#it’s probably because I don’t have enough tech experience though

[silkscream]

once bitten, twice shy

megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k (i cannot write anything under 2k to save my life)

ੈ✩ tags: emotionally constipated megumi, tsundere basically, friends to lovers, a lil angst, not actually unrequited love, pining, alcohol, typical yuuji nobara antics

ੈ✩ a/n: this is not xmas themed despite the title BUT it does end up taking place on satoru's birthday for plot reasons. megumi fushiguro your intimacy issues bewitch me mind body and soul.....

megumi does not know what to do with his feelings.

he’s never been the type to be particularly in touch with them — he didn’t remember his parents enough to blame them for whatever avoidant attachment he’d accustomed himself to. or maybe, that was the exact cause of said attachment style. gojo taking him in when he was a child didn’t help either — the man also refused to be very vulnerable around him, merely acting as a benefactor and a nuisance at best.

and while he was closest to tsumiki, he’d still built up a wall around himself that she couldn’t get through, and she knew it. she couldn’t break through it in his pre-teen years, and certainly not his teenage years when he was taking out his aggression on his classmates. he would ignore her soothing words and resent her kindness. perhaps he’d taken after toji in that way. constantly fending for himself for the sake of survival. always convinced that he was doomed to be alone.

and then there was you.

he’d met you first at jujutsu tech before any of the other students could. after sparring with maki, he’d been dismissed to shoko’s office. he’d opened the door that september day and was immediately met with your wide eyes, your searing cursed energy. gojo had found another stray.

shoko had made him your first experiment and you excelled. his injuries were healed within minutes. if anything, he felt better than he had in months — after battling insomnia and panic attacks, he felt… calm. like his brain was cleansed and that he had nothing to stress about. (until the next time gojo had gotten on his nerves.)

your introduction to his class was nothing extravagant despite gojo’s theatrics. megumi couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you after that — during practice battles, lectures, or lunch. he was always hyperaware of your presence. he blamed it on your cursed energy.

he hates how enthusiastic yuuji is about you, how yuuji tells him about how he manages to get you alone even though you often keep to yourself, and how he thinks you’re so fucking pretty, and that you’d agreed to watch the human earthworm movies with him. (megumi had refused when yuuji asked.)

he stews in that anger quietly because he’d rather die than let anyone know. nobara knows better, of course. she teases him about it and brings up jealousy.

why should megumi ever be jealous of yuuji? the boy was a freak accident in human form, with no inherent technique. who fucking cares that he can make you laugh without any effort?

it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t. because you have no direct effect on megumi and you don’t distract him during school. he doesn’t cling onto the memory of your hands on his skin. he doesn’t wish for the feeling again. of course not.

he tells this to yuuji and nobara, too. there’s one day where nobara goes too far — she teases him about setting up a date, that you rave about him, that he’s definitely your type. megumi doesn’t believe a word of it, especially because you’re probably more comfortable with yuuji. he doesn’t care to date because it would hold him back. he’s too focused on his training, on being the best, because he’s determined to follow in gojo’s shadow even if he won’t admit it. he could be the second strongest. he could be the most reliable.

it comes out in all the wrong ways. he’s more irritable than usual, so he yells at nobara instead of seething in hushed tones. he rants about how he does’t need someone by his side, certainly not you, whose only benefit is to heal superficial injuries and not much else. how your combat skills are poor, how easily you get beat when you spar on the field. how compared to him, you’re weak, so you’re of no use.

unfortunately, you hear him. every thought on his mind that tumbles out of his stupid mouth, his tone spewing wrath. you know that megumi is a moody person, but you’d never think him to be mean.

you pretend you’re just passing by, but from the faces nobara and yuuji are making, megumi already senses your presence. the color drains from his face, cobalt eyes wide.

“i’m — i’m sorry, i didn’t mean —“

“it’s okay, fushiguro,” you say softly. even after that shitshow, you’re still fucking smiling. it puts a sinking feeling in megumi’s stomach.

“ah, i got an extra pack of mochi and thought you guys would like it.”

you hand over a small bag and megumi takes it wordlessly.

“that’s so sweet,” yuuji beams, attempting to deflect. “hey, i was just looking for you. do you happen to have those jujutsu history notes? kugisaki spilled a soda on mine.”

“you knocked it over!” nobara protests.

“you put it on top of my stuff!”

you take your notebook out of your bag and hand it to yuuji graciously, avoiding megumi’s gaze and making up an excuse to see all of them later.

apparently, “later” means a week after. megumi sees you in class, and while he attempts to walk you to the dining hall or invite you to hang out, you bolt out the door before catching anyone’s attention. he has to find out how you are from fucking yuuji, who somehow gets to see you around the dorms every other day.

“i think she just likes to keep to herself, s’all,” yuuji says. he can sense megumi’s anxiety just from being in the same room as him.

“but you see her all the time.”

“she’s been tutoring me a little. and we just like the same movies and stuff.”

yuuji shrugs casually. his nonchalance makes megumi’s blood boil, because of course he’s the one who gets to occupy all of your time. of course you’re probably most comfortable with him. he knows he shouldn’t be seething at the thought of you two together — it isn’t his right. but his jealousy is starting to get the best of him lately.

“are you guys together?” he blurts out.

“no?” yuuji furrows his brows. “if anything, i feel like nobara might be trying to make a move since she’s way nicer to her than she is to us. except i’m pretty sure she and maki have been going out lately.”

“maki?”

“dude, keep up!”

and when yuuji accuses of megumi having a crush again, the same way nobara did all those weeks ago before he made a fucking fool of himself, megumi shuts it down with a grimace and a blush. he’s merely concerned about your wellbeing is what it is. that’s what he’s able to muster up to yuuji, of course, who absolutely isn’t buying it based on his shit-eating grin.

it’s annoying, especially because yuuji can make you feel more comfortable, comfortable enough to hang with the whole trio, and the pink-haired bastard has to meddle like a little troll. bumping the two of you into each other like you’re in middle school. somehow, it worsens everything. not your dynamic, but megumi’s self-consciousness.

he was already so extremely aware of you, but now he’s convinced that some angel above has tied the red string between you both extra tight. megumi looks for you in every crowd, awaits your arrival every day in the classroom and at lunch, and it’s starting to feel pathetic — the lightness in his chest whenever you’re even so much as ten feet away. his heart even beats faster at the anticipation of your text in the group chat, for fuck’s sake.

and then there’s gojo’s birthday party, a surprise orchestrated by the four of you, despite megumi’s reluctance. you’re particularly more radiant than usual. maybe it’s the lighting. maybe it’s the dress you have on.

despite the amount of shots he’s been forced to take in the past hour (three), megumi is still sober enough to feel anxious around you. though, he thinks he might be drunk enough to be lost in your image, fixating on your collarbone and the way your hair falls in your face as you laugh at one of gojo’s stupid jokes. it’s when the two of you lock eyes that megumi feels out of it, because you smile at him. you fucking smile.

if the warmth of the liquor wasn’t currently raising heated blood to his head, he’d deny the sparks that came from the mere sight of your smile, but he was hopeless. you’re mesmerizing. dizzying. he doesn’t know what to do with his face, not when his cheeks are flushing red and his motor skills are slowing down. fuck, maybe he was a lightweight like gojo after all.

he’s clearly out of touch with reality, because the moment fades as soon as it comes. perhaps it wasn’t a moment at all. he watches you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your mouth moving slowly as you mingle with other classmates. he’s fucking fixated on your mouth — your lipstick tonight is a blush red with a shiny gloss reflecting light. megumi has only dreamed of what your lips would taste like once or twice. no more than that. he swears on it.

there’s brief eye contact between the two of you again for half a second. there’s a coy smile on your face as always before you slip out the back door of the house.

there are so many bottles around the place that no one will notice megumi taking an entire bottle of champagne for himself. he scowls at the taste, of sickeningly sweet pears — courtesy of gojo, probably. his head swims and thinks of you.

his momentary peace is rudely interrupted by the sound of nobara’s voice in his ear, asking for you.

“ijichi’s setting up karaoke!”

“there is no way in hell that i’m—”

“i don’t care what you do, emo, but i need her to do a duet!”

megumi heaves a sigh, making his way to the backyard where he finds you sitting on a tree stump. even with the dim fairy lights, he probably would’ve missed you if not for the cherried end of your cigarette.

“fushiguro-kun,” you nod at him.

“megumi,” he rasps. “just… megumi is fine.”

“oh, i get special privileges now? how come?”

there’s no mirth in your tone. you’re teasing him. he doesn’t answer your question.

(the mere act of you teasing him becomes an intimacy in itself — he had never thought that you would be comfortable enough to talk to him in jest. you’d maintained your distance from him fairly well.)

“didn’t know you smoked.”

“only when i drink,” you shrug. “ieiri-san doesn’t make much of an effort to hide her cigarettes, either. don’t tell on me, though.”

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

he doesn’t know where to look. luckily, you’re not looking at him, so he can settle his gaze on your mouth nursing the cigarette. plump. glossy under the moonlight.

megumi is not used to wanting. he had never asked gojo for anything during his adolescence, and refused any gesture of kindness from anyone. he was convinced since childhood that there was no point in desire because disappointment would be on the other end of it either way.

he’d like to be a monk about it. he could control himself and focus on his studies. never spare you a glance again that isn’t platonic. and then a cool december wind blows past the two of you, and he smells your amber perfume.

and when he turns his head, you’re looking at him, eyes bright.

“so… not enjoying the party?”

“i’m not really one for parties.”

“me neither,” you shrug. “that’s why i like to do my little ritual of escaping.”

“we have that in common.”

you hum, a noncommittal noise. you take another drag of your cigarette, which disintegrates slowly.

“what a pair, the two of us.”

megumi can’t pick up any sarcasm from your voice, though he assumes it. it makes his stomach drop even though the statement is harmless. the two of you. together. it makes endless futures bloom in his mind. maybe it’s the prosecco, but it almost makes him want to vomit. to think that he was even good enough to be beside you in your future.

you curse quietly when you pull your phone out of your jacket pocket to check the time, realizing it’s dead. megumi gives you a once-over. the jacket you’re wearing is all too familiar. like him, you’re not one to wear very many colors. but this jacket is bright red, varsity style, and oversized on you.

“is that itadori’s jacket?” megumi stammers.

“oh, yeah. i didn’t realize how cold it would be tonight.”

“oh.”

“why?” you give him a curious smile.

“nothing,” he coughs. “are… you two…”

you laugh and it’s like a song to him.

“i think he might be my best friend, s’all. why? you jealous?”

he looks at you again, head-on, your eyes still bright. brighter than fluorescents. there’s something in your irises that is meant to provoke him, but he’s dispensed of his usual cautious nature after he takes another gulp from the bottle.

“more than you can imagine,” he huffs.

“sorry?”

“’m not repeating that.”

“what, you’re not saying you’re like, into me, are you?” you exasperate.

megumi remains silent, cheeks flushed. he thinks that if his head could heat up any more, he’d end up with a migraine.

you breathe the tiniest gasp. if it wasn’t for how close megumi was to you, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“i kind of thought you hated me, you know,” you admit.

“i could never hate you. i don’t think anyone could.”

“you don’t have to pretend,” you sigh. he didn’t notice until now that your cigarette was finished, discarded onto the dirt with your boot to crush it into ash. “i— beyond the politeness, i get it. that i’m not your type or whatever. you don’t even have to be friends with me, fushiguro-kun.”

“megumi,” he emphasizes.

“megumi.”

“i’m not pretending. i… i really fucking like you,” he slurs. “it kind of scares me how much.”

“you’re drunk.”

“i am. i know you heard me say all that shit to kugisaki and itadori, but it’s because they put me on the spot and i was nervous. i don’t know how to… deal with feelings. honestly, if i wasn’t even a little drunk right now, i’d probably have left the party with my tail in between my legs and avoided you for the next fucking week, and you don’t deserve that. you deserve… everything.”

“even you?”

when did you get so close to him? if he sauntered just a few inches in your direction, he could touch your noses together. he can smell your perfume so deeply.

“it’s the other way around,” megumi breathes. “i don’t deserve you. not anything close to you.”

“what if i want you regardless?” your voice is just above a whisper. a prayer, a hymn. a wish to be blown out.

megumi swallows the lump in his throat. he blinks at you, dark indigo luminescent. the world slows down. he may owe it to the liquor and the wine, but he assumes it’s just your presence. your scent, the softness of your hair in between his fingers, your soft breaths.

“what do you want, megumi-kun?”

he remembers something gojo said. that to be a jujutsu sorcerer, he has to be selfish. he’s not sure if that philosophy applies to the situation at hand, but he’d be damned if he let you crawl into bed tonight without knowing how he truly felt about you. so, uncharacteristically, he takes a leap forward.

he unwinds the tension in his body and presses his lips to yours. it’s soft, chaste, innocent. something like a pause. he’s afraid to touch you, but you’ve already reeled him in with arms thrown around his shoulders, fingertips touching the softness of his black hair.

you bump your nose with his, shyly, and he kisses you open-mouthed. tongue in your mouth, meshing the taste of tobacco and prickly pear. the vanilla chapstick that he’d put on before he followed you out to the backyard.

he has one hand caressing your jaw and the other on your shoulder, thumb brushing over your collarbone in a way that makes your entire body shiver. you’re embarrassed at the pool of desire in between your legs.

megumi has never let himself be full of wanting, but at the moment, his veins are surging with it. it’s like a drug to him — your warmth, your scent, the saccharine taste of your mouth. your flesh is so soft, so pliable, from the way you dip towards the cavern of his lanky body, pressed against him chest to chest. letting his hand dig into the fat of your hip. fingertips grazing the skin underneath your shirt.

maybe it’s the liquor, but he’s feeling experimental — he tucks your bottom lip in between his teeth. pulls your hair ever so slightly. you mewl into his mouth quietly and he thinks that he’s never felt anything better than this. you’re wrapped up in all of him. you can quite literally feel the heat on his cheeks and both of you realize how aroused he is, his bulge prodding your thigh.

“fuck,” he whispers into your mouth, and he pulls away. only a few inches are separating you as he takes a moment to breathe. his eyes are blown out wide, black stretching across dark blue. both of you are stunned, panting, and the tension is more palpable than ever.

a rustling of grass makes both of you jump. when he turns, he sees yuuji and nobara staring with wide eyes.

“you owe me 7,000 yen,” yuuji deadpans to nobara.

“seriously, fushiguro? i didn’t think you had it in you!”

“i always had faith in you, fushiguro!” yuuji chimes.

while you giggle, megumi growls under his breath at the new intrusions of dumb and dumber.

“i personally thought you were way out of his league,” nobara tells you.

“eat shit.” megumi seethes with arms crossed, and despite his wrath, he resembles more of an angry kitten to you than any potential threat.

“sheesh, don’t summon a shikigami on them, megumi,” you tease with a pleased grin.

“i—” he stumbles over his words in frustration, grimacing. “what do the two of you want, anyway?”

“gojo-sensei got ijichi to sing doja cat.”

“oh, i’ve gotta see this,” you snort, grabbing megumi by the hand as you begin to usher the crew back inside. his heart leaps at the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his.

despite his inhibitions, megumi’s decided that he could get used to this.

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fluff #megumi angst #megumi fic #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter seven: just get me through the night | read chapter six

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.8k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

Steph believes you when you tell her you tripped and hurt your wrist.

After all, it’s not exactly a lie. That is what happened. It just… happened to occur while you were being advanced upon by, you know, the Batman.

You don’t tell her that last part. It’ll just worry her, you think, and she was worried enough about you that following day, when you told her about how your shift was cut short and how you hurt yourself. She fretted about you coming back to your shitty apartment in Coventry on your own but you made up a lie about catching a taxi. 

(Technically, in a way, you suppose it could’ve been the truth but you don’t imagine Red would appreciate Redbird being referred to as a taxi service; though, at the same time, he drives like a literal maniac, so, it doesn’t fit.

And yes, he did name his car.

And yes, it is actually named Redbird.

He claims he gets around by motorcycle more these days but that obviously wasn’t conducive with the weather, so he used the car instead. A very high-tech, ultra-expensive car that you had to wonder how the hell he managed to get. He’s your age, after all. But you refrained from asking. It’s impolite, considering everything he did for you.)

After Steph’s shift, you both head to her mom’s house, where Crystal Brown, a nurse at West Mercy, generously takes a look at your wrist, as equally as concerned as her daughter when she hears the story. 

“It’s just a sprain,” she says, frowning. “I can’t be entirely certain without an X-ray but I don’t think anything is broken or fractured. No need for a brace, either, but if it keeps bothering you…”

“I’ll get it checked out,” you agree easily. “Thank you, Ms. Brown.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Crystal.” 

“You know how she is, Mom,” Steph sighs, folding her arms over the back of the chair you’re in, dropping her chin to your head. 

“As hard-headed as you? Oh, I know.”

You smile bashfully as Steph snickers. Crystal rises from the table, stepping back to the stove, where she has dinner cooking. At their insistence, you agreed to spend the night. 

Crystal has always been kind to you. Both this summer and the previous one did she tell you you were welcome to live with her and Steph here at their shared home, since neither of you could live in the dorms unless you took classes during the summer. Steph abstained from them to get more experience and you abstained because your financial aid wouldn’t cover it, which left you grappling with a three-month lease at the shitty student apartments near GU. 

“No Tim?” Crystal asks, covering the pan, turning to look at you two.

Steph clicks her tongue, pulling away from you to flop into the chair beside yours; underneath the table, her ankle curls beneath yours, shin pressed to your calf. 

“Busy as usual.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—” at the looks you get from both of them, you quickly backtrack “—I mean, I’ll tell him later… That new Mission Impossible movie came out a few weeks ago, so I was gonna see if we could watch it together…”

Crystal frowns. “But you don’t like those movies. Does Tim like those ridiculous movies?”

She probably wouldn’t be displeased if he did. Crystal isn’t overly fond of Tim. Steph says it’s because of their relationship when they were kids but sometimes, it feels far too deep for it to be just that. 

Still, she’s civil to him and he rarely says no when Steph invites him (and you) for dinner. If anything, you think Crystal doesn’t mind the opportunity to make him squirm. Steph probably doesn’t mind it, either. 

Steph stretches her arms above her head. “It would be on par with him but no. These two just like watching them and making fun of them. I’m good, though.” 

“I’ll tell him, then. He’d notice it, anyway, since my mobility is still limited, but yeah…”

“Well, be careful,” she says, mouth pursed. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like she’s talking about your wrist but about something else. 

Steph coughs. Crystal looks back to the stove. 

“Well, hopefully you two will see him soon. From what I’ve heard, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say heavily. “A while.”

Crystal doesn’t pay more attention as she focuses on the sizzle of the chicken breast but Steph does, giving you a lingering look that makes you look away. 

You… try not to give away too much to her. 

You feel horrible enough to be in love with her ex-boyfriend; pining after him in her presence is just the icing on the World’s Worst Best Friend cake. 

That’s why you avoided him, after realizing the culmination of your feelings in May. 

To see if you could shake the feelings, if you could get rid of them.

Considering how hung up you are on him still, it hasn’t worked. 

But you still want to see him again. It’s selfish, probably, to be okay with avoiding him for your own gain and then when he does it on purpose, you want to put an end to it. 

But you know now it wasn’t okay. 

You want to see Tim, want to hear his bad science puns, you just want him around. 

Your feelings won’t go away for a while but avoiding him was the wrong decision. You just have to handle it on your own like an adult. 

You would if you could see him more.

You hope you can. Even if it kills you to act normally, to be okay with being friends. By this point, you’ve started to realize having him in any capacity is more than enough.

It has to be.

newest mission impossible movie came out… i can’t believe they’ve managed five of them and this one is only part one of the fifth one. they need to put that series down already

anyway :D in that case, was wondering if we could see it together? on sunday? i’ll get the tix and you get the snacks? we can get ice cream after and talk shit about it

i can’t, sorry! family dinner on sunday, then some other stuff before then and on sat too. see it and let me know about it, alright? :)

You cry when the end credits start rolling.

Not because the movie is good or moving or even so bad that it makes you cry, you’re just…

So tired. 

Tired of him never having time for you, for you and Steph. 

One part of you wants to give up. What’s the point, right? 

His continued lack of time means you can’t even apologize to him, can’t even ask if your initial avoidance was what led to his in the first place. 

Mostly because it feels like it doesn’t even matter at this point. 

Maybe this is what you deserve and there should be nothing else to say on the matter. 

But that hurts even more. 

You sit far at the back—shitty seats, he would say—but it gives you the privacy to shed a few tears. 

You leave only when the end credits are almost done rolling and the theater is empty. You don’t care about the looks people give you, coming out red-eyed and sniffling from the Mission Impossible movie. You just want to go back to your apartment and hide away for the rest of the summer. 

You emerge from the cinema; it’s only eight, so the sun is still out, warming you up from the chilly theater. Sighing, you start for the nearest station to take the subway back to Coventry.

You only get a couple blocks before your eyes catch the storefront of an ice cream parlor. Wallowing deep in self-pity by now, you easily take the detour. The patio in front of it is busy with people and through the large glass window, you see the line inside is long, too. But since you have nothing else to do, you head for it, anyway.

You’re halfway across the patio when you see it.

Through the window, in line for ice cream, is Tim. 

Your eyes found him immediately, without intention or purpose. Poetic, almost, were it not for the fact of seeing him here breaks your heart.

Here, not just by himself but with friends. Friends you’ve never met but know of from pictures at his place. 

You try to rationalize it initially, still standing there in the middle of the patio, staring into the parlor. Maybe the dinner was canceled. Maybe they dragged him out. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But then it makes you feel second best. Second choice. That he didn’t think of you when his schedule freed up. 

That’s presumptuous, though, right? What gives you priority? Nothing, especially after what you pulled before. 

But the ache in your chest hardly allows for that much introspection or self-awareness.

Mostly… Mostly, you’re just hurt. 

Seeing him now, separated from you by thin glass, the yawning monster inside you that longs desperately for him is unleashed, because he is so close but he’s not here with you, for you. And that hurts. A physical thing, your chest tight, throat thick with growing emotion.

But then, he sees you. 

His head turns and you go rigid as your eyes meet his, which widen as he recognizes you.

It’s been long, so terribly long, since you’ve seen him. See the soft blue of his eyes, this lovely shade, like cornflowers. 

It makes this so much worse because you don’t think anything will change, even with this, so it’s like a taunt to see him, knowing this might be the last for a while. A long while. 

Another moment between you two, the surprise on his face morphing into something else and you look away before you can see what it is, turning on your heel.

You have to get out of here. 

The subway is across the street but the light just turned green. Too long.

The hiss of hydraulics snatches your attention. A bus, several feet away. One last person climbing on. You take off for it, scrambling for your wallet, ignoring how the rough motions make your wrist throb in protest.

You think you hear your name. You hope you don’t.

You barely wedge yourself in just as the doors close.

The bus driver eyes you with thinly-veiled suspicion but you pay the fare and take a seat at the far back, away from the windows.

You don’t even know where this bus is going. 

You don’t care.

You just have to get away. 

You bury your face in your hands, your tears flowing again as the bus pulls away from the curb.

The worst part about it, you think, is that he doesn’t reach out to you.

Neither does Steph, but you reason expecting that is irrational. Why would he talk to her? Why would he tell her what happened? 

You can’t do it, either. It’s for the best, maybe, that you don’t say anything about it at all. 

Instead, as soon as you get back into your apartment, you collapse onto your threadbare couch and take a nap. Only dragging yourself off it when you have to get up and get ready for your shift, accompanied with the headache throbbing in the center of your forehead. 

You trade off with the evening shift and things are quiet for the most part. To distract yourself (mostly to stop yourself from bursting into tears if you think too hard about what happened), you take on your night shift tasks with renewed vigor. Cleaning the floors, the machines, adjusting displays, doing inventory. 

Your wrist protests throughout it but you ignore it. 

Steph would scold you for it. 

So would Tim.

You pause in the middle of cleaning the counter near the Slurpee machine. Your wrist throbs at your side.

The sharp gust of wind and the sound of your name surprises you.

Shocks you, really, since you’re still a bit on edge from Batman’s visit last week and you yelp, turning around, throwing the wet cloth on instinct. 

Your visitor dodges it easily. It lands on the floor with a wet splat.

“Flash? What are you—what—?”

He tilts his head, grass-green eyes narrowing slightly, mouth pursing, and you get the unmistakable feeling of being scrutinized very closely.

“What are you doing here, Flash?” you question. 

He keeps making that face. “I wanted to see you.”

That surprises you. You blink. 

“Batman won’t like that.”

“Don’t care. I’m not here to cause trouble. Just here to see you. He can’t say anything.”

You don’t think that’ll stop him but you don’t say anything. Flash probably knows. He just doesn’t care. He’ll complain about it sometimes, go to lengths to avoid it, but other times, he just—doesn’t care. 

Flash continues to look at you. Scrutinizing you. 

You don’t bother trying to stop him from doing it. You’re too tired and the way your eyes are still red and swollen is telling, as well as the circles under your eyes. 

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Flash.”

His frown deepens and one of his hands comes to your shoulders. 

“Seriously… are you okay, kid?”

For some reason, that does it.

The smallest of splinters to your resolve first, your breath hitching, then it breaks entirely, emotion swelling inside you with tidal wave force, your vision blurring with tears.

Flash reels back in surprise at first, then softens, muttering, “Aw, kid,” and pulling you into a hug. 

It doesn’t feel perfunctory. Like he is doing this out of obligation at seeing you cry, like this is just another one of his duties as a superhero. It feels genuine, the way he holds you tightly against his chest, like you’re a child being comforted. 

That just makes you cry harder.

It takes a while for you to calm down. Then you get embarrassed, sniffling out an apology. 

He hands you a napkin, then pokes you affectionately on the forehead. 

“Geez, what do you take me for? I don’t mind. Besides, worse bodily fluids have ended up on me. Way worse. This is nothing.”

You laugh wetly. 

He squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, though. Seems like you’ve got some stuff to talk about. What’s going on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears briefly takes hold of you. You take a deep breath, working through it, blowing your nose. 

Flash grabs two Slurpees, one cherry and one blue raspberry, and hops up on the counter, patting the spot beside him. You manage to wriggle up using just your right hand, your left still throbbing.

With plenty of breaks in between to cry a little bit more, you tell him everything that has gone on for the past month. Including the stuff with Red and the others, then your impromptu visit from Batman last week. 

“That how you hurt your wrist?” he asks, thoroughly displeased as he reaches for it with gentle fingers. It’s more swollen than before, irritated from you ignoring your body’s warnings, warm to the touch. 

“It wasn’t him,” you mumble. “Just me. I tripped and fell.”

He purses his lips but nods for you to continue, which you do, telling him about everything that happened today. 

“It just sucks,” you whisper. “I mean, what I’m doing to Steph, first of all, by feeling like that and then with the stuff going on with Tim. I know I shouldn’t have avoided him earlier because of my own feelings and maybe this is what I deserve for it but…”

He shakes his head, seemingly bothered by all of this. Really bothered. You expected some, along with the concern, but all of that seems tripled for a reason you do not know.

He says your name, solemn. “You don’t deserve any of that. Sure, it was stupid but… you still don’t deserve that.”

“I can’t change it,” you sigh, setting your cup down. Your fingers are numb from the cold of it. “I just… I dunno. Had to get it out, I guess, so thanks. Why did you really come here, though?”

He sips his Slurpee. “I really came here for you. I just had this feeling… I don’t know. But it paid off, didn’t it?”

“True,” you admit.

“You want me to talk some sense into this kid?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t know,” he muses, his thoughtful tone bellying the tension that seems to permanently reside in his body now; he’s really annoyed by it. You’re touched, if not a bit confused at the depth of his feelings. “I think I should. Might be good.”

“It’s not totally Tim’s fault—”

“His reaction is his own entirely. You shouldn’t have done what you did but anyone with any amount of common sense would talk to you about it instead of turning around and avoiding you, too. It’s dumb. Don’t let him off the hook.”

“Don’t let me off the hook.”

“I’m not. But from where I’m standing, his offenses greatly outweigh yours, especially with what seemed to happen today and… everything else.”

“Flash…”

“I’m just saying. I am, admittedly, a bit biased but… still. I’m not wrong, am I?”

You sigh. “I guess not.”

“Exactly. And for that stuff with your other friend… she hasn’t said anything about it, has she? I mean, I told you what it’s like for me and Pipes. We don’t feel like that for each other anymore. If I had some friend who turned out to like him, I wouldn’t care. So, what makes you think Stephanie does?”

You throw up your hands. “Most people would! Flash, not everyone takes that approach to their exes.”

“True,” he concedes. “But they’re clearly still friends and just friends.”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s okay with that. That doesn’t mean it’s okay. I shouldn’t… it never should have happened.”

Flash sighs, watching you for a minute. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”

You laugh humorlessly. “You’re just now getting that?”

“I knew before but this is… a mess of epic proportions. Seriously…” he mutters the last part, shaking his head slightly. 

Before you can respond, the door opens. You can’t see it, the aisle hiding it, but Flash can; since he remains calm, you assume it isn’t anyone bad.

Then you hear your name, from a very familiar voice and—

“Steph?”

She appears around the aisle, her jean shorts and lilac purple t-shirt wrinkled and in a state of disarray, her hair equally as messy, frizzed from the humidity outside; a light sheen of sweat shines on her face. It’s like she rushed all the way over here. 

You hop down from the counter, concerned. “Steph, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? What happened?”

She lifts a hand, cobalt blue eyes on Flash, saying, distractedly, “No, it’s… it’s alright, nothing’s wrong, I just… had to talk to you… Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Flash says breezily, hoping from the counter. “You can talk to her. I was just visiting.”

“Wait—” you don’t want him to leave quite yet but you don’t know how to say that.

“I’ll hang around,” he assures you, tossing your empty Slurpee cups in your next blink; the only indication he did anything is the way they disappear and the breeze that hits you and Steph.

“Batman—”

“Don’t care. If anything, I might like to talk to him.”

“Flash,” you say, nervous, not willing to reveal what happened to Steph but also trying to tell him to very much not do that.

“I’m still thinking about it,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “But I’ll be around. I’ll come back in a few.”

He lifts a hand, then he is gone, the breeze following him much stronger this time.

“I guess you two really are friends,” Steph says when it calms, sending you a small smile, making you relax.

“Yeah…” Though friends didn’t quite cut it for you. Silly, probably, considering you don’t even know who he is under the cowl, but you can’t deny it to yourself. It’s hard to quantify exactly what he means to you—a friend, a big brother, some kind of weird uncle. If anything, it feels like an odd amalgamation of all those things. You wonder if that’s how he feels, too. You won’t ask. You can only handle so much disappointment in one night.

“I’m sorry to come by so suddenly,” she says next, her words oddly formal in a way that puts you on edge. “But I just had to talk to you.”

“About…?”

“About Tim.”

You go stiff. You try your best to school your expression, to not give anything away. After all, concerning him, it could be anything. What happened today, maybe. What’s been happening. 

Or your feelings.

You really hope it’s not that. 

You’ve only just started to realize you might be losing Tim. You can’t lose her. 

You can’t.

“What about him?”

She says your name. Everything inside you tightens. 

“I know. I know how you feel about him—”

Your throat aches when you swallow. Everything seems to come bursting out of you in the next second. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Steph, I didn’t mean—I didn’t want—I wouldn’t do anything—” you take a step back, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest.

Her eyes widen and she steps forward, quickly closing the space between you, her hands coming to cradle your face.

“No, no, no, it’s okay, it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not, I never should’ve—god, I’m so sorry, Steph—” your vision blurs with tears. 

She says your name again, keeping you in her grasp. 

“I’ve known for a long time,” she quickly says. “Okay? I knew, but it’s okay. I was never mad at you, never, it’s okay, I promise.”

“But—but—”

She shushes you gently. “It’s okay. Deep breaths, alright?”

A couple tears trace down your cheeks. She wipes them away, a small smile forming on her lips—for you, entirely for you, the warmth there reflected in her eyes. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asks, rubbing her thumb over your cheek. “It’s really easy to fall in love with Tim Drake. And this isn’t my roundabout way of telling you I have feelings for him. Those are long gone. I love him and he’ll always be my first love but that time has passed—for the both of us. But for you guys?”

“Stephie…”

“I don’t care that you have feelings for him. I really truly don’t. I just want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy. I think you two can do that for each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I think… you’re good for him. He’s good for you. That’s all there is to it, okay? If you really want my blessing, you have it, but… it doesn’t matter to me that you like him. And I’ve known for a while but I just… I assumed you knew I was okay with it. Like it was the thing that was there but we never talked about. Stupid, I know. But… I just need you to know that. Alright?”

She hugs you. You bury your face in her shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly, unable to stop your tears from flowing. 

“I’m not just saying this to try and be the bigger person, either,” she murmurs. “Go for it. It’s been long enough.”

“I don’t know…”

“Why?”

“I mean, he doesn’t… and today…”

Steph pulls away, frowning now. “He likes you, too.”

“No—”

“He does. I know.”

“Then why has he…” You can’t keep going, biting your lip.

“‘Cause he’s an idiot,” she mutters. “In more ways than one. But… I’m going to fix it, okay?”

“No, no, don’t—”

“It’s okay. There’s… there’s other stuff going on right now and we need to take care of that first, then you can talk about your feelings. But I’m going to fix it, okay? I’m going to try.”

“You don’t have to, this is our mess, my mess, I was the one who started avoiding him in May after finally realizing my feelings and then he…” you trail off, sniffling. 

“There’s something else,” she says cryptically. “That’s… just take my word for it. But I’m going to fix it. He’s been an idiot long enough and I’m not going to keep tolerating it, not if he’s going to keep hurting you.”

You shake your head, confused. Is she talking about today? Did he tell her? You have no idea…

“He only did it because I did.”

“No, no, it’s… it’s complicated, okay?”

You snort despite yourself. “You think?”

She smiles finally. “I know. It’s… a lot. But don’t worry. I’m going to get him to see the light. Not literally, though I wouldn’t mind roughing him up a bit just for how idiotically he’s been acting but… another time.”

You’re still confused. Terribly, terribly confused. But Steph is so impassioned, so sure, you let it go.

“Let me help,” you say. “I should be the one doing this but—but let me help. I need to. It’s my mess, too.” 

“It’s all of us,” she sighs. “And right now, I’m in a unique position. So… let me, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you more later, but hopefully, I can get something together soon. Just sit tight, alright?”

“You do too much for me,” you whisper.

“I’m doing what I should be doing,” she says, looking… guilty almost before the look is gone. “This has gone on long enough.”

She leans forward to kiss your forehead. “But it’s gonna be okay. We’ll make it better.”

You just nod, going along with it for now. 

You scrape yourself together after a few minutes, wiping your tears away and blowing your nose. Steph hangs around long enough for Flash to return, at which point she bids you a regretful goodbye, telling you she’ll talk to you tomorrow. You worry about her getting home but she brought her car, or so she tells you, and Flash generously sees her out.

After a couple minutes, he returns. 

“So?” he asks expectantly.

“You were right,” you mutter. “She’s fine with it. I’m not entirely sure why she had to rush out to tell me or what she’s planning to fix but… I don’t think I can stop her.”

“No, I don’t think so, either,” he agrees lightly. “I don’t think you should, either. It’s probably important.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “I still don’t think she should be doing it but…”

“There might be more pieces in play than you think.”

You send him a look. “I got enough cryptic talk from her. I don’t want any more from you.”

He holds up his hands, smiling. “No more cryptic talk. Got it. I do, however, come bearing gifts.”

“Where on earth—?”

“Well, I already had them when I came here. I wanted to check on you and give you this stuff, but we got interrupted,” he says. “Give me a second.”

You give him a second. 

He leaves and comes back in that time. You raise an eyebrow. 

“Check it out,” he says, holding out a box.

You take it from him. It’s a small thing, easily held in your hand. You pull off the top. 

And promptly blink as the shiny display of a phone greets you.

“Flash, what—”

He can’t wait for you to finish asking your question, apparently too eager to tell you.

“It’s a phone, for you. But it’s programmed with my contact info, that way you can talk to me, and you can move all the stuff on your old phone over, too. It really is just a regular phone. Well, it does have League-level encryptions on it, but you know.”

“Flash… this is too much.”

“Not really,” he says. “I couldn’t give you that info without making sure your phone was secure and it would’ve been a lot more work to get yours secured, too. Besides, let’s be real, your phone has seen much better days. I think it deserves to finally be able to rest.”

“Jerk,” you laugh.

He shrugs. “Not wrong, though. Anyway, it’s not just for emergencies. You can talk to me. Text me. You know.”

“Flash,” you say, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, pressing a hand to your face. 

He looks like he wants to say something else but stops himself last minute and just gives you a small smile. 

“Come on. Let’s set it up.”

You agree, not wanting to continue to refuse since it would be rude and… you do want to have a way to talk to him. Not just for emergencies but other stuff, too. This stuff.

So much is still up in the air. 

But you can focus on the here and now, with Flash here to ease your burdens.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina @skcj24 @bath1lda @omfg-its-tay @laughydaphne @fhrjrirj @iamthesimpmother @alittlelateforstars @thaliadoesthings @scarlett13 @zelabee @coffee-love-alltheabove @benstormy @sad-girl09 @lockofspades s @thereallchristine @thatonecroc @1lellykins @jelsafan0 @hearttjason @kno-way-home

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#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #tim drake x you #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n

[sailorkamino]

you can sit with us

wildflower masterlist

relationships: twi'lek!jedi!reader x bad batch, background reader x plo koon & 104th battalion [gn, can be platonic or romantic]

summary: you're knight aola, a jedi with an abnormally strong connection to the living force and commander of the 104th. a reassigment leads you to kamino where you meet some equally unique (and chaotic) men, clone force 99.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: no use of y/n (reader will be called commander aola or smth flower related), proective!wolffe, shinies are in love with you, one mention of slavery, set 1 yr into clone wars so no echo yet

ryl translations: aola - flower

mando'a translations: Gar copad at jorhaa'ir laam, vod - you want to speak up, bro?

gif found on pinterest! credits to owner

When Yoda suggests getting your own special forces unit after your knighting you know you had to meet them before making any decisions.

You decide to go to Kamino rather than have them come to Coruscant, that way you can train together. Besides, you like to visit Kamino between assignments when you have time. Shaak says it’s good for the clones’ morale… mainly because they start showing off as soon as you enter the room. Plus the employees are on their best behavior when they have an audience.

That’s how you find yourself a few days later in a large mess hall. You can feel hundreds of brown eyes on you as you hold your tray. Beside you Wolffe glares at as many of them as possible. Your co-commander had brought you to the ocean planet to meet your new squad and ship, he only needed to drop you off but he seemed determined to stay as long as possible.

You assume it has to do with the young shinie’s who keep ogling you. A few have already approached you in the hallways on the way here but Wolffe took it upon himself to scare them away.

It's not hard to spot clone force 99 amongst the sea of identical haircuts. Like all vode they're completley unique in the force: from deep browns, to vibrant pinks, to dusty yellows, to blood reds. Oddly enough no one else is sitting with them. You lean towards Wolffe's ear as you get closer to the table. “Play nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

You hold back a snort at his deadpan tone. You pull your lips into a polite smile as you come to a stop. “Is this seat taken?”

Instead of a verbal response the four clones gawk at you. The pricking of jealous stares from all around the mess hall make your lekku twitch but you don’t let any discomfort show on your face. You once again remind yourself these men have very limited experience with nat borns.

“Yeah, of course, general!” The big one answers. He hastily makes room on the bench, almost shoving his grey haired brother to the floor in the process.

You hold back a laugh as you sit beside him yet the new title rings in yours ears. You never wanted to be a solider in the first place and now you're a general? You do your best to release your feelings to the force before introducing yourself.

Wolffe still hasn’t spoken. You subtly kick his boot under the table. “Commander Wolffe. He/him."

“You want to sit with us?” The goggled one asks with a cocked head, reminding you of a curious purgil. Ah, he must be Tech. “I do,” you respond confidently. Although you’re a bit confused they don’t know who you are, weren’t they briefed on their new officer? They probably weren’t shown a holo of you though. Well, this should be fun.

Your response seems to break the long haired clone out of his stupor. “I’m Sergeant Hunter. This is Wrecker, Crosshair, and Tech. We're all he/him."

You note it will be easy to remember who specializes in what. You can sense the batch glancing at Wolffe’s cybernetic eye and you know he can too. They haven’t been deployed yet so it’s most likely the worst injury they’ve ever seen. Without looking up from his food the commander simply says: “lightsaber.”

The clones around you not so subtly glance to the two sabers at your waist. You slap his armored shoulder indignantly. “You can’t just say lightsaber, it looks like I did it!” You look at the curious shinies around you, tilting your head in Wolffe’s direction, “that would be courtesy of Dooku’s apprentice, Ventrass. But I think it just adds to his roguishly handsome vibe.”

Wolffe scowls but his cheeks flush at the compliment. You were there for every step of his recovery and since then you had taken it upon yourself to be his personal hype man. Plus seeing the stiff commander flustered is just too entertaining to pass up.

“Is their name really Ventrass?” Tech asks curiously.

“No, it’s Ventress, but she’s a real ass. Hence the name.”

You look down at your tray as they process the new info. “Ugh, this food should be considered a war crime. Remind me to never complain about the temple’s cafeteria again.” Wolffe doesn’t react, long used to your non sequiturs. The other clones share bewildered looks.

"As soon as I take you boys off world I’m getting you real food.” You add for good measure. Now you can literally feel the confusion radiating off of them.

"What do you mean 'off world’?” Hunter asks.

You look at him curiously. Okay maybe they don’t know they’re getting a new officer at all. “Wait, you guys haven’t talked to master Ti yet?”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Oh, well that explains your confusion. We’re gonna be working together.”

Hunter and Tech’s eyes widen comically. Crosshair squints suspiciously. Wrecker chokes on his mystery meat. You pat his large back to help it pass, wordlessly handing him some juice. “Sorry boys, it was kind of a last minute assignment but I was hoping you’ve been briefed.”

A stunned silence follows that quickly becomes awkward. You clasp your hands in front of you, “well that’s alright! After you eat we can run a sim together!”

Your comm pings. You've never been so greatful for a distracion because clone force 99 is still gawking at you. Then you see the sender and any gratitude drains from your body. You roll your eyes without realizing it (a habit you picked up from your co-commander.)

"How do I diplomatically tell Tuan We to kriff off?” You ask said clone.

Wolffe's lips twitch up, which is his version of laughing. “Negotians are your department, sir.”

“You don’t like ‘em either?” Wrecker asks, wonder in his voice.

You lean towards him with a conspiratorial whisper. “Jedi aren’t supposed to be vengeful but between us I’m about one interaction away from drop kicking the prime minister.” Pride feels your chest at the shocked laughs you recieve. Even Crosshair and Wolffe are unable to hide their amusement.

Another alert from your comm has you prepared to cut it in half with one of your saber's but then you see the sender: Master Shaak Ti! You have always been quite close to the togruta who brought you to the jedi order (and subsequently saved you from a life of slavery.) You haven’t got to see her in person in forever. She must’ve been pretty busy lately if she wasn’t able to brief your new unit on your arrival.

You look at the table of clones with a cocky grin. “Hey, have you boys ever seen a lightsaber duel?”

You pointedly ignore Wolffe’s eye roll. You’re convinced his cybernetic eye is gonna get stuck in that position one day.

💀

Shaak Ti happens to be a master of makashi, aka the form both Dooku and Ventress prefer. That’s why neither of you are trying to end the duel by winning. It’s more of a studying opportunity. Especially considering you have a nasty habit of pissing off sith. To be fair what was Master Plo expecting when he asked Obi-Wan to teach you about negotiation?

You flip to avoid a graceful lunge from the general. Her violet eyes shine with pride. “Your ataru has greatly improved, young one.”

The slightly breathless praise has you grinning, feeling like an eager youngling again. You skillfully dodge her green blade, “am I tiring you out, master?”

She tries to appear disapproving but you can feel her amusement. “A jedi should be humble.”

You beam at her through the clash of your sabers. “I’ll have you know humility is one of my best traits.”

A beeping goes off from Tech’s datapad, alerting the end of your allotted sparring time. You come to a halt. The adrenaline of a good duel leaves you both glowing softly in the force.

“Woah! That was awesome!”

The bellowing voice makes you grin. “Thank you, Wrecker."

You power down one of your lightsabers, clipping it back to your hip. You extend your now free hand as you call your water bottle into it. Shaak Ti bows, bidding goodbyes to you and the clones before making her leave.

“What is ataru?” Tech asks, fingers stilled above his datapad screen.

You take a few gulps before answering. “Form four of lightsaber combat. It’s known as the aggressive form but really it’s more acrobatic than anything.”

Wolffe mumbles something along the lines of ‘show off.’ You aren’t surprised. He’s never been a fan of ataru. He thinks all the flips are impractical. “Gar copad at jorhaa'ir laam, vod?” You tease. Your eyes flick to the bad batch, noting their confusion in the force. “Do you speak Mando’a?” You ask and immediately regret it. You didn’t mean to put them on the spot.

“Some. Tech knows the most,” Hunter answers gruffly. His tone makes you think there’s a deeper meaning to them not knowing the language. You and Wolffe share a curious look but neither of you say anything. “Well I just told him to speak up,” you translate a bit awkwardly. You don't want them to feel excluded.

“How many lightsaber forms are there?” Tech suddenly asks.

You shoot the genius a thankful look for breaking the tension. “Seven. I can show you if you’re interested?”

“That would be fascinating!”

You’re starting to really like Tech’s enthusiasm. You glance at his brothers. They don’t necessarily feel bored but they aren’t as excited as Tech. “You boys don’t have to stay for this if you don’t want to.”

“Are you gonna do more tricks?” Wrecker asks. You can’t help but chuckle. Despite his size he reminds you of the younglings back at the temple. You miss them.

“I am.”

“Then I’ll stay!”

Crosshair tries to seem uninterested. “I don’t have any other plans,” he simpers. You can tell bonding with this vod won’t be easy but you’ve always liked a challenge. You look at Hunter expectantly since he has yet to speak up. “Sounds interesting," he shrugs.

“Great. Tech, you can record this if you like.” He flashes a small, grateful smile as he clicks away on his pad. You leave your shoto by your waist, igniting your regular saber as you fall into a familiar stance. “The first form is the most basic, shii-cho…”

As you move through katas you know you’ve found your answer for Master Yoda.

#the bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #the bad batch x reader #clones x reader

[clonerightsagenda]

Another fun conversation I found while digging for those tidbits, this one about Maxwell and Pryce

Gill side note: while there is some exterior material to canon suggesting Pryce and Maxwell would Not get along it's very funny because how many steps from "I can rewrite a memory" and "experimenting on an AI unit to expand his capacity" is it really to hard-coding anxiety into an AI's personality matrix, and from there to scooping someone's brain out to replace it with a glorified RC rig Kat for real Gill this is unexplored territory people!! Kat I think Maxwell wants to believe she's an ethical AI scientist but when the rubber hits the road….she's not that different from Pryce Gill you'd rewrite them against their consent when you believe it's necessary just because your parameters for "when it's necessary" are narrower and less nakedly self-serving doesn't mean that isn't what's going on Kat I think she would see that as the 'kinder' option versus deleting Hera, but at the end of the day you're violating her consent when she was explicit that she'd rather die Gill you're still changing the building blocks of someone's identity based on what you believe is best for them against their explicit wishes not to Slippery Slope Argument but it would have been very fun to see Maxwell go off on Pryce and then have Pryce hit her upside the head with a devastating "we're not so different" speech Kat shame Maxwell didn't make it to s4 so she could be the restraining bolts and be like hm is this the inevitable slippery slope of my actions Still wonder how Maxwell thinks invented AI since she'd never heard of Pryce. was Cutter just like here's this cool tech. don't ask where it came from Kate I keep forgetting that… They don’t keep her secret, she co-published the DSSPPM Kat I guess that's true, it's possible she knew who Pryce was but just didn't recognize her Gill Maxwell: Surely, like all tech corporations, there is a large team of brilliant engineers who worked round the clock on this whose names will never be known in their lifetimes. The idea of the rock star genius entrepreneur is a myth. Dr Pryce: lol Kat actually no looking at the script, Pryce uses her name and Maxwell still asks who it is someone never read the survival manual Kate I can definitely imagine no one knows what Pryce looks or sounds like though Reclusive scientist And oh, huh Kat someone hearing Pryce talk for the first time: blorbo from my AI programs? Gill I mean how often do you pay attention to the authors of your Mandatory Corporate Reading Assignment Literature Also, side note; comms director Minkowski going ballistic on Alien Zombie Maxwell upon finding out she never even read the manual Kat Cutter: everyone kept complaining to me that 'oh your evil daughter killed and ate an intern' 'oh your evil daughter weaponized the microwave' like get over yourselves. now none of you get to see her there is canonically a separate si5 manual. Maxwell probably also didn't read that one Gill She’s like me, Re: the “Anything that’s actually important is something you learn while actually doing the job” attitude Kat Kepler: And you both read the SI5 manual correct Jacobi, deepest sigh of all: yes sir Maxwell sotto voice: kissass Maxwell had to read the fucking Bible as a child she's had enough of this shit Gill Apropos of nothing at all I am now imagining Pryce adding as an aside in an evil monologue “and also, I have prion disease” Kat Pryce: The rogue proteins keep dismantling my brain but I keep building it back together again faster Gill Goddard Futuristics rolls out a new treatment/preventative for prion disease Why did they make this? Don’t worry about it Kate “It’s for all those poor mad cows in England :) don’t worry about it :) “ Gill As in the alternative to “also I have prion disease” is “also one of my superpowers I invented for myself is immunity to prion disease. Do not ask why I did this or why it was needed.” Kat but yeah it's a shame even with alien zombie Maxwell she can't really have a Confront Your Dark Potential with Pryce bc Miranda's semi-confused about the whole thing Hera will just have to yell at her

Gill Alternatively you flip it. Build the narrative so that Miranda is like “oh my god is this what I was like??” And Maxwell goes “wait no you’re supposed to be my cautionary tale shadow archetype” Kat alien zombie Maxwell being perma-brainfogged due to the whole bullet to the head thing: man this sucks Miranda: I could probably try neural reconstructive surgery Maxwell: uh Hera: what :) does that idea bother you for some reason : ) i'm sure it would be fine : ) Hera briefly throwing behind Miranda 100% for the only time in her life Kate Maxwell and Miranda together would be. Nightmarish for Hera and an emotion I would LOVE to see Kat Doug: I mean I'd still be ok with her trying to fix my lungs Hera: no shut up. I want her to cut open Dr. Maxwell's brain Gill Hera like “both of them are the bad guy and lesser of two evils relative to each other. I have sympathetic feelings for both and wish to have them near me as little as possible. I want to see them fight to the death” Kate And she is So valid

#tales from the groupchat #wolf 359

[the-diabolist]

Lawrence in the gameroom with the hunting knife (maybe Ren as his “accomplice”? If you don’t allow Ren for these, please ignore.)

Kinktober 2022, day 10 - I don't usually write for Ren, but I made an exception this time, and I'm glad I did! I'll probably continue this at some point, but it was getting too long and I've still got other writing to do.

c.w: fem reader, threesome (more or less), voyeurism, first time, a bit of corruption for flavor, Ren calls the shots. 1.1k

You admit it was probably a bad idea to go home with them after leaving the bar, but you like them a lot - especially the blonde one - and honestly it was about time you did something about that pesky virginity of yours anyway, right? You feel ready, and Lawrence seems like he'd be really sweet and gentle about it.

So, when you'd all decided to go back to Ren's house, your motives were decidedly ulterior.

You wish Lawrence would have offered up his place, though. It's hard enough trying to make a move when you don't really know what you're doing; it's even tougher when the other person is an anxious mess themselves and there's a third party hanging around that you're not sure how to ditch.

Which is why, half an hour later, you're all sitting around Ren's comfortable living room (how does he afford this place, anyway? Nice house in an upper class neighborhood? Is he some kind of tech genius or something?) playing a lackluster game of Chutes and Ladders.

At least until Ren clears his throat and speaks up.

"Well, if neither of you are brave enough to make a move, I guess I will," he says with mild irritation. "Kiss her already, Law."

Lawrence flushes pink and fumbles his game piece, almost knocking over your glass of water in the process.

"Who - who says I - " he mutters, stumbling, "and - and, she, uh, probably doesn't even want - "

Ren rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I do, actually," you somehow find the courage to say. Ren's ears perk up in surprise. Clearly he didn't think you had the nerve. And, while you're still hoping to get Lawrence to yourself, you can't deny the little jolt of arousal you'd felt when the other man had ordered him to kiss you.

Lawrence's flush darkens as a tiny "oh" falls from his lips. He looks from you to his friend and back, then swallows hard, seemingly at a loss for where to start.

"Ugh, you then," Ren says imperiously, looking at you, "start the kissing. I'm bored."

You glance at Lawrence; he doesn't look opposed. So, with only a moment's hesitation, you cross over to the couch both men are seated on before kneeling in front of the blonde, between his knees.

"Want to?" you ask, nervously biting your lower lip as you look up at him. It must be quite a sight, because you can practically see his soul leave his body for a second - but it comes back, and he nods slightly before leaning closer.

You're the one to close the distance, bringing your lips together. After a moment, you start to think you probably have more kissing experience than he does... at least, that's how it seems.

"Too chaste," Ren complains from the couch cushion next to you (you hadn't noticed him move closer), "use some tongue."

You follow his order without thinking, softly running the tip of your tongue over Lawrence's lower lip. He groans and opens his mouth, granting you access, which you take. You're still doing about 80% of the kissing; his movements are tentative and soft, barely there.

"You're doing fine, Law," he assures the other man, "you can touch her. She said she wanted you, remember?"

And suddenly you no longer want Ren to leave. You were already on the fence - the way he's directing your encounter is actually very hot - but the fact that he's apparently able to spur his friend into action with just a few words is the deciding factor.

Lawrence's hands surge over you, fingers slipping into your hair and cupping your jaw, pulling you closer, kissing you like he's trying to devour you.

"Much better," Ren purrs. He sounds... different, like he's now affected by the proceedings rather than just being a distant observer. He sounds aroused. "He can reach you better if you climb into his lap," he tells you, and you're hopping up almost before he's done speaking, vaulting into Lawrence's newly-voracious arms and straddling his legs.

His hands roam, squeezing your thighs, sliding up your chest, circling your throat. He breaks contact with your lips to trail hot kisses down your neck, over your collarbones - when he reaches the neckline of your shirt, he breathes a noise of complaint.

"Well take it off of her, then," Ren instructs, and Lawrence obeys, slipping his fingers under your hem and lifting. You help him pull it over your head. He groans again at the sight of your breasts, snugly contained in your lacy bra. His hands cup and squeeze as his lips trail across all the bare skin he can reach, kisses messy and starved.

The fingers that reach behind you to undo the hook-and-eye closure between your shoulderblades aren't his, but suddenly your bra is loose, cups slackening. Lawrence rips it away with a strangled noise, and you're only a little self-conscious about it. This is what you were planning, after all, and you think you need him to keep touching your skin more than you need to breathe.

"You're welcome, Law," Ren says; his nails trail down your spine as Lawrence becomes preoccupied by your bare breasts - fondling, squeezing, rubbing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. You moan when he leans forward to take one in his mouth. Running on autopilot, you grind down into his lap, only to get a feel of how hard he is. 

"Get back on the floor and lay down," Ren whispers in your ear, then nips at your lobe, sending a pleasant jolt through you.

Extracting yourself from Lawrence's grip isn't easy, but you manage it, and lay back on the carpet. "Pants off," he says to the room at large, and both of you scramble to comply. You go a step further and remove your underwear while you're at it, batting away the butterflies in your stomach. This isn't how you expected this to go, but you're not complaining.

You part your legs as Lawrence climbs between them at the behest of Ren, who finds a new place to sit that gives him a good angle on you.

"Take it easy on him," he says to you, winking, "it's his first time."

"Oh - mine too," you breathe. Lawrence's eyes widen briefly before going soft and hazy; Ren laughs.

"We're popping two cherries tonight?? You're kidding! I told you she was perfect, Law."

He just nods as Ren cackles. You cup his jaw, bringing him in for a kiss to steady your nerves.

"Well, get going," Ren prompts, "those v-cards aren't going to lose themselves. Besides," he muses, "I want my turn sometime today."

#rune writes fanfic #boyfriend to death #btd ren #ren hana #lawrence oleander #btd lawrence #kinktober 2022

[gaeasun]

43 with Wrecker and Echo. I think the batch should get their heads out of their butts and look after Echo just as much as the fandom makes him look after them as the team mom.

Ok I'll admit I finished this a while ago and I ENTIRELY forgot this existed. Oops. Here's some love for Echo, he deserves it.

Being an ARC trooper, even with his timecut short, had given Echo a lot of experience as an elite soldier. He’d helped infiltration ops, intel gathering, sabotage, and a lot more. He was used to a fast pace.

This was something else. 

It was practically non-stop. They never got official leave or break time. They only got to sleep in shifts as the stars raced by on the Marauder, and shoved ration bars in their mouths whenever they just had a moment to breathe. On Kamino, they were dragged to examination after examination, which was anything but restful. 

In a way, Echo liked the never-ending missions. They distracted him, helped him to keep his mind away from thinking about how things were before. With the 501st, his first home. With-

But sometimes that pace meant he struggled to find time for important things as well. Now he didn’t have to just worry about getting enough food, water, and rest, but also he had to upkeep his new mechanical parts. He usually let Tech help him with that, since he barely understood the more delicate complexities of what had been done to him. But that also meant both he and Tech had to be not busy. 

That just hadn’t happened recently. 

But it was fine. His legs weren’t hurting more than usual, they just felt a little… funny. It probably wouldn’t be a problem. 

Three hours into the mission, as they were slogging through heavy mud to get back to the Marauder, it became a problem. 

“What’s that?” Hunter asked. Tech took that as pointed towards him.

“That plant, as it’s locally known, is a bog mouth. It’s called that because-”

“Your legs,” Hunter whispered to Echo as Tech went on. “They’re making a funny noise, like a whirring.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine- kriff!”

The very next step Echo’s legs locked up and he nearly ate mud. Luckily Hunter already had an eye on him and was able to catch him. 

Tech immediately had his scanner out and running over his legs. “It appears the lubricating system has malfunctioned and mud has made its way into the interstitial spaces in the machinery, causing the systems to freeze.” “Great,” Echo muttered. “Can you fix it?”

“Not here,” Tech admitted. “The equipment I need is aboard the Havoc Marauder. We will need an alternate method of transporting you, as you obviously cannot walk without your legs functioning.”

Echo tugged on his leg, trying to free it from the mud. It gave a little, but he still cant walk on it. “You should go ahead then. Get to the Marauder, and then swing back to pick me up.”

Wrecker laughed, loud and easy. “Aw, we’re not going to leave you behind! I got this.” He squatted in front of Echo, patting his shoulder in what looked like an invitation. “Get on!” 

“I’ll just slow you down,” Echo tried to argue, but Wrecker wasn’t having it. 

“Echo, either you can hop on or I’m carrying you bridal style,” Wrecker grinned. “And we all know Crosshair will never let you live that down.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Crosshair smirked, not even pretending otherwise. 

“Fine,” Echo grunted. 

“Good!” Wrecker beamed. “Cause there’s no way we’re leaving you behind, you know.”

Echo sighed and wrapped his arms around Wrecker, before the larger clone slowly stood and pulled Echo’s legs up and out of the mud. They dangled uselessly against the back of Wrecker’s legs, getting even more mud over his armor. 

“Don’t worry Echo.” Wrecker patted Echo on the forearm. “You won’t slow me down. You weigh less than some of my equipment!” 

“It’s because he doesn’t eat nearly enough,” Crosshair muttered. 

“You’re one to talk, Crosshair,” Wrecker laughed. 

In no time at all they reached the Marauder, though Wrecker was reluctant to set Echo down. 

“Come on Echo,” he coaxed. “You deserve a little time off your feet.”

“I need to get my legs working again,” Echo sighed. “But thanks.”

Finally, Wrecker set him down near Tech’s workbench, and the goggled clone set to work. In the middle of the maintenance, one of his ration bars ricocheted out of nowhere and smacked Echo in the face. 

“Ow,” he muttered. “Thanks Crosshair.” He of course, received no reply. 

When he’d reached the end of his snack, Tech announced he was done and rebooted Echo’s legs. It was a relief to kick and stretch them out again. 

“Thanks, Tech.” His vod nodded, satisfaction in his eyes. And something else, was that, amusement?

The next second, something soft fluttered around Echo and he found himself being bundled up in a blanket. 

“Wrecker,” he sputtered. “You know my legs are working now, right?”

“Aw don’t worry, I’m just saving you a trip to a bunk. You deserve a good rest now!” Wrecker gleefully dropped him in one of the four bunks and fiddled with the blanket until it was secure around his shoulders. 

Hunter came over, one of Crosshair’s reflectors in hand, and angled it so Echo could see his own face. He hadn’t really looked in a mirror recently, as the sight never looked like him, but especially now. He had large bruises under his eyes and while he’d managed to gain some weight back, he’d lost some again. 

“Alright,” he grunted, and resigned himself to his fate. Taking a nap wrapped in a blanket wasn’t the worse place to be. “Thank you Wrecker. Can you try to keep in down while I’m resting?”

“Of- course,” Wrecker corrected course and whispered, giving a thumbs up at Hunter before he tip-toed out of the room. 

“Get some rest Echo, you deserve it.” Hunter gave him a nod before slipping out of the bunkroom, dimming the lights as he went.

Deserving it wasn’t really the issue, but he’d still give it a shot. Maybe, wrapped in warmth and care… and a blanket… he’d finally… finally be able to…

Zzz…

#arc trooper echo #wrecker #the bad batch

[whentherewerebicycles]

gotta be honest I felt real bad for most of the day yesterday but gosh it’s so nice to be able to swing by my bff’s house after work to eat thai leftovers together and go grocery shopping and cackle a lot. my overall quality of life is about to skyrocket and I just still can’t believe I got so lucky.

I feel a little better today, probably because I’ve switched into planning mode and feel a little more in control of my life again. I think I am going to move forward with IVF abroad (though in the meantime I might go through a couple more IUI cycles to use up the donor sperm I still have in storage). more thinking aloud under the cut… sorry I just have to process everything out loud.

I know many people do IUI or try to conceive naturally for a long time and there might be some wisdom in continuing to try the lower-tech option for a while longer. however, I feel like I need to consider the following things:

I only have one fallopian tube now. it’s still possible for me to get pregnant via IUI, but after reading a bunch of articles I’m not sure that the “having only one tube doesn’t affect your chances!” messaging online is true. I can still get pregnant, but it seems like my time to conception will almost certainly be extended by quite a bit.

I need to weigh the practical costs. if I try IUI for six more months, that’s at least $15k, which is almost twice what an IVF cycle abroad would cost me.

I need to weigh the emotional costs. the IUI failures were tough but I could weather them and I could’ve probably kept going if that last cycle had failed. but the ectopic pregnancy was just devastating and I still feel like I am in a place of lowgrade anguish about it. could I keep going with IUI? yes, if I had to. but I also don’t have to use “could I force myself to endure a very painful emotional experience if I had to” or “have other people endured this painful experience in the past” as my criteria for making this decision. I don’t have to compare myself to other people or make choices based on the level of despair I think I can endure. I can make the ‘selfish’ decision that prioritizes my needs right now, because it’s my money, my time, my life, my heart.

I just really, really, really want to give myself a good shot at being pregnant before my SIL gives birth in March. I would love for our kids to be the same age and I also think that would line me up better with liz & A’s timeline.

obviously I would just be over the moon to have even one baby!!!! but in my ideal world I’d be able to have two kids a couple years apart. and if that is my goal, the time pressure is real. if I got pregnant at 34 I’d give birth at 35 and probably wouldn’t begin the process again until 37, at which point it would be even harder than it is now. if I’m very lucky, IVF might also give me the chance to freeze embryos while my eggs are a little younger.

after a lot of research, I think finding a clinic in Mexico makes the most sense for me. it’s a little more expensive than some of the European clinics, but here are the benefits:

I can book direct flights on points

most flights are under 4 hours (compared to 14-15 hours to europe). so it’ll be easier to get there and back if I have to return for future transfers or egg retrievals—like, I could fly down over a long weekend instead of having to plan around major holiday breaks when I have more time off. I think this will put much less weight on each individual try, as opposed to doing it in Europe where a failed cycle would likely mean having to wait 6+ months until I could accrue enough PTO to go again.

I can arrange to work remotely some or all of the time I have to be in-country since I’ll be in the same timezone

no one is going to make this decision for me or give me permission to do it—I have to be the one to decide to move forward. so I’m deciding. this week I will reach out to 5-6 clinics to schedule initial consultations. I’m not sure how long the waiting period is but man it would be great to be able to schedule something for the fall. I think if I had a date on the calendar, even if it’s a ways out, I could focus my energy on diet/exercise/sleep/overall emotional well-being and just, idk, feel like I was moving towards a goal instead of drifting in time like I am now. if I want this I just gotta get moving. and if it doesn’t pan out I can grieve and shift my focus to other routes to parenthood, but I think I’m far enough down this road that I have to exhaust my options first before I’ll be able to let go of this dream and move on.

#IUI tag

[independentzaun]

If I wrote "My" Zaun.

Alright I woke up in a weird on edge and lowkey bitchy mood, and I’m trying to just vibe and chill until I settle back down but I’m in the mood to write stuff anyways so…. Here’s some details on what “my Zaun” would be like if I actually fully wrote it out/went properly canon divergent.

First, here’s some stuff in no particular order I’ve written before Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, and Here. Now I could probably turn this into a 3 post long essay, but let’s try to just hit the more important points.

A lot of the vendors, and merchants, and shop keepers, and people that fish or collect mushrooms or other “common” professions have a guild/union. The reason is simple. First, it’s a tradition left over from the Mining Days. Second, the vast majority of individual people in Zaun don’t have the money to order needed supplies from outside of Zaun. It’s easier, and over all cheaper for them to put their money together and order good to be shipped in. It can be as something like reliable iron stock to mix with their own less high quality stuff to craft fishing harpoons, or getting sufficient amounts of spices that they can’t grow enough of for certain foods, or wool from outside for clothing, or whatever else. Generally people are either part of a guild, rich, or run a small unique personal business that can get everything it needs from inside of Zaun. There are exceptions, but that’s generally how it works. The good part of this is the guilds and unions do help their members. The bad part is there’s varying levels of corruption, because Zaun and I’m not trying to make things “perfect and nice”, so money does get pulled out for other less “noble” reasons and also if you are trying to compete with them there’s a chance your business going to get burned down. Generally, the younger the leadership the more corrupt, but even with the ones that are the “most” corrupt the benefits still out weigh the negatives...for now.

((under cut for length))

Most people no longer care about Shimmer in terms of trying to get rid of because it’s become such an accepted part of life. Before anyone says anything, YES there are people that want it gone. Most of those people are people that used to be addicts, or grew up around addicts, or have had lots of bad experiences with it, or grew up in a part of Zaun that was too poor to see any of the benefits and just the bad things, or have a personal grudge. Yes the Firelights exist, and yes they can/do recruit. For a lot of people though they’ve seen Shimmer become a major part of Zaun life, and culture over the past 7-10 years and they just can’t be bothered to care. Some of them it’s because they are too busy trying to live their life, and get along with their own business. Some of them it’s because a family member has a prosthetic that relies on shimmer and chem-tech to function. Some of them Shimmer helped keep someone alive through a sickness until they regained their strength. There’s a multitude of reasons. With that said no Shimmer is not purely a good thing. There are issues, there are addicts, there is crime and murder because of it. It is simply not purely a bad thing either, and has became a regularly accepted part of life in most parts of Zaun.

There are chem-barons, and gangs and they all have their territories and various ways of money. However not everyone is part of a gang. A decent amount of people are just, for lack of a better way to put it, civilians getting on with their life. Yes they live within the territory of one gang/chem-baron or another, but they don’t claim any kind of membership. A lot of those people are on the out skirts of crime, but not directly involved. Some times they have to worry about a gang fight in the middle of the street, or paying protection money, or getting mugged in an alleyway or whatever but they try to just mind their business. Most of the time so long as they are respectful, don’t interfere with things, pay what they are asked to, and mind their business they are more or less left alone. Why? Because the gangs don’t produce daily goods, food, clothing, and the like. They need the “normal” people, and they understand that after a certain point… well let’s put it like this. It’s one thing to take down a couple of cows or whatever else. It’s another thing to stand in front of a herd of animals that have decided to panic and start charging in a particular direction to trample you. Plus the “normal” people spend money with them. Drugs, prostitution, gambling, and the like. Are any of those things actually illegal in Zaun? No. However the gangs/etc control it because they want to and that’s one thing that will get a person killed. Trying to move in on their businesses. Also loan sharking, and the like. Pay. Your. Debts. Other wise you will get a visit you do NOT want. Just because the gangs “generally” don’t mess with civilians does NOT mean it’s safe to ignore them, or to think you can take advantage of them.

Continuing on from the chem-barons, and gangs. Most people don’t know what the chem-barons actually do besides from general descriptions. There’s stories about the mistress of the brothels Margot. The buzzing slickjaw Finn whose people have a tendency to be violent. The shadowed figure in the Last Drop Silco who everyone knows not to disrespect and who brought Shimmer to the front of things. However most people don’t know specifics, and once again don’t really care unless they are actually involved with a business that connects them to the chem-barons. As a note, the person Vi gets information from at the brothel, Babette I believe, had information because she runs the brothel and is connected to the chem-barons and gangs because of that. She’s involved in that life, and Sevika visits that brothel, and so yes that still makes sense.

This is starting to get long and I don’t want to go too much deeper into things, but let’s touch on certain notes.

Jinx was used surprisingly precisely. Silco had specific targets in mind, most of them were either involved in the criminal aspect of his life or had interfered to an unaccepted extent in other aspects. Jinx got sent to handle them because she was very good at it, and she wanted to be of help. He didn’t always share the reasons with Jinx, but there was always a reason that made sense to him (I’m not saying it was a good or healthy reason) for sending her. She was also his ace in the hole, and one of the reasons people that know who he really is and what he is capable of are afraid of him. Sevika gets sent as a warning, and is relatively reasonable although she’s entirely capable of killing you. Silco, depending on why he is there and his mood can be reasoned with as well. When Jinx shows up however you are going to die, and probably not just you but also the people around you. Jinx is there to make an example of you, and remind people of the monsters in their midst and that Zaun push come to shove is not a safe place.

Silco is not personally involved in street level distribution of Shimmer. He controls large shipments, and top level stuff. Those shipments get handed to other chem-barons, and other people who are important/large enough to handle relatively large quantities. He does also claim sole access to Piltover for the purpose of delivering and selling Shimmer to dealers up there. He’s not actually the only one taking shimmer up there because there’s always multiple routes up, but he’s the one that pushes the most up there.

With Silco taking over Zaun’s population has actually started to increase (which yes has it’s good points and it’s bad points) because he’s deliberately cultivated certain relationships, and with the money from shimmer has dry good food stuffs shipped in such as rice that’s stable and easy to transport in bulk. The effect of that has started to become more evident in the last 3-4 years with more infants being born, and also surviving their first couple of years as well as less people ending up on the streets starving to death. This is both because he does truly want Zaun to be better, and also because if you want a decent revolution you need a population that can actually fight.

Final notes. Singed is not the only doctor.

Zaun has it's own tradition of folk lore and home medicine remedies.

And I still love the idea of (my) Silco, and perhaps (my) Jinx, being trans but that's it's own thing so eh.

#randommunisrandom #justzaunthings

[spectraspecs-writes]

Manaan - Chapter 124

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 123. Chapter 125.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

——–

For me, looking the part is not too difficult. I just pull off the robe tunic. I also stow my purple lightsaber in my pack, and hide my blue one under my pant leg. Mercenaries don’t use lightsabers. I didn’t realize how much I missed my swords. I put them on my belt. And easy as that I look like a mercenary. And you’d think it would be that simple for Carth, but it’s not. He has to leave his orange jacket behind. it’s too easily recognized as Republic colors. But it takes a good ten minutes to pick out some armor that makes him look enough like a mercenary to pass the first security checkpoint. Once he’s done that, though, we meet back up with Canderous and head to the Sith base.

As expected it looks just the same as any other Sith base. It’s very sterile. But it looks like they take this place seriously, if the four war droids are any indication. I’m not particularly worried, though. We have legitimate passes, mercenary passes.

The man at the checkpoint stops us. “Only people who have business with the Sith are allowed inside the embassy,” he says.

I let Canderous do the talking. He has experience here and as an actual mercenary he’ll hold up under scrutiny. “We have business,” he says, holding out the passes, “We were hired as mercs earlier today.” The officer takes the passes and looks at them closer. ‘Unless you’d rather we go work for the Republic.”

The security officer scoffs, but I can tell, he doesn’t want to get in any hot water for turning us away. “Hmph,” he sighs, “Yes, well, I suppose you really do have business here. Head on in.”

Canderous just gives a small nod and we move past the security desk towards the elevator. That’s the hard part done with, then. The elevator ride is still very anxious, though, and even though I’m certain I can handle whatever’s down there, I’m still annoyingly nervous.

The elevator stops. I take a deep breath. It opens. I let Canderous take the lead again. He looks the part more than I do. He presents our passes to the desk attendant, just like he did upstairs. And so far it looks like we’re in the clear. The desk attendant looks familiar somehow, though, and I can’t tell if it’s a remnant from Revan’s memory, my mind and anxiety playing tricks on me, or if I really have seen him before. Just act natural, Rena, just act natural.

But as I pass, he stops us. “Hold on a moment,” he says, looking at me, scrutinizing my face, “Weren’t you on Korriban a couple weeks ago?”

Shit. I remember. When I hacked the Sith Academy to get Dustil’s info, a Sith trooper got suspicious. I managed to lie my way out of it, but I probably only got away with it because he didn’t want any trouble for himself. And, probably, because he was about to get transferred and didn’t want to take the risk of ruining it. So he did get transferred, apparently, and got transferred here. Play it cool, Rena, act natural. “I’ve never been to Korriban in my life.” And try to keep moving.

He grabs my arm. Carth twitches, but keeps his cover. “No,” the Sith says, narrowing his eyes, “I remember.” He glances at Carth “You and your companion - you were both there!” Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. “So… you were just a simple tech, transferred from the fleet, fixing something for a ‘Sith master”, were you?” He scoffs. “And now you’re trying to pass yourself off as a mercenary? What sort of fool do you take me for?” I pull my arm out, but escape won’t be so easy.

The elevator opens, and out comes the man from the upstairs checkpoint, followed by the four war droids. “Lieutenant,” he asks the trooper, “what’s the meaning of this? I checked their passes myself. They were hired on this morning.”

“Perhaps their passes were legitimate, Commander Grann,” the trooper says, “but they are not. I encountered them at my last posting. Whoever this woman is, she’s no mercenary. I suspect they’re Republic spies!”

The commander balks. “Sound the alarm! Droids, destroy them!”

Well, shit. It’s okay, I can do this. In a split second, I take a breath. Channel my nerves and anxiety, focus, just like Master Zhar said. Call the lightning to my fingertips. Disable the droids. Overload. I can draw my swords faster than my lightsaber, so I pull them and face the trooper. He pulls his own sword and brings it to meet mine. There’s a fire in his eyes, like he’s been waiting for a fight. Eager. And despite my display of the Force, he thinks this is a fight he can win. And frankly… he has a chance. There’s a lot of strength behind his sword, and more technique than I’m used to seeing from rank and file Sith soldiers.

What’s wrong with me? This man is not my match. I have faced worse threats than this, stronger fighters than this. Come on, Rena. Get off your ass. You can do this. Easy. He brings his sword down over my head but I catch it, scissoring it between my own swords. He tries to push down. I push back. He grits his teeth. Time for an unexpected move. Barely even thinking, I collide his head with my own. Which hurts like hell for me at least, and causes him to stumble. Uneven footing. I sweep his legs out from under him. And now I’ve got him on the ground. I deal the final blow.

But I find myself wishing I hadn’t. Not because I think he’ll be useful or anything. It’s just… like a shadow creeping up in my head. Making me question who I am. Like there has been for the past week. Focus, Rena, focus. You’re no good like this.

While I was focused on my trooper, Carth and Canderous must have taken care of Commander Grann from upstairs. Now Canderous is blasting the war droids for good measure. I decide to stick to the computer. The first thing I do is turn off the alarm. We do not need to deal with troops coming to defend the lobby, and hopefully this means we won’t have to deal with the police when we leave. Next, I don’t want to spend a whole lot of time in here if I don’t have to, so I want to know where I’m going. Best way to know is to check the security camera. Disassembly room - that’s where I’d put a droid I was trying to get information out of. Check the camera… that looks like a recon droid to me, and they are doing their damnedest to get the data core out. Odds are the main thing stopping them is a deceptively simple lock. Recon dories don’t have personality subroutines like utility or protocol droids do. Not generally, anyway. In fact, as far as dories go, there’s not a lot to them. A variety of sensors, a preset route, some basic cartography software, and that’s it. Sure, you can add more bells and whistles, but that just means more stuff that can go wrong. Once you’ve programmed your recon droid, it’ll carry out that programming until it finishes, gets recalled, runs out of power, or is otherwise impaired, like this one. When it’s done, you extract the data core, download the data, wipe it, and start again. Generally speaking, the data core is protected by whatever weatherproofing is appropriate for the situation. In this case, I’d imagine it’s completely watertight. But since this is also a droid for spying, the Republic wouldn’t let it go without some extra security surrounding the data core. Hence, a deceptively simple lock. There’s no computer to access the droid, so there’s nothing to hack. Sure, you could lease your way in, but then you risk destroying the data core.

Not to say there’s not a way to break in, of course. You can break into pretty much anything, depending on how much time and effort you put into it. They’ve had it for twelve hours and haven’t made any progress yet. All of this is moot, however, since I’ve got the key code to access the core, to open the deceptively simple lock. The information on the core still has to be decrypted, but that’s not my concern. I just need to grab the core and go.

“Are you seeing anything about those missing Selkath?” Carth asks.

To be honest I had nearly forgotten about them. Just focused too hard, I guess. “No, but then I was looking for the droid, give me a second.” Okay, Selkath. If I were the Sith, and I was trying to sway Selkath youth to my side, taking them into my base, where would I put them? I’d want to make them feel special, show them that all the hype, all the bad press about my organization just isn’t true. I wouldn’t trust the rank-and-file troopers that staff my base to maintain that facade, though. So access to them would be limited, if not eliminated altogether. So. A part of the base, with only one or two access points, with a dormitory section. Pull up a base schematic… Bam. “The north section of the base. That’s where I’d keep them.”

Carth and Canderous both look at the schematic over my shoulder. “Looks like a strategic spot,” Canderous says.

“I tend to agree,” Carth says - and the fact that he can say that without puking, I swear - “it looks pretty secure. But it also… looks a little too easy. Doesn’t it?” Canderous nods, sort of hums in agreement. Carth points out a relatively large room with no label. “That seems like a good place for an assault droid.”

Hmm. “Let me just check the power levels.” That’s a pretty high level for a room with nothing in it, as far as the computer is concerned. “Good hunch,” I say, “Just give me two seconds…” Alpha, alpha, double bar, beta, sigma, little red star… “Assault droids deactivated, force field down.” That probably won’t be the only obstacle, but it’s a huge one out of the way. “Droid first, then the Selkath. Agreed?” They nod. Cool.    

I follow the schematic down the hallway to the north. If I’m reading this map right, I take the only left, and follow it, then go left again to get to the recon droid. Before I open the door, I place my hand on it. Trying to see what’s on the other side. Echoes in the Force. “Three troopers and two droids,” I say softly, “One of the troopers has grenades, he’s in the corner.” I pull my blue lightsaber from its hiding place. I don’t think I need my purple one just yet. “I’ll take out the droids, then Canderous, you focus on the grenadier. Carth, you okay covering us?”

“You got it.”

Okay. Deep breaths, deep breaths. You can do this. Three… two… one… open the door.

It takes a couple seconds to fully process that we’re not Sith and we’re not supposed to be here, and those few seconds cost them dearly. I channel the lightning again, striking the droids down. Then, I go for the trooper closest to the recon droid. Canderous comes in right behind me and goes right for the grenadier. Carth’s focus shifts, but he mostly keeps an eye on the third trooper. It’s not long before all three are dead, and I can pull out the data core and put it in my pack. I put my swords in there as well, and take out my purple lightsaber. I’ve got a bad feeling about finding the Selkath. We’ll be able to find them, sure, and I know they’re alive because I saw it on the security cameras. But there’s a fight between us and them, I just know it.

#kotor fic #star wars #star wars knights of the old republic #knights of the old republic #autistic artist #fiction #oc #rena visz #fem!revan #ls!revan #carth onasi #canderous #manaan #sith base #canderous ordo #chapter 124

[aromanticbuck]

i’m the same as i was (it’s all okay)

just a little drabble because I’ve desperately needed to get an idea like this out of my system since 9x19 aired, and maybe it will get my writing juices flowing so I can work on a bigger project. an AU of the scene with Jay and Kevin at The Donovan, because I did not give Mouse rich parents to not make jokes about canon plotlines with them. it’s basically just a bunch of dialogue so I can get this thought out, not by any means an actual fic.

title taken from all my love by noah kahan.

“Why are you staring at those people?”

“Hmm...?”

“Jay. There are fifteen other rich couples here. Maybe don’t draw too much attention to us by only fixating on one.”

He blinked and pulled his eyes away from the table at the window, though not for very long, the familiar faces there not sparing him a single glance while he frowned to himself. He hadn’t moved from his spot leaning against the bar since he found it, oddly comfortable despite the fact that the last time he’d been in that building had been almost a decade before, and it had been a very miserable experience. “Right. Sorry. I’m paying attention.”

“I hope so. We’re supposed to be working, here, man.”

“What did I miss? When I was, you know, totally paying attention.”

“The kid’s getting us the security footage so we can bring it back to the district and- You’re still staring.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“You are. That’s super rude, by the way, and you’re probably going to make them angry.”

“Good.”

“You know what? I don’t want to know what you have against all these rich people. I’m going to go back to working. I won’t tattle on you for screwing around.”

“I don’t have anything against all these rich people. Just them.”

“Keep your weird drama to yourself. I don’t need to be dragged into it.”

Jay hummed a non-committal response, his gaze shifting over to the door when the bell rang to signal it opening. The new arrival was another familiar face, another pair of blue eyes that didn’t even look in his direction, too focused on making over to the table by the window. Not that was any of his business.

“I didn’t know Mouse was back in Chicago.”

“You have to know what articles to read.”

“So, when you said Gerwitz, you meant...?”

“Yup. Those ones.”

“Are we going to go say hi?”

“You’re welcome to. It’s probably for the best if I stay over here.”

“Does that have anything to do with why you’ve been staring at their table for the last ten minutes?”

“They hate my guts. The feeling is mutual. It’s old news.”

“Okay, well...” Letting out a slow breath, Kevin’s voice was careful when he spoke again, the topic making it clear exactly why. “We’re looking for someone here that could have been running tech for our guy, right? Someone with those connections and computer know how. I hate to say it, but I think we’re looking at a pretty good lead.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I think you’re right. Just... let me do the talking.” Still frowning, Jay pushed himself away from the bar to stand up straight. It put him in the right position to walk forward, his badge hanging around his neck in full view while he approached the table.

The movement drew three pairs of eyes toward him, and only one of them held any level of recognition, along with a little panic. It made sense, considering the emotions rolling in his stomach, the angry heat that had lived there any time he thought of the people in front of him for so long. Before he even made it close enough to say anything, Mouse was getting up again, trying to put his body between his parents and his friends.

“Jay, don’t-”

“To you, right now, it’s detective. Do you a minute to answer a few questions for us? We’ll try not to take too long.”

"Really? You’re staging this like a case? That doesn’t make it better.”

“We have reason to believe that someone who frequents this establishment is involved in the murder we’re investigating. Specifically, someone with computer skills. You happen to fit that description very well, Mr. Gerwitz. So, can we have a minute to ask you a couple questions before you get back to your afternoon?”

There was a beat of quiet, heavy with a kind of defeat in the air, and he almost got a response before they were interrupted by a voice he’d very nearly managed to forget the sound of.

“Gregory, dear, don’t answer a single one of this officer’s questions until we call the lawyer. What did you say your name was again? I’ll get your superior on the phone while we’re at it.”

Jay bit his tongue to keep from snapping back at her, putting on his usual neutral expression he employed specifically for the interrogation room. “I was barely an officer the last time we were here, Thelma. I made detective years ago. And I thought we established even before then that I’m perfectly capable of looking after your son even when you won’t.”

“Oh. Halstead. It’s you.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the greeting I was anticipating.”

“Okay.” There was no hesitation, this time, a hand grabbing him by the arm to pull him toward the door, and he went without putting up a fight. “Let’s go before you cause a scene.”

“I’m not causing a-”

“You’re either using a fake case to try to cause a scene, or you’re using a real case to try to cause a scene, and I don’t know which is worse.”

“She started it!”

“We can’t have one good meal in this place without any trouble, can we? Seriously, Jay, it’s not funny.”

The sun was bright when they stepped outside, and he frowned while glancing back over his shoulder. The door to the club closed, and they weren’t anywhere private, but it was actually just the two of them in their space for the first time in more than five years.

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

“Great, because I was already running late and getting shit for it. So can I go back to lunch, please, before I actually can’t come back here ever again?”

“That depends. Do you have a minute to answer a couple of questions about the case I’m working?”

“Oh my god...”

“What? Suddenly I’m not allowed to do my job?”

“You just antagonized my mother in public!”

“As opposed to doing it in private? No. We’d have fewer witnesses when I have to defend myself.”

“Yeah, that’s why we came out here before you started throwing punches.”

“I wouldn’t have thrown punches.”

“But you were prepared to. If the situation called for it.”

“Well, sometimes, your mother calls for it.”

“I’m well aware that you aren’t her biggest fan, Jay. I’m not, either, but I’m kind of trying to stay employed, and keep a roof over my head, and right now, that involves putting up with lunch here once a week. Believe me, it’s awful, and I hate it, but at least I can keep the discussion away from my love life when it’s just me on the other side of the table.”

“Right, because it’s somehow my fault that they jumped to conclusions last time.”

“That’s not what I said, and you know it. And we both know you weren’t just doing your job in there.”

“Well, no, I wasn’t just doing my job. Antagonizing your mother added a little fun to the whole murder thing we’re trying to solve. Even you have to admit, the look on her face when she realized it was me was kind of funny.”

“It wasn’t-”

“Not even a little bit? She did the lip thing, right? Like she was trying to hold back a comment about us again. That was pretty funny.”

“Stop it. I can’t laugh right now. I’m mad at you.”

“No, you’re not. I just gave you the perfect opportunity to get out of a shitty lunch with your parents. There really is a case, you know. And I know you had nothing to do with it. But they don’t know that I know that.”

“How does that get me out of lunch?”

“Say you’re coming down to the district so we can hold you while you wait for your lawyer. You did just put your hands on a detective, and my badge was very visible. You can help us solve the case, while you’re at it.”

“...everyone’s going to make fun of me for wearing a suit. I just got out of a meeting like half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, I think Kev was already taking pictures to send back to everyone. It’s too late to be embarrassed.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You can keep complaining in the car. Do you want me to put you in cuffs to play it up?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, detective.”

“Good to see you haven’t changed a bit, Mouse.”

#cpd #one chicago #jay halstead #mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #chicago pd #kevin atwater #thelma gerwitz #alex writes things #me: it's a drabble not a full fic #the 'drabble' in question: 1.5k #oops? #anyway i've been thinking about something like this since 9x19 aired so #here is this thrown together nonsense #jay should be allowed to fight thelma

[marnz]

if I’m real with you I do believe most people are capable of learning most skills at most jobs. However work is not ONLY skills, I think there has to be a wide variety of things at play—training, mentorship, temperament, aptitude, funding, benefits, etc—but skills are how we learn and why experience is so highly valued.

if I remember correctly, in a Marxist school of thought, you as a worker are selling your labor power to your employer for $$$ and your employer is then applying it to labor that needs to be done. you don’t hold the work, you hold the power to do the work. I think given the amount of economic coercion our society operates under, this power is forgotten until strikes happen and remind us.

and I think this framework does account for experience. you get paid more as an experienced worker (in theory) because your employer is paying for all of your past labor power! so we can say labor power accrues over time and is not depleted by being applied to labor. I would not say labor power is a measurement of your CAPACITY to do labor at any given point though, only that it does not work like capital where you “spend” it. Marx probably does a much better job of laying this out but it’s been a long time since I read Capital.

But say you are not a Marxist and the idea of labor power is too much like trying to do physics equations that calculate force. Fair enough! Let us return to skills. “Skills” have, for a long time, been used to devalue certain kinds of work—as if manual labor, customer service, retail, agricultural work, teaching, cleaning, etc, require no complex and difficult to acquire skills your average office worker does not have in their repertoire. all work takes skill! this is a labor slogan. and it does.

however I think there are other skills we must hone in the work place (and in life), and there’s been a lot of talk (anxiety?) recently about skills that are not being taught. tech skills! I also think it takes skill to learn and retain information and schools do not always do a good job of teaching this for whatever reason. resourcefulness.

so if we have established all of this…why say “it’s not hard” and devalue yourself as a worker? just because you can do it DOES NOT mean it’s not hard.

#currently #the union makes us strong #live look at me learning replete is not a verb and also me mentally comparing labor power to physics equations re: force #this is a call out post for myself

[stewardofningishzida]

Meta-Fic Sequel - Chapter 2: Catching Up

Meanwhile, in the Marvel universe…We have Wong being a mother hen, Avengers banter, and questionable decisions being made. Yayyyy! Here we goooooo!~ TRIGGER WARNING: Language, passing mentions of trauma and one drug reference, a couple of real-life scary news stories mentioned (but not in-depth).

*After Stephen’s return to his home universe, it took a few weeks at Kamar-Taj for him to fully recover.  Being in a non-magical universe for so long had drained him and the Cloak of Levitation of magical energy and it unfortunately cost Cloak its sentience and “life”.  The sorcerer, aided by his mentor and friend, Wong, took the relic to Enitharmon the Weaver.  It was a tough job re-enchanting the Cloak, but it was done as Stephen gradually regained his own magic.  Stephen is overjoyed to have regained his silent companion.  Though he still conceals his excitement out of pride.  Wong smirks knowingly.  After both relic and mage are sorted out, the older man resumes training Doctor Strange for the Trials of the Vishanti.*

Stephen (going through what was probably the 20th practice round of the day):  How long did anyone else have to undergo training before this?

Wong:  Decades if not centuries, Strange.  Your case is more of an emergency promotion if anything.

Stephen (sarcastic):  Thanks for the vote of confidence.

Wong:  I did not say anything negative about your capabilities.  Just that you lack experience.

Stephen:  Experience?  I literally lived through millions of different timelines to find the right one to beat Thanos!

Wong:  I mean in a breadth of things, Strange.  Not necessarily in terms of time.  You will get there.

*Stephen huffs and continues to train as hard as humanly possible.  After a few more hours, Wong decides enough is enough.*

Wong:  Strange, as great as your devotion to the role may be, rest is essential for general well-being.  Stop for now.  You can continue tomorrow.  *He gives Stephen a look.*  …and don’t even think of stealing more books to memorize overnight.  I WILL know.

*Stephen gets a stubborn expression at first, but then he gets a text notification on his normal phone from his own universe.*

Wong (slightly smug):  I let your teammates know that you’re back.  I’m sure that they have many questions for you.  *His expression softens slightly*  Go.  Spend some time with your friends, Strange.  They’ve been concerned about you.

*Stephen checks his home universe’s phone.*

Tony Stark (text): Hello to the consulting wizard of Bleecker Street. I hope you know I have chosen to believe you get no signal in there whatsoever. Because you definitely did not leave me on read for weeks. Also Cap told me to message you again, so you can go complain to him all you want. He keeps insisting we meet to debrief, as if 80% of meetings could not be resolved through email. You back from the universal tailor shop yet?

*Stephen sighs and decides to reply.*

Stephen (text):  Hello, Tony.  My apologies for the delay.  Being trapped within a non-magical universe severely drained me and I needed to recover.  I’m back on my feet and the Cloak has been successfully repaired.  If the team wishes, I can portal over to Avengers Campus posthaste.

Tony (text): Posthaste? Who the hell - -

Tony (text): The team (Steve) very much wishes you get your magical ass over here posthastily – Yes!!

*Stephen glares at the messages and grabs his Sling Ring.  The Cloak glides over and latches onto his shoulders.  He pats it fondly.* 

Stephen (to the Cloak and himself):  Okay…Time to debrief.  

*He opens the portal to the common tech lab in Avengers Campus and steps through.  When he does, he’s greeted by the sight of a rather irritated Tony Stark with Captain America hovering over his shoulder while the younger man attempts to hide his phone screen.*

Tony (to Steve): I don’t care if he gets offended, I was not going to type “at your convenience” as if I was writing a memo to my boss. I’m usually the one getting memos from nervous employees!

Steve:  Was the cursing really necessary, Tony?  *He points over Tony’s shoulder at the offending text.*

*Peter Parker is leaning against a nearby table, glued to his own phone.  When he notices the portal, he looks up and straightens quickly to greet the sorcerer.*

Peter: Doctor Strange! Hi! You did pop by. *He shuffles his weight nervously and crosses his arms over his chest, nearly hiding his phone under his armpit. His eyes shift from the sorcerer to the two bickering heroes*

Tony: *His head whips toward Stephen and the portal the moment Peter talks, and he throws a hand out toward the sorcerer as he addresses Steve* See? Worked like a charm. Now get off my back and go bother him for a change.

*Steve sighs and shakes his head before walking over to greet Stephen.  The portal closes behind Doctor Strange as he walks to the group.*  

Steve (polite):  Hello, Stephen.  Welcome back.

Stephen:  Hello.  *He gives Steve and Peter a respectful nod.*  It appears that this universe remains intact, which is a relief.  *He glances at Tony to acknowledge the other man’s presence.*

Peter: *He reels back at the odd expression and squints his eyes up at Stephen* Wait…was there a chance that it was not going to? You were gone for like a week!

Tony: *He leaps off his stool the moment he sees Stephen drawing breath to answer Peter* Nope, can it. The universe is still very much where and how it should be. We saved it. Kinda traded my arm for it as part of the deal, in fact. The least it can do is stay saved for more than a few months. *He waves his right arm as if Stephen could have possibly missed it when he was the one who saved Tony in the first place. The sleek nano tech is the red, gold, and silver colors of the Iron Man armor*

Stephen (raising an eyebrow):  It was actually two weeks.  As for the universe, that WOULD be nice, but unfortunately, interdimensional crises don’t take months off.  *He snarks.*

Peter: Right… *His voice is quiet but his small frown remains. It’s clear he’s attempting to appear unbothered in front of the adults.*

Tony: *He rubs his left hand down his face tiredly. He then sends Stephen a fulminating look and nods his head toward Peter, urging him to mind his words of doom and gloom in front of the teenager* So, Steve, you wanted to interrogate David Copperfield here, right? It’s why you disturbed the sanctity of our lab party? You asked, I delivered. *He waves his hands in front of him again, silently conveying a “have a it” at the Captain*

Steve (stepping forward):  All right.  Well, Stephen, it’s been several weeks since you’ve contacted any of us.  So, care to update us on what exactly has been going on?

*Stephen looks at the group and gives a small nod.*

Stephen:  I suppose all of you deserve an explanation.  So, I’ll keep it concise.  Essentially, there was an accident while I was in the middle of fighting an interdimensional being and as a result, I ended up trapped in another universe with no way out for 2 weeks.  *He looks at the group.*

Steve (raising an eyebrow):  Another universe?  Could you please describe it?

Stephen (a bit reluctant):  This universe is similar to ours, but without magic, mutants, or any versions of us.  They have knowledge of us, but somehow, we’re all just fictional characters in comic books and movies to them.  In addition, they’re suffering from the results of a global pandemic that killed millions *Gives Tony a sideways look when the other man immediately goes to speak*  —Yes, I quarantined during my recovery—, immense political corruption, and numerous other crises.  

Steve:  That sounds surreal and more than a little intense.  What are the inhabitants like?

Stephen:  The inhabitants I met were kind and hospitable people.  However, due to the lack of magic, the Cloak and I were slowly drained until the Cloak lost its sentience and I could no longer cast spells without aid from what little residual magic leaked through the interdimensional rifts leftover from my arrival.  *He’s containing his displeasure at this part.*

Steve (sympathetic):  It doesn’t seem like it was an easy time.  How did you finally get back here, then?  Also, what have you been doing since you came back here?

Stephen:  After my final attempt at casting a portal failed, Wong managed to pick up enough of a magical signal to find me.  My time after that was mostly spent repairing the Cloak, recovering my magic, and training for the role of Sorcerer Supreme.  My Trials begin within the next 2 months.  *Something occurs to him.*  While I was trapped in the other universe, the group helping me provided some research materials for us to view and interact with.  To ensure that none of this affects our own timeline, they omitted anything related to us.  So, feel free to go through it.

*He conjures the large bag that Trix gave him before he left.  It has the dvds, cds, cell phone I gave him, some covid tests, and a few books in it.  Stephen sets it on the table in front of the other three heroes.  Captain America gives Stephen a shocked look, but decides to rifle through the bag curiously.*

Steve (glancing at a movie that he recognizes):  That’s…quite a story, there.  *He looks at Stephen for a moment, concerned.*  Are you feeling all right now?

Stephen:  Better, thank you.  

Peter: *He immediately perks up at the sight of the large bag Stephen procured, and he eagerly leans closer for a better inspection* Did all this really come from another universe?

Tony: Ah ah ah *He quickly snatches Peter’s wrist with his good hand before Peter can reach the zipper* FRIDAY? Do we know if this is toxic to us in any way?

Peter: What? Doctor Strange is magic. Surely he just…decontaminated this with a spell, right? *He gives Tony a weird look before turning to Stephen for confirmation*

*Stephen nods*

Stephen:  I did, but since our magic isn’t in their universe, we can check it just to be sure the effects of the spell worked.  It hasn’t hurt me or Wong.  So, chances are that things are reasonably safe.  There are also some antibody tests in there for the disease.  So, we can always reverse-engineer it if anything is contaminated.  *He’s levelheaded about this.*  

FRIDAY: My scans did not detect any anomalies, boss.

Tony: *He sighs and releases Peter* Alright. Have at it, kid.

*Peter opens the bag and pulls out the first thing that sticks to his fingers, which happens to be a DVD. He turns it over a few times before placing it on the table in front of Steve and Tony.*

Peter: Huh, this is weirdly uncanny…*He continues to pull the items out before one in particular catches his full attention. It is a special edition of Jurassic Park* No way! Did that universe also still have dinosaurs around? Could that be a thing? What is the world like if the meteor never hit?

Stephen (patient):  Oh, those are their special effects for movies.  They’re revolutionary in that universe.  A way of compensating for the lack of magic and mutants.  The dinosaurs there are still extinct like ours.

Tony: Give it here, Pete, you take forever. *He hooked the bag’s strap with his finger and dragged it closer, curiosity finally taking the better of him as he dug in elbows-deep into the bag*

Peter: Aww *He deflates for a moment before his eyes catch on to another plastic case Tony just discarded* No way! Star Wars? Wait, this one looks mostly the same…

Tony: *Totally ignoring Peter’s rambling* Yeah, say, Strange, did your summer holiday universe also happen to be stuck in the 80s? This thing is ancient. *He turns his hand to reveal the phone Stephen brought back with him. It’s a far cry from the latest Stark Phone model.*

*Stephen gives Tony a sour look.*

Stephen:  Their technology is, admittedly, rather behind ours in some ways.  They haven’t even gotten beyond their moon yet in terms of space travel.  *He holds up a dvd of a moon landing documentary.*  

Tony: *His eyes immediately zero in on the documentary Stephen has, and he leaves the phone on the table to instead make grabby motions at the sorcerer.* Gimme.

*Stephen passes Tony the dvd. Tony quickly flips it over and reads the information on the back cover.*

Tony: Neil Armstrong, Charlesworth, Milton Windler…They really don’t mention Howard at all in this… *He looks back up at Stephen, finally seeming to understand their absence in the other universe*

Stephen (reiterating):  Howard Stark never existed.  Nor did any of our families or us.

*He digs through the bag and pulls out a thick book.*

Stephen:  Steward, one of the women there, also left us an encyclopedia.  It has some descriptions and photos of their technology.  Plus, a bit more of their history.

*Steve picks it up to look.*

Steve:  You weren’t kidding.  Some of their modern, government-issue machines look like the ones that I was trained to use back before I got frozen.

Tony: *He leans over to glance at the book Steve is holding* The Manhattan Project. Without Howard…did they still…?

*Stephen nods grimly.*

Stephen (deadly serious):  The Cold War also still happened and Russia is currently trying its damndest to restart it AND has been threatening the world with nuclear missiles.  Not to mention their North Korea…

*Steve looks horrified.*

Peter: But… They’ve got fail-safes, right? They must have. The UN should have been created too if they’ve been through the same wars we have.

Stephen:  They do…Though apparently, a false alarm got set off a few years back and alerted Hawaii to an incoming ballistic missile.  There was a huge news story about that.  So, they’ve come dangerously close to nuclear war multiple times, but have managed to narrowly avoid it.

Steve (looking at an article):  Who is this Donald Trump?

Stephen:  You don’t want to know, Steve.  Trust me.

*Tony rubs a hand over his face, clearly upset by all the information. He nibbles on a hangnail while he takes in the entire contents of Stephen’s bag now strewn about his lab table. There isn’t much, all things considered. He probably won’t find much use for the outdated tech either, regardless of its otherworldly origin.*

Tony: Alright. Well, it sure sounds like one depressing world to choose for a vacation, but this is it, right? You made it back and our universes are not going to collapse like one lame Big Bang reenactment.

Peter: *He leans his elbows on the table and looks up at Stephen with his head tilted in curiosity* So how did you survive all that time in another universe? You said you met kind people, but we didn’t even exist there.

Stephen:  Yeah.  Their names were Trix, PrettyWitch, Tear, Steward, Fox, Laer, Tua, Alexis, and Weevil.  Steward let me stay at her house and everybody helped me research different ways to try and get home.  Oh!  Also, Steward did offer to keep my cell plan active over there, but needless to say, the phone doesn’t work between dimensions.  *He toys with the buttons absentmindedly.*

Tony: *He squints his eyes at Stephen suspiciously* I thought magic didn’t exist there either. How could you have anything to research?

Stephen:  They don’t have magic, but they do have mythology, urban legends, and occult books.  They were willing to help me try anything vaguely supernatural that might work.  None of it really did with the exception of one spell, but that was a side effect from my being there.  Also, unfortunately, a group of miners there was consumed by an entity that came from one of the rifts…*He looks considerably ashamed of that last part.*

Peter: Dude…

Steve (gentle and understanding):  You did what you could, Stephen.  Even if we want to, we can’t save everyone.  You did the best you could with what you had.

*Tony gives a deep sigh and observes Stephen carefully, from the guilty slump of his shoulders to the way his scarred fingers continue toying with the ancient cellphone. He’ll probably never understand this so-called multiversal travel, but he’s no dimwitted asshole either. Whatever Stephen lived there seemed to be of great impact to him, and the Avengers had long learned to have each other’s backs.*

Tony: Well… We’ve cracked how to build communication devices that can transmit messages thousands of lightyears away. FRIDAY, where did we get Nebula’s last message from?

FRIDAY: Last message was received from the Guardians of the Galaxy’s headquarters in Knowhere, boss. But she confirmed the new propulsion engines you helped design were successful in making the Celestial’s head mobile, so calculating their distance in relation to us is impossible.

Tony: Of course they were successful. My point is, what do you think of figuring out a way to communicate between different universes, Pete?

Peter: *His expression brightens at the mere idea* Do you think it can be done?

Tony: Between you, me, FRIDAY, and our good doctor? I wouldn’t say our chances were abysmal. *He crosses his arms over his chest and sends Stephen a smug smirk* If anything, it’ll be a fun challenge.

Stephen (small grin): All right.  Challenge accepted. 

*A few months pass as Tony, Peter, and Stephen attempt to modify the phone for multiversal communication.  Stephen can only help sporadically due to his intense training and Trials, but after he passes, he gains his new title of Sorcerer Supreme.  He does have more responsibilities now, but still manages to come by Avengers Campus regularly to help work on the project.  The former surgeon also works with Dr. Bruce Banner and reverse-engineers a vaccine to the covid virus from the antibodies in our universe’s covid test kits and every Avenger gets inoculated just in case something happens later on.  Eventually, they think that they might have gotten a breakthrough with the phone. Which is why Stephen sneaks out of Kamar-Taj as soon as he finishes teaching novices after he suddenly got a new text from Tony.* 

Tony (text): Hey, Stranger Supreme. Drop by the lab whenever you’re on a break in this dimension. Turns out one of the pockets in that alternate universe bag of yours had a hole. Found a USB stuck in-between the fabrics. You’ll want to see this.

*Stephen portals into the lab.*

Stephen (curious):  Did they save some other documents for us or something?  

*Tony looks up from where he’s busy soldering something onto what appears to be one of Sam Wilson’s Falcon wings. His face is smudged with black stains, and his eyes are wide behind his protective glasses. He smiles when he sees Stephen and quickly puts away the soldering iron.*

Tony: Wow, you really are here. I figured you wouldn’t see my texts until next week at the least, what with you being out of town so often after you got promoted to Headmaster.

Stephen (raising an eyebrow):  *Mildly sarcastic.*  Very amusing, Tony.  So, what exactly did they leave for us to find?

Tony: *He hops off his stool and removes his protective glasses before approaching Stephen with a big grin* Something close to state secrets, I would say. Definitely the type of thing that could be universe altering. It might even break the multiverse.

*Stephen stares at Tony for a moment, worried, before fully processing the shit-eating grin.*

Stephen (realizing what it might be):  They didn’t…

Tony: *He squints his eyes at Stephen’s reaction, tilting his head to the side* Oh, you know what it is, do you? FRIDAY, privacy mode. *He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his hip against the nearest workbench while FRIDAY darkens the glass windows surrounding the lab, his eyes never leaving Stephen’s face as if he could read his thoughts through sheer force of will.* Show Stephen the contents of the first folder, cheer him up a little.

*A hologram flickers to life near them, large enough to cover almost an entire wall. Yet Tony’s gaze stays fixed on Stephen, unwilling to miss his reaction as a video of none other than Wong begins to play. He’s listening to music in a dark library, and Beyonce’s singing voice can be heard despite the fact that he’s wearing earphones. A small portal fizzles into existence behind him, and a disembodied hand quickly snatches a book off the shelf and is gone before Wong can turn around and see it. The action gets repeated a few more times until even the book Wong was reading gets taken from right under his nose. Tony didn’t need to use his genius to deduce Stephen had been the one pulling the prank.*

*The video is followed by a couple others, all of them depicting Wong as if viewed through a camera lens. The final video in that folder clearly depicts Wong singing karaoke with two young adults Tony had never met but was not surprised Wong never spoke about. Tony had technically just shown Stephen a gold mine of blackmail against his best friend.*

*Stephen watches the videos, a grin spreading widely across his face.  He seems relieved, thinking that he got away scot-free.*

Stephen (amused):  Wong is NEVER living this down…Thanks, ladies.  *He looks like a kid on Christmas morning.*

Tony: *His expression shifts into something that screams smug victory* Glad we both agree. Because I…will certainly be looking forward to tons of new favors from both our ex and new Sorcerer Supreme. FRIDAY?

Stephen (suddenly going back to dread):  What?  *He stares in horror.*

*FRIDAY smoothly swaps to the contents found in the second folder of the USB file. The following video looks distinctly homemade in comparison to the previous ones. The resolution is different, giving away the fact that the video was taken with a cellphone, but the image is still impressively clear. There is no denying that it is Stephen himself standing in the middle of a cozy living room with a younger woman. They are both singing karaoke to the lyrics that appear on a TV screen, and three other women are singing along with them on the surrounding couches.*

Stephen (exasperated):  …Of course.  Trix was filming that night because it was our last night together.

Tony: *He laughs* And it sure looks like it was quite a night!

Stephen (sighing):  Damnit, girls.

*The video is followed by a few others, each full of carefree singing, silly dances, and laughter. There are a few photos as well, candid and selfies alike. Everyone sports tispy blushes, and a few pictures even include ugly and funny faces being pulled at the camera. Even so, the final picture looks incredibly tame and sweet in comparison. It is a selfie of all five of them with Stephen squeezed into the middle of the frame, surrounded on nearly all sides by the girls’ bright smiles. FRIDAY leaves that photo up for Stephen to admire, and even Tony drops his teasing aura to give the sorcerer a moment to enjoy his memories.*

Tony: Sure looks like you met some good people. *He has finally stopped looking at Stephen, staring instead at the sweet picture with a sincere smile.*

*Stephen’s expression has gone from dread and exasperation to more of a gentle, reminiscent smile.*  

Stephen:  Yeah.  They are.  I can’t really be mad at them for this.  They literally risked their lives and even faced interdimensional entities to try and help me.  *He looks at the picture for a bit longer before getting back to business.*  So, you mentioned a potential breakthrough with the phone earlier…?

Tony: Oh yeah. That new spell you and Wong tried on it seems to have done it. Still bothers me to hell and back that I have no idea what that dimensional energy even is. *He scoffs in annoyance and pushes himself off the workbench with a roll of his eyes* FRI? Lift the privacy mode. Super secret wizard files won’t be displayed again. *He moves to the little food station shoved into a corner of the lab, where he fiddles with the coffee maker until a secret compartment pops up. He extracts Stephen’s USB from it, and turns to hand it over to Stephen* Here. I’d keep that far away from Wong if I were you.

*Stephen accepts the USB drive and tucks it into his pocket for now.*  

Stephen (back to his old self):  Thanks.  *He gives a grateful nod before narrowing his eyes suspiciously.*  So, how many copies of those files did you make?  *He curls his lip, knowingly.*

Tony: *He reels back, a hand pressed to his chest purely for show* Your lack of trust in me is absolutely appalling. What kind of tech genius do you take me for? That’s obviously the only physical copy in existence. In this universe, at the very least.

Stephen:  Mhm…A pot-stirring kind.  One with plenty of cloud storage for electronic copies waiting to be sent.  Don’t even think about it.

Tony: *His lips twitch in amusement, holding back a smile* Cloud storage, he says. This is why monk wizards should not have state secrets. FRI?

FRIDAY: A single digital copy of the file has been made and saved in Mr. Stark’s personal server. It is heavily encrypted with a code Boss programmed himself, and the files have been locked against any online uploads or physical downloads.

Tony: *He puts his hands on his hips, quite proud of himself* There you have it. No one but me can access them, and even if they did there was nothing they could do with them. I could easily change that though, so keep an eye on your phone. I’ll text you the specifics of my first wish, Jeannie, dear.

*Stephen makes an irritated noise.*

Stephen (exasperated):  Besides…that…When is a good time to test the phone?

Tony: How about this weekend? Say…Sunday? Peter’s coming over again, and he made me promise I wouldn’t test it without him here. Cap should be back with Nat from Wakanda on Friday night anyway. Guy’s engaged with the storyline as if it was a soap opera, so you might want to save yourself the bother of being hounded for another briefing.

Stephen:  *Giving Tony a weird look at the soap opera remark.*  That, I can do.  Should be free after checking the wards on the Sanctum.

*When the weekend comes, Stephen joins Tony, Peter, Steve, and Bruce at the lab they claimed for themselves in Avengers Campus while they worked on this project together. Bruce usually only popped in for short periods of time to give his input on the different energies they could experiment with to make Stephen’s phone work again, but he made sure to come see what happens with the interdimensional cell phone now that they are ready to test it.*

Stephen:  Okay.  I’ve let Wong know what we’re doing and he wants to keep posted on any updates.  Thanks for joining us, Bruce.  How are you feeling?  It’s been a while.  

Bruce (calm and amiable):  Alright.  I’m just curious to see how well this works and observe the properties of the other universe.

Peter: *He stands next to where Tony is sitting on a stool. He’s nearly vibrating in excitement as he stares down at the phone on the workbench* I think it’s going to work. It should work. I mean, Tony and I got the battery working again, and then Doctor Strange and Wong seem to finally nail the spell they created together.

Tony: Well, there’s only one way to find out. *He reaches over to push the phone in Stephen’s direction, silently urging him to turn it on*

*Stephen pushes and holds the “On” button and the phone activates.  Everyone waits in tense silence, holding their breath as the phone’s screen lights up and the little bars at the top desperately search for signal. After a few seconds, they stop in a complete set of solid white bars, and the first chime of a notification is the first sign of their success.*

Peter: Yes! *He pumps his fist in the air and instantly turns to high five Tony, who is smiling as widely as he is.*

*Another notification ping from the phone interrupts them, followed by another, and another. Stephen’s eyes widen slightly as the screen suddenly floods with a wall of notifications. There is a large backlog of text messages from the group.*

Various texts:

“Test”

“Hi, Stephen!  Can you see this?  We know you’re busy, but please reply with a simple “yes” if you’re there.”

“Erm…We think there’s some leftover magic here still.  Some weird stuff is happening.” 

Articles texted:  

“Glowing Baby Born in China, Experts Baffled”

“New Genes with Unknown Origin Discovered”

“Populations of Extinct Animal Species Re-Discovered”

“Cryptid Sightings Rising, Mass Hysteria Blamed”

“Russian Oligarch Dragged off of Yacht, Killed by Mermaids”

“Mothman Attracted to Headlights, Steals Car”

“Florida Man Swallowed Whole by Megalodon, Massive Prehistoric Shark Dies of Drug Overdose”

More texts:

“It’s starting to get bad.  Please help if you can.  We know these texts aren’t going through, but we have to try.”

 “We have a problem.  If you ever get this message, please help.”

*The last one is a blurry picture of a Chupacabra, teeth on full display outside of a tent.  The only text with the image is “HELP”.*

*Stephen’s eyes get wider with concern.*

Stephen (quietly):  Oh shit…

Bruce: (concerned): What’s wrong? Did it work?

Stephen:  Yes, but the rifts in their universe got bigger and now they’re being flooded with interdimensional energy.  It’s pure chaos.  *He shows them the articles and pic.*  This is my fault.  I have to get over there and fix it.  *He texts Wong to update him on what’s going on so the older sorcerer can help him get back in case he gets stranded again.  Then, he gets ready to go it alone.*  

Steve:  Wait!  This is an entire other universe getting flooded with energy from our universe, right?  That’s a job for a team.  We’re coming with you.

Stephen (stubborn):  It’s my mess, Steve.  My responsibility.  

*Wong portals in.*

Wong:  Exactly. So, you will take responsibility and resolve this properly with your team.

*Stephen deflates slightly, having been called out.*

Bruce: I will hold down the fort here. Their world doesn’t need a Hulk in it and you don’t have to worry about taking multiple Avengers with you.

Steve:  I’ll let the others know what’s going on.  Stay put for a minute.  *He runs to go tell Natasha, Vision, Clint, and Scott what’s happening.  Sam is unavailable due to an ongoing mission with Bucky while Thor is busy being King in New Asgard.*

Peter: I’ll be going too! As I’m sure you recall, I make excellent back-up.

Tony: *He immediately jerks his stool around to face Peter, face gone completely pale.* What? Absolutely not. Your aunt would kill me.

Peter: But Mr. Stark, the people in that world don’t have heroes to protect them! Dr. Banner is right, we’ll need a discreet team. Spider-Man is perfect for the job!

Tony: I don’t care! Didn’t you learn anything last time? I can’t… *He bites back the words “protect you in a different universe.” Peter grits his teeth and looks away, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest. Tony looks at the other Avengers for help.*

Bruce: Why don’t you compromise? Peter gets to go but you go as well. Who knows what technical issues they’re having over there that they might need help with and a suit of armor sounds more…grounded compared to the rest of us.

*Tony turns to Bruce, brown eyes wide and nearly pleading. He really doesn’t want to go on another mission into the unknown. He doesn’t want to leave his universe. He likes his universe! Likes it so much he gave his right arm for it, in fact.*

Stephen (to Peter):  As long as you don’t go off on your own, kid.  Stay within at least one of our lines of sight.  Deal?

*Stephen doesn’t like any of this, but he figures that since Peter was involved with the Thanos debacle before and several other crises, he’s pretty much a fully-fledged member of the Avengers anyway.  He’s still protective of Peter, but the kid’s growing up quickly and given the collective trauma that they’ve all been through, they should have each others’ backs.*

Peter: *His head snaps toward Stephen, and he gives him a bright grin* Yes! Deal. I promise.

*Tony turns to send Stephen a betrayed look.*

Bruce: Tony, you don’t even have to be gone that long. Stop the major stuff and set up something to help them learn to protect themselves then come home. Wong and Stephen know how to get back and forth between the two universes now plus think of all of the data you collect not only while you travel but in a different universe completely!

Peter: *Hesitantly* Mr. Stark…you know you don’t have to come. You could stay behind with Dr. Banner. We can replicate our work on Doctor Strange’s cellphone on all of our communication devices, and…and I could take all the samples you told me to.

*Tony looked even more crestfallen as Peter spoke. Probably everyone in the lab knew that would never work. He shifted his attention back to the two sorcerers, wondering and gauging if he was willing to put his life and Peter’s in their hands again. It annoyed him that his answer was a confident “yes.”*

Tony: Pete, I know you only want to go there for bragging rights about Star Wars. I cannot in good conscience throw you at Strange with no babysitter.

Peter: *His mouth drops open, offended* Who says I need…? I’m nineteen!

Tony: Exactly. *He puts up his fingers to count* Can’t vote. Can’t drink. I’m going. *The moment the words leave his mouth, he slumps on the workbench and runs a hand down his face tiredly* Pepper’s going to kill me.

*Captain America runs back in with the other Avengers in tow.*

Natasha:  Hey. Steve filled us in. I’ll help hold the fort with Bruce.  I doubt you guys need a spy.

Clint:  Same.  The campus shouldn’t be left unguarded.

Vision:  I shall ensure the smooth operation of Dr. Banner’s equipment by patching myself into the system.

Scott: I’ll go. You guys could use someone who can get into small spaces undetected.

Clint: No Hope then?  

Scott: No, she’s on vacation with her folks…Hank’s gonna kill me for taking his suit again, though. 

Stephen:  Okay.  Looks like we have our away team.  *He turns to Wong*  Happy?

Wong: Very.

Stephen: We should go.  *He opens a large portal to our universe for the group of heroes to go through.  He can already notice that it looks and feels…different there.*

***To be continued***

#doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #doctor strange meta fic #doctor stephen strange #dr stephen strange #stephen strange #multi author #avengers #the avengers #tony stark #peter parker #wong #bruce banner #scott lang #ant man #hulk #captain america #steve rogers #marvel #marvel fanfiction #spiderman

[razzek]

how does your blindness impact your art? I would have thought that it would be impossible for a blind person to work in a purely visual medium like you do, but clearly that's not the case. do you use adaptive tech or specific styles/techniques?

(I apologize if this question is ableist. I would like to know more about your experiences, but I don't have a great grasp of what's appropriate to ask and what isn't. I am not trying to be rude.)

Oooh thank you for asking! :) For the record, I’m pretty chill, I know there aren’t exactly a ton of us blindies out there, so feel free to ask questions with the language you have. :)

Haha oh man, my blindness has impacted my art from the very first thing I drew at age 4. I have a small amount of vision in my left eye; no depth perception, no peripheral vision, no distance, pretty good colors though. Life to me is basically a smear of nonsense colors that I put meaning to through context and location. The closest thing to seeing anything clearly I’ve ever gotten was watching cartoons, which I did obsessively as a kid. So first and foremost, I don’t and can’t draw from life, it makes no sense to me. The bold, simple actions of animation and the heavy stylization has taught me a ton.

Over the years my style has become very much about being high contrast, high visibility. But it also tangles with my love of doing pretty intricate detail work (it’s soothing, what can I say XD). In the past I was strictly a traditional media artist and I drew with what I had on hand. Growing up in poverty, what I had was the pens I used to write with in school and the paper I scrounged out of recycling bins. I basically mashed my face on the paper and worked in light angled over my shoulder that wasn’t too bright. I clipped paper to clip boards so I’d always have something lightweight enough to hold in one hand while I drew with the other. I’d sketch in pencil and ink using my very beefy prescription reading glasses, and everything I do had to be self taught. Life drawing class just doesn’t do anything for the dude who can’t see the model. :D

In 2019 a botched cataract surgery cost me most of my functional vision. I can no longer read print for any length of time, I don’t watch tv, and increasingly I just forget to look at most things with my eyes. But! I have an iPad. :D It took a few years and finding a pair of beefy store bought readers so I can focus enough to draw, but using Procrate and zooming down to the pixel as well as sketching on a black background makes the art still possile. I still draw mostly the same way I did with traditional media. I know brushes could probably be used to make some things easier, but I don’t have the spoons or visual stamina to figure out how to use them except for making quick backgrounds (pro tip: never have your character or object floating in a white void, even a single line to ground them will make your work better).

Color of late has been an interesting thing because I literally do not understand how light and shadow really works. I’ve read up on it but there’s only so much anyone can do when they just can’t see the thing. I like to ink the best and color is just an experiment I’m trying every time I do it heh. I make up little rules of style for myself and do a lot of guesswork based on the full shape I think a thing or character has, if that makes sense. I don’t know how a lot of things work visually so I will make stuff up, guess, or you’ll see some funky style things that happen because I read a medical paper once and just like drawing the holes in an iris (that’s what the lines in characters’ eyes are heh).

I’ll have to make a video sometime. Some of this stuff probably makes more sense in action.

Tl,dr: I mash my face onto an iPad and use 35-ish years of drawing experience to guess at what leoks right. :D I don’t think I would have become an artist if I wasn’t blind, I would have had more to look at to distract me. XD

#blind #blindness #blind artist #haha okay it wasn’t a medical paper I learned about iris holes from #I have half an MA in teaching the blind #and a long standing interest in eyes partly from having to learn enough to explain mine to teachers as a smol Razz #so I know a lot about eyeball anatomy :D #but seriously look up highly magnified scientific pics of eyes it’s rad!

[script-a-world]

If universe A is almost the same as universe B, except B's time flow is 12 times faster than A (1 year in A equals 12 years in B), how does this affect a human from B if they are in A (and vice versa)? Does this make human B ages faster compared to the people in A, even though human B ages normally in universe B? And how about B's body movement speed in relation to environment in universe A?

Tex: Why is B’s timeflow “faster” than A’s? What’s going on to make that happen? Wouldn’t humans from B also follow the laws of physics and age at the 12x rate of their universe just like every other thing in Universe B? What forces of physics would grant humans in Universe B an exception to this rate of time? Why?

How is Universe B’s timeflow “faster” than Universe A’s in the first place? Is A the “standard” rate of time, and how is that calculated within the boundaries of your plot? Could Universe B be a microcosm of A, much like a virtual computer within a real computer?

Feral: Would the human even notice the difference in how the time ran? It’s called Relativity for a reason. Consider Einstein’s train, or the twin paradox. Time is literally different depending on the velocity we’re traveling within our own universe, but we don’t even notice. Because although we live in four dimensions, we really can only manipulate three dimensions. Likely the human from Universe A living in Universe B would not notice the difference in how time passes until returning to Universe A and clearly having aged at a different rate than their friends and family.

Wootzel: I’m going to piggyback on and expand Feral’s answer a bit. 

I would suggest checking out that link Feral gave, and looking up other resources about how time dilation works in reality, because there are laws of physics to fall back on here if you want to go that route. 

The simplest explanation of motion-based time dilation I can think of is this: Time moves more slowly when you move through space more quickly. The closer you get to the speed of light, the more slowly time goes. So, if you orbit a planet for one year (as you, the orbiter, perceive) at a great enough speed that time is going 10% as quickly as on the planet’s surface, and then you return to the surface, 10 years will have passed. In order for time dilation to be this noticeable, you’d need the orbiter to be traveling at ~298 million meters per second, and the speed of light is a little over 299 million meters per second, so… we don’t have that kind of tech! But if one of your universes is moving nearly the speed of light relative to the other, you could explain the time difference in this way.

There’s also gravity-based time dilation, but since you mentioned whole universes, not planets or spaceships, I’m going to assume this one doesn’t apply. 

Buuuut now I’m going to go off the rails. You said your universes are “almost the same” except for the rate of time flow, so I suspect you’re doing more of an alternate universe kind of thing, rather than talking about objects relative to each other in space. So, maybe time dilation in reality isn’t relevant to you. 

In which case, fortunately for you, there are no rules! You have to make them up. You can borrow someone else’s if you want (though I’d caution against intentionally doing so) but really, you decide how this works.

When a being from A goes to B, if they continue to experience time relative to A, they’re going to have a really weird time. They’re going to feel like they’re stuck in slow motion, literally unable to keep pace with anything happening around them, and they’d probably struggle to communicate with anyone around them even if the people from B are trying to slow down for them. I would guess that in this case they’d age at a speed that feels normal to them. If they return home after an hour of their time (12 of the other universe’s, but it would still feel like an hour to A), they’d see than an hour had passed. You’d have to handwave this, if you want this option; there are no realities in which things work like this. I suppose you could say that all the matter in the universe just vibrates at a different frequency? Or blame it on magic. Or just not explain it! There’s not usually a reason to explain things like this if the mechanics are not plot-relevant.

The other possibility would be more like time dilation. One hour spent in B would feel normal! Until they come back and find that 12 hours have passed. If a new parent went to B and got lost for a year, they’d come back to find their child over half grown. (Editing note from a week later, I got this backwards. But, you get the idea.)

My question for you is this: If the universes are “almost the same” minus the time flow, what does that mean? Did they start out the same, but one universe might be millions of years ahead of the other and therefore unrecognizable? Or are you going for a situation in which a character could step into the other universe and almost not realize they aren’t home? 

If the universes are almost the same at all times, what are the rules for that? Let’s say a character who is a new parent goes to the other universe. Maybe they meet their other self (if this is the kind of story where alternate universes have alternate selves). After a short time, they go back home.

What happens if they visit the other universe again, years down the line? Would time have kept marching on quickly, meaning that the other version of themselves is now old or dead? Or would they somehow end up in the corresponding time in B, and still be the same age as their other self? 

I’m already hurting my own head just asking! But, this is the kind of thing you might have to figure out if you want to write a story that bends time. Fans of this kind of stuff will often accept any set of rules, but get really upset if you establish rules and then break them, or contradict yourself without explaining why the contradiction actually works. (If you’re just writing for you, then do whatever you want!)

So… the tl;dr of this is that there aren’t rules, and you can make up whatever ones suit your story. Time dilation/relativity doesn't really apply to other universes as far as we know, because we haven’t found any other universes. So whether this is magic, sci-fi, unexplained, or fully explained, you can do anything with it.

#anne-lida #time #age

[darspeaksout]

Sleep Paralysis: Nightmare On The Plane

July 19, 2023. 3:41 AM.

I had this nightmare on the flight bound for Toronto from Taiwan.

I dreamed that I was in an open office space with people I understood to belong to the same student organization as myself. In front of me were rows of tables and touchscreen monitors, then a kitchenette with black and white cupboards. The office was in the middle of a large room, the rest of which I couldn’t see as it was shrouded in darkness.

The leader noticed a technical issue with one of the computers and asked my colleague to check it out. My colleague tried pressing a button but to no avail. Another colleague tried and no luck either. Suddenly a voice came from the speakers surrounding the office. The speech was incoherent, like how a witness’ voice is distorted in a crime documentary so their identity is concealed. And then the person, whoever it was, began to laugh. It was maniacal.

Panic ensued as we learned that someone from outside the organization was trying to hijack our office. Everything was high-tech so the lights, furniture, and even the kitchen cupboards, were controlled by Bluetooth. Whoever was behind this was making the furniture shake and the lights go on and off. The voice grew louder as fear and dread paralyzed me. I couldn’t move.

For some reason, I understood the identity of this person to be someone who used to be part of the organization but who had a falling out with its members. They were terrorizing us as a way to get revenge for whatever wrong was done to them when they were part of it. They started shaking the ground and I felt like I was in the middle of an earthquake. I called out to them and said, "It's one thing to not like a group of people and to leave them alone. But the fact that you're doing this shows that this is what you’ve devoted your life to. You are miserable. Whoever you are, you're a miserable person!"

I let out a whimper loud enough to wake myself. The guy beside me told me he heard me too. As I was leaving the dream world and entering reality, there was a period of in-betweenness that felt like I was neither awake nor asleep - I was just stuck. Stuck in nothingness. Like a patient in a vegetative state. The numbness I was feeling in my dream manifested into a numbness in my physical body. I tried to move but couldn’t. I remained calm and willed my mind to move my leg, like how Uma Thurman’s character did after waking up from a coma in Kill Bill. It took me two to three minutes of trying before I finally regained control. I would later learn that this experience was my first, and hopefully my last, with sleep paralysis, a state in which your mind is awake but your body remains asleep. In other words, you have mental awareness but are incapable of moving. I would also learn that people with jet lag have a higher chance of experiencing this.

I was able to ground myself back to reality. I could hear the wind breezing past the aircraft and see the silhouettes of passengers, most of whom were asleep. Even though I was now awake, the terror had not left me. In my dream, it felt like whoever the person was (if I can even call it that) had complete control over my mind and body and I was totally powerless to their will. They had hijacked our office and hijacked me. Like a demon taking over my soul, I was under their possession. I never want to experience that again.

I told all this to my seatmate, a Japanese guy I met at the beginning of the flight. He said it was probably because I was sleeping in a bad position which caused me to have the nightmare. The lights slowly turned on and my eyes adjusted to their brightness. Pretty flight attendants going about, serving food and drinks. Interactions in Mandarin and English. People eating, conversing, existing. Normal people on a normal plane. I wonder how many of them heard me shout.

I don't know if my dream was a premonition that someone from the past will mess with my present or if it's random and has no direct link to real life. Alternatively, it could reveal that I think someone in my waking life is becoming invasive and crossing my boundaries. I’m not sure who that would be. And why a dream like this? It’s been years since I was a student. And I’ve dreamed of falling off cliffs, of running away from something but being too slow, of people dying. I’ve had nightmares before but this by far was the most demonic. Apparently during sleep paralysis, it’s common to hallucinate and to even see a demon sitting on top of you. I experienced neither. If there was any demon, I only interacted with it in my dream. I only heard its voice. But hearing it was terrifying enough.

Still seated, I gave myself a hug. I was a kid again. I was seven years old and hiding behind a pillow as a horror movie played on television. Breathe in, breathe out. It’s just a dream. It’s not real. You’ll be home soon, I told myself. It’s over.

I went to the washroom, pleased to see my haggard face in the mirror and not a demon standing beside me. The lights remained on, the cupboard above the faucet stood still. The only shaking I felt was that of the plane as it continued homebound. 

I splashed my face with cold water and felt relieved, knowing that demons only exist in the mind.

#sleepparalysis #nightmare

[cody-apexart]

Day 12

This is honestly more or less a shitting on apex post. I apologies, but srsly. My time in Saigon has been so enjoyable, I really love this city and most of the experiences I have had, but the organization and communication style implemented by apex is making this less fun! Im in a bad mood, and had a bad day. Here’s the play by play:

I feel like the zoom mediation class today really set my day up for failure. Ive been practicing mediation on and off for over half my life— at this point Im pretty particular about what I like, and have tried out a lot of different styles to figure out what I enjoy and what works for me. This zoom meditation class lead by some man in southern California really was more of an hour long lecture of this dude talking about how he used to be depressed but now he isnt, and maybe 15 min of mediation max. I was all about work, like work like jobs, like capitalist meditation. When he said the phrase “hiring managers read your energy body” I knew I had heard enough. Which was kinda for the best, because I started looking at my email and noticed two had just come in from apex! One contained information that said the pottery class on my sched started at 9am not 10am. I had been preped to get there at 10, and at the time I was reading that email, it was already after 9am. I called the studio and they said I could still attend, though I did miss an hour of workshop time. Also, once I got there they said the ceramics wont be ready for 2 weeks. In 2 weeks I wont be here anymore. Why wouldn’t yall schedule this class earlier in my schedule? Also it was noted in my sched that the class would cost 40000 VND, but it was really 400000 VND. I also got an email from apex that I was RSVPd for a tech company business mixer. I hadn’t noticed it on my schedule because it was set for the wrong time, the event was probably entered in EST, so it was coming up on friday instead of thursday and was kinda hidden by the other long event on my friday sched. This email was my first time hearing about it, and since I was already reeling from the meditation class and time change to pottery I was like wtfffff.

Like what type of weird ass shit is that? Send someone with no tech experience to an even that is intended for people working in tech and living in Vietnam? Its just like why send me to crash their party? I don’t really understand, there are so many other places I could talk to strangers without being so out of place, like out of place in a way that kinda feels disrespectful and disruptive to the event. I dont mind being out of place or having to talk to stagers, but it just feels rude to show up to an event I rly have no business being at. Since the story slam, anything that comes off eventbrite I am very skeptical of.

Idk why nearly everything on the schedule feels like its made out to be a riddle. The times are wrong, the addresses are wrong. I can never just do what the calendar says and expect it to work out seamlessly. I feel like I spend so much troubleshooting shit that should already be taken care of.

Also I still havnt been reimbursed for this plane ticket?! Even though I sent the necessary info twice, and it says in a number of places that I can request reimbursement whenever id like. Similarly, the agreement I signed notes 45 days will be given in advance to get a visa if necessary, I was given 6 six businesses days notice. Like all of this is just causes what feels like /unnecessary/ stress, unless that feeling is all part of the program too? Im trying to just learn a lesson in loosing control.

Anyway, I went a little rouge today and didnt go to capoeira. I was emotionally exhausted, and my ankle is a little weird and clicky from walking so much. This is the first activity ive skipped-- I probably wouldnt have skipped it if I didnt already do the class last week, but knowing how intense it was, and how bad I felt, it was the right decision for me today. I cant wait for this upcoming day off. Two weeks non-stop is starting to get to me.

I went to a later screening of the movie since my evening was free, and wow, another movie centered around a traumatic pregnancy experience. The main character miscarried during a robbery at 6 months. I watched the trailer this time to avoid this type of thing, but it didnt reveal that plot point. actually the whole movie was actually about really toxic abusive relationships, but the trailer made it seem like a comedy. Anyway this was less fucked up than the abortion horror movie, but still fucked up. okay, but also the main character did ceramics, and i did a ceramics class this morning...was that planned? how curated are these days? I think this trip is the only time I have ever been in a movie theater without a friend or companion. Watching movies alone is totally new for me, just like how ive literally never used a pottery wheel before today. Also mark making scares me so painting the ceramic bowl I made was notably difficult for me. I am incredibly grateful for these experiences despite everything i just vented about.

#Cody Herrmann #Outbound to Ho Chi Minh City