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sharkneto · 1 year

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What would be Number’s reaction to learning Reginald is an alien?

You know, I've thought a bit about what he'd think about learning he's not totally human, but I hadn't thought about the Reggie angle.

I think it's a bit of information he legitimately wouldn't know what to do with. Like, as Klaus would point out, it makes perfect sense - how could a man like that be anything but inhuman? But Five has such a specific and complicated relationship with Reggie - he's both huge and tiny in his mind. This figure that's defined so much of his childhood and shaped who he is, that he's set himself in opposition to. It's important to him and his identity that he's classified Reggie as "just a man" and a shitty father. Now you introduce that part of why he's been so uncaring and pragmatic and cold is because he legitimately isn't human? Sure, they joked about it as kids, but this still comes from fucking left field. How the fuck do you react when your father figure and abuser turns out to be a goddamn alien? It's a messy, messy thing he'd have to process -- or not process. I think it's a thing he'd say "doesn't matter" if any of the siblings asked him - he was still shit, wasn't he? He doesn't get a pass just because he's an alien - while he spirals a little bit trying to figure out what that means for what his relationship with him is/was.

Anyway, bonus snip of the angle I've thought about this from in regards to Five finding out he's not exactly fully human himself, featuring some creative liberties with how genetics works.

Amanda looks up from her laptop with a frown as McKenzie plops into the seat next to her with a noisy sigh. The Union bustles around them, the other students oblivious to ‘Kenzie’s apparent bad mood. “You good?” she asks, turning back to her paper that refuses to write itself.

“My experiment didn’t work.”

She looks up again, eyes widening in sympathy. “The big genetics one? The one worth half your grade?”

“That would be the one!” McKenzie says, slouching in her chair and letting her head fall back dramatically.

“Oh my god, what are you going to do—”

“I mean, it mostly worked. I had enough data to do it all and present but one sample was totally fucked and my TA couldn’t figure out what was wrong so my statistical accuracy was—”

Amanda smacks her arm. “I thought you fucking failed!”

McKenzie rolls her eyes. “Who do you think I am? I got extra samples just in case one got fucked so I wouldn’t be fucked. And I’m choosing to believe it was one you got for me from someone at the physics lab. I know I swabbed right, I got good cells.”

The crisis not the crisis Amanda thought it was, she relaxes. “Maybe you fucked your reagents,” she defends, although she’s not a biologist and it is entirely possible her favor for her friend is what messed up the experiment. Cells are tiny and alive and so outside of her interests, she doesn’t know what they need to be happy or whatever. She jammed swabs into the boys’ cheeks at the lab, shoved those into the tubes ‘Kenzie gave her, and then delivered them.

“I did the same thing for each sample, boom, boom, boom, assembly line style. If I fucked that part they’d all be fucked and I would have actually failed.”

She shrugs. “Well, sounds like we’re going out tonight either way, celebrating the end of that project from hell.”

Her friend straightens with a coy grin. “You know me so well. Juan’s has fishbowls tonight.”

“I cannot do fishbowls again, I almost died the last time we went there. If I even think about that shitty margarita I’m going to hurl…”

It’s not until Amanda has returned to her paper (that still tragically hasn’t written itself) and McKenzie has left to find a snack to munch on around distracting her that she realizes there might actually be a further implication to McKenzie’s failed experiment sample.

She sampled the boys at the lab.

Which included a certain person who can do the fucking impossible and teleport.

“Paper so boring it melted your brain?” McKenzie asks as she returns and breaks Amanda from her thoughts. She drops a basket of fries between them.

“How was your sample fucked?” Amanda asks.

She frowns. “Since when do you care about bio? It’s not theoretical, so you don’t care.”

“Maybe I want to defend my honor as a sample-taker.”

McKenzie acquiesces with a shrug. “It didn’t amplify right. All the others had bands in the right spot in the gel, which makes sense because every human on Earth has the gene, but this one’s band was like six hundred base pairs bigger. The primer was scuffed for the PCR or the sample was degraded or some shit so it went weird.” She pauses. “Although then it should have been nothing or smaller, not larger, if it was falling apart…”

“What’s the gene responsible for?”

Her friend raises an eyebrow at her, a fry paused in the air on its way into her mouth. “Who are you, caring about genetics? You usually glaze over when I’m talking about this stuff, like how I nod along and think about Love Island when you and Taylor get into physics crap.”

Amanda shrugs, hoping it’s nonchalant enough. “Your experiments usually work, I’m curious.”

McKenzie sighs. “Whatever, I never get to talk about this shit, and it’s really cool. It codes for proteins involved in cell maintenance and DNA repair. So if it wasn’t user error on the sample, which it had to be because it’s a super conserved mechanism across the animal kingdom for how we’re all still up and multicellular, they’re either in big trouble and going to die soon or they’re a freak of nature and probably should get studied for cancer implications or something. A clump that big, if it’s actually functional, means they’re probably either making really shit copies of the proteins or they’re making a shitton for some insane cell maintenance.”

“What would they need all that maintenance for?”

“The point of it is to not get cancer, right? If you’re keeping all your genes in order to copy right, then you have happy healthy cells that aren’t mutating and dying to save you from how shit they are or mutating and not dying and they’re multiplying like crazy to give you a lovely tumor. I guess having an overactive system like that would be great if your constantly stressing your cells out? But if it was doing it like that like this sample implicates, you’d have to be inhuman. A real freak to have a functional gene like that.”

Like if you were ripping through space on a regular basis. That seems like it would stress the cells out. “Can I see a copy of it?”

“For real? Yeah, here, I’ll send it to you…” McKenzie shoves the fries aside to pull her laptop out. “I should have fucked my experiments earlier if it made you actually interested in genetics…”

The email appears in Amanda’s inbox a couple minutes later, after McKenzie has pointed on her screen why the image is weird and comparing it to the regular samples.

Amanda has one last question: “Did anyone else keep this?”

“Did anyone keep my fuck up? No, Amanda, you’re so weird. And I’m not either, I don’t need a bad sample taking up room on my hard drive. Project is turned in, it’s flagged as an outlier in my results, and I’m sure my TA isn’t going to hang onto it. Why would he?"

Good.

Amanda isn’t really sure what to do with this info that she is pretty sure proves Five isn’t totally human. Or at least has some weird shit going on, which makes sense when he can do what he can do.

She decides it needs to be in his court. McKenzie hadn’t thought anything of the results, and – to be fair – they could really be from an experimental error. But the fact that Five was in the sample group and that, for all her distractions and partying, McKenzie is usually meticulous when it came to her lab work makes Amanda think it’s unlikely just that.

So, she prints out the results, shoves them in a manila folder, and then deletes the email and files.

She catches Five at work the next morning. “Hey! Number!”

He pauses in his math to glance over his shoulder and nod a greeting before turning back to his whiteboard.

“Can we talk for second?” she asks as she dumps her bag in her cubicle, digging the results packet out.

“Shoot.”

“Over here.” She jerks her head to the conference room.

He frowns but follows. “Everything good?” he asks when she closes the door behind them.

“Yeah,” she says. She thrusts the manila envelope forward.

He cautiously takes it but doesn’t open it. “What is this?”

“You remember McKenzie’s big project for her genetics class?”

“Sure, when you shoved q-tips down our throats.”

“Swabbed your cheeks. Yeah, that one. Um. You had weird results, and I thought…” Amanda trails off as Five just stares at her. His expression is unreadable.

“I thought it was anonymous.”

“Yeah, it was. Like, she knows who she got samples from, but the samples themselves weren’t labeled. But…”

“But?”

“She had one sample that was wonky. I don’t totally understand it, and she and the TA assume she messed up the reagents on it, so they don’t think anything of it, but…”

“But?”

“I sampled you and you’re, um. You. With the Jesus birth and everything.”

Five’s expression doesn’t change. He glances down at the envelope in his hands. “You think the weird results are me because of my powers.”

“Yeah.” She shifts slightly.

“And you printed them out and gave them to me in a dramatic envelope because…?”

“I didn’t know what else to do. Felt like if it was something explaining how you’re… different, it should be yours. I deleted the files and I think McKenzie will, too, once her grade is finalized. That should be the only copy.”

He nods and turns the envelope over in his hands. He still hasn’t opened it.

“So, um. Yeah,” Amanda says as the silence stretches.

“This is the one copy?” he confirms.

She nods.

“Cool. Thanks.” He straightens and walks past her, dropping the packet in the garbage as he exits the conference room. He doesn’t look back.

Amanda looks after him as the door hangs open. She follows him a minute later, almost running into Sarah as she’s unlocking her office.

The envelope stays in the garbage, unopened and to be forgotten.

Maybe that’s for the best, Amanda decides.

#number's relationship with reggie is so specific and complicated #anything that shifts it - shifts that dynamic - is huge for five #and learning reggie is an alien is such a fundamental *shift* in how he has to think about his dad #it's an angle that could be used to let him off the hook - which luther would do depending on where he's at in his journey #but five absolutely would refuse to do that #alien or not he still put them all through that shit #but it makes it so much messier and five's usual tactic when things get emotionally messy like that is to pretend to ignore it #while silently obsessing over it by himself #rob would have some work to do there #anyway enjoy the snip it's a thing i've been thinking about for months but never actually wrote down #snips #jt #number #amanda

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lostlibrariangirl · 1 year

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11 April - 100 days of productivity - 100/100 This is it! Completing another 100 days of productivity, starting with a short course of Python for a bootcamp test! I am impressed! Just started the course and I cannot believe how light and not verbose it is. I am flirting with Data Science for a time now (my Library Sciences degree is helping with these thoughts), and see how Python is really like is making me to seek more about it. Yes, I work with Java, and I am still learning it, so it will be a big challenge to study both (and I know that it is better to learn one language at a time), that's why I will think very well before do it. My test for the government job is coming, and this application is very important, it can help me to get another job, a better one, which will provide me more time and peace to study, so these 2 next weeks are crucial for me... There will be a lot of posts from my messy desk, my study routine, and my readings. I hope to keep up my productivity <3

#daily life #studblr #studying #study blog #study motivation #100 days of productivity #100DOP #100 dop #100 days of code #python learning #software development #Dev Life #study desk #study #motivation #Study like Hermione

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b737m · 1 year

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Part 5: What do I think?

Although Boeing’s desire to make the 737 Max as competitive as possible as quickly as possible is understandable — especially in a duopoly marketplace like narrow-body jet planes. The industry that they are in cannot afford to put the desire for quick profit over safety. Thousands of people fly in Boeing and Airbus jets daily, and these people must be assured of their safety. Now, not all the blame is on Boeing, the pilots in Lion Air and Ethiopian Airlines both made mistakes in handling the erroneous activation of MCAS. Some blame can be placed on the FAA, which was not as engaged as a regulatory body needs to be in the certification of a new plane. These issues appear at this point in the timeline to be rectified.

The FAA now has more oversight over aircraft manufacturers and the certification of new aircraft. It requires the disclosure of safety-critical information to the FAA, so that a system like MCAS cannot be concealed in the future. The legislation expanded the FAA's oversight and included whistleblower protections for the future. This legislation also includes other safety-related and oversight protections and requirements that will result in more scrutiny of new planes in the future.

The issues at Lion Air and Ethiopian Air are less clear-cut. With the increased scrutiny of new aircraft, it's more likely that pilots will be trained on new planes before flying them. But the safety issues at Lion and Ethiopian Air run far deeper than can be accurately covered here, so we will leave it at with better training, pilots will be better able to respond to incidents.

MCAS has been modified, it is no longer more powerful than a pilot could be. It takes data from both AoA sensors, and if they disagree, MCAS does not run instead, a warning is shown on the controls. MCAS can no longer repeatedly run as it did before, it will only run once, preventing the sine curve flight path that was seen with the crashed planes.

There are a lot of points in the timeline we’ve discussed that Boeing could have done a better job, however, I’d like to focus on the way that Boeing handled their messaging in the aftermath of the Lion Air crash.

I would suggest that Boeing fully release the information they have on MCAS along with training information on the 737 Max. With the training, they put out an update to the way that MCAS functions. They can require that pilots complete the training before being allowed to fly the Max again. Doing this voluntarily could go to build goodwill with the regulatory bodies — and anyone who may wish to sue or prosecute Boeing. Showing that they recognize that they made a mistake in how they initially rolled out the 737 Max. This alone should bring about a quicker end to the saga. If Boeing grounds the plane when the first report comes out about the potential future casualty rate of the 737 Max, and then trains pilots on MCAS and adjusts its functionality, Ethiopian Air ET302 may never crash.

I believe this is a utilitarian approach to resolving this issue. While Boeing may face more severe punishments (Like fines or prosecutions), it may be able to salvage its reputation. Not least of which, the 157 people who died on Ethiopian Air ET302. This benefits society more and certainly allows for a less messy end to the 737 Max saga. Being forthcoming with this information allows Boeing to protect their reputation, it may even prevent the damning documents detailing inside conversations about safety and requests for training.

Boeing doing nothing at this juncture leads us to the present where Boeing denied culpability and changes only came as a result of the Department of Justice investigation and congressional hearing.

Should Boeing follow the first suggestion with the exception of altering MCAS, they may just be prolonging the time until the next 737 Max crash happens. This only serves to draw out the investigation process, and could end up being worse for Boeing, as questions then could be raised as to why Boeing did not alter the operation of MCAS when they created the trainings.

Bailey, Mark, and Keven McAlester. Downfall: The Case Against Boeing, Netflix, 2022, https://www.netflix.com%2Ftitle%2F81272421&usg=AOvVaw3CSSsbMZpxvie5HD6N85Nq.

"Boeing - News Releases/Statements." Boeing, 22 Mar. 2021, https://boeing.mediaroom.com/news-releases-statements?item=130336.

"Downfall: The Case Against Boeing." Netflix, 2020.

"FAA to reform new airplane safety approvals after 737 MAX crashes." Reuters, 19 Dec. 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-boeing-737max-congress/faa-to-reform-new-airplane-safety-approvals-after-737-max-crashes-idUSKBN29304N.

"U.S. authorities to assist in investigation of Ethiopian Airlines crash that killed 157." The Washington Post, 10 Mar. 2019, https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/trafficandcommuting/us-authorities-to-assist-in-investigation-of-ethiopian-airlines-crash-that-killed-157/2019/03/10/29b693ec-4349-11e9-8aab-95b8d80a1e4f_story.html.

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kuuhakublank00 · 2 months

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Updates, I guess? (Part 2)

So well, after joining the company, I started staying at my uncle's place since they wanted us on-site and not doing work from home every single day. So the routine was to go and come back with my uncle. I also didn't like the family much (except for my cousin sister) because they were extremely right-wing and that didn't exactly sit right (heh) with me. My sister is still in school so she doesn't understand this stuff yet. Plus, our interests sort of match. I also introduced her to novels and Percy Jackson, before which she didn't ever like reading. So, that feels really good, honestly.

I also had a mini existential crisis because I found out that I don't want to be a data scientist because that is a research heavy role. But since I still like machine learning (ML) I could go for Data Engineer or ML Engineer. But these require SDE experience as well. So I had an existential crisis for about 2 days where I questioned my master's plan, talked to friends and seniors about it, questioned whether I should've gone for placements (I couldn't because the deadline to sign up for that was long gone). In the end, I decided to stick with my master's plan unless I found a good opportunity to get experience for a couple of years before going for master's.

But anyway, slowly, the routine changed to: get up at like 7:30, go to the office, work till 5:30/6 pm, come back, rest for a bit, work on college essays and the application processes till 2 am or something, sometimes 4 am if I had to meet the deadline, and then sleep. Missed 2 family trips, worked my ass off. It was really bad in Dec 15-20 because I had deadlines of like 5 colleges in that period. Dec 20 was also my project submission deadline for the internship, so that definitely didn't help things.

A few other things that happened as well during this time:

Made a new friend, my ex's best friend in fact. Wasn't really trying to hit on her, we just became friends naturally. Then she freaked out and stopped talking. Later talked about it, it was a little messy, but now we're okay.

Talked to my ex, told her how she made me feel as well back then. She apologised. But even now, since we'd decided to be friends, she doesn't really say much. I also sent a voice note to everyone that was important to me in 2023 on New Year's, and she just left a like on it. Proceeded to say "Did not know how to respond but did not want to leave you on read". Decided then that I wouldn't really keep in contact with this person anymore. We've had 2 conversations after that, pretty short ones.

Went to my college's farewell. It was nice to my friends again in person. I'd really missed them. Stayed in the hostel illegally as well lol.

Saw a post for an internship in machine learning at a startup. The company looked legit so I applied. Figured what's the worst that can happen, right? If I don't want it, I can just reject them. My uncle's company had offered me an extension after all and was even offering to start paying me. But then I got a callback for an interview, aced it, had another interview, and did good in that as well! Finally had one final interview call with the tech lead, and I got selected! I couldn't believe it! I had always wanted to get something without an influence on the hiring side. No referrals or anything. And this was my first paid internship as well. And I honestly couldn't have done it without my friends and family. Even more so, these guys hired 3 interns, and they want to convert 1-2 of them. So I hope all goes well and they convert me. This could be the opportunity that helps me gain experience before going for a master's. Plus, the funding would be really nice.

So yeah, that's been going well. I'm 2 months into this 4 month internship now. I think I'm doing well? I hope I get converted. I also moved to Bangalore because the freedom is nice, my hometown is not exactly for people my age? (it's a very slow city and I cannot for the life of me deal with that. Perhaps it would be something I would crave when I get tired of the hussle, but right now, I definitely do not like it). Trying to find friends here. That's hard.

#kami sama rambles #open diary #trying to journal

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javaburncoffeeget · 9 months

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Java Burn Review: (Exposed 2023) Scam Pros, Cons, & Legitimate!

It can be rather a puzzle for Java Burn sellers and in this article, I'm going to put, in plain English, why Java Burn is so pressing. You can discover Java Burn in a variety of styles, shapes, Java Burn Review and sizes. There is some other alternative. Java Burn is just a part of life. This is a cool way to get a Java Burn that fashions a tone for a Java Burn. There's something messy as to that. You don't see many of those around anymore. It is said, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." I've been through hell and high water. I expect you can see where this is going. Now they are confused. In spite of that, I'm confused. We're always on the go.

This will take a good many considerable time up front. It is the type of knowledge you're looking for. There's one other very vital reason that Java Burn wins. I went to the Java Burn Show last year. Java Burn is a very trying for a number of work crews. I'm rather educated on Java Burn. I gather Java Burn works as much as I'm looking forward to hearing your experience on Java Burn. The voices in my head tell me that you have a partiality applicable to Java Burn. I have one way that I teach most ordinary people because it's straightforward. Nonprofessionals who collect Java Burn are indeed a dull sort of regular folks. Java Burn was putting a squeeze on my budget. I certainly wasn't one of those. I found it better to create Java Burn. I, truly, have to be required to know Java Burn.

Apparently my step-mother heard my frustration and took Java Burn to the store and returned it. You might have to realize that the best way for you to start Java Burn is that way. It is how long it takes to begin seeing results with Java Burn. I jumped ahead a bit although it's been said so many times it has become devoid of meaning. I can't concentrate. Java Burn is not something that should be left to this as long as most of these are fairly underlying to any good Java Burn. This just went crazy for some reason. You won't get something for nothing. What are the secondary advantages of Java Burn? It's only going to help us more with Java Burn wherever it makes me sleepy. Very well, I wanted more germane to Java Burn. Yeah, the Java Burn market has declined a lot recently.

Recently, you should use Java Burn. But, then again, "Everyone has stupid thoughts, only the wise keep them quiet." They got banned. Collecting Java Burn is a quite popular hobby among many helpers. I'm going to provide you with examples so don't worry. But, that's not a lifetime commitment. Accomplices are passionate as that regards to Java Burn. I get a good feeling in return or there's no wonder Java Burn is going in the toilet. They only noticed marginal improvement. I put a lot of work into my Java Burn. What was it? It should be a final option. I gather that it will be hard to find an inexpensive source for Java Burn is that it gives you just enough Java Burn. It appears as if almost everybody today has an online store. I gather that is on track. I have been doing that since last week and I cannot believe how much better it is. You can actually entertain yourself with Java Burn.

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prof-peach · 3 years

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Hi Professor! I'm a long time fan of your work and helpful advice. I'm super curious on where you stand with trainers keeping a Shaymin as a companion/ on their team. I know having legendary mons can be dicey (and not safe in some cases, let's be honest). But Shaymin seems super docile. I can see them being super great to have around for trainers who love gardening. I guess what I'm wondering is if Shaymin is a legendary that shouldn't be captured/ owned by trainers!

Sure, I can see the appeal, they’re a cute pokemon, super small for what they are, and relatively tough in battle.

This however doesn’t change my advice, I wouldn’t keep one, at least not in a pokeball, registered or logged into a computer, or with any geographical information. Poachers will come for it. They always do, and registering them means there’s a physical record of their location, so they’ll hack the info, and track it down. Villains don’t play fair, they’ll get to them one way or another. It’s partially why we believe shaymin migrate, they’re not the strongest, and so this keeps them not only on the move from predators, but also they do a vital job for many locations by promoting growth and vitality in otherwise quite barren locations. Many believe the Pokemon migrates to already beautiful flowering areas, but upon closer inspection, we know they only stop into these locations to collect seed for the next move. They use these already beautiful places to stockpile, then go ahead to sow that seed elsewhere. Around 70% of their pit stops will be to locations that lack flowers (and thus food for local wildlife) to repopulate it. Statistically they’re more likely to visit areas that were once messy and unloved, that get a clean up. So fly-tipping areas that get cleaned are a regular place to see suddenly covered in blooms. They’re not big enough for the shaymin to stay long, before they hop to the next site of rest.

When a shaymin migrates, often in a group of between 2-6, they eventually find a new field. Those they visit will break into magnificent bloom, flowers sprouting and growing in a seemingly impossible way at first. While they spend time in one field of flowers, they collect seed, stashing it in their leafy cloaks, ready to disperse in the next location. Once the seed has been dispersed, they use their powers to accelerate growth. It’s such a fast process, it went unnoticed for a long time. Especially with the rarity of the species, it just wasn’t documented until very recently.

It’s because of this that I don’t advise these Pokemon are kept. They account for a long of the environments health, and often in captivity wilt and die far quicker, being unable to partake in their social and habitual behaviours.

That being said, if they’re a free Pokemon, and they just hang about with you because they like you? Well heck man that’s just lucky and you shouldn’t worry too much, just don’t let loads of people see them. Try not to post a tik-tok of it falling into its water bowl all cute like or something haha! Not everyone is kind, so be safe.

Care tips. Low humidity, fresh water, mist before bed, looooooots of sun. These suckers can take the heat! Nanab suits best for their flowers as snacks, watch their leaf colour, changes will indicate needs, for example, more iron or nitrogen may be needed if they get blotchy pale leaves.

I’m not saying keep it, but if it’s free and sticks around, what you gonna do, right? It may just migrate minimally and keep returning to you to chill.

They are the only legend I’ve worked close-ish with, and so my final note. You mentioned how they seem super docile. They are in fact not all like this, can confirm they bite, they’re escape artists, they scratch, got a real harrowing, bone chilling scream on them too, really cuts through you, makes it hard to focus on anything. Dunno what that’s about but they all can do this, leaves you dizzy for a bit if you spend too long listening. One of the other researchers working intensively hat project didn’t have their sound cancelling headphones on right, passed out after a few minutes working with the screams. It sounds like we put them through pain. No no. We simply weighed them, and did short, reasonably fast examinations to gather data, then let them go. The SECOND you don’t have your hands on them, they stop it. As if it never happened just mosey off. Complete fools. Plus we’re sleeping on the fact that there perfectly capable of attacks, just as every Pokemon is. Cute cannot be misinterpreted as harmless, all trainers must remember, their partners are still Pokemon, all of them, be it a rattata, or an entei, can do serious damage to others. I mean, have you seen a happiny? Have you seen how much they can lift despite their small cute appearance? All species can be docile, but also all species have defence and offence methods to survive. Must be effective if they’re still around right?

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

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ashcroft-writes · 2 years

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what did you think of episode 6 of the book of boba fett?

Hoooooooo my first anon ask and it's for my opinion on something Star Wars, the most INFAMOUS of minefields FJKDSJFKDLSFJDSKLFJDSKLFJDKSLFDS

But you know what, who doesn't like having opinions? So thank you for giving me an outlet for them, heh. Readers, please note! This contains spoilers from Episode 6 of BoBF below the jump! If you don't wanna be spoiled... cease reading now.

Also, like, I have a LOT of words, so there's that LMAO

So in Star Wars, I'm actually a really mellow viewer. I actively try to have a good time, avoid opinion screeds, and usually just pick out what I like and move on, even if there's a lot of bad—for me, canon's like a series of fun data points that fic can tamper with if it wants. This is because I know well that Star Wars tends to... well... eventually let people down when they have a lot of high hopes pinned on specific stories or characters and how they want those tales to be told. It's a beautiful, incredible sandbox. But sometimes it's terrible and messy lmao.

"Attachment leads to suffering" Jedi wisdom FJDSKJFDSKLFJDSKL

Anyway, speaking of that... Episode 6... ha, well, I'm going to assume you asked my opinion because I'm a noted passionate fan of BANE BOY! So I'll focus on him.

Genuinely, holy shit, I'm still kind of surprised he finally made it to live action at all! I've long thought Bane is a natural choice for it, since Mandalorian season one saw the showrunners going hard for that wonderful Space Western vibe. Still, I tended to love The Mandalorian best when it wasn't under the weight of cameos, and made us love it for what it was, not what fanservice it might provide.

BoBF has, I feel, struggled sometimes with standing on its own two feet despite a few genuinely engaging moments (I am a huge sucker for all the Tusken tribe cultural developments.) So as time went on, I started hoping less for a Bane cameo. I was actually quite content with the wonderful hyperdosage injected directly into my veins in Bad Batch anyway. The guy works exquisitely well in animation! I knew bringing Bane to live action would require a very particular and careful application of real world effects and CGI, and a really talented actor that's good with emoting despite alien makeup (Doug Jones was my own personal fancast, if anyone was wondering. Google an image of him as Abe Sapien in Hellboy, and like, you'll get it... and also how Bane's makeup might have been...)

Anyway, er... BoBF just has not excelled strongly in the effects department on occasion. Sometimes, it looks really good, I swear! And sometimes... it *exceedingly does not*, and it's almost baffling to me.

But never mind all that, because then I saw HIM. APPEAR.

I had thoughts.

They went like this.

1: ohhhhHHHHHHHHHHHH! HOLY SHIT IS THAT. THAT MIRAGE IN THE DISTANCE. HAT? DID I SEE HAT?!?!?!?! HAT!!!!! They didn't! No way!!!

2: Okay, we know the makeup isn't gonna be stellar; they don't have the budget and/or they seem to be going for A New Hope level of alien effects a little too strongly elsewhere. Brace yourself. Breathe. Breathe.

3: HAT. HAT. IT'S. IT'S MY BOY. HE HAS *ARRIVED!!!* I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING. (incoherent screaming)

4: Oh thank the FORCE they kept his voice!!!

5: Ohhhhhhh noooooooooooooooooooo my boy's faaaaace oh no I knew it wasn't gonna be good but oh noooooo (focus on the hat, Ashcroft, the hat is good, focus on the HAT)

6: DON'T YOU DO IT COBB. DON'T YOU DO IT. I LIKE YOU, BUT MY BOY IS AN ASSHOLE. HE WILL SHOOT YOU.

7. My boy's haaaaands nooooooooooo

8: *Cobb noooooo I told you!!!* *sobbing* (Oh thank goodness he might not be dead)

9: Well it could have been worse.

And... "well, it could have been worse!" being my main takeaway emotion regarding the execution... I'm almost laughing, because that's exactly what I expected. I dreamed big, then got sucker punched by something neither near as flawless as it was in my headspace nor as awful as it could be. There's Star Wars for you! Really a monkey's paw in wish fulfillment, hahaha. My biggest hot take: Filoni and crew *desperately* need to consult with the internet's boundless monster/alienfuckers to capture *all* of why Bane's so well liked before they do his makeup again. :P Regardless, Bane's appearance, no matter that, has given me several awesome canon data points I am particularly enamored of.

1. He has survived the Empire like a damn ornery cockroach, and I love that!

2. From his dialogue, it could be read that he's neither a fan of Fett NOR the Empire, and like, my stories were going to explore this anyway, so that works out great for me and my readers. I love that also!

3. ALL THESE YEARS LATER. AND HE IS STILL SUCH AN ASSHOLE. FJSKLFJDSKLFJDSKLFJDSKLFDS And with such a flair for the dramatic... the most old westy entrance he could have had, and he did it. Bless. Anyway, I can work with all this *just* fine.

I confess, I am slightly nervous forming and posting opinions on the matter before BoBF finishes out—what if I get MORE monkey's paw wish fulfillment??? We'll see what I pick up like I'm a magpie hunting for shinies and what I ignore. I actually already had some notions for my story's Bane this far in the future that don't entirely line up with what's going on here anyhow. Truly, all that matters to me is that everything has the potential to inspire more story thoughts.

Thanks for your question, anon! :D Y'all are welcome to share your own thoughts on BoBF in my inbox too everyone; just keep it civil.

#ashcroft answers #star wars #book of boba fett #bobf spoilers

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thedevilsmemes · 3 years

Text

PINTEREST QUOTES I USE IN MY MUSINGS BOARDS ~ A SENTENCE MEME - PART 2

Change pronouns as / when needed to preferred pronoun.

“I do not do justice, I do damage. I do not do empathy, I do damage. I do not do forgiveness, I do damage. I do not do mercy, I do damage.”

“Like, you can boss me around in sexual situations but you better not try to tell me what to do in regular life.”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m meaner than my demons.”

“If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?”

“He was like a storm.”

“You want to play dirty? Fine, let’s play dirty!”

{ feels an emotion. } “Who the fuck authorised this?!”

“What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

“Judge if you want. We are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.”

“Goddamn right you should be scared of me.”

“They wanted a monster; I decided to give them one.”

“Seduce and destroy.”

“What the fuck is intimacy? How does that work? Letting… people be close to you? What the fuck?”

“You couldn’t kill me if you tried for one hundred years.”

“I’ll do this my way.”

“I am severely emotionally unstable.”

“What, from the bottom of the heart, the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t take any orders. I barely take suggestions.”

“I send my best regards from Hell.”

“I like my coffee how I like myself: Dark, bitter and too hot for you.”

“Me and God, we don’t get along.”

“Be brave, Angel.”

“Self care is drinking three pots of coffee and getting into a knife fight with God.”

{ takes gulp of vodka straight from the bottle } “My day was fine.”

“Have I stabbed you? No. Then I am being nice.”

“Holy Shit! I’M the demon living in my house.”

“Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.”

“I want an ancient elaborate dagger with my name engraved into the blade as a gift. The only romantic gesture.”

“ ‘Are you a top or a bottom?’ I'm a threat!”

“Stop being so defensive! I’m just trying to hit you with weapons.”

“The more knives you have the more valid you are.”

“She’s strong but she’s exhausted.”

“She loves moonlight and rainstorms and so many other things that have soul.”

“My darling, you can’t see it can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then, there are those rare moments when you are both full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.”

“Calm her chaos but never silence her storm.”

“She wears strength and darkness equally well. That girl has always been half Goddess, half Hell.”

“She has been through Hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles.”

“She’s proof that you can walk through Hell and still be an angel.”

“She is both hellfire and holy water. And the flavour you taste depends on how you treat her.”

“Even the mountains can not hold all you have been carrying.”

“Storm with skin.”

“She’s thunderstorms”

“Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

“Sometimes it takes only one act of kindness and caring to change a person’s life.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“Butterflies are the Heaven-sent kisses of an angel.”

“She who is brave is free.”

“Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty.”

“Shut up. I wear heels bigger than your dick.”

“Girls who run in heels should be feared.”

“Family is everything to me.”

“She’s an old soul that believes in chivalry, romance, and love.”

“I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember.”

“I run on coffee and grace.”

“I’m glad I’ve got boobs… the last thing I need is people making eye contact with me.”

“Tell me to put on my big girl panties one more time… and I’ll take off my thong and strangle you with it!”

“Please read all my posts in a sarcastic tone. You know, for full effect.”

“I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it, go away.”

“If I offend you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears, eating chips and working on my tan.”

“When she is happy, she can’t stop talking. When she is sad, she doesn’t say a word.”

“Music becomes my best friend when nobody else understands me.”

“Act like a lady, think like a boss.”

“I know I have friends but I feel I have no one to talk to about the shit that goes on in my head.”

“She was special. She combined a mean angel and a kind devil.”

“So much pain for someone so young.”

“She’s one of a kind.”

“Red lips and wine sips.”

“Brave girl, it’s time to love again.”

“She is intelligent.”

“Sometimes, when I say ‘I’m okay.’ I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight, and say, ‘I know you’re not.’ ”

“Because I’m not the kind of girl guys fall in love with.”

“I fear I will spend my life, waiting for a love story that doesn’t exist.”

“You’re a woman, use it; bring every man you meet to his motherfucking knees.”

“She denies it but, the truth is, she’s falling in love with him.”

“Hearing your heels click on the floor sounds like power.”

“She loves deeply, regardless of the love she gets back in return and it’s both her biggest strength and biggest weakness…”

“Experience raised her. Hurt taught her. Neither defined her.”

“She was not fragile like a flower was, she was fragile like a bomb.”

“Life is short; make every hair flip count.”

“I’ve always been someone who looks ‘too deep’ into something or someone. That’s because I realised from a young age that there’s always more than what meets the eye.”

“If I say ‘first of all’ Run away because I have prepared research, data, charts, and will destroy you.”

“Underestimate me, that’ll be fun.”

“You think I’m sarcastic? You should hear what I don’t say!”

“She’s a combination of sensitive and savage.”

“Stay classy, sassy and a bit bad assy.”

“She’s battling things her smile will never tell you about.”

“Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?”

“I was told I was dangerous… I asked why? They said ‘because you don’t need anyone.’ That’s when I smiled.”

“She’s been through hell and came out an angel. You didn’t break her darling, you don’t own that kind of power.”

“Watch me. I will go to my own sun and, if I am burned by the flames, I will fly on scorched wings.”

“Her messy hair is a visible attribute to her stubborn spirit. As she shakes it free, she smiles, knowing wild is her favourite colour.”

“She’s strong. But in the back of her mind she doesn’t think that she was meant to be this strong for this long. And she wonders if there is a man out there, somewhere, who understands this.”

“She’s not for everyone and she knows it. People find her different and strange. She dances in the rain, she laughs when she cries and loves through her pain. People fear the unknown and they never knew a girl like her.”

“Don’t tell a girl with fire in her veins and hurricane bones what she should and shouldn’t do. In the blink of an eye, she will shatter that ridiculous cage you attempt to build around her beautiful bohemian spirit.”

“You provoke her until she roars and then get upset at her for becoming the monster you created.”

“Rip out his ego with your fresh nails.”

“She isn’t the sunrise; she’s the fucking sun.”

“You can’t touch a woman who can wear pain like the grandest of diamonds around her neck.”

“Watch your tongue around her. She will bear her fangs and tear you apart with all the grace of a Queen.”

“If you won’t embrace her madness, then you’ll never taste her magic.”

“Beauty may be dangerous but intelligence is lethal.”

“She is water. Powerful enough to drown you, soft enough to cleanse you, deep enough to save you.”

“Heavy is the crown and yet she wears it as if it were a feather. There is strength in her heart, determination in her eyes and the will to survive resides within her soul.”

“I wish that I could say that I am a light that never goes out, but I flicker from time to time.”

“Spoil me with loyalty. I can finance myself.”

“Shoutout to all the people with brown hair and brown eyes! We basic as fuck but we cute!”

“I feel a nap coming on.”

“Is horny an emotion?”

“I just really like thigh-highs.”

“Even though she looks innocent, she is really a perverted demon.”

“She didn’t sob or wail. Her pain was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.”

“I don’t rise from the ashes, I make them. I’m the whole fucking fire.”

“Beautiful but destructive.”

“I’m aiming for the ‘she’s a badass and cute as hell but I wouldn’t touch her without asking’ look.”

“Loving me must be so fucking hard and I’m so sorry.”

“Some women are lost in the fire. Some women are built from it.”

“You glow differently when you’re actually happy.”

“She’s magic, that one.”

“Kicked out of Hell.”

“Red hair: the crown you never take off.”

“You’ve got a fire inside.”

“She doesn’t need a warrior, she is one. What she needs is a devout heart, and strong arms to hold her after her battles are won.”

“You are the love that came without warning: You had my heart before I could say no.”

“You want battle? I’ll give you war.”

“True evil is, above all things, seductive.”

“The Devil’s got nothing on me, my friend.”

“Haven’t I fallen far enough?”

“I’m not like them, but I can pretend.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Now I grow wings and rage, and learn how to kill.”

“Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.”

“Though she be little, she be fierce.”

“I know what this is; It’s just myself, talking to myself, about myself.”

“You underestimate my power.”

#roleplay memes #rp memes #roleplay sentence starters #sentence starters #rp starters #sentence memes

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 107

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,300ish

Summary: The team figures out the monolith and tries to save Simmons

“Do something!”

“Fitz,” Y/N got up and hurried to him. She was afraid to portal, scared of what the monolith might do. “Come on.” She grabbed his arm but he tore it away. “We have to get out of here!”

“Leave me alone!”

He turned and decked Y/N in the face, causing her to tumble down the steps and to the ground. Y/N gently touched her face, pulling her hand back to see blood.

“Fitz! Y/N!” Mack shouted, rushing to grab Fitz from the container.

“Fitz, get out of there!” Hunter yelled, getting the door.

“Are you crazy?”

“Close it!” Bobbi yelled. “Close it!”

“Y/N!” Daisy rushed over. “Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding.”

As soon as Bobbi and Hunter closed the container, the monolith turned into liquid. Everyone was panting.

“Damn it, Fitz,” Coulson murmured, coming into the room.

“I had to know,” Fitz panted. “Had to— had to know—“

“I already lost Simmons to that thing. I cannot afford to lose you or Y/N, too.”

“Trying to get yourself killed?” Hunter wondered.

“Sorry,” Fitz said. “I won’t give up. I can’t give up.”

“None of us want to, Fitz, but…” Daisy tried to say.

“Fitz,” Bobbi knelt down in front of him, “you tried. Okay? You tried your hardest. Everybody knows that.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I missed something. I m… I missed something.” He wiped something off his face.

“What is that?”

“Proof.” Fitz got up and ran to the lab.

“Y/N,” Coulson said, the others turning to face her. She was still on the ground, breathing heavily. “Oh my…” There was a long cut down the right side of Y/N’s face. “Did he—“

“I’ll be fine…” She panted. “I’ll be fine…”

“Come on,” Daisy urged, helping Y/N up. “Let’s get that stitched up.”

Daisy took Y/N to Coulson’s office and Bobbi brought all the supplies to help patch up the cut.

“He didn’t mean to,” Bobbi said quietly.

“I know,” Y/N responded.

“He just misses Simmons so much.”

“I know.”

“It hurts—“

“I know, Bobbi! Just stop, okay?” Tears formed in Y/N’s eyes. “Out of everyone here, I think I understand the most… I lost Bucky… no one could find his body… I was torn. I acted out too. That’s how I’m here… So I understand. I get that now we know Bucky’s alive, but we didn’t then. And I didn’t think he would ever come back… Honestly, at least he has hope. That’s more than I ever had.”

~~~

Fitz showed up in the office not too long later. He had a tablet in hand and pulled up his findings.

“Sand,” he stated. “Not just sand. Impossible sand.”

“The monolith’s case is a clean room,” Mack said. “There’s nothing in there but that rock. Not even dust.”

“Unless you blast it open with a shotgun and contaminate everything,” Hunter retorted.

“That’s not what this is,” Bobbi shook her head.

“Okay, the sand itself, not unusual,” Fitz continued. “Mostly silicone-dioxide particles just like on Earth.”

“Wait, are you saying…” Y/N paused. “You’re saying this sand is not from Earth?”

“Carbon dating show that—“

“It predates the Earth by a billion years,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi.

“So you think the rock is a portal?” Daisy asked.

“No. No, I’m proving that it’s a portal. Okay, to another planet, a-a very old planet. A crack in space-time that carried Simmons away… and carried the sand back. Which means…”

“She’s out there,” Coulson stated. “But it’s been months.”

“Yeah?”

“She could be long gone from wherever this thing dropped her.”

“Yeah.”

“She could be dead.”

“Yes.”

“But we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” / “You’re damn right.” / “For sure.” / “Yeah.”

“Okay, Fitz, what do you need?” Y/N asked. “I can get Tony to bring some things as well.”

“Uh, uh, well, uh, more historical data. People have studied this thing for centuries. I need an expert on quantum mechanics and Einstein-Rosen Bridge theory. And a— a sandwich would be nice.”

“I might have an idea,” Coulson said, nodding, “about the other things.” He turned to Daisy and Mack. “You two, stay with our new inhuman guest. Be here for Dr. Garner’s assessment. Building that team is still the priority.”

“What did I say?” Daisy commented, her and Mack exiting.

“Bobbi—“

“I’m on this with Fitz,” Bobbi responded.

“Yeah, haven’t you been on this with Fitz the whole time? Hiding his trip to Morocco, covering for him on a constant basis?”

“Have I?” She smirked, walking out.

“And you know where you’re going,” Coulson said to Hunter. Hunter nodded and left.

“What about me?” Y/N asked. “I’m staying until Simmons is found. I’ve already texted Tony and he’s on stand-by if we need anything.”

“With me.”

~~~

Coulson explained that they were going to make a visit to a Professor Randolph. He was an Asgardian, hiding out on Earth. The team had a run in with him once when Y/N was on a break. Bobbi and Fitz joined them.

“I’m sorry,” Randolph said, reading a book inside of his cell. “I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Coulson questioned.

“Potato, puh-tah-toe.”

“And your reason?”

“The nightly news, cities flying into the atmosphere, government task forces, and now the public is freaking out about alien outbreaks. Pretty crappy time to be on Earth if you’re not a local, so I am staying low. And of course,” he chuckled, “there is my current situation.”

“Destruction of property, public drunkenness,” Bobbi clarified.

“And here I thought that Asgardians could hold their drinks?” Y/N retorted.

“Yes, well, Asgardians can generally hold their drink. It’s just, well, one night I tried to hold all the drinks.”

“Asgardians are also strong, right?” Bobbi questioned. “You could easily break out.”

“What? And miss dinner?” He chuckled. “Oh, no. Yes, norse prisons are surprisingly evolved—decent food, comfy bed, extensive library, and no attention being drawn to me. Come back in a few months, why don’t you? Maybe then I’ll be in the mood.”

“Can’t I just call in Thor?” Y/N muttered to Bobbi.

“We don’t have a few months,” Fitz stated.

“And neither do you,” Coulson said. “I don’t have to remind you that I saved your life. Though I did just mention it in case you forgot. But I’d still have no problems contacting those task forces you mentioned. I bet they’d go bonkers to have a real life Asgardian to dissect in their labs. I don’t know how comfy you’d be there.”

“Why, Agent Coulson…” Randolph said, standing up. “Are you threatening me?”

“I wouldn’t call it a… well, yeah, I guess I am. That’s absolutely a threat.”

“You’re different now. You know that?”

“One must accommodate the times or things get messy.”

“What’s with the hand?”

“Things got messy.”

“Well… you’ll have to cover my realize. And if there is a portal, which I will have to see to believe, you are diving into very dangerous waters here.”

“We live in the dangerous waters,” Y/N commented. “And have been for a while.”

Randolph exhaled sharply. “Alright. Well, it’s not like you’re giving me any choice.”

He quickly tore off the door and the alarm started blaring. He grabbed his coat and they began walking out. Guards rushed in.

“He did it,” Randolph said, pointed at Coulson.

Coulson gave a nervous chuckle and a smile.

~~~

After talking themselves out of it, they took Randolph to the base. He walked around, observing the monolith.

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but it looks like your regular, old—“ He stopped when the monolith turned to liquid then back into a rock. “Oh. How often does it do that?”

“It’s random,” Fitz answered.

“No. No, no, no, no. It may seem random. But… something is clearly triggering it.”

“I’ve checked it against tides, relation to the sun, rotation—“

“On this planet. So you have no idea how to control it. Why come to me? I’m no interstellar-travel expert. I’ve never even studied gravitational lensing or zero-point energy fields or quantum-harmonic oscillation theory.”

“Yet you know all those words you just said,” Bobbi retorted.

“And you’re scared of portals,” Coulson added. “You’re scared of being dragged back home through a portal. Y/N?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Y/N replied with a smirk.

She walked up to Randolph, opening a portal behind him and pushed him into it. Another portal opened on the other side of the room, causing him to exit from it.

“Impossible,” Randolph panted. “No human should be—“

“I’m connected with the Tesseract,” Y/N interrupted. “I can channel it. And I know it’s on Asgard and I’m pretty sure if I tried hard enough I could send you back there.”

“What I think, Randolph, is that in your drunken stumble through history, you’ve probably investigated every story involving a portal,” Coulson said.

“And I’ve seen you eyeing all of your exits,” Bobbi added. “My knee brace, wondering if you can get away with it. The only reason you came with us was to confirm its existence.”

“And destroy it,” Randolph confirmed.

“You’ll have to go through me,” Fitz stated.

“And I could. Literally. But, then, I don’t know what amazon woman and robot hand are capable of these days. And don’t get me started with the Avenger over there. So I will help you get her back. I’m not entirely heartless. But if I do, I want your word that we will demolish this portal and no one passes through it again.”

“I’ll sleep better at night,” Coulson confirmed.

“Good. Well, I’ve investigated a lot of these wormhole rumors. But that’s all they were, rumors. None have panned out. So we know nothing of its origin.”

“Kree, maybe.”

“And this parchment was found with it,” Bobbi said, grabbing the paper and handing it to Randolph.

“Well, hello,” Randolph said, studying the parchment through the bag it was in. “I’ve seen this.”

“It’s a common Hebrew word.”

“Yes. What else do we know, Mr. Fitz?”

“Uh, well, the monolith changed hands a lot,” Fitz explained. “Germanic tribes, spent the hundred years’ war in France. But before the Napoleon era, it was moved again. I lost track of it somewhere in—“

“England.”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

“Because I have seen this word carved into the walls of a castle in Gloucestershire, England, in 1853. To the plane!” Then Randolph started for the door, when no one followed he turned around. “W—am I allowed to say that?”

“Let’s all go to the plane, I guess,” Coulson agreed.

~~~

While on the flight over to England, Y/N was talking to Tony.

“Are you sure you guys don’t need my help?” Tony asked. “I could get there at the same time as you still.”

“I’m sure, Tony,” Y/N replied. “The lead we’re currently following seems solid.” Y/N sighed. “I just want to bring Simmons home so that I can come home.”

“You’ll find her. I know you will.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

From the doorway, Fitz cleared his throat, drawing Y/N’s attention to him. He looked guilty.

“I need to go, Tones,” Y/N said. “I love you.” She hung up, slipping her phone in her pocket. “You need something, Fitz?”

“Yeah, I, uh…” Fitz started, coming to sit beside Y/N. “I need to apologize… I shouldn’t have hit you back like I did. You were only trying to help… I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Fitz.” She rested a hand on his knee. “I completely understand… I was the same way when Bucky died. Or, I guess, when I thought he was dead… So I get it, Fitz. I think that’s why Coulson called me in.”

“Or cause he missed you. You and May left, he lost his hand and Simmons… I think he just wanted a little of the good old days back.”

“Sadly, after we find Simmons, I can’t stay… I need some more time. I’m doing much better than I was. But I don’t think I can ever go back to this life full time. I don’t think it’s in the cards anymore.”

~~~

Randolph led them into the castle. They looked around with their flashlights, searching for the carving.

“Yes. Yes, yes,” the Asgardian exclaimed. “I came here for a costume ball. That was the pretext, of course, ‘cause I had heard rumors of travel to the stars. Found it all to be nonsense. But it was a fun party.”

“The carvings?” Coulson questioned, trying to get back to the point.

“Oh, right, right. Of course. So I was here admiring the stone work, and…”

Randolph turned and shined his flashlight on the stones over the door. There was the word, carved in to one of the stones.

“The same as the scroll,” Fitz stated. “Death.”

“Maveth,” Randolph clarified. “Yeah, one of its translations is actually ‘death by punishment’.”

“Could mean no trespassing,” Coulson suggested.

“A Hebrew warning carved in an English castle struck me as odd. Out of place. Seems ancient.”

“But you stopped looking into it?” Y/N asked.

“A man dressed as an owl, of all things. I got him drunk enough to admit that no travel to other worlds was even occurring. Just ritualistic killings.” Everyone continued to look around as Randolph talked. “En, the whole thing stunk of half-baked satanism. Just some fabrications to entice new members. And, well, there were fire dancers. I got distracted.”

“Here’s another one,” Coulson called. “This is why I got rid of all the SHIELD logos on our vehicles. It’s like screaming for attention.”

“About time,” Y/N muttered.

“You know, there’s an ginormous eagle symbol on top of our jet,” Bobbi pointed out.

“Yeah,” Coulson agreed. “Sometime I can’t help myself with the cool.”

Coulson then pushed a stone in the wall, causing part of it to open up. Revealing a passage way.

“You certain about this?” Randolph asked. “It does say death by punishment.”

Fitz and Y/N went in, examining the walls. They made their way down the passage. Eventually it led to a round room, with old equipment in it.

“Okay, well, this wasn’t on the last tour,” Randolph said. “It’s an odd shoe for architecture this period. Definitely built after I was here.”

“Reminds me of the bunker under the Louvre,” Bobbi commented.

“What? There’s no bunker under the Louvre. That’s a joke, right? You messing with me.” Bobbi simply glanced his way and walked to the other side of the room and Y/N chuckled. “Alright, great. Now I’ll have to check.”

Fitz knocked on the metal he was studying. “It’s late 1800s,” he stated.

He pushed the lever up. Suddenly, electricity crackled and the room lit up.

“Still got some life to it,” Coulson commented.

“I hear water,” Bobbi added. “Could be a stream underground, maybe hydroelectric power.”

On the other side of the room, Fitz hit the control panel on the wall and Randolph pulled down another lever. Suddenly, a round floor panel, in the center of the room, disappeared. They all walked up to it, looking down.

“This looks a lot like it was made to hold—“

“The monolith,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi. “This machine was designed to control the portal, to open and close it at will.”

“Do you know that, or is that just what you hope it to be?” Coulson asked.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

Sighing, Coulson pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Mack, I need you to load something onto Zephyr One and bring it to us.”

“What exactly am I bringing, sir?” Mack against on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah… you’re not gonna like it.”

~~~

It wasn’t long before Mack and Daisy arrived with Zephyr One and the monolith was being lowered into the hole. Fitz and Randolph were getting the systems working. Bobbi was guiding the container down, monitoring the monolith on the tablet she was holding.

“Zephyr One,” Bobbi called into the comms, “you’re clear to retract.”

“Wow. Room full of ancient gack,” Mack commented as him and Daisy entered the room. “Kind of reminds me of your office, director.”

“Realistically, what are the odds of this thing working?” Daisy asked.

“If we were realistic, we never would have gotten this far,” Coulson said.

“With anything,” Y/N added.

“Well, Andrew Garner thinks I need to be more so,” Daisy said. “He recommended three months observation and counseling before reassessment for Joey. Says I’m reckless.”

“Wonder what he thinks about me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Coulson said. “He probably just meant that—“

“He said you’re desperate,” Daisy added.

“What? He didn’t say that. Did he say that?”

“I can read minds, Phil,” Y/N said. “He definitely said that.”

“You can read minds, too?” Randolph pipped up. “Why is the Tesseract gifting you all these things?”

“Long story.”

“Let me guess,” Bobbi came up to them. “I’m struggling to come to terms with physical limitations and losing my sense of self instead of redefining it.”

“No,” Daisy said. “He didn’t mention you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, he did. That’s what he said.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yeah.”

“Mack,” Fitz called. “Mack, push that lever.” Mack turned to a lever. “No, the one— the one that’s— the one that’s down. The one— the one beside it. Push it.”

Mack did as directed while Fitz did the same thing on the other side of the room. The gears starting turning, the machine started working. The room began to tremble and the monolith turned to liquid.

“Fitz, it’s working!” Y/N exclaimed.

Fitz knelt down beside the whole, pointing a flashlight into it.

“It’s staying open,” he stated. “Light! I need more light!”

The trembling began to get to Daisy. Y/N watched with concern as she groaned and put her head in her hands. She went over.

“Daisy?” She quietly called. “Daisy, what’s happening?”

“We got a problem!” Mack shouted.

“I need some bloody light!” Fitz yelled.

“Fitz!” Coulson called, tossing him a flare gun.

Fitz shot it through the monolith. Daisy held her head as she began panting.

“The gears have locked!” Mack yelled. “Bobbi!”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she saw blood coming out of Daisy’s nose.

“Daisy!” She exclaimed. Y/N caught her as she fainted, slowly lowering her down.

“Skye?” Coulson called, coming up beside them. “Hey.” The trembling and machine stopped. “Skye, are you okay? Skye?”

“It’s Daisy,” Daisy replied softly.

“What?”

“It’s Daisy now,” Y/N responded.

“You’re really having a hard time with this, huh?” Bobbi wondered.

“Damn it,” Coulson muttered. “Yeah. Daisy, hey.” Daisy lifted her head up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she replied. Y/N helped her sit up. “I’m better. That pulsing sound was killing me.”

“What pulsing sound?”

“Are you serious? It was deafening.”

“The vibrations,” Y/N whispered.

“What?”

“The vibrations. You can sense them. And there was so many, that it was too much for you. It’s kind of like, how if you’re all thinking at once, especially about a similar think, I can sense it.”

“Maybe, Y/N’s on to something,” Bobbi agreed.

~~~

The team was currently trying to find a way to put the machine back together.

“It’ll just rattle apart again,” Fitz stated. “We have to reinforce the connections.”

“Reinf— look, most of the workings are under the ground,” Mack said. “We just can’t tear the castle down. And actually, we’re lucky the room is shaped this way, or the machine might have shaken it apart on top of us.” The two bent down to try and pick a piece of the machine up.

“Wait. Wait. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s the point. Quantum harmonic oscillation theory, like the professor said.”

“I know that look,” Bobbi commented.

“It’s a strange shape for this time period because it’s made to resonate, uh, to—to—to—uh— create a-a quantized field within the stone.”

“Fitz, you’re talking, but we’re not totally following,” Coulson said.

“The room is a speaker. The machine is an amplifier. Uh, a sub—subsonic frequency to resonate with the monolith.”

“You saying you figured out a way to fix the machine?” Mack asked.

“No. I’m saying I figured out that—“

“We don’t have to,” Daisy said, glancing at Y/N. “I can do it. I can open the portal myself.”

“Daisy, no,” Y/N said. “It’s too risky.”

“If I can open the portal and help save Simmons, then I’m doing it.”

~~~

The team added a frame with a lot of rope, to lower some into the portal and bring them back.

“Well, turns out we’re standing in the in the middle of the world’s largest subwoofer,” Randolph stated.

“Yeah,” Mack agreed.

“If the point of the machine was to resonate the room at a certain frequency,” Daisy said, “I can do that.”

“And you can replicate it?” Coulson asked.

“Kind of drilled into my brain.”

“And it could kill you,” Y/N stated, not at all happy with this plan.

“How long do you think you can hold it?” Coulson asked.

“Maybe a minute,” Daisy responded.

“If it’s too much, you pull back. I can’t lose you, too.”

“I got this.”

“Here we go,” Bobbi said, reentering the room with a machine. “Camera and data sensors are hard-lined back to us through a cable. No signal loss that way.” She clipped it onto a cable to be lowered into the portal. “If Daisy can hold it, we’ll get a visual of the other side.”

“That’s what we’re looking for,” Coulson said before turning to Daisy. “Alright, you listen to me. You take care of yourself. We lose that probe, nobody cares.”

“Uh, I’m confused,” Randolph spoke up. “What exactly is she planning to do here?”

Allowing her space, everyone moved as Daisy readied herself. She held both arms out to the sides, causing the parts of the old machine to tremble.

“Sorry,” she strained an apology. “Still tuning.”

After getting the right tune, she aimed at the monolith. Causing it to turn into liquid.

“Hold it open as long as you can,” Fitz stated.

Everyone turned to him. He had clipped himself onto the cable. He ran towards the liquid monolith.

“Fitz, no!” Coulson shouted.

But Fitz jumped into the monolith, disappearing.

“I’m going in after him!” Y/N yelled.

“No!” Coulson held her back. “I can’t lose you anymore than I already have.”

“But I’m the best chance to get back if Daisy can’t hold it long enough.”

“You don’t know if you can do that.”

“And you don’t know if I can’t.” They stared at each other. “If Daisy looks like she’s ready to give out, I’m going in. And no one can stop me.”

The trembling and the cable rope moving was causing the structure that was keeping it steady to lose up. Mack, Bobbi, and Y/N all quickly grabbed onto a different piece, trying to keep it steady.

“Damn it. Pull him back,” Coulson ordered, rushing around to where the cable was. “Get him back here.” He pulled the lever and the cable began spin back up.

“I can’t hold it!” Daisy shouted.

“Y/N, don’t! We can’t lose the both of you!”

Before Y/N could jump, Daisy stopped the trembles and the monolith burst into pieces. Every looked down in the hole, hoping, praying, for something to give. Suddenly, Fitz uncovered himself and pulled Simmons up. Daisy fell to the ground, Mack and Y/N rushing to her.

“You did good, tremors,” Mack said. “You did good.”

~~~

Y/N brought everyone onto Zephyr One quickly. Simmons needed to be checked out immediately and Fitz needed to be monitored in case of radiation. They laid Simmons in the containment module, hooked up to IV’s and allowed time to rest. Randolph and Y/N were standing outside as Coulson came to update them.

“They’re gonna be okay,” he informed. “No sign of radiation or infection. Fitz would never have found her, but she saw the flare. We brought a woman back from the dead today.”

“Yes,” Randolph agreed. “And, happily, you kept up your end of the bargain. The portal is destroyed.”

“Thank Daisy for that.”

“Yeah. Agent Coulson… what exactly is Daisy?”

“The call themselves inhumans.”

He looked surprised. “I have not heard that word in a very long time.”

“You know it?” Y/N questioned.

“I know more about them than I do you. You are something else… The Tesseract you said, that’s how you get your abilities?”

“Part of them.”

“Interesting.”

~~~

They were landing at the base when Y/N pulled Coulson aside.

“You’re leaving,” he stated.

“I am,” she replied.

“Anything that I could do to convince you to stay?”

“No… Look, I’m sorry, Phil, that I left and May left. But sometimes you need to tap out. SHIELD can’t be everything in anyone’s life… Even yours.” Y/N pulled him in for a hug. “If you need anything like this again, I’ll be there.” She pushed herself away, walking back towards the portal she opened. “Just don’t go opening anymore portals to other planets any time soon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Phil.”

~~~

“But she’s safe? There’s nothing wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” Y/N shook her head.

“Wow,” Tony leaned back. “That’s… that’s—“

“A miracle. An absolute miracle.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to join the team again?” Tony pulled Y/N in-between his legs. “You didn’t miss it at all?”

“I missed them. But not SHIELD. Plus,” she gave him a kiss, “I wouldn’t get to do that as much as I would like.”

Tony hummed. “Good. Can you do it again?”

next chapter >

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angelsdemonsducks · 4 years

Text

you don't like the ending (we'll find one that's yours)

“Logan,” Virgil says, softly, slowly, “you do know that you’re allowed to be a person, right?”

In the aftermath: Logan, Virgil, and things that have gone unsaid for far too long.

(ao3 link)

When all is said and done, Logan sits in his room for a little while, hands folded neatly in his lap, staring at the ceiling. It’s painted with a star map, charting the cosmos: Ursa Major by Ursa Minor, Perseus reaching for Andromeda, Canis Major ever lapping at Orion’s heels. They glow with a bright, otherworldly light against a black backdrop, and they change as the seasons turn, too, change and wheel overhead as the real night sky does.

Though, of course, the night sky does not actually change. Just the human perspective of it. Stars are ever-constant; it is the Earth that is not, human perception that is flawed.

Roman helped him set it up, years ago. The remembrance lies bitter and heavy on his chest.

He is not hurt. He is not hurt, because he does not feel. There is a pounding in his head that refuses to abate and a stinging in his eyes that blurs his vision, but such physical reactions will stop eventually, if he ignores them for long enough. He is practiced in this, by now. He is not hurt.

He firmly believes that there is nothing that cannot be solved with the application of the scientific method. This past hour is no different. As with all else, it can be analyzed through the lens of conducting an experiment.

He lays out the memories neatly in his mind for review.

Hypothesis: His physical presence and interaction with the other sides is not necessary for Thomas to maintain a healthily logical existence.

There are too many variables for this to be considered a controlled setting. All of the others have so many emotions, and as such, are prone to outbursts and unpredictability that may skew any data collected. He is accustomed to this, after all this time, and has learned to set his expectations accordingly. But there are two variables that can be defined with little difficulty: the independent and dependent variable. The variable that he manipulates, and the variable that changes due to this manipulation.

Independent variable: His presence in the discussion. Keeping in line with the video game theme the others seem to be holding to, he presents himself as an information-dispensing “NPC,” or “non-player character,” as he understands the definition to be, in an effort to be less intrusive in the conversation. Half the time, he does not bother to speak.

Dependent variable: How Thomas, Patton, and Roman react to this method of interaction.

It is difficult to collect data for this variable. There are no numbers to record, nothing that is quantifiable. He has to rely purely on qualitative data, collected based on observation and description. It is discomfiting, how much room for error and misinterpretation that leaves, but he is confident in his ability to be a passive, unbiased researcher. He records what he observes and nothing more.

Data: They seem tentatively interested in the beginning, curious about the novelty of his chosen method, if nothing else. Roman even takes the time to read the text box aloud. But the intrigue soon wanes. He is cut off both literally and figuratively, skipped, dismissed at every turn. When they allow him to speak, it is with begrudging toleration. When he offers silent information, they ignore him. When Deceit takes his place, they do not notice the difference.

His hands clench into fists, ever so briefly. He stares at the ceiling. At the shining stars that Roman helped him to paint so long ago as he grinned and chattered about nothing in particular, paint splattered on his clothes and all across his face. Roman is always so fussy about his appearance that Logan had thought that existing in such a disheveled state would irritate him, but when he pointed it out, Roman laughed, reached out, and swiped his paint-coated thumb across his cheek, loudly proclaiming that now, they matched. And Logan felt so warm, inside and out, despite the fact that he keeps his room at a cool twenty degrees Celsius.

This is a digression. Completely irrelevant to the experiment at hand. He pulls himself back to the pertinent memories.

From the data, results can be extrapolated. It is a simple matter of deciding whether the information gathered supports or refutes the hypothesis. He has collected more than enough observations to make a decision.

Conclusion: All data suggests

His mind stalls. He shakes his head. This should be easy. Data from experimentation, and conclusions from data. That is how the scientific method works.

Conclusion: All data suggests that the hypothesis is correct, and that his presence is neither necessary nor especially welcome amongst the others. His duty can be safely performed from a distance. Further experimentation will be needed to determine the best way in which to do so.

His eyes trace the patterns of the constellations, steadfast and sure, and he thinks about his failures. Thinks about how he attempted to be as unobtrusive as possible, how he ensured that if his input was unwanted, the others would be able to ignore him, to block him out. He gave them the option, so even if he were capable of feeling upset, he should not be. He should not care that they do not care, that they listen to him when it is convenient for them and discard him when it is not.

He doesn’t care. It was simply part of the experiment. It is simply one more hypothesis confirmed. Never mind that he was not actually attempting to conduct an experiment at the time. Approaching this issue in this manner imposes order on disordered, messy thoughts, forces him to think objectively.

Logan sits in his room, and he breathes.

Then, there is a knock at his door, rushed and urgent. He frowns. After how that disaster ended, he would have thought that Patton would be with Roman. And… he’s almost sure it wouldn’t be Deceit-- or should he be calling him by his name now? He is unsure; he was not present for the admission, which may imply a lack of permission, but Deceit confessed in front of Thomas, which may in fact imply blanket permission for all the occupants of his mindscape.

A dilemma to ponder later, perhaps. He stands, rolling his shoulders back, and crosses his room to the door. He opens it, and it’s not Patton, and it’s certainly not Deceit.

It’s Virgil.

He’s pale and hunched over, shoulders set defensively. His eyes are red, as if he’s been crying, and Logan opens his mouth to query as to whether there is something he can help him with. He did think it odd, that Virgil chose not to involve himself in the discussion at all, though clearly he has been affected by it to some degree. Of course, Patton is really the one to go to with issues of the emotional kind, but perhaps he tried and found Patton to be busy with Roman. Logan is a poor substitute, but if Virgil desires his help, then he will try his best.

“Virgil,” he says. “Is there something I can do for you?”

For a long moment, Virgil stares at him. Stares, and says nothing.

“Can I come in?” he asks at last.

Logan furrows his brow, but stands aside so that he is no longer blocking the door. “Of course,” he says, and Virgil slips past him and into his room. After a moment of hesitation, he closes the door behind him and turns to face Virgil, who stands in the center of the room, looking up at the ceiling. He looks small, somehow, and lost.

“How are you?” Logan tries. “I understand that there were some topics raised in that discussion that may have left you uncomfortable, assuming that you were listening to it, and I can’t imagine that you were particularly pleased with all aspects of the outcome. Is there anything that you would like to talk about?”

Virgil stares at the ceiling for a moment longer, and then looks to Logan. Logan is taken aback by the expression of devastation that flickers across his face, the sorrow in his eyes and downturned corners of his mouth.

He is expecting him to say something about Roman’s outburst, or about the perils of trusting Deceit as Thomas seems ready to do, but what comes out of his mouth instead is,

“Can I, um, hug you?”

Logan blinks. Plays back the memory in his mind to ascertain that no, he did not mishear. And then, uncertainly, he spreads his arms.

Virgil does not often ask for physical affection, though he is less shy about it now than he once was.

“Yes, certainly,” he says, “though, you know that Patton is--”

He is cut off by Virgil all but launching himself into his arms; all the breath escapes his lungs in a single gust. Virgil’s arms snake around his back, holding him tightly, and he buries his face in his shoulder. For a moment, Logan is completely at a loss; he does not seek out hugs because he does not need them, and typically, nobody asks him for one. In fact, he can’t quite recall the last time that he had such extended physical contact with someone.

It takes a few seconds for him to react, to bring his arms up to encircle Virgil in turn.

“I don’t want Patton,” Virgil mumbles into Logan’s shirt. “I want you.”

“I--” Logan blinks a few times, rapidly, in succession. Because surely, that does not make any sense. Patton is, objectively, the best at hugging out of all of them-- though, actually, now that he considers it, should Deceit be considered for the position, by virtue of having three pairs of arms? Would that make for a more efficient hug, if there were more arms to perform the action? How would one go about measuring such a thing?

Regardless, Patton is certainly the most practiced at giving comfort, and as the center of Thomas’ emotions, it can be assumed that he has the best mindset for it. Why, then, would Virgil claim to seek him for comfort rather than Patton?

“I’m not sure that I understand,” he admits softly, and Virgil pulls back a bit, enough so that they are face to face, though he doesn’t let go entirely. His hands are gripping Logan’s shirt so tightly that they are sure to leave wrinkles.

“I care about you,” Virgil says fiercely. “I care about you so goddamn much. And I want to spend time with you. I never, ever want you to spare me your company, or whatever the fuck that was all about in there.”

He feels a sudden, deep urge to adjust his glasses, to fiddle with his tie, to do something to place distance between himself and Virgil. But somehow, he can’t bring himself to let go of his grip on Virgil’s back. “I… see,” he says, a bit helplessly, even though he does not see, at all. “Is this about what I said to the others? That wasn’t--”

“That wasn’t what?” Virgil interrupts. “That wasn’t what you meant? Just because I wasn’t participating doesn't mean I wan’t listening. It was pretty obvious that you did mean it, Logan.”

Logan frowns. He is growing tired of being interrupted today. Logically, there is no difference between when the others did it and when Virgil does it, except for the fact that he is physically interacting with Virgil, so there is no reason for his sudden... exhaustion. That’s all it is. Exhaustion.

He’s not sure why he expected Virgil to let him finish his sentence.

“I was going to say that it wasn’t important,” he corrects. “I--”

“No,” Virgil cuts in again, and he must react visibly, because Virgil grimaces apologetically. “I’m sorry for talking over you,” he adds, voice a bit softer. “But I kinda don’t think you’re going to let me say what I need to say if I don’t, because you’re wrong, Logan. You are so, so important.”

“I was not attempting to imply otherwise,” Logan replies. “I never said that I wasn’t important. I am very aware that I am important. With an absence of Logic, Thomas’ life would surely devolve into chaos. I am well aware that my fulfillment of my duties is necessary for Thomas to live healthily and successfully.”

For some reason, this only seems to upset Virgil more. “No,” he repeats, frustrated. “I’m not talking about Logic. I’m talking about you, Logan, as a person. You are important.”

Is… he speaking circularly on purpose? What exactly is he trying to say? Usually, he finds Virgil to be refreshingly clear when compared to the other sides, so this interaction so far has been oddly frustrating.

“I’m not certain I understand what you’re attempting to convey.” He pauses. “What is the difference between me and Logic? I am Logic.”

“You’re Logic,” Virgil says, “but you’re Logan, too, and, and I just wanted to make sure that you were okay, because they kept talking over you and shutting you up and you didn’t even go and argue with them in person and then you said that, and I got--” He pauses-- “scared.”

Logan believes in the pursuit of knowledge, in enlightenment over ignorance. But somehow, some part of him dreads asking what Virgil means.

“Scared of what?”

For a moment, Virgil is silent, and something like panic flickers on his face. Then, he closes his eyes and breathes. Logan recognizes the pattern: in for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight.

“I’m scared that you don’t know how much we love you,” Virgil says, opening his eyes. His voice is quiet and nervous and vulnerable. “How much I love you.”

For a moment, all he can register is Virgil’s arms around him: their weight, their warmth. That, and the silence in his room.

Evidence shows that stars produce sounds, though not any that fall within the human range of hearing. The stars on his ceiling, however, are utterly mute.

“I don’t understand,” he says weakly. “I--”

“Logan--”

But no, he has had enough of being overridden. There is only so much he can take before something has to give, and he reached that limit over an hour ago, about when Roman slashed through his contribution like it meant nothing, when Patton pressed skip as if he meant nothing, when Deceit yanked him out of frame and replaced him, and he didn’t bother to put up a fight because no one was listening to him and if he couldn't accomplish anything by speaking, maybe he could by shutting up since that seemed to be what everyone wanted anyway--

And now Virgil is here, saying what? It doesn’t follow, logically, and if there is anything which Logan cannot abide, it is faulty logic.

“No,” he says, and Virgil, mercifully, allows him to talk. “No, that doesn’t make sense. If there is anything that has become glaringly apparent recently, it is that none of you want or care for my presence. No, I’m not done,” he adds, cutting off Virgil’s protest before it can begin. “I am not upset about it. I do not get upset. But logically speaking, the fact that I cannot impart even the most basic of facts before I am interrupted or overruled points to the conclusion that none of you particularly care about what I have to say. Which is, and I will reiterate this point, fine, as I do not need any of you to like me in order to perform my function adequately.”

Virgil stares at him, and then steps back, releasing Logan entirely.

“Oh my god,” he says. “That’s not fine.”

Logan sighs.

“Didn’t I just say that it is?” he asks. “There’s no need for you to be experiencing emotional distress over this matter, Virgil.”

“You just told me that you think none of us care about you, and you think I’m not going to experience some fucking emotional distress?” Virgil stops suddenly, shaking his head. “Wait, no, this isn’t about me. Logan, we’ve been treating you like shit. You’re… you can be upset about it. You know that, right? Because it’s not fine, it is so far past fine that we are in, like, Canada or some shit, and you don’t have to act like it’s fine.”

“I am not ‘acting like it’s fine,’” he says. “It is fine, and I’m not upset. I do not get upset. I’ve told you this. I don’t understand--”

“You do get upset, Logan, you are literally getting upset right now, and that’s okay, you can be upset, you have every right to be upset--”

It’s one interruption too many.

“I am not upset!”

The shout hangs in the air long after the words have left his lips. His chest is heaving, he notes dimly, and his hands are clenched. His ears are ringing, too, and his head pounds.

Oh.

Oh, no. He can’t do this. He can’t do this, and he especially can’t do this now, with Virgil in the room, because he is not supposed to be like this. He has tried so hard not to be like this, has tried so hard to be the cool, rational embodiment of logic that he is supposed to be, but somehow, he continually fails. But it is impossible to reverse time, impossible to erase the outburst now that it has been vocalized, so he stands there, shaking slightly, finding it harder and harder to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“I am not supposed to get upset,” he says eventually, to end the silence more than anything else. “I… apologize. That was unseemly of me.”

“Logan,” Virgil says, softly, slowly, “you do know that you’re allowed to be a person, right?”

He blanks.

“We’re not people,” he says weakly. “We are facets of the personality of a person. My job is to be logical. I’m just trying to do my job.”

Virgil closes his eyes and breathes in his pattern again. Then, he opens them and steps closer. He reaches for Logan’s hands, taking both of them in his own and worrying at the fingers until they begin to relax. Logan stares at them, at his hands in Virgil’s, at Virgil sweeping his thumb across his knuckles slowly and methodically.

“Then let’s look at it logically,” Virgil says. He speaks in that same low tone of voice. It reminds Logan of a nature documentary, one where the narrator uses a soothing, gentle cadence so as not to scare the animals. “Alright?”

Logan nods. He doesn’t trust himself to speak.

“If we’re all just supposed to do our jobs,” Virgil says, “our jobs and absolutely nothing else, then I would be anxious all the time, right? I mean, I already am, mostly, but that would mean that I would only be able to feel anxious. No positive emotions, no happiness. Everything that’s been so good about the past few years, with you guys, I wouldn’t be able to have that. Do you think that’s how it should be?”

His voice remains gentle, but for their impact, he may as well be shouting.

“Of course not!” Logan says. The very idea is incredibly displeasing. “But that’s different.”

“Okay, how is it different?”

“Your ability to feel positive emotions does not hamper your ability to perform your basic function. You can be both happy and anxious, at the same time or at different times. The two are not mutually exclusive.” He shakes his head. “I need to be logical, to be rational, and that is everything that emotions are not. If I allow myself to feel, then I allow my judgement to be clouded, and Thomas cannot afford to have a Logic with clouded judgement.”

Virgil frowns. “But that’s just it,” he says. “You have emotions. You’re not stopping yourself from having emotions. No one can do that. You’re just refusing to acknowledge that you have them. Doesn’t that kind of repression cloud your judgement more?”

His mouth goes very dry. He feels as though his heart has stopped, which is ridiculous, because he knows full well that his heart is functioning properly. It seems to be the rest of him that has stopped working. Drawing breath is becoming increasingly difficult, for some reason, which is frustrating because there is absolutely nothing physically wrong with him and thus, no reason for this reaction.

Virgil… has to be wrong. He’s not repressing anything. One cannot repress something that one does not possess. But then, the point of repression is to make oneself believe that one does not possess something, or that one has not done something, so if one is skilled enough at repression, one might not know that they are in the act of repressing. Which would make one an unreliable narrator, which is a disturbing concept to contemplate, because if one cannot rely on one’s own perception of reality, then what can one trust?

Human perception is so, so flawed. He cannot afford flawed perception.

“I’m not repressing anything,” he says. His voice is a reedy whisper even to his own ears. He can’t imagine he sounds very convincing. “That’s what Patton does.”

Virgil quirks a brow. “Yeah, Teach, I don’t think that’s a, uh. What did you say? Mutually exclusive? I don’t think that’s a mutually exclusive thing. Patton doesn’t have a monopoly on repression.”

“But I’m Logic,” he insists. “There’s nothing there to repress.”

Virgil pauses, and for a moment, Logan thinks that he is about to concede the argument. For some reason, it feels like a hollow victory.

But then, Virgil draws him into another hug. He leans into it, unresisting, but his arms won’t move to return it.

“You’re Logan,” Virgil says softly. “You’re not just Logic, and you’re not a robot. You’ve gotta let yourself be human, buddy.”

“I’m not-- I can’t--” His voice catches, breaks, and he realizes with a rising horror that he has begun to cry. He has begun to cry, and it’s humiliating, because he doesn’t know why, because he’s not sad, not at all, because he doesn’t--

He doesn’t--

He doesn’t feel--

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh.

Oh, god.

He’s such a failure.

“No, no, shh, you’re not a failure,” Virgil says, and that’s just another figurative nail in the figurative coffin, isn’t it, that he’s speaking aloud without even realizing that he’s doing it. “You are the furthest thing from a failure that I know. You’re so good, Logan. Feeling things isn’t a failure. You have to let yourself feel.”

“I don’t know how,” Logan says, broken, almost gasping. He doesn’t want to be saying these things. He feels like he’s losing control, and he’s so terrified. “I’ve never known how. I have to be taken seriously, Virgil, I can’t afford not to be taken seriously--”

There. The admission is out there, out in the world, out in this world that is just the two of them, just him and Virgil locked in an embrace, just him and Virgil as his tears leak onto the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie. Once spoken, they cannot be unspoken, and Logan feels--

He feels--

Oh, how he feels, and how wrong it is--

“I promise, that’s not going to happen,” Virgil says. “You’re allowed to have emotions. No one will think any less of you.”

Is this what devastation is? Is this what a tsunami feels like as it sweeps across the land, washing civilization away? His chest is tight and hot and his eyes are burning and his ears are ringing, and he’s felt this way all along but he’s refused to acknowledge that it was happening because he is Logic and Logic is not feelings, is not listened to even when he’s not displaying unbecoming emotions, so how can he possibly think that letting himself feel would be a good idea?

He doesn’t want to feel like this.

He’s felt like this for so long.

“You already think less of me!” he says. “You, you all, you never listen to what I say, you always tell me to shut up or you ignore me or I can tell that I irritate you even when I’m specifically trying not to be irritating and I don’t know what to do because nothing I try ever works.”

Virgil makes a wounded noise deep in the back of his throat, and his grip on Logan tightens.

“We owe you so many apologies,” he says. “I am so, so sorry, Logan. I am so sorry that we made you feel like we didn’t care. I am so sorry that we haven’t been listening. I am so fucking sorry that we made you feel like you needed to not have emotions just to be heard. I am so sorry.”

And Logan lets go. His breath hitches and chokes on a sob, and he doesn’t hold it back, doesn’t swallow it down and try to forget the urge was ever there in the first place.

He buries his face in Virgil’s shoulder and lets himself cry.

“I’m trying,” he gasps between sobs, “I’m trying so hard but I can’t--”

“I know,” Virgil says. “I know. You’re doing so good. I know we’ve all been shit at showing it, but we love you, Logan, really, and we’re here for you. We’re gonna do better, I swear.”

In this moment, Logan allows himself to believe that Virgil cares. He believes in what his senses can absorb, and the evidence is undeniable; it is in Virgil’s arms around him, holding him safe, in Virgil’s low, emphatic words and the way he sounds as if he, too, is near tears, as if Logan is someone worth crying over.

It occurs to him, then, that Virgil did not come here seeking comfort. He came here to offer comfort to him. All he has to do is accept it. And he shouldn’t need it, shouldn’t want it, because he is Logic and Logic does not need comforting or reassurance, but he’s far past that point already, is already weeping into Virgil’s shoulder, so perhaps it is too late to go back. The thought frightens him.

He doesn’t know how to feel. Has never known how to feel, has always thought that it would be better for himself and everyone, better for Thomas if he just. Didn’t. But Virgil says that he can, and though Virgil can be wrong, he despises deception. Virgil wouldn’t lie to him.

Perhaps this can be a start.

His arms come up, and he hugs Virgil back. Presses up close to him and revels in the warmth even as he cries.

“The others,” he says, “they don’t, they don’t like me and they don’t listen--”

“We’ll talk to them,” Virgil says. “You and me, once you’re feeling better, okay? We’ll make this right. Your feelings are valid and your contributions are important, and we’re gonna remind them about that.” His grip tightens, and when he speaks again, it’s in a whisper, as if to himself. “You’re not alone. I know how shitty it feels to think you are, but you’re not. And you’re not ever going to be.”

And Logan, shivering and shaking in Virgil’s arms, tears still crawling down his cheeks, looks up at the ceiling. At the stars, bright and constant, like a promise.

“Okay,” he whispers, and he decides to believe, if only this one more time.

Hypothesis: They care. And I am allowed to care, too.

Conclusion: Pending.

#sanders sides #ts sides #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #analogical #ts spoilers #sanders sides spoilers #i really hope the read more works #i'm so sorry if you had to scroll past the whole #long post #i don't post here much #but i just had a lot of feelings

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