yet...

This is David (Haley Joel Osment), Cybertronics’ first child robot, brought home by Henry to essentially replace their son. Which is AMAZINGLY FUCKING TONE-DEAF AND INSANE, GODDAMN. That’s extraordinarily messed up. And, for the record, I totally get what Spielberg’s going for, but Jesus Christ, man. This was a terrible way to go about this. And it gets fucking WORSE.

See, Henry (who actually works for Cybertronics) tells Monica that, once they sign the papers and complete the updates, David will imprint on them and see him as their true parents, loving them unconditionally. Which...yeah, fuck, that’s an entire DUMP TRUCK of ethics issues right there. And, while we’re at it, David is...creepy as shit. I mean it, dude, Haley Joel Osment is a VERY good child actor, but he’s laying on the creepy robot child thing THICK. And yeah, this is BEFORE he imprints on them. Jesus fuck, man, there’s a scene where the still uncomfortable Monica is outside of a glass door, and he looks back at her THROUGH THE DOOR like a goddamn SERIAL KILLER.

And I gotta tell ya, dude does not lay off that creepy-ass dial one iota. And for that matter, the music by John Williams ISN’T FUCKING HELPING. LISTEN to this shit, and imagine a robot child that you don’t know wandering around your house. It’s amazingly fucking creepy.

AND IT JUST. KEEPS. GETTING. WORSE. There’s a scene where they’re all at dinner, right, and David’s just staring at them as they eat, mimicking their actions. After all, he’s a robot, he can’t actually eat or drink anything because of his internal working. And then, out of FUCKING NOWHERE, he starts laughing like the FUCKING JOKER, and it scares the EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME. And somehow, they laugh alongside him, in the never-ending Stockholm syndrome that is this movie! And as soon as its over, he just STOPS laughing, spontaneously. Fuck me, man, I’m tempted to stop watching here and now, and I’m only TWENTY MINUTES IN! I need a fucking break.

And after that...OF COURSE she decides to activate his imprinting protocols to make him, let me remind you, LOVE HIM FOREVER! She reads out a series of words, and after “FREIGHT CAR”, he knows his mission is to kill the Prime Minister of Sokovia. But first, he’ll settle down and love Monica unconditionally (again, FOREVER), calling her Mommy and making me shit my pants in fear. IT WASN’T ME, IT WAS FUCKING DAVID

Oh, and by the way, isn’t it kinda shitty to do that without Henry being involved AT ALL? Like, cool, he has unconditional maternal love, but Henry wasn’t a part of that conditioning at all! And he still refers to him as “Henry” instead of Dad! However, Henry definitely doesn’t care about that, because he still sees David as only a robot. Hey, guys, maybe using these two as your first experiment with a robot child WAS A TERRIBLE FUCKING IDEA, YOU IDIOTS! No wonder William Hurt was cast as Thunderbolt Ross in the MCU. Already shown he can play a character with shitty ideas before.

Anyway, after this terrible series of events, David prevents the parents from leaving one night due to his childlike antics. When Monica goes to comfort him, he asks how long she’ll live, and tells her that he hope she never dies, a COMPLETELY NORMAL THING TO SAY. Look, I get that he’s a robot, but only a goddamn emotionless sociopath would program emotional responses like this into a robot. Which, given what we’ve seen of Hobby, makes sense.

In response, she gives him Teddy (Jack Angel), a technologically advanced teddy bear with sentience, a personality, and the voice of Astrotrain from The Transformers TV series. Because, yes, I am THAT MUCH of a goddamn nerd.

Soon after, the house gets a phone call, which David receives...literally. He takes the phone and allows it to speak through him. It turns out that, shock beyond shocks, THEIR SON IS CURED! Yeah, fuck. Maybe giving David to a family with a STILL LIVING SON is a fucking ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE IDEA, for about a thousand reasons.

And, fucking understandably, Martin Swinton (Jake Thomas) is a little upset to find out that he’s essentially been replaced by a robot kid. Although, to be fair, he’s also kind of a dick to David, holding his humanity over him and treating him as a toy that he attempts to manipulate and bully. My Lord, this is a massively stupid idea. And Martin immediately shows his dickishness by asking his mother to read Carlo Collodi’s The Adventures of Pinocchio to them. Which is meant to be a punishment for Pinocchio. However, of course, David loves it.

Still, however, there’s trouble in paradise for David, as he tries to compete with Martin for being a real boy, and eats spinach at dinner one evening. Despite Teddy’s mildly ominous warning to him (”YOU WILL BREAK”), he keeps eating until he basically has a stroke and breaks, forcing him to be repaired by some of Cybertronics’ technicians. Monica has a bit of a break down as a result, which Martin notices. This causes Martin to go pure supervillain, manipulating David to do creepy things in order to insert doubt into Monica about David. Jesus, Martin’s a creepy kid, too. No wonder Monica grew to be cool with David, her actual son is a FUCKING SOCIOPATHIC MONSTER! Are there ANY truly normal people in this world? IS THIS WHAT THE FUTURE IS?

Martin convinces David to cut a lock of Monica’s hair while she’s sleeping. And lemme tell ya, a little boy holding scissors over someone while they sleep is not exactly comforting. Henry agrees, and after stopping him, believes that they need to return him. Monica disagrees, knowing that they’ll destroy him if brought back. But David, ever the semi-sociopath himself, ignores any signs of humanity in David and dismisses Monica's feelings for him entirely. He also says this thing about “IF HE CAN BE PROGRAMMED TO LOVE, CAN NOT HE BE PROGRAMM-ED TO HATE?”, which...no. No, he cannot. He didn’t learn to love, he was programmed to. And, again, that’s ethically FUCKED, but taking that into account...no. HE WASN’T PROGRAMMED TO HATE, HENRY. Goddamn, buddy, use your head here.

It’s Martin’s birthday, and his friends at the pool party expose David to the fun world of anti-robot (or Mecha) racism, and test to see if he has Damage Avoidance Systems by threatening him with a knife. And he does. Buuut, when those systems kick in, he goes to the nearest point of safety to keep himself safe. That point is, unfortunately, Martin, whom he gets behind...and accidentally drags into the pool.

Thing is, because of Martin’s recent illness, he can’t exactly swim, meaning that David almost drowns him. When Henry and other partygoers go to save him, they abandon David in the pool completely. And now, David’s fucked. Because although this situation isn’t even a little bit his fault, he also just nearly killed Martin. And so, after seeing notes that he’s been writing to her, Monica offers to take for a “ride in the country”. Which definitely means something good. In reality, she’s planning on taking him back to Cybertronics. But once in the car, there’s a change in plans. And hear me out...it’s arguably far more horrifying.

She decides to abandon him in the woods completely, despite how hard it is for her to leave him. She’s sparing him from death, sure, but also throwing him into a world he doesn’t understand, and for reasons that he doesn’t understand. It’s genuinely terrible. And then...yeah, she leaves him forever, to an uncertain future.

End Act One.

I think this is a good place to stop. It’s early, and I need more coffee to handle this shit. See you in Part Two. Of Three. Yup. It’s a long one.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Red-Letter Day

Summary: This week has been the cherry on the top of the month. The straw that broke the camel’s back.

Vernon X Reader

Word Count: 1,380

Requested by @sweetie-yoongi7 : hi can i request a vernon imagine where he's been neglecting you lately and not being the best boyfriend and the stress of comeback gets to him and he snaps at you and its angsty but then it ends in some good ole fluff ? 💖

Oneshot

This week has been a week from hell, my boss has forced more work onto me. While my other coworkers get to relax and create things at their own pace. I have to put in twice the work in for a deadline on Monday. From spilling hot coffee all over my favorite work shirt. To forgetting my coat when it was pouring down rain. And to top it all off my boyfriend, Vernon, has completely forgotten our anniversary. I know he has a tough working life too, but I made arrangements way ahead of time. Putting reminders everywhere and I circled red on our calendar. But when I showed up dressed to the nines, with him being a no-show. I ended up eating a full course expensive meal by myself, on our anniversary. It’s our fifth anniversary, I know I shouldn’t be as mad as I am. But this, I can’t believe it, through thick and thin we’ve always been by each other’s side. I finished my massive project at work today. It would have been nice to finally relax and talk with him over a nice dinner.

I thought he would remember, but I guess the comeback is getting to him. This month he’s been in the studio way more than my arms. I know it’s their fifth year together as a group and this is a crucial comeback. But even when they debuted and we first got together. It’s like he’s a different man, when he does come home it’s only to sleep or pick up a snack. No hi or bye, and with this week being hell I just wanted to see him again. Talk about everything and work through it together. But no, he decided he had better things to do then celebrate our fifth anniversary. My hands tighten up on the steering wheel, why is everything so hard. I want a hug, and for us to make each other’s worries go away.

When I get home the lights are all out, and he’s not home. I know the boys wouldn’t make him miss such an important night. I decide to wait for him to come home and pull on my comfy pajamas. I sit on the couch watching a sit-com waiting for Vernon. It’s about 1 am when he shows up and when he reaches the couch I ask him softly, “Where were you?” And that’s when he snaps, “WHERE WAS I? I was at the studio making a new song, where do you think I was?” Here, we go, I know I’m not going to be able to hold my tongue. “WOW, THANKS FOR REMEMBERING SUCH A RED-LETTER DAY. You know I’ve had a fucking bad week too, you don’t have to snap at me like you’re all that.” He glares at me, “I’m all what?” his voice condescending, “That you’re better than me because you make music all day. Our anniversary was today and we made plans--” He rolls his eyes, “OH BOO HOO, YOU SIT IN AN OFFICE ALL DAY. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME MY JOB IS LESSER.” I square my shoulders and stand up, “I WASN’T CALLING YOU’RE JOB LESSER, BUT YOU JUST MADE MINE SOUND LIKE THAT. SO, IT’LL ONLY BE FAIR, VERNON!” Our yelling is probably loud enough for our neighbors to hear. “OH FUCK OFF, it must be so easy just to sit there and twiddle your thumbs and type a few words a day. I have to make a whole fucking album--” I cut him off, “YOU MAKE THE WHOLE FUCKING ALBUM, WHAT ABOUT ABOUT JIHOON HUH? MY ASS, VERNON I WORK JUST AS HARD AS YOU, AND STILL FIND TIME TO TAKE CARE OF OUR RELATIONSHIP!” He rolls his eyes at me, “I FORGET ONE TIME--.” “THIS ISN’T JUST ABOUT THAT, YOU’VE BEEN PUSHING ME AWAY THIS WHOLE MONTH, JUST TO WORK ON AN ALBUM. When we made plans you were so ready to celebrate, and then this month you’ve just been a dick. From not sleeping in the same bed, or leaving before I even get up without a goodbye. You’re gonna tell me that you forgot one time? THIS WHOLE MONTH YOU’VE BEEN ANYWHERE BUT HERE! You know what, that’s a good idea, I’ll see you when you get over yourself.” 

I grab my wallet and throw on a jacket and my shoes. With my keys and phone in hand, I run out to my car. I know tears are streaming down my face as I open my car door and lock it. I put my key into my ignition and turn the engine over and play my music too loud for this time of night. As I get ready to pull out of my parking space I see Vernon running out to me. I shake my head and speed off with tears in my eyes. 

I end up at a convenience store, wiping my tears. I walk in and grab two pints of ice cream. Eating my feelings out felt nice, as I sat in my car thinking of everything. Why can’t I just be an eighteen-year-old running after my dreams and not knowing how painful life is again. The older I get the more life hits me with bricks. Crying in my car and eating ice cream had to be the best decision I’ve ever made. I let it all out before deciding to return to our apartment. I know nothing will ever be solved unless we work through it. I walk up the steps, trying to avoid the apartment as much as possible by not taking the elevator. I get there and see Vernon sitting against the door. He sees me and looks like a lost puppy, my heart aches and forgives him without even thinking twice. We’ve both had a hard month, this week was just the cherry on the top.

He sees me, he gets up, he's visibly shaking and still crying. I don’t know how our neighbors deal with us. My tears start flowing down cheeks again, with a shaky hand he pulls out a box of chocolates. I pull the other pint of ice cream out of my coat pocket. I ask him softly, “You got locked out of the house, baby?” He nods, his lips pouty, and I unlock the door. “Let’s talk this out in the living room.” He nods when we sit down at the coffee. We apologize at the same time, “Jinx” I say softly, “I’m sorry for snapping.” I nod, “I’m sorry too”  We place our stuff on the coffee table, and I carefully grab his hand. 

He laces our fingers, “I know today was a red-letter day for us,...” I nod, “It happens,... we both have so much on our plate.” He nods, “Well, I made a song,...” I nod for him to go on, “It’s about us,... It’s going to be released on the album, Jihoon likes it. He told me, ‘Young Love, ahh, so sweet’.” I laugh, “I was told to write a paper while my coworkers got free time. I wrote about you,... I was asked to write about what makes me calm down. But what makes me calm is you, you just know what to do. Your energy is so mellow--.” He grins, “That’s why I like your energy, you’re so vibrant--” I shake my head, “Yeah, but your style, have you seen it?” He laughs and squeezes my hand. “I love you, Vernon.” He grins, “I love you too, (Y/n).” 

We both get up from the coffee table. “How about tomorrow, we both go wherever you want?” He asks and I shake my head ‘no’ and tell him, “How about we go where we both feel comfortable.” He grins and kisses my forehead, and agrees. After putting away the ice cream and chocolate, we go up to our bedroom.

With that we fall asleep, tuckered out from everything, holding onto each other. Arguments happen, they’re not preventable but it’s solving them is what makes a relationship work. Working together is hard especially if your views conflict. But in a relationship, you look past that and into each other’s souls. For we all are lonely, just wanting love and care when times get rough.

[kylorengarbagedump]

pretty please, i will bring kylo back to life for this

Okay, well, here you go. A chapter by chapter breakdown of Kylo’s feelings during the course of Fix Your Attitude. I did my best. Sorry this is so fucking long.

In Chapter 1, I think he’s genuinely just irritated by her. Annoyed that he hears her so constantly in his head. It’s fucking annoying because she’s a big-time complainer, and he’s a busy dude.

Chapter 3, similar issue. But, it’s growing from irritation to fury. Ren gets his wires crossed pretty easily at this point. I don’t think he recognizes this as attraction, but he senses her fascination with him and goes, eh, can use that to get control over the situation.

Chapter 4, seriously playing into that feeling. Her inability to respect him is driving him up the wall, a little bit, and the thought of making her shut up is growing more and more enticing. I think at this point, she’s on his mind rather frequently.

Chapter 5… man he just fucks her face Idk, feels good to make her shut the fuck up. There’s no affection here, I don’t think he feels any in the least.

Chapter 6, that entire distraction and the fire–I don’t think he feels bad at all, but he does enjoy her dedication to her job. I think that’s engaging to him.

Chapter 7, there some desire to chill out her rage–he’s been thinking about her on his dick constantly, at this point, but isn’t necessarily ready to just fuck the engineer who works on his ship, more so just hoping to control her. When she says, “You don’t know what you’re missing”–that’s very exciting for him, the confidence, the snark. I think that sparks a little affection.

Chapter 8, he’s jealous. I mean, he doesn’t recognize it as jealousy, but internally he has this unacknowledged desire to be important in her life–he isn’t aware of this, and wouldn’t have any idea how to make that happen other than demanding it, anyway.

Chapter 9 is all about making it Spacebook Official (get it) and banging it out. He’s like, cool, handled that, fucked her, it’s out of my system, I won’t need to worry about it in the future. Genuinely enjoys her company–so when she asks to spend more time with him, there’s that tiny little part of him that’s like, “I want that.” 

Chapter 10, more jealousy. Just getting control, because he can, because he has no way of understanding or communicating his attraction to this person.

Chapter 11, power and control, of course–he’s beginning to grow attached to what he hears in her head, not consciously, of course, but when she thinks, ugh, I wish I could see the ship take off, he’s like, she should see that. When she cries, it nags at him, which he fucking hates. He’s like well, her feelings are annoying, but she doesn’t have to sleep in a cot. She should be near me.

Chapter 12, he’s struggling deeply with this desire to know her better. He can’t figure out how to channel it other than sexually. It bugs the shit out of him. There’s just this constant, pulsing need in the back of his head to fuck this person.

Chapter 13, similar to above. As explored in Chapter 38, he is kind of blown away by what he feels, by her attachment to him. I think at this point she is the most persistent sexual relationship he’s had in a long-ass time. He allows himself to give in to that desire for warmth and affection. I mean, shit, he’s Kylo Ren. The light calls SOMETIMES, bitch.

Chapter 14, she straight up breaks his trust and he fucking loses it. The one time he extends himself with even the slightest vulnerability, it’s taken advantage of. But after he fucks her within an inch of her life, he feels some desire to make sure she’s at least alive. He can’t bring himself to care more than that, because, uh, betrayal, but. Y’know. 

Chapter 15, she apologizes, which kind of blows his mind, because I don’t think anyone in his life has ever apologized to him for anything that’s happened to him at this point. He sees her bruise, feels a little guilty for losing it on her. 

Chapter 16, the attachment to Sam is getting out of hand for him. He wants control over it, having absolutely no understanding of why she does not feel realistically beholden to him in any way, LOL. Like, excuse me, I get to fuck you, isn’t that enough? What other needs do you have?

Chapter 17, he wants to y’know, enjoy time with her, because again–genuine appreciation of her company–but she can’t stop crossing his boundaries and pissing him the fuck off. Despite that, he wants her around. She thinks, surely there’d been other women, and he’s like, yeah, of course, and she’s like, okay, so… why me? Well of course he doesn’t fucking know, he’s just like, “Idk bitch I like your pussy whatever.”

Chapter 19–explored in Chapter 38. she’s fucked Sam and he is completely fucking devastated. She has to literally spell it out for him that she requires more than just his dick. The choice between vulnerability (painful) and losing her (at this point, even more fucking painful) is made, so he opens up to her in his own way. I think he truly views her as a type of possession at this point, maybe like an actual pet–in that he feels strong attachment to her, but doesn’t process it as anything meaningful, he just knows he likes it and wants it and it feels good and that’s good enough. 

Chapter 21, he just expresses his desire to possess her completely–he wants power, he wants to be the only thing ever on her mind because only then he will feel secure and unthreatened. Disbelief that she will miss him. A flicker of tenderness, he snuffs it out.

Chapter 22, his fear regarding her sadness flies out of control, he restrains his need to escalate into sex because he for once, recognizes that will not fix the situation.

Chapter 23, once Snoke threatens to kill her, he does everything possible to prevent that. He is, of course, wretchedly anguished at the idea of not being able to be near her anymore (and essentially get what he wants, boohoo), but the thought of her being dead is even worse.

Chapter 25, already explored in Chapter 38. Self-explanatory anyway haha.

Chapter 26, he has a deep need to be humiliated and hurt by her because of how he feels about her and how he feels about himself. She is the perfect and only person capable of providing him with that release.

Chapter 27, there’s a lack of restraint, at this point. The trigger of her thoughts is too enticing for him. She is always on his mind, he can’t help himself. Reckless, bitch!

Chapter 28, he’s overwhelmed with hatred for himself as he fucks her–like, she gets him to a place where his emotions are more volatile, because of how he feels about her. So he kind of breaks down. Her company is comforting to him. Explored in 38.

Chapter 30, her insistence to be involved in his personal life is far too threatening to him. He feels like at his point he’s done enough, why the hell does he owe her what he’s doing with Rey & co? Totally oblivious.

Chapter 31, covered in 38.

Chapter 32, the reality of almost losing her for real has totally shook him to his core. He has cracked, at this point, is willing to surround her with what she is asking for, even if it is tremendously difficult for him. He really enjoys it, surprisingly, but it’s very foreign to him. I think at this point, he’s thinking she’s more than a possession, but still not on the level of partner. He just knows he needs her in his life.

Chapter 33, just… Idk they have fun together, man. They’re both little snarky bitches, they have a good time.

Chapter 34, explored in 38.

Chapter 36, Snoke has recognized how fucked up he’s been since separating from her, he’s like, fine, fuck her if it helps. Kylo does not understand what he’s feeling is love–he believes that because it strengthens him, it must be the opposite of. Overwhelmed with a desire to keep her because he cannot articulate this feeling, hence the violent sex. 

Chapter 38, self-explanatory.

[callboxkat]

A Little Nightmare (part 2)

Author’s note: Here it is! The next installment of this new story in the world of Infinitesimal. I hope you guys like it!

Again, you do not need to have read Infinitesimal to read this story!

Warnings: fear, miscommunication, illness, injury, nonsexual nudity, death mention, censored swearing

Word count: 3372

Infinitesimal Masterpost!

...

Joan was on their phone, looking through emails and texts for anything important. Despite trying to get some work done, most of their attention was still focused on something else entirely. They certainly felt that that distraction was understandable, though, given the circumstances. Occasionally, they couldn’t help but look up towards the coffee table and the blanket folded on top of it. The tiny person within hadn’t woken since they’d brought her home, and Joan couldn’t help but worry. They knew that the long-term success rate of CPR wasn’t exactly as high as a lot of TV shows would have its viewers believe, and Joan had no idea how long she’d been in that bucket before they arrived. They were hopeful, though. She seemed to be in good shape, other than the whole almost drowning thing. They believed she would pull through.

Joan glanced up again as a soft sound came from the table. As Joan had found out shortly after getting the tiny person settled in, she snored. It was very quiet, which didn’t surprise Joan given the woman’s size; but in the absence of their car’s engine and the roaring in their ears, they could hear it. They’d been a bit worried at first, slightly adjusting how her head rested to see if that helped, but it seemed that she just snored. They decided to view it positively. As long as she was snoring, they knew she was breathing. That was good.

If only she would wake up, so they could know she was okay.

“You’re probably pretty tired, huh?” Joan murmured into the quiet. They imagined that nearly drowning would take a lot out of a person. “That’s alright. Take as long as you need.”

…

A new message popped up on Joan’s phone, drawing their attention away from the borrower, or whatever she was, for the time being. They would have ignored it, but….

Talyn: What time are you picking up Marco?

Joan swore under their breath. In all the excitement, they’d nearly forgotten about him. Marco, their own dog. That just went to show how distracted they were, that they could forget that lovable furball for even a moment. They tapped on the message and typed a response.

Joan: Not sure. Later?

The reply popped up within moments.

Talyn: Are you still pulling weeds? Isn’t it dark out?

Joan glanced out the window. The sun had in fact gone down, but the sky was still fairly light.

Joan: Not much longer

Talyn: Damn, must be a lot of weeds.

Talyn: Don’t trip over a rock and die, dumb*ss.

Joan: There go my weekend plans 😥

Talyn: What a shame

Talyn: Seriously tho, I’ve got work at 7

Joan: Gross, late shift?

Talyn: Yeah. :P Come get yo dog.

A photo popped up. Marco was curled up on the floor at Talyn’s feet, looking up at the camera with his big brown eyes. His ears were pricked in a way that made Joan think that Talyn had absolutely just called the dogs name to get his attention for the photo.

Talyn: Look at him, he misses you :(

Joan sighed, glancing at the time. They couldn’t make Talyn late for work, but there were other factors to consider. One in particular, they thought as they looked to the tiny woman asleep on the table in front of them and grimaced. What if Marco tried to bother her once they brought him back here? Would she be safe? Aside from that, they really hated to leave. It would take only a short amount of time to get their dog, but enough to worry Joan. What would happen if the tiny woman woke up while they were gone?

But if Talyn decided to come here to drop off Marco… that could be bad. If Joan knew one thing about borrowers, it was that they wanted as few people to know about them as possible. Granted, that number was generally 0, but the cat was already out of the bag for Joan. Joan assumed that whatever this girl was, borrower or not, probably wanted the same secrecy, given that they had thought that tiny people were nothing but a fairy tale only a few hours ago.

They thought for a moment, fingers tapping uncertainly on their phone case.

Joan: Ok, five min

And so, reluctantly, Joan got ready to leave.

They made sure that the curtains and blinds on the windows were firmly shut, preventing anyone from peeking in and spotting the tiny person—one of the drawbacks of living in a first floor apartment was that this was a distinct possibility. Thankfully, people were generally not that creepy, but it would be just Joan’s luck for today to be the one time some weirdo decided to snoop around. And, as they had established, they were not taking chances.

“Sorry,” Joan said, looking towards the coffee table as they put on their jacket and grabbed their keys. “I’ll be back soon.”

The tiny woman, of course, didn’t answer. The only response they received was another soft snore.

“Okay,” Joan sighed, turning away.

They triple checked the lock as they left the apartment, glad that there was virtually no chance that anyone else would go barging in while they weren’t home. They lived alone; and they were, in fact, the landlord of this building. So, no one had a key to this apartment but them, which was honestly very reassuring.

Satisfied, or as close to satisfied as they would get, Joan hurried out of the building, planning to return as soon as possible.

…

Remy drifted into consciousness slowly.

She knew that she was warm, that it was dark, and that she was lying down on her side with something soft wrapped around her. It might have been nice, had it not been for the fact that her chest felt like someone had yeeted a brick at it, or the fact that she felt so weak that she was pretty sure she couldn’t get up even if she wanted to.

Her eyesight came gradually into focus, and her gaze fell on her own hands, curled in front of her on the fuzzy, dark blue surface of the… what? A blanket? She didn’t know what else it would have been. But why was she wrapped in a blanket? Remy loved herself a good blanket burrito, but she had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten there.

She turned her head, feeling dizzy at the motion, and tried to look around. It looked like there was some sort of ceiling far above her, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. Was she in a house? What the heck?

Remy thought back, trying to piece things together. She’d been looking for a new home, she knew, because those pricks in her old house had called an exterminator. She remembered being outside, the storm, and the tomatoes…. She swallowed against her rough throat. She’d been trying to get down from the work bench, she remembered. And… her dumb foot had slipped. And then… she’d fallen.

Oh.

Remy narrowed her eyes. Why wasn’t she dead? She should have drowned in that bucket. She had drowned in that bucket, hadn’t she? She remembered the time passing, passing, passing, her attempts to stay afloat growing weaker and weaker until it simply became too difficult. She remembered feeling terrified as her head started to dip below the water, the exhaustion overpowering her, her heavy, waterlogged clothes only helping to pull her down faster.

So… why had she just woken up here? And why did her chest hurt so bad? None of this made any sense.

“Am I dead?” she wondered aloud. Her voice was so rough and quiet that if she hadn’t known it was her own, she wouldn’t have recognized it.

Unsurprisingly, no one answered her.

Remy coughed, then hissed at the fresh stab of pain this caused.

No… she didn’t think she was dead. Maybe heaven, or whatever, if there even was such a thing, really was like being wrapped up in a warm blanket in the dark, but Remy felt too much like crap for that to make sense. Any reasonable afterlife would have given her a cup of coffee by now, too. Decent coffee. And if hell was real and she was there, Remy was pretty sure it would be much worse than this. No, she was definitely still alive.

Remy thought harder, trying to focus her sluggish brain.

Oh. Oh. Sh*t.

That human. She remembered now. A human had been there… saying something… And Remy had said something back? She remembered being scared. She’d wanted to know what the human was doing there. She remembered feeling weirdly detached, like the didn’t care what happened, which was so not like her. But she couldn’t recall any more detail than that.

The human must have taken her, she realized, working her fingers into the fibers of the warm blanket. That wasn’t good. She should probably do something about that.

Remy breathed, in and out, then started to move.  “Come on, girl, get off your butt,” she urged herself in that painfully hoarse voice. She struggled to push herself up on shaking limbs, but they wouldn’t hold her, and she collapsed back down almost immediately. Her breath left her in a rush.

“…After a nap,” she conceded.

…

“Good boy,” Joan said, closing the bedroom door with a click. “Sorry, bud. It’s just for a little while.”

The corgi on the other side of the door barked once unhappily. His clawed paws tapped anxiously on the wooden floor as he paced back and forth.

“I know, I know,” Joan sighed. “I want to let you run around, too, but I can’t right now. Good boy. We’ll play later. Go lay down.”

Marco whined in response, but Joan could already hear him laying down beside the door. They could clearly picture the pout that the dog was undoubtedly directing at Joan through the wood.

Marco was a good dog. He was three years old, and Joan had owned him for only two of those, but he was already pretty well-trained. He also had a very low prey drive, and was so short that he had trouble even reaching the edges of the coffee table. So, really, the totally-not-a-borrower was probably completely safe even if they did let the dog roam freely. But Joan wasn’t taking any chances.

Besides, she’d probably freak out if she woke up to a comparatively gigantic, unknown dog in her face. Joan knew they would, in her place. She had no way of knowing that Marco wouldn’t hurt her, and Joan couldn’t 100% guarantee that she would have no reason to be afraid.

Even without the dog around, she’d probably be freaked out enough already when she saw Joan there, alone. They winced at the thought.

There was always the chance that things would go smoothly… right?

Whatever would happen, Joan decided to just settle themself back into their chair and wait. There wasn’t much else left to do. The tiny person wrapped in the blanket was still asleep, snoring softly, and Joan wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before she woke. It looked like she might have moved while Joan was gone, but they couldn’t be sure. She really was very small, and it wasn’t as if they’d taken note of her exact position before they left. Plus, she was almost completely covered by the blanket.

Joan reached forward and poked at the clothes that they had laid out off to the side. They had dried by now, thankfully.

They retracted their hand, intending to go back to checking emails on their phone and to trying not to think too much about their unexpected companion; but a soft groan came from the table. Joan paused, their eyebrows lifting.

The tiny woman shifted in the blanket, her eyelids fluttering.

Joan opened their mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. They figured they should probably stay quiet.

Her eyes opened. Joan leaned back, hoping to let the tiny woman gain her bearings without their interference.

She blinked, her eyes travelling slowly around the room. Then, she sighed, almost in a resigned sort of way. Like she was thinking, “Oh, great. I really am here.” Perhaps she had woken up while Joan was gone after all.

She pushed herself up on an elbow, wincing, and looked down at herself.

“What the hell,” she muttered, probably noticing she wasn’t wearing any clothes. Joan winced again.

The faint movement drew her attention, and she seemed to see Joan for the first time. Her eyes went wide; and she froze, her hand gripping the blanket tightly.

“Um…. Hi,” Joan said awkwardly.

It was like the noise unfroze her. She shrieked, scrambling backwards on all fours with the blanket still clutched around herself. Her movements were stiff and sluggish, like she still hadn’t fully recovered from her ordeal. But the alarm on her face was clear to see.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Joan said. “I’m not gonna hurt ya, promise.”

The woman stopped, breathing hard, then slowly turned to stare up at them, her skeptical expression hard enough to scratch diamond. A long moment of silence passed. It was only seconds, but to Joan, it felt like hours. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Maybe I’m wrong,” she said, her voice hoarse, “but to me, it kiiinda seems like you already hurt me, b*tchboy.”

Joan blinked, taken a little off-guard by her words, then found their voice again. “I’m sorry,” they said, willing her to hear the honesty in their words. “I had to do that. You were drowning; it was that or let you die.” They rubbed a hand through their hair. “And, uh… I’m actually not a boy. I’m Joan. They/them pronouns.”

The tiny woman blinked, looking them up and down. “Still a b*tch, though,” she muttered.

Joan laughed, more out of surprise than amusement, not noticing how she tensed. “Maybe,” they agreed, before leaning forward marginally. “Really, though,” they continued more seriously. “Those bruises on your chest? They’re from CPR. You weren’t breathing when I found you.”

The tiny woman stared for a second, unconsciously putting a hand to her chest.

“You’re okay now, though,” Joan said. They hoped. “And—look, I’ve got your clothes right here.” They reached forward to grab them, and the woman flinched back. Joan froze. “Oh… sorry.”

A beat passed, and then Joan slowly reached for the clothes again. They brought them nearer to the tiny woman and set them beside her. She didn’t flinch away this time, which they counted as a win.

“How are you feeling?” Joan asked.

The tiny woman just stared at them warily.

“Come on, please? If something’s wrong, maybe I can help.” Was she really okay after nearly drowning like that? After all, they had no idea how long she had been in that bucket before they found her. And had they hurt her when they did CPR? They’d bruised her, yes, but they hoped they had done nothing more serious. What if they’d broken one of her ribs or something? Could Joan even do anything about it if they had?

The woman scoffed.

Joan frowned, drawn from their worried thoughts. “What?”

She glanced at her clothes, her fingers tight around the blanket, then looked back up at them. Joan could clearly picture how, if she had had sunglasses, she would have lowered them to stare at them over their frames. “L-look, babes,  I don’t know what your deal is, but this ain’t cute. I know you’re not some sweet, kind guardian angel sent to like, save me or—or whatever. So you can just cut the sh*t.”

Joan opened their mouth and shut it again. The tiny woman glared at them as they tried to come up with a response.  

“There, uh… there is no deal,” they said. “I just found you, and I couldn’t leave you there to die. I don’t have a plan or anything. Honestly, I don’t know what the f*ck I’m doing.”

“Right,” she drawled, clearly trying to seem aloof and unfazed; but Joan could hear the fear in her voice. Great. “And was undressing me part of this totally non-existent plan of yours?”

Joan groaned internally and rubbed at their eyes. “You were soaked to the bone and freezing,” they said. “You already drowned, I didn’t want you dying from hypothermia.”

The tiny woman coughed, wincing, then continued to glare at them. “So, what, girl, I’m just supposed to believe you did all this to help me?”

“Why else would I do it?”

“Gurl, how should I know? For all I know you’re planning to like, kill me or whatever.”

Joan looked down with a slightly frustrated sigh. “Okay, well… uh…. Believe it or not, I guess, but I want you to get better. I’m sure as hell not going to hurt you. It’s… I don’t mean to be, like, harsh, but if I wanted to kill you, all I had to do was nothing. And… well, obviously I didn’t do that.”

She swallowed.

Joan glanced at the time on their phone. They should probably give Marco his dinner, or he’d start whining. “Look, um… I’ll be back in a second. Just, I don’t know, get dressed, try to relax. I’ll be back with some water for you.” They got to their feet, noticing how the girl’s eyes widened as she craned her neck back to see them.

Joan scrunched their eyes shut for a fraction of a second, then sighed, opened them again, and left the room.

This was going about as smoothly as they’d expected.

…

As soon as the human disappeared into the other room, Remy grabbed for her clothes and got dressed as fast as her tired and sore limbs would allow. She didn’t bother with the shirt, just pulling her jacket around herself. Her clumsy fingers fumbled to tie the belt at her waist. When she was done, she probably looked like a disaster. She was pretty sure she even had the wrong boots on each foot; but whatever, right? Why not let her outside reflect how she felt on the inside?

She didn’t see her backpack or her hook and rope anywhere, which in retrospect was probably too much to hope for. It was a waste of precious time to even consider trying to find them. Why would the human have brought home her stuff? It wasn’t like they could use them.

She staggered to her feet, nearly sending herself crashing back down as she tripped over the folds of the blanket. Away from its warmth, the cold air washed over her and made her shiver. She took a deep breath, swaying, and hurried to the edge of the table she was on. That’s right. Of course, she was on a table. She didn’t have a hook or rope, and she was a full foot and a half off the ground. It sure would have been nice of her “rescuer” to leave her on the floor where she had a better chance of getting away. But it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

She looked around, her head spinning at how fast she moved, and her eyes fell on the heating pad underneath the blanket she’d woken up in. It was electric, she realized. She could see the cord attached to it. Finally, something she could use.

Remy hurried over to where that cord reached over the edge of the table and down towards the floor, and she made quick work of shimmying down its length. Which had nothing to do with the fact that it was mostly a barely-controlled fall. Shut up. She was trying, here.

Regardless of her now splitting headache, the crushing pain in her chest, and the throbbing in her ankle and hip that she may or may not have hurt in that fall climb down from the table, she was on the floor. But Remy didn’t have time to feel triumphant. She had to find a way out. She was not waiting around to see what this human wanted with her. No, ma’am.

[barbariccia]

well, before we jet off anywhere, we better drop in on our friends old and new, the ones we’ll be directly working with.

hey, joker, how’s the new normandy treating you? any lingering ptsd from watching your old friend and commander get spaced saving you from the same fate? feel ready to fly? excellent!

Joker: Can you believe this, Commander? It’s my baby, better than new! It fits me like a glove! And leather seats! Military may set the hardware standard, but on a first-gen frigate they could care less if the seats breathe. Civilian sector comfort by design.

EDI: The reproduction is not intended to be perfect, Mr. Moreau. Seamless improvements were made.

joker........... does not like EDI. EDI is a blip in the machine to him, an ultimately unnecessary addition to the thing he considers to be his real arms and legs, so to speak. and EDI has terminals all over the ship, including one right next to joker, which communicates with him regarding piloting necessities that a human can’t manage in even half the time it manages.

worth noting, by the way, that despite EDI’s blobby avatar, it’s designed to have a feminine voice; a little lower than might be considered traditionally feminine and echoing with robotic undertones, but feminine nonetheless. it is very easy to consider EDI a she from just its voice alone, but at the end of the day it’s an AI, completely synthetic.

Joker: We’re staying, though, right? I mean, this seat is real leather.

Shepard: Good to see you’re keeping it all in perspective, Joker.

Joker: Uh, leather.

he spins away from you, but we grab the back of the chair - metaphorically speaking - and yank him right back. not so fast, mister, it’s been two years. the first thing we ask is how he feels about the normandy, has he settled in? and he wants to put it through its paces, to find out just how similar it feels to fly. EDI chimes in to say that it’s against safety standards - you know, those things that joker flew us right into the heart of during the battle of the citadel.

Joker: Commander, can we shut this thing off? I don’t need it in my day-to-day.

Shepard: If you don’t want to hear it, turn the damn sound off.

Joker: That doesn’t change anything. It’s still watching. Like some creepy kid staring at the back of your head in comp-sci. You just want to... punch him. But he’s “special” and sets fires or something.

Joker: ...Okay, a little too far there, but you know what I mean.

well, good to see that the old joke of “people with disabilities hate other people with different disabilities” still rings strong.

you go right ahead.

next we ask him about the good old days, because... well. it’s been two years for him, sure, but i guess shep’s still trying to adjust to that.

Joker: They seem like the good old days now, but come on. It was hell at the time. Geth, Saren, Sovereign. And then we got dumped. We’re stuck in a weird place, sure, but back then it wasn’t all sunshine and bunnies.

Shepard: What happened to the rest of the old crew? I heard most survived.

Joker: Most did. Pressly didn’t. The rest of us just sort of drifted apart. The Alliance didn’t care. I don’t think they liked all the non-humans in your crew. We were your team, Commander. With the Normandy destroyed and you gone, there wasn’t much keeping us together.

yeah, we really were the glue holding the team in place. a real shame - but then, there’s no reason for them to have stayed. not the non-humans, anyway, which is a sweet term and one that i’m getting on board with immediately, because i’ve never liked the term “aliens” in a galaxy where... well, humans are also technically aliens from a different perspective!

Shepard: What about the people we’re picking up?

Joker: Well... I would never say anything against Miranda. And expect to survive the reprisal. And Jacob is way too nice a guy for the number of ways he knows how to kill people. Uh, that’s just my opinion, though. There’s really no need to go spreading it around.

like i’ve mentioned before - yeah, they really do both feel like kaidan and ashley replacements, but weaker, too. miranda’s closed-off just for the sake of being closed-off at this point, rather than ashley’s mistrust of non-humans but willingness to fight with them if ordered to, and... okay, jacob and kaidan actually have a fair amount in common insofar as “nice dudes, also deadly dudes”. jacob doesn’t have a little bouffant, which is a point in his favour, imo.

hell, while i’m here i’ll talk to EDI.

Shepard: I want to know more about the people I’m working with.

EDI: Much of that data is classified. Do you have a specific inquiry?

HOO boy EDI ain’t wrong about that! almost everything you can ask her won’t net you answers; it merely tells you that there’s a block preventing it from giving you the information you seek. it does, however, give you some basic info on cerberus.

EDI: Cerberus is organized into task-oriented cells. Each operates in isolation. Members from one cell cannot recognize the members of another. Each cell’s agents are led by a single operator. We are called the Lazarus cell, which is directed by Operator Lawson.

that’s miranda.

well, our other questions are blocked, so fuck it. how you getting on, EDI?

EDI: Mr. Moreau does not trust me. It offends him that I am installed aboard “his ship’s” computers.

Joker: Yeah, the last Normandy did just fine without an AI reminding me the airlock is ajar.

you can ask it about the meaning behind its name (an acronym of Enhanced Defense Intelligence), and what it does, which is electronics operation, weapons guidance and jamming ... and collection of data for TIM, which we shouldn’t be surprised about. it also has hidden achievements; items it’s programmed for that even EDI doesn’t know what their function is, due to some of its hardware being kept offline. it’s happy (???) enough to work for us, though, since organic beings will never be as quick as AI tech.

EDI: This is a role that can only be filled by an Artificial Intelligence. Unfortunately, we are suspect.

Joker: Might have something to do with how an AI almost destroyed galactic civilization. Just putting it out there.

ok, lovebirds, enjoy your married life.

joker isn’t the only member of the original crew, actually. go down to the medical bay, and you’ll be met with none other than karin chakwas, who was notable in me1 for... uh, telling us about kaidan’s migraines.

Shepard: I’m shocked. You’re serving on a Cerberus vessel now?

Chakwas: Surprising, even to me. Yet, here I am.

Chakwas: The kind of trauma you endured would’ve changed most people, but not you, I see. Welcome back, Shepard.

uh, let’s not get too hasty there.

chakwas is set up comfortably enough, serviced by all the equipment she needs, but she’s missing private reserves of... whatever supplies. she’s also missing a bottle of brandy that she was saving “for a special occasion”, and we can promise we’ll keep an eye out to replace for her if we can see it.

Shepard: Doctor, you’ve been with the Alliance for years. Why leave now?

Chakwas: After the Normandy was lost, the surviving crew was reassigned. I was stationed at the Mars Naval Medical Center. A very respectable position, but it wasn’t on a starship. I’ve spent most of my life on war ships, never knowing what the next mission might bring. I’m used to the hum of engines, the creaking of bulkheads, that subtle vertigo when the momentum dampeners kick in. Life planet-side is just too static, too boring.

Shepard: You’re not the Cerberus type, though.

Chakwas: I don’t work for Cerberus; I work for you -- on a mission that may be crucial to the survial of the human race. I have faith that your dealings with Cerberus will be ethical. I trust you, Commander.

uh... sure, i guess.

Shepard: There’s a very good chance this mission will be one-way only. Are you prepared for that?

Chakwas: I’ve been through the Reclaiming of Shanxi, the Skyllian Blitz... We survived the Battle of the Citadel and the destruction of the Normandy together. I’ve lived a full life -- no regrets. I’d like to make sure the crew gets the same opportunity.

this is way too much responsibility, oh boy. oh boy!!!!

[womanoflettersinthebunker]

The drive was surprisingly quiet, only the music from the radio was playing and even that was muted. Sam had his elbow against the door and was staring out the window, lost in thought as the fields flew past them. 

The only sound that filled the air was the car's engine, roaring as she drove. It had been a gift, if you could call it that, from a different lifetime. Remnants of a life left behind that was ultimately all they had left.

Sam closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose, not wanting to think about that and focusing on the job at hand instead. 

They had added the jar to the others in the truck, bringing their collection up to nine. They weren’t exactly sure how many they had to get but they weren’t going to be stopping their collection for a while. 

“What are you thinking about?” Dean asked, breaking the silence. From the corner of his eye he could see Dean glanced at him before turning back to the road. 

"The car." Sam said honestly, looking back to the trunk. "The souls. Just a bunch of crap."

Dean scoffed but Sam saw how he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Focus on the souls." he told him. "Focus on what we're doing."

"I am." Sam said, reaching over to punch Deans arm when they passed a farm where he saw a cow. "But that makes me think about everything else too."

"Then focus on finding someone else for us, or where we should go." Dean told him, annoyance clear in his voice. "Find which states next."

"Anything to get out of Nebraska." Sam said grabbing his laptop out of his bag and brought his legs up to balance it on his knees. "Also if that last guy was a hunter, then we might run into other hunters later on."

"Good, the more the merrier." Dean said with a snort. "I want them to come in the drones, we can get at least ten souls at once."

"Lot more work though, ten people." Sam said, typing in their coordinates and staring at a map. "Unless we kill them one by one."

"Might have to keep them drugged then, if they know it's coming they might have a heart attack and die right there." Dean pointed out. "Which means more work and more ways to play."

"You're a sadistic fuck Dean, hope you know that." Sam told him, biting back a smile at the pointed look Dean shot him. 

"Pot, kettle." Dean said with a smirk. "C'mon Sammy, we both know you're just as fucked up as I am. We had the same upbringing."

"I am a well adjusted citizen and a human being." Sam told him. "Don't compare me to you Dean."

Dean's eyes darkened and for a moment Sam thought that maybe he went a bit too far, it was hard to gauge Deans limits at times and more often than not he found himself skidding the line. 

Then Dean smiled and that did absolutely nothing to lessen his worries. “Okay.” he agreed. “You’re a completely normal human being, no dark side, nothing sadistic. Just a normal. Human. Being.”

“Dean,” Sam started to say. 

“No, no. You’re right.” Dean interrupted him. “You’re absolutely right Sammy, don’t worry.” his smile turned into a grin and black spots appeared in his eyes. “I got the message.”

Hours later Sam realized just what Dean had intended to be his punishment. It almost seemed like he had found the sluttiest waitress in the next state over and was putting all the moves on her, paying him no attention whatsoever. 

Not like she wasn’t a willing flirting companion. She was all but falling out of her top and getting to her knees right there in the diner. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Dean, barely remembering to do her actual job, something her manager kept shouting to her about. 

Dean was laying it on thick, hand coming out to stroke at her wrist, grinning at her and licking his lips slowly, letting her see every last movement, let her feel his touch gentle and promising. 

Dean wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in a bit closer, she was the one who took the rest of the distance and crossed it, sitting down almost on his lap. Sam's eyes went to her hand which was slowly moving under the table and from the satisfied look on Dean's face he knew that she was palming his cock through his jeans. 

The oven in the diners kitchen blew up for a moment, the fire shooting upwards to the ceiling and causing the cooks to shout in alarm, grabbing the fire extinguisher and trying to control the flames. 

"Get off your ass and get back to work!" the waitress's manager snarled at her. She rolled her eyes and then rolled her hips against Dean, giving him what she was sure a sultry look. 

"I get off at six." Sam heard her murmur, his eyes pinned to Dean's hand on her lower back. His hand was slipping under her shirt to stroke at her skin and he watched a flash of pleasure appear on her face.

“I’ll be here.” Dean murmured back, smiling at her and leaned in to whisper it to her. 

With that Sam finally stood up, leaving the table and the diner, Dean could pay for their meal that he didn’t eat. He didn’t want to see any of that anymore.

Sam was the one that drove up to the diner later that night at exactly six o’clock. He kept in the shadows and watched the waitress ran over to the passengers seat. Before she could register that he wasn’t Dean with a single thought he made her keep moving, getting into the passenger's seat, and closing the door behind her. 

He couldn’t control their minds, Dean was the one that was able to manipulate a mind more than him. But he could control their bodies, he could force their bodies to move as he wished and that’s what they used to bring people whose souls they were going to take. 

Or in this case, making sure she got into his car and didn’t make a big noise about it. He made her sit in the passenger's seat despite how her eyes were jerking around. She couldn’t even make a sound but that was going to change later on. 

Reaching an abandoned cabin Sam came out of the car and made sure that the girl followed him, her movements and walking smooth despite how much she was starting to panic more and more. 

Opening it the girl walked in and he let her look, the entire room was painted in runes, there were chains that were against the wall; its intent clear, to hold her in place. But most of all was the table filled with knives of various blades that were cleaned of blood 

There was also another jar there, ready and waiting for her soul. 

The girl was slammed against the wall and the chains wrapped around her tightly, just a bit too tightly around her neck as he examined each knife one at a time. 

Choosing one he picked it up and turned back to her, relishing in the look of fear in her eyes, the tears that were already falling down her face. 

She was rather pretty like this. 

But she was going to be a lot more prettier opened up. 

He took his time with this one, made sure to have just a little bit of fun. And if he prevented her from dying too fast, stopped her from bleeding too much, kept her alive just a few more seconds just to see those eyes filled with terror and pain?

Well that was just part of the job. 

When his wrist started to hurt he wrapped it up, pressing the knife down to her collarbone and brought it sharply down, opening her up completely, coating him completely in her blood. 

He didn’t like lickng it, the taste was something he didn’t like. 

But he didn’t mind being coated in it. 

The jar was pressed into his hand and he held it up, letting it fill with blood and a glow of runes the soul followed. He closed the jar tightly and set it down against the ground.

“See Sammy?” Dean's voice murmured into his ear, arms wrapping from behind him and pressing them flush against one another. “You’re just as sadistic as I am.”

Sam snorted and reached for his brother, spinning the both of them around so that he could pin him to the wall right next to the waitress. 

“You’re an ass.” Sam told him, leaning in closer to him, hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah I did.” Dean said with a smile. “Because Sammy,” Deans hand went out to grab at Sams and brought it up, licking at the blood that was staining his fingers. “You’re just.” Dean trailed down Sams hand to his wrist, nipping at it, pressing his teeth against his pulse point. “Like. Me.”

Sam turned his wrist to grab at Dean and pull him in close, kissing him roughly and hard, teeth biting into the other lips before parting, breathing heavily. 

“You’re an idiot.” Sam told him. “I know, you don’t have to be a dick about it and try to fuck any little slut that’ll look at you.”

Dean hummed, pleased, and reached to tug Sam into another kiss. “But jealousy looks so good on you little brother.” he murmured.

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [5/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who, not either of our boys!), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro.

Author’s Note: And now, for a change in POV!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Of course, right after Jason leaves, the baby wakes up.

And starts to wail.

Tim freezes, all of his reflexes seemingly dissolved by the unyielding sound that such a tiny creature should not be able to produce.

Whatever Jason said about him being calm, in actuality, he’s completely freaked out over this whole baby thing.

Over the whole Jason’s baby thing.

This whole situation is just not in his area of expertise, nor does it require any of his previous training. And he can’t really see a situation where, on the infinitesimal chance Jason decides to give up vigilantism and become a stay-at-home-dad, he’d ever ask Tim of all people to babysit.

But then, right now, Jason’s not here.

The nurse from earlier returns, offering him a sympathetic look.

“It’s about time for her next feeding,” she tells him. “Do you want us to take her, or would you like to do it?”

Take her, please, Tim wants to say but bites his tongue.

He wasn’t talking out of his ass when he acknowledged that babies needed to be held. Human contact is good (even if that wasn’t basic medical knowledge, his own semi-neglected childhood can attest to that) and he all but volunteered himself for this to help Jason. He should at least do what he can.

Holding down the fort apparently includes holding down the baby…

“If you could just show me…?” he suggests, a sheepish smile pasted on and hopefully hiding his inner unease.

As expected, the woman’s expression turns into a mixture of amused and charmed. She chatters, motioning for him to take the chair Jason was sitting in before; Tim sits and lets her arrange the baby in his arms, showing him a light, gentle rocking motion to try to calm her.

“I’ll be right back with her formula,” the nurse says, though Tim barely hears her over the furious wailing.

He squints down at the scrunched-up face, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation. Also, what exactly possessed him to call Jason his partner?

Because it’s the first believable thing to come to mind that didn’t involve spontaneous resurrections?

And technically, it’s even true. Sometimes.

And he was worried about Jason.

They may not be brothers, but they are family, and with that comes a certain awareness of each other. He knew the minute he saw Jason outside the dive bar that he was freaked out. He decided he would help him then, and he’s not about to back out now even if things have become way more complicated than anticipated.  

The nurse returns with the bottle of formula, and as soon as she’s explained how to properly position and feed the baby—apparently there’s more to it than just sticking a synthetic nipple in her mouth and waiting for her to chug—and prevent gas, she vanishes again.

To allow them “bonding” time.

Not what I thought I’d be doing when I got up this morning…

Tim’s done the baby thing before—sort of. But Steph’s daughter was bigger when she was born. Jason’s is tiny, and Tim is half expecting her to break into pieces before his eyes. Whatever manufactured confidence he had before, had been in the moment—and mostly for Jason’s benefit.

It had been imperative to get the infant out of the other man’s arms while he was clearly on the verge of a panic attack. Especially since no one ever knows how a cornered Jason Todd might react.

Not that I think he’d ever hurt an infant, but he doesn’t exactly process shock the way normal people do. It never hurts to have contingencies.

As he watches the baby guzzle her formula with surprising gusto, Tim finds himself going over a mental list of things that have to be dealt with if they’re going to get through life’s latest curveball more or less intact.

Paperwork for the baby. Arrangements for the mother’s body.

Isabel Ardila.

He knows her name only from the files as the woman Jason was seeing prior to the Joker’s last assault on the bats. She was caught in the crossfire, forcibly dosed with heroin to play on Jason’s past traumas, and following her recovery, ended things with Jason.

Or Jason ended things with her, Tim’s not sure. He never asked and he doesn’t intend to.

However it ended, clearly there was enough estrangement that she didn’t bother to tell Jason he was a father. It’s a decision he can, unfortunately, imagine the reasons for, even if he’s not sure he agrees with them.

Not like we can do anything about that decision now, though.

The baby slowly goes limp in his arms, and Tim has a brief moment of irrational, paranoid panic—has she been drugged?—before realizing she’s just fallen back asleep.

“Right. Because that’s a normal thing that babies do,” he murmurs to himself, and carefully maneuvers himself over to her crib to put her down on her stomach, like he’s seen in countless television commercials.

Then, uncertain, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and does a quick internet search, balking at the sheer amount of SIDS related articles, and scoops her up again to reposition her on her back.

Should probably tell Jason about that when he gets back…

Assuming Jason comes back.

Or even wants his help.

Which, Tim decides, he’ll offer anyway. Though that may mean playing to his strengths more than anything, preparing for every eventuality and having a series of back-up plans.

He highly doubts Jason’s thinking of any of that right now.

Phone in hand Tim begins typing quickly, pulling up tabs in his search engines for whatever concern pops into his head as he reads.

He suspects Jason is too uneasy about the whole situation to want to keep the baby, so Tim’s going to have to research adoption agencies through official and unofficial channels.

Open or closed, not sure what option he’d go with.

And then, there’s always the small chance he will keep his child. It’s a possibility that seems as likely as Bruce’s sudden predilection for joining the Russian ballet, but stranger things have happened in the family.

He skims through several forums and advice blogs for how to care for a newborn, makes a list of important supplies they might need in the immediate future and forwards it to Tam.

It’s several minutes later that his phone chimes, notifying him of her list of replies.

- Why the hell did you send me a list with diapers?

- Is this for a baby?

- Omg, did you kidnap a baby?

- Is that a thing that happens?

-First ninjas, now baby-napping?

Tim sighs and rolls his eyes. Normally he’d find her bemused and slightly-panicked responses a little amusing, but he doesn’t have the energy to go into details, even if Jason hadn’t sworn him to secrecy.

-A friend of mine has an emergency. Drop everything off at my apartment, please.

There’s a beat, another chime, but Tim doesn’t get a chance to read the message as his screen suddenly switches. The air is filled with a generic ringtone that Tim hastily mutes, eyes flicking to the baby and back to his screen. The number flashes ‘Unknown’, but Tim recognizes the number from earlier that day.

He stands, wanders away from the crib to answer quietly. “What is it, Harper?”

“Jay called me,” the older man says without preamble. “Told me everything. About the kid, about Isabel.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees quietly. “I’d say shock is an understatement.”

“No shit.” He sighs. “Listen, I talked him down as much as I could, but the rest is on you.”

“What? Why?”

“He says you’ve been helping him.”

“For now, until someone more qualified comes along,” Tim retorts, implication heavy in his voice.

Roy catches it because he lets out a bitter laugh. “Sorry to burst your bubble, bird boy, but that ain’t gonna be me.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve been in literally the same situation.”

“And I can’t right now. So I need you to be there for him.”

“He needs his friend,” Tim argues. “And he’s made very clear I’m not one of those.”

“Then you'd better become one fast, because I can’t.”

“Why the—” Tim’s eyes flick to the infant, and he can’t help giving in to the impulse to censor himself, lowering his voice, “—heck not?”

“Because I’m in a bad place right now,” Roy snaps. “I’m not in a good way for being around a kid, okay? I…” He pauses, like he’s weighing something, and then exhales. “I…fell off the wagon again.”

Tim's stomach sinks. 

“Roy…”

“Don’t tell Jaybird,” Roy orders. “I just…I need to sort myself out before I can be any kind of help for him. I show up there now, I’ll just add to his problems.”

“But—”

“This is you being tagged in, okay? Don’t fuck it up.”

There’s a harsh click in Tim’s ear, leaving him listening incomprehensively to the dial tone for several seconds.

“Are you…are you kidding me?!” he hisses after a moment, only just refraining from throwing his phone across the room in frustration.

He didn’t realize before Roy’s call just how much he was counting on someone else to step in and take over in the emotional support department.

I’m not cut out for this. This sort of thing…it should be Dick. Or Alfred.

He spends the next hour once again reviewing what he did to get roped into all this.

When Jason comes back—and something inside Tim unknots in relief that he did come back—he’s as ashen-faced as before. This time, though, there’s a determined set to his shoulders.

They stand and stare at each other in silence for a good five minutes before Tim realizes Jason’s waiting for him to speak first.

Right. Tagged in. Let’s do this. Ease into it.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Tim winces.

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly subtle.

Jason doesn’t seem to notice the awkward, though.

“No idea,” he replies heavily, leaning against the doorjamb and letting his head thunk lightly against it.

“Social Services is obviously an option.”

“No way in hell,” Jason snaps, straightening up and looking fierce. “I don’t trust them. And you can’t tell me with all the Wayne resources you’ve got access to, we can’t find something better.”

Tim expected that. He might not have had the exact same harrowing experiences with foster care as Jason did, but his very brief stint left him with a hint of that same disillusion with the system.

It’s not something I’d wish on any kid, least of all Jason’s.

“We can look into it. Organize the best possible adoption scenario without dealing with Social Services. There are actually a lot of couples in the community who would be willing to adopt.”

“No. This kid isn’t growing up anywhere near capes or masks or stuff like that.”

Okay, that’s understandable. It also makes it less likely he intends to keep her.

“Whatever we do, it will take some time,” Tim cautions. “Placing a child with a family isn’t going to be as easy as sticking someone in Witness Protection.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. “Only you would think that’s easy.”

“So, now that that’s figured out—what are you going to do once the tests are finished?” Tim asks, focussing on the practical. “I don’t find a family within the next day or so, you’re going to need to bring her somewhere. Assuming you’re adamant about keeping the rest of the Family out of this?” That receives only narrowed eyes in response. “Stupid question, sorry. But she’s going to have to stay somewhere until then. I wouldn’t recommend leaving her here at the hospital, for a number of reasons.”

Jasons frowns, thoughtful. Then,

“I’ll keep her for now,” he decides with a heaviness that Tim suspects is caused more by fear than dislike of children. “Until we find a better place for her. Some family that won’t mind doing this in private.”

“Okay,” Tim nods. “On that note—where exactly will you take her?”

Jason falters, looking like he’s not entirely sure what to say to that.

“I…my safehouses aren’t exactly babyproofed.”

“I don’t think that’s an issue until they start crawling,” Tim replies, trying for humor but the very idea sparks another flash of panic in Jason’s eyes. He’s looking at Tim now with something dangerously close to expectance, and a realization hits Tim.

He doesn’t want to be alone with this.

And it’s the fact he’s never seen Jason look so vulnerable that sparks a truly terrible idea.

I’m so going to regret this.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he offers, earning a sharp glance from Jason. “Just until you wrap your head around this and figure out the next move.”

He half expects Jason to scoff, or laugh in his face or say something insulting.

It’s decidedly worrying when the only thing that happens is Jason’s shoulders slump and he nods.

Jason’s shoulders slump, and he nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be…good. Thanks, Drake.” He pauses, considering something, and then adds, “Tim.”

Next Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

[roxywashere]

Observant Eye

Part five of the adventures of Saren Rho

Saren prepares to meet Andromedan life

Braid and Galena led Saren to the brig, where they found Doctor Larson tending to Hal behind a hybrid force field/physical cell wall. Beatriz was leaning on the wall outside of the cell. Hal was shirtless now and had a compression band wrapped tightly around his shoulder.

“He’s stabilized finally,” Dr Larson told them. “It’ll take a few days for him to completely recover, since he’s got modifications that are actively resisting my advanced treatments, but he’s not going to be dying anytime soon. If you’d done a worse number on him I might not have pulled him through.” She collected her medpack, and tools, and unlocked the cell. 

The wire mesh that constituted the physical component of the cell wall rolled itself up and the force field dissipated. Hanna walked out of the cell, and Braid, Beatriz, and Seren walked in. Braid locked the cell again behind him, and activated the contextual sound-dampening systems, just in case Hal started screaming in pain for one reason or another.

“Alright, Hal,” Beatriz demanded. “You’ve got a lot of questions to answer.”

“First off,” Braid said, “Every Kartney Device in the galaxy, and all of the research that led to to them, were destroyed after the Civil War. The Minerva Institute and Navy Intelligence have actively been repressing the study of topics that surround them in the 6000 years since. Where did you get yours?”

“Engineers who worked with engineers who worked with Kartney and Clairmont themselves. You collected all of the direct collaborators and have been keeping tabs on them, but there were some secondhand students who slipped through the cracks. Deaths faked, notes stolen, and coercions of various types plied. And on the side, we’ve had our own scientists working in secret labs to independently rediscover the tech.”

“I guess across 6000 years it was bound to happen again. We should have been more diligent.”

“There was nothing we could have done,” Beatriz assured Braid. “The CSF have always had some of the best minds in the galaxy working with them.”

“Thank you, Bea,” Hal said. 

“Oh, Hal.” Beatriz rested her hand on Hal’s bandaged shoulder, and then slowly started squeezing. Saren heard Beat’s cyborg enhancements whirring as they strained against Hal’s own enhancements, until finally Hal winced. Beatriz smiled and firmly patted Hal’s sore shoulder. “You don't get to call me that ever again.”

Saren, watching the scene, didn’t know what to make of it. They must have had a history together. Saren let the thought go and asked a question. “What did I have to do with the CSF? You said you created me. I can only assume that means you’re a geneticist, and that you used to work with my parents. Are my parents CSF, too?”

“No. Your parents are the antithesis of what the Counter-Solar Faction stands for. Earthborn, ‘Pure Blooded’, Rich, and, worst of all, absolute jackasses about it.”

“You’re right about that, at least. So if you hate everything they stood for, what was the point of creating another of them in me?”

“You’ll figure it out. When you get the joke, come back and we’ll talk about it. Until then, let the real grownups talk.” 

“You're a jackass, too, Hal,” Beatriz said. 

Galena unlocked the cell wall and beckoned Saren back through. “That's all you're going to get out of him. I hate to agree with Hal, but Tom and Beat know that they're doing.” She locked the cell again, and started leading Saren to her quarters.

“What’s the deal with Hal and Beatriz?” Saren asked. “They seem to have some... tension.”

Galena sighed. “Well, that’s a bit of a long story.  The short of it, I guess, is that when Beat was first training to be a Naval Intelligence officer at the Stardust Academy on Minerva, Hal seduced her and used her access to steal Navy Secrets.”

“Oh, wow.”

“When Beat found out, she personally notified Admiral Verhoeven of the breach she had caused, and to atone for being duped by the CSF she returned the favour. She dropped out of the Academy to ‘join’,“ Galena emphasized with finger quotes, “the Terror Cell on Minerva. She leaked CSF operation plans to the Navy for 30 years, all the while having to continue dating Hal to keep up the facade that she had joined because she had fallen in love with him. One day, she caught wind of a plan to bomb major population centers throughout the core, and started killing members of her Cell and others. She dismantled the Minerva Cell completely, and personally killed more than 500 CSF Agents across 10 planets before the Navy started hearing distress calls from the Cells, asking for amnesty and safety in return for intel.”

“Holy shit. That is stone cold badass.”

“The Navy prevented the bombings, and Beat was personally commendated by Admiral Verhoeven. Beat had more than proven her skill and loyalty to the CGG, so she was fast-tracked through the Academy and placed on this very ship.”

“How long ago was all this? This sounds like something I should have heard of before.”

“It must be coming up on 550, 600 years now, if she graduated from the academy in 9005. And remember, Beatriz is a spy above all else. If she got famous in her line of work, she’d need to find a new job.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Where are we going, anyway?” 

“My room.” They reached it very shortly after. The room was small, with just a bed, dresser, and holoscreen. On the dresser was a physical photo of Galena with a dark-skinned man, with both of them wearing wedding suits. The man's eyes were glowing a faint yellow, betraying their synthetic nature. 

“Is that Erik?” Saren asked.

“Yeah. I made that body for him myself.”

“You’re beautiful together.”

Galena sighed, and changed the subject. “I really should be working right now. The scans of that ship show such amazing complexity even the Navy’s most advanced projects would be put to shame.” She walked over to the holoscreen, and pulled up an image of the alien ship. “Look at this thing! We’ve got one ship back home that rivals it in size, and even that probably is only a fraction as advanced as this.”

“Did EarthGov know that there might be life in Andromeda?”

“We had theories. The Keepers had navigation records that indicated it, but all concrete evidence had been lost to data degradation across unknown millenia. What do you really know about the Keepers, and their first contact?”

“I know how the war started, and Braid told me on Miranda how it ended. And that’s about it. Presumably my school covered it in-depth, but I ran away before they got to that module.”

“Well, it’s a pretty complicated subject. The Keeper fleet arrived on our doorstep, and they were miles ahead of us technologically back then. But, from the few remaining records the Keepers had, supposedly the fleet hadn’t been a fleet when they had first set out, and had been still even more advanced than we are today. It had been, so long ago that even the Keeper Queens don’t remember, a moon-sized generation ship. Keeper oral traditions said that the ship had crashed, destroying it, and they cannibalised it and turned it into their fleet of Shard Ships, losing unknowable amounts of advanced knowledge in the process. A long part of my engineering training consisted of studying Keeper ships, and trying to piece together the lost knowledge of the prehistoric, as it were, Keepers. The scraps of data that survived the retrofit indicated that they had been traveling in one direction much longer than it would have taken to reach us just crossing the milky way, and they had come from the direction of Andromeda, so, putting one and one together, we had surmised that they had come from Andromeda, traveling at on average 125 times lightspeed (taking into account both actual travel speeds and time spent resting and gathering resources before getting going again), meaning they had originated there about twenty-five thousand years ago. No, originated here twenty-five thousand years ago. So, we’ve been able to guess that they were native to this galaxy, but we’ve never been able to learn anything more. This is all uncharted territory, literally and figuratively.”

“How long until we get to the outpost, and finally meet new alien life?”

Galena tapped her wrist, and glowing tattoos emulating a watch display appeared. “Only a few minutes until we decelerate. We should probably be on the bridge by then, I’ll need to help figure out a co-compatible docking procedure. By the time we get back to the Milky Way, I’m going to have learned so much more than anybody I’ve ever worked with before.”

“We’re all going to, I think. It’s a whole new galaxy full of life, there’s no way that they won’t have new biology and psychology that we’ll only barely be able to recognise.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. We already know how easy it is for them to comprehend our language. They can’t be that different. And the Keepers are from here, and their biology is different, yes, but still easily comprehensible by a human doctor. Doctor Larson, in fact, has passed courses and is recognised by the Keeper government on Summer as someone able to treat their kind just as well they can. So, yeah, they’ll be alien, but not unrecognisable.”

“Have you met Keepers?”

“Yes, I think everybody on the crew has, at least once or twice. Like I said, I’ve studied their technology directly. I lived in the colony on Summer for a few years, working with Keeper technologist drones to recover their ancestral technology. I’ve even met their queen, more than once.”

“Really? Tell me about her.”

“Well, for one, she’s fucking enormous. Like, the size of your ship. And, with the help of our longevity science, she is the same queen that was born to replace the one we defeated 6000 years ago. So, she has worked her entire life with humans, and understands us very well, compared to her short-lived drones and soldiers.”

They were interrupted by Braid via intercom. “Malakhova to the bridge.”

Saren and Galena returned to the bridge, and Galena took her seat next to Braid. The Holographic display showed the dwarf planet they had been directed to by the alien starship. As they neared it and slowly began to orbit, a massive station began to come into view, comparable in size to a human planetary capitol. 

“Galena, go ahead and send over the docking requirements for both the Spectre and the Redeemer,” Braid ordered.

“Transmitting now.” Galena, after sending over the specifications, stared at the station on the surface of the planet. “They called this place an outpost. If this is just an outpost, than what does a colonised planet look like in this galaxy?”

“I wouldn’t think too much about it,” Braid said. “It may just be a minor translation error.”

“This outpost is just as big as the entire Geneva metroplex. That starship we saw was as big as the you-know-what in London. The Ancient Keeper Generation ship was supposedly as big as Luna. They build shit big here, Tom.”

Braid made a face of bitter acceptance. “Even so, we can’t let ourselves be intimidated.”

“Very reassuring, Commander,” Beatriz noted. “Incoming transmission from the outpost. Galena, I’m sending you the docking specifications they sent. Oh, part of it is a map, in one of our old holo formats... it’s going to take me a minute to decipher the codec, we don’t have it installed in the ship’s database anymore.”

“We can wait.”

“I still can’t believe this is actually happening,” Saren said.

“It’s certainly unprecedented,” Braid said. “This is humanity’s first peaceful First Contact. We learned how to interact with Xenos in warfare, but we have no real idea how to do it peacefully. I’m just blindly wandering forwards and you’re all along for the ride.”

“Alright,” Beatriz interjected, “Don’t talk yourself up too much. I think I have the codec interpreted. At the very least I have a map that looks like what we’re looking at.” She brought up the map on the window holo, overlaid on top of the actual visual of the outpost. The map had a section of the base highlighted in blue. 

“Alright, let’s go in for docking,” Galena said, “I’ve got their docking handshake decoded, I’m sending the astrogators the exact measurements of the hanger they selected for us.”

“A whole hanger, just for little old me?” Braid asked. 

“We’re here, too,” Saren reminded him. 

The Astrogators slowly guided the ship down to the dwarf-planet’s surface, to the hanger their hosts had selected for them. The outpost seemed a maze of utilitarian structures, with few windows for any intel about the interior to be gleaned from. There were no ships coming to or from any parts of the sprawling base. 

Beatriz, taking passive scans of the area, found the base to be mostly abandoned. 

“They may have built this place thousands of years ago,” Galena conjectured. “The people it was built to house died long ago, and the staff was wound down to be more sustainable.”

“Not just the physical sizes are big, but the timescales as well,” Beatriz noted.

“We should ready to disembark,” Braid said. He poked at his console. “Dr. Larson, Lt. Pyrrha, Tyko Braje, and Primrose Ren to the boarding ramp.” 

“Primrose?” Galena sounded incredulous.

“Don’t look at me,” Saren said, “I’m not her parents.”

Braid got up from his seat, but remembered something and sat back down. “Ada Rho, to the boarding ramp as well.”

“Why her too?” Saren asked.

“We are here representing the full spectrum of Terran life. Ada is a part of that spectrum, and she and her kind deserve representation as well.” With that, Braid got up and walked out, indicating Beatriz and Galena to follow him.

Saren did likewise, following them to the boarding ramp at the lowest level of the ship. Of the people called to meet there, only ADA and Dr. Larson had arrived. Larson was fiddling with an exowalk helmet, double and triple checking the seal between it and her Zero-G-Suit. ADA was watching, innocently intrigued by Larson’s neurosis. 

“Let me guess,” Saren said to Braid, “She’s incredibly thorough, and that has made her the best in her field?”

“You know it,” Braid answered. 

“I can hear you two, you know,” Larson commented, holding her helmet to the light and scratching at something in it, all the while making a face of mild disgust. 

“Only the best for the most advanced ship in the Grand Fleet.”

“The ship could probably perform our jobs all on her own,” Galena said. “She’s got the materials to build enough Androids to replace every single one of us.”

“Which is exactly why the shipboard AI is not any more complex than it needs to be.”

“You say that, but the Grand Admiral trusts Spidersilk to run the entire damn Grand Fleet.”

“Well, I’m not the Grand Admiral, am I.”

“And that fact haunts you every night.”

Braid inhaled deeply. “Let’s go meet some aliens.” 

“We can’t,” Beatriz reminded him. “We have to wait for Pyrrha and the other civilians.”

The six of them waited for the other three, who arrived in short order. Pyrrha had no difficulty finding a Zero-G-Suit that fit his stature both physically and within the military hierarchy, but Tyko and Ren, with their sub-optimum figures, had difficulty squeezing into even Zero-G-Suits designed for their natural human genetics. Ren eventually managed it on her own, and with some help from the bionic Beatriz and Lt. Pyrrha, Tyko managed as well.

“Alright,” Braid told the assembled party, “Let’s go meet some aliens.”