#Test item formulation

[aymannudalf]

[xaleefhar]

IV. Assessment Tools Development

Assessment Development Cycle 

1. Planning Stage

Determine who will use the assessment results and how they will use them.

Identify the learning targets to be assessed.

Select the appropriate assessment method or methods.

Determine the sample size.

2. Development Stage

Develop or select items, exercises, tasks, and scoring procedures. 

Review and critique the overall assessment for quality before use.

3. Use Stage 

Conduct and score the assessment. 

Revise as needed for future use.

Steps in Developing Assessment Tools

1. Examine the instructional objectives of the topics previously discussed. The first step in

developing a test is to examine and go back to the instructional objectives so that you can

match with the test items to be constructed.

2.  Make a table of specification (TOS). TOS ensures that the assessment is based from the intended learning outcomes.

3.  Construct the test items. In constructing test items, it  is necessary to follow the general

guidelines for constructing test items. Kubiszyn and Borich (2007) suggested some guidelines for writing test items to help classroom teachers improve the quality of test items to write.

Begin writing items far enough or in advance so that you will have time to revise them.

Match   items   to   intended   outcomes   at   appropriate   level   of   difficulty   to   provide   valid measure of instructional objectives. Limit the question to the skill being assessed.

Be sure each item deals with an important aspect of the content area and not with trivia.

Be sure the problem posed is clear and unambiguous.

Be sure that the item is independent with all other items. The answer to one item should not be required as a condition in answering the next item. A hint to one answer should not be embedded to another item.

Be sure the item has one or best answer on which experts would agree.

Prevent   unintended   clues   to   an   answer   in   the   statement   or   question.   Grammaticalinconsistencies such as “a” or “an” give clues to the correct answer to those students who are not well prepared for the test.

Avoid replication  of  the  textbook  in writing test  items;  do  not  quote  directly from the textual materials. You are usually not interested in how well students memorize the text. Besides, taken out of context, direct quotes from the text are often ambiguous.

Avoid trick or catch questions in an achievement test. Do not waste time testing how well the students can interpret your intentions.

Try to write items that require higher-order thinking skills.

4. Assemble the test items

After constructing the test items following the different principles of constructing test item, the next step to consider is to assemble the test items. There are two steps   in   assembling   the   test:   (1)  packaging   the   test;   and   (2)  reproducing   the   test.   In

assembling the test, consider the following guidelines:

Group all test items with similar format.

Arrange test items from easy to difficult.

Space the test items for easy reading.

Keep items and option in the same page.

Place the illustrations near the description

Check the answer key.

Decide where to record the answer.

5. Check   the   assembled   test   items

Before reproducing the test, it is very important to proofread first the test items for typographical and grammatical errors and make necessary corrections if any. If possible, let others examine the test to validate its content. This can save time during the examination and avoid destruction of the concentration of the students.

6. Write directions

Check the test directions for each item format to be sure that it is clear for the students to understand. The test direction should contain the numbers of items to which they apply; how to record their answers; the basis of which they select answer; and the criteria for scoring or the scoring system.

7. Make the answer key

Be sure to check your answer key so that the correct answers follow a fairly random sequence.

8. Analyze and improve the test items

Analyzing and improving the test items should be done after checking, scoring and recording the test. 

[gtsdreamer2]

As much as you loved the thrill of being with Stacy, you had to break it off. The last straw was finding her rummaging through your research papers after she had forced your briefcase open.

"I couldn't help it!" she whined. "You never talk about your work and working is all you've been doing! I just wanted to see if it was almost done!"

"I told you, this is very secret, sensitive government information. The fact that I trusted you with the details of what my team is even working on should be enough for you!" You rubbed the sides of your head, a slight headache forming. Stacy fidgeted at being scolded before finding her spine.

"You're my boyfriend! Of course you should be able to tell me all about this! You should be proud of your work! I want you to open up about it! I want to see what you've been working on!" Her domineering attitude always surfaced when she was confronted.

"No. You're way too invested in this Stacy. You need to pack up whatever stuff you brought over since you've been staying here and go. I cant have you around when the project starts practical testing on monday." Her ears perked up.

"So it's almost done then?" She asked, trying to get info out of you.

"GET OUT!" You grabbed a handful of her stuff and pushed it into her arms ushering her out the door.

Stacy's mind was racing as she walked back to her car, hands full of personal items from her now ex's apartment. She was trying to collect her thoughts and formulate a plan. 'The device is almost done.' She thought to herself, starting to make a bullet point list of what to do next with what information she had. 'I have a spare key to Brad's apartment that he doesn't know I made. I copied his keycard for the lab, but I don't know if that's enough to get me in. Even if i do get my hands on it, I don't know how to work it since he caught me while I was still trying to make heads or tails of the schematics. 'I think I only have one shot at this and I need to act fast.' Stacy thought to herself. She opened her trunk and threw all her junk into it before speeding off towards the lab.

Stacy sat in her car in the parking lot of the lab, trying to manifest the will to enact her master plan. She took a deep breath before leaving the car to stride towards the lab. Her strides weren't very long. She was only five foot four in her heels that made a loud clack against the pavement. Her small breasts didn't so much as jiggle in her sports bra as she powerwalked to the door. Another deep breath and she was ready. 'Here goes everything.' She thought to herself before flashing her ex's badge over the reader. It turned green and the door lock clicked. She was in.

Meanwhile, you were trying to put all of your notes back together. You quickly realized that your keycard was missing. "Fuck!" You cursed out loud, realizing that she must be on her way to the lab. Knowing that phones don't work once you're in the building, you grabbed your keys so you could warn your coworkers who were hopefully in the building. You sped after your ex, hoping it wasn't too late.

Stacy confidently walked through the foyer past the empty front desk and into the lab area. She was trying to strut about the place as if she belonged there, but her heart rate was spiking. She reached the lab and finally laid eyes on the device for the first time. It sat in a glass case, the designated name GRP-MK1 on a little title card next to it. 'This is it!' She thought to herself, salivating at the thought of getting her hands on her prize. 'The Growth Ray Prototype Mark One.' She reached her hands out towards it.

"Hey, you can't be in here!" A male voice called out. She recognized it. It was your coworker Shawn. 'Shit shit shit shit shit!" She thought, before turning around and beaming the biggest, fakest smile she could muster.

"Shawn!" She exclaimed warmly, trying to act as if nothing was amiss.

"Stacy, what are you doing here?" He said puzzled. "You shouldn't be in here. "Where's Brad?"

"I thought he was here!" She said innocently. "He gave me his keycard and told me to bring him lunch so we could have a little date before he had to go back to work." She made big puppy eyes at her ex's coworker. "Maybe he forgot about me. He always seems to be forgetting about me. Do you think he could be cheating on me Shawn?" She started to force tears to well up in her eyes, forcing a wave of empathy to wash over the man that could make or break this whole operation.

"He said he was so excited to show me the first stages of the practical testing too!" She made sure to use the same terminology that Brad has used so Shawn would think she came by this information in a morally acceptable way.

"Well..." Shawn started, "I don't think he's cheating on you Stace. He talks you up all the time. You're his little firecracker of a girlfriend." She bristled at the word 'little' but tried not to show it. "Maybe he gave you the wrong day? Practical testing isn't supposed to start until tomorrow. Today is Sunday. There's no one here but me, and I'm just going over all the specifics so that everything will be ready by then."

Her eyes lit up with all this new information. Knowing it was just her and him, her demeanor shifted. "That's really too bad." She pouted, walking over to Shawn. "I really really wanted to see the device work. Stupid Brad was so excited to show me that he gave me the wrong day. And I'm busy tomorrow, so I'll never get another chance to see it. After he talked it up so much to me and everything.."

"I'm sorry Stacy. I wish there was something I could do to help." She gave him her best pleading face at this point.

"Well it's ready isn't it? Can't you just give me a teensy demonstration? Pretty please? No one has to know." She put her hand on his chest now. "Besides, don't you want to see that it works before tomorrow? I would hate for you to be doing all this work alone tonight and for something to not work tomorrow. They could blame you." He immediately saw her point.

"Well...I was going to say no and kick you out of here since you don't have any kind of clearance, but its nice to talk to a girl once in a while. You're right though, I should make sure it's calibrated correctly and ready for the real demonstration tomorrow. Just sit right over there behind the blast shield and I'll get it all set up. You're in for a treat." Shawn's ego began to flare and he was getting excited about showing this little cutie what they've been working on. 'Sure she's Brad's girl, but he isn't here.' He thought.

He grabbed an apple from the break room and brought it back to the lab. Stacy was sitting right where he told her to like a good listener. He set the apple on a pedestal. He than carefully picked up the GRP. He fiddled with the settings far away enough from Stacy where she couldn't see what he was doing. She cursed under her breath. "Almost ready?" She said in her cutesiest voice.

"Ya, we're there." Shawn replied. "Standby." He lowered his safety goggles a and walked back behind a line that was a certain distance away from the apple. "Ok. We're recording. On my mark in three, two, one. Engage." He fired a soft green light from the gun that hit the apple spot on. Once it found its mark, the beam locked and began to pulse into it. Stacy watched in awe as each pulse caused the apple to in turn pulse larger. It trippled in size in a matter of thirty seconds. She could feel a wet spot forming between her legs wishing that she could trade places with that apple. "Disengage in three, two, one. Power off." He switched the gun to off and the beam thinned and ended its connection to the hulking fruit.

"Is it safe to come over there now?" You said, not even trying to hide your manic excitement. He nodded and you quickly walked over to him. "That was incredible! It works even better than Brad said it would! I bet that's because you were the last one working on it! You're such a genius! And a stud!" Shawn was blushing now. He cleared his throat.

"Yes...well that was what you wanted to see and all I needed to test before tomorrow. I hope you're satisfied now." He began to put the gun back where it went.

"Wait!" She blurted, louder and more desperate than she intended. Shawn was taken aback. "I mean..." She said mousily. "Did it work? I can tell it looks bigger, but is it safe? Is it gonna blow up or something? Is that as big as you meant to make it? Can you make it small again? Sorry, I'm kind of dumb and don't really understand how it works or any of the science behind it. Could a smart guy like you make me feel at ease and explain it to a silly girl like me?" Shawn's ego flared again.

He held the device in his hands and turned to face her, delaying the return of the ray to its home. "That's a lot of questions for someone who isn't even supposed to be here." He paused. "Hell you seem just as interested in this stuff as your boyfriend. But I'm in such a good mood after the test worked, what the hell. First off, it worked just like it was supposed to. We had done the calibrations for this specific fruit with the hopes that the energy input over the time we alloted for would result in about a three times gain in overall mass. It looks like we've achieved that. Secondly, it's totally safe. All this GRP has done is deliver the proper nutrients and signals to tell the apple to 'grow' in a sense. The ray signals the cells in the organic material to accept the nutrients in the beam, get absorbed, and the cells then go through forced mitosis. The longer the beam stays on the organic matter, the longer the cells continue to go through the multiplication. So healthy cells make more healthy cells and result in growth. There are settings to localize the beam on different parts of the organic matter, so like you can make a giant banana without having a peel that's thicker than tree bark. It's just all in the settings." He seems so proud of his work. "Oh, and no, we can't shrink it down. We haven't worked even a little on the hypothesis of sucking the nutrients back out. Once it's big, it's big. Which is good for what we need it for." She liked that answer.

While her mind was racing with all the new information that had just been mansplained to her, Shawn twirled the raygun around like a six-shooter and pretended to fire a shot at Stacy before blowing on the tip, mimicking a cowboy in an old western. She opened her arms wide as if pretending (hoping) to be shot. Shawn just stared her down and gave her a puzzled look. "I wasn't gonna use it on you, Stace. Don't worry." Worry was the last thing on her mind as she gave a nervous giggle in reply.

"I know that. Of course you're not. You wouldn't want me to become more woman than you could handle." She batted her eyelashes at him and gave another silly giggle. "But..." She pressed on, "...what would have happened if you did?"

"Well trials on animals don't start for another few months at least. I mean, I've been tinkering with the settings for it sure, but we'd have to start with like bugs and mice and stuff first." Stacy stuck out her bottom lip.

"And here I thought you could help me get a little bit...bigger." She said accentuating the last word as she stuck out her tiny chest towards Shawn. "How about just a teensy bit? I could be the perfect test subject. I'm right here and I'm ready and we don't have to tell anybody. You said the apple was safe and you've been fiddling with the settings for animals. I'm an animal Shawn. Shoot me. Show me what that big brain of yours can do with that gun you've got there. Pretty please?" She laced her fingers together and pleaded her best.

"I guess it couldn't hurt." Shawn replied nervously. "I know it'll work and as long as I'm only growing you the smallest bit, no one should know. Stacy squealed with delight as she skipped over to the pedestal the apple was resting on. She picked it up with both hands and hefted it's weight a few times before gingerly setting it down and taking its place in the blast zone. She kicked her feet back and forth like am excited school girl while Shawn fiddled with the settings.

Meanwhile, you were tearing up the road doing eighty-five trying to get to the lab as quickly as possible. You had finally pulled up as Shawn had finished dialing in the machine.

"Alright, I've set it to all the proper specifications. It should work just fine on you and it should only add an inch. Two at the most. Are you ready?" Shawn seemed overconfident in his abilities, but after growing the fruit and also being spurred on by this small cutie in front of him, he couldn't not be.

"You have no idea." She replied, feeling the arousal flood her body at the prospect of finally getting to grow. "Hit me!" She demanded, opening her arms wide like before.

"Standby." Shawn began. "We're recording. First animal subject. Set for twenty seconds at one to two inches. On my mark in three, two, one. Engage." Pulling the trigger, the beam shot out and hit Stacy square in the chest. Immediately her whole body was flooded with an intense euphoria as each cell drank in the nutrients and received the signal to divide and multiply. 'Fuck. It's happening! It's really happening! I feel it!' Her whole body felt hot. Every nerve vibrating with pleasure, every neuron screaming for more. Her time was almost out though. She was too lost in the pleasure to hear Shawn counting down. "Disengage in three, two on-" just then you threw open the door to the lab after using the backup access panel to get in.

"Shawn, what the fuck are you doing?!" You screamed. Shawn meanwhile was focused on you now and failed to switch off the device after the alloted time. Stacy squirmed in pleasure as she felt her clothing grow tight against her expanding body. She tried as hard as she could not to moan or cry out or draw any attention to herself so she could grow as long as possible.

"I can explain! I wanted to make sure that everything was ready for the demonstration tomorrow so I was going to try it out and then your girl wanted me to make her a little bigger and

.." Shawn returned his focus to Stacy now, who has been basking in the beam for upwards of a minute by now. "Disengage!" He said frantically as he turned off the beam.

Stacy was taking up a considerable amount more of the pedestal than before. Even sitting, you could tell that your ex had grown substantially. "Mmmmph. Thanks Shawn. That was incredible. Even better than I could have imagined. She stood up and the seams on her jeans split. "Fuck that's hot. I outgrew my damn pants. Oh hi Brad." She said nonchalant as she strutted with her new, longer legs over to Shawn. She had grow. About a whole foot and was now slightly taller than the man holding the gun. "What do you think?" She asked, giving him a little twirl.

"I think I messed up and made you too big. I'm sorry! You only wanted to be a teensy bit bigger and now you're taller your boyfriend." He looked so small and pitiful to her while apologizing.

"Who, him?" She gestured over to you. "Oh he broke up with me earlier today. I'm actually single now if you think you can handle all this, big boy." She was still incredibly aroused, but she wanted so much more. "Oh and don't worry about holding down the trigger for longer on accident. I think that was for the best. After all, I'm not done. I want you to turn it up and hit me again."

"Stacy, what are you-" you began, but she quickly cut you off.

"Shut the fuck up Brad. I've been waiting years for this little project of yours to finally become a reality. I've always dreamed about becoming bigger. I've fantasized about it since I was a little girl. And up until now I've never felt like anything more than a little girl and certainly never been treated as anything more than such. But now you've finally helped me become so much more! Too bad we aren't together anymore though. Truly. This new body of mine feels like it could have really given you a good time. Growing has really turned me on!" She rubbed her hand over the remains of her denims before tearing them away to reavel the tightest soaked pair of pink panties, holding on for dear life. She then turned her attention back to Shawn. "Now Shawn, I'm not going to tell you again. Hit me." She took another step closer to him as he tried to back away but found himself cornered against a wall of the lab. Stacy struck like a snake and placed her hand over Shawn's on the gun. She placed the nozzle straight against her top, which could barely contain her still hardly sizable bust, and squeezed his hand against the trigger.

The beam shot out directly into her chest as the pleasure exploded once more through her cells. "Mmmph! Yes! There it is again! I don't have to hold back about how fucking good this feels now!" She let out a loud moan as the growth resumed. Panting and pressing against Shawn, she humped the air as her cells responded to the beam. You ran over to try and break the connection, but Stacy was too strong now. In her euphoric state, adrenaline surging through her, she kicked you clear across the room, knocking the air out of your lungs. As she lifted her leg to send you flying, her panties tore away, utterly defeated by her growing hips.

At eight feet, the pleasure had finally built up to be too much. Stacy released her grasp on the ray and fell backwards, spasming in orgasmic bliss as the beam was finally shut off from Shawn. She topped out at nine feet tall, taking up a significant amount of the floor as she came down from her high. Meanwhile you looked on from the other side of the room as your ex lover shook and cooed at her own magnificence.

This was your one chance you thought to yourself. "Shawn!" You croaked with what little air remained in your lungs. He broke away from his fixation on the post climax giant before him to look at his floored coworker. You made a key turning gesture towards him to signal him to lock the device away. He quickly turned away from Stacy and made a dash for the case. As soon as she realized what was happening and shot to her feet.

"No!" She screamed, lunging after Shawn as he shut and locked the device away inside a metal gun safe. "Open it! I'm not finished!" She roared trying to intimidate Shawn with her sheer magnitude.

"No way!" Shawn said, clearly oblivious to the predicament that you were both currently in. "We outnumber you two to one, and now that the GRP is safely locked away, we wont let you get any bigger than you already are! Look at you! You're like ten feet tall!"

"I know! Stacy bellowed with glee, "It's amazing! I feel so so good! No more 'little firecracker.' No more submissive pixie girlfriend. No more shy reserved daughter." She swung her arm into Shawn then as you were finally gaining the ability to breathe again. He only flew a few feet, but he hit the ground with a hard thud. As you began to crawl towards her, she put both of her arms on the gun safe, violently pulling at the handle to no avail. Then she spotted you.

"Help me open this, wont you honey?" She said, feigning sweetness. She picked you up with two hands by the back of your shirt and pressed your face against the cold steel front of the safe. She put her face right next to your ear as she whispered. "Don't make me make you. You know I can."

You felt her big strong hand pressing into your back. You knew she was strong enough to break you at this point. You were cursing Shawn under your breath for letting things get this out of hand. You were cursing yourself for letting her trick you out of your keycard in the first place. She increased the pressure against your back again in an attempt to force you into compliance. And then you did. "Ok." you muttered, defeated. You pressed the code into the safe and the light on it turned from red to green as you heard the lock click open. Stacy tossed you aside like rubbish and then opened the safe. Now, for the first time, she held the gun solely in her hands. You and Shawn were both struggling to get back on your feet as the mini giantess fussed with the settings.

"It's really intuitive once you get into it." She said out loud as she started turning all the dials way up past their recommended limits. "It does help that I got to skim through your notes honey." She smirked, looking down at you. She was getting aroused again at how much further she would be looking down at you very shortly. "And adjust this for my tits. This for my muscle mass. This for...well all of me. Setting the timer to automatically shut off after...never." She giggled as she rigged the gun to never stop after it was switched on. "Now I just set it up here out of the boys' reach aaaaand." She got into position and flipped the switch. Immediately the whole room glowed with the brightness emanating from the gun as it funneled an otherworldly amount of energy directly into Stacy's chest.

Her whole body burned in an inferno of pleasure as her cells struggled to take in the nutrients and information from the beam. "Aaaah, it feels so good! Fuck! I feel like my each of my cells is getting themselves off to this fucking feeling! All of her muscles contracted as the cells drank in enough energy to burst. Her whole body glowed the color of the beam as she felt her orgasm start to build. Then, in recognition of the beams orders, all her cells started to multiply at an exponential rate. Her body doubled to twenty feet as she doubled over to not break though the roof. Then she doubled again, lifting the gun and cradling it in her hand as she destroyed the building that previously caged her. Shawn was crushed by the debris, but a steel girder protected you as the sides of the building collapsed around you. All you could see was smoke and falling rubble, but your ears were ringing with the laughter and moans of your power-drunk ex girlfriend.

"More more more! She screamed as she stood up to her full height of 50 feet, the GRP shooting out from her hands at her as she held it gingerly away from herself. She doubled again to one hundred feet and took a few steps in the opposite direction from where you were trapped, crushing everything underfoot. 'She doesn't even feel the lives she's taking' You thought to yourself as your manic pixie giant doubled again.

"Bigger!" She cried as she doubled again to two-hundred feet now before the gun sputtered out and stopped. Dropping the gun and then dropping on her ass, Stacy began to vigorously touch herself, making sure to relish in the pleasure of her new size before the euphoria wore off. She cupped her finally stable breasts, squirming and moaning as her juices flooded the crushed city in front of her.

Finally coming back to reality, Stacy looked around. "Oh boyfriend!" She called out lovingly. "Where are you? I need you to make me another one of those rayguns because that one broke. I'm still not done!" She gave a giant pout before looking at the rubble, picking you out of it, and bringing you close to her face. "You don't have a problem with that, right dear? Not that you have a choice either."

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: 5 unresolved items from season 6

There were several things in season 6 that were left unresolved including some that happened between Buck and Eddie.  These are items they never discussed and IMO, it’s possible they might resurface in season 7 and present the small amount of angst that’s been mentioned by OS and RG during their recent interviews.

Full Disclosure:  When season 6 ended, I like many other viewers, absolutely LOATHED the way Buck’s and Eddie’s endings were handled since they were both shoehorned into relationships with one-dimensional love interests the same way they had been at the end of season 4.  The constant delays of Buddie going CANON was just 🙄 and at the time, I took a step back because it felt like all the metaphors, callbacks, foreshadowing and hindsight that happened during the first 13 episodes were replaced with a forced narrative.  Characters were retconned too so they could fit into some “metaphorical FOX procedural drama box” and it frustrated me.  After 6x18 aired, I took a couple of weeks to formulate my overall thoughts on the season and I completed 15 Constructive Criticisms posts to move past my frustrations. Additionally, I started writing a massive multi-chapter fanfic to unravel the mess that was season 6 and I must admit, doing so helped because I was able to put some of the messy pieces to that unfinished puzzle of a season together.

Now... back to the regularly scheduled programming…

This post highlights the 5 things IMO that are still in play that didn’t get resolved last season and I’ve included details about them below.  Since season 7 is shortened and only has 10 episodes, it’s possible none of the things listed will be revisited but it’s also possible they will. 

Before I get started, here’s a quick reminder, Buck and Eddie didn’t discuss any of the things listed in CANON.

1. The Donation

Other than 6x7 when Eddie heard about Buck’s sperm donation for the first time at the firehouse, in 6x9 when they were on the four-way call when he responded to Chimney and said, “I don’t know… it kind of feels weird to congratulate him” and in 6x10 when he replied to Buck and said, “Sounds like your family had your back on the whole donation thing. That’s definitely progress” (notice he NEVER said he had Buck’s back on it and also his facial expressions in 6x9 after Buck’s announcement showed he wasn’t too thrilled about it) Buck and Eddie never discussed it.  Therefore, it is possible there could be some angst coming from it when the Buckley family’s other “deep dark family secret” (related post linked here) is revealed during or after Madney’s wedding.

Furthermore, Maddie’s NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT BUCK’S SPERM DONATION in CANON and every time it was mentioned in 6x10, it happened right after she left the room to check on Jee-Yun.  It’s obvious she knows about it since Chimney spoke up and said something to rebut Sang’s comment regarding a man raising another man’s child.  Another point to make about the whole “Meet the Parents” saga in 6x10 is the audience never saw Maddie converse with Sang and based on BTS information for season 7, it appears Sang, Albert nor Albert’s mom will be in attendance at the wedding. 👀

[FTR, I still don’t believe Connor and Kameron’s baby is biologically Buck's and I will stand on this hill, even if I have to stand alone, until there’s a blood test proving he is related to the baby (post linked here).]

2. The Onesie

At the end of 6x9, Buck was asleep and he left the LAFD onesie he purchased sitting on top of his nightstand and it was right after the “Santa Ana Winds” ended.  However, there are two important things that should be remembered.

First, it has an LAFD logo on it which means it’s important to Buck because as he told Maddie in 2x18, "Being a firefighter is MY LIFE!  It’s the only thing I’ve ever done that was important and that mattered, ok?"

Why is this important? 

It’s important because BUCK IDENTIFIES HIMSELF AS A FIREFIGHTER and after all these years he still hasn’t figured out firefighting is what he does. Eddie knows Buck’s more than a firefighter especially since he knows and loves him to his CORE!  Also, if Buck believed the biological relation wasn't important, then he could have just bought a regular onesie from Target or Wal-Mart, right?  Yes!

Second, in 6x17, Kameron stayed with Buck for several days which means if he wanted to, he could have given it to her as a gift but he didn’t.  Therefore, it’s possible it might come back into play after 7x5 when Connor and Kameron are supposed to show up again (OS mentioned Buck being a sperm donor for his friends won’t resurface until after the first five episodes).  Additionally, after 6A, the narrative could have changed since the onesie wasn’t seen again and that could be due to all the audience backlash that happened after it was over.

Viewers didn’t like the jokes about Buck’s "swimmers" or the lack of his "alone time" and all the other ways the storyline was fumbled. By the start of 6B, the show tried to make the audience believe Buck understood he was the "donor not the dad" 👀. 

If the actual onesie doesn’t make a reappearance, then I believe the ramifications associated with the way Buck identifies himself will and it could be a point of contention between him and Eddie since Eddie was the one who told him in 4x14, “You act like you’re expendable... but you’re wrong”.

3. Buck’s Death

At the end of 6x18, it appeared as if Buck still hadn’t dealt with the fact that he DIED and it’s possible nobody else has either, especially Eddie, Maddie, Bobby and their found family. Reminder, Maddie and Bobby both said, “Buck, you died!” and when they said it, Buck became frustrated.

However, when Eddie said, “You died Buck!”, he stopped and listened but the way Eddie said it was different for A LOT OF REASONS (post linked here).  After Eddie asked if he was allowed to ask how he was, Buck replied, “Honestly Eddie… I don’t know” but they have yet to have a full CANON conversation about the effects of it the same way they haven’t discussed any of their other shared traumas.

Additionally, during that conversation, they briefly discussed the shooting but they didn't fully talk about it other than Buck asking Eddie what he remembered. It’s another important and shared traumatic event that’s happened between them but like the well, the hostage situation and Eddie's breakdown, they still have yet to discuss it. Buck seemed to be a little upset by the fact that Eddie “said” he didn’t remember anything other than the searing pain he felt in his shoulder (I believe he remembers more than he said he does).

Buck's response was, “Is that it?” as if to say, “You don’t remember me crawling underneath a firetruck, pulling you out, picking you up and putting you inside of the truck? You don't remember me holding a gauze to your wound and asking you to stay with me? You don't remember asking me if I was hurt? Because I WAS!”  Also, it was kind of like Buck’s heart broke because Eddie “said” he doesn’t "really" remember it while Buck can’t forget the way his heart fell out of his chest that day when he saw the love of his life bleeding out in the middle of the street.

Also, Eddie’s still waiting for Buck to talk about the fact that he died. Reminder, Eddie's heart fell out of his chest too and he yelled at the hospital staff and told them to "Do More!" Even though they briefly discussed it while they were in the cemetery in 6x15, BUCK STILL HASN’T DEALT WITH IT YET!  If he would have gone to therapy instead of whatever he was doing with the DeAtH dOuLa, then maybe he would have dealt with it by now.

4. Buck’s Couch

Full Disclosure:  Like so many viewers, I was pissed at the end of the season when Buck asked N to help him pick out a new couch because it didn’t make any sense and the truth is IT STILL DOESN’T but hindsight is 20/20 and I do believe the couch was still there for a reason.  IMO, it has everything to do with what could happen between Buck and Eddie in season 7.

Please note, these are my observations and interpretations about what I believe the destruction of Buck’s couch represented.

After Margaret bought Buck a new couch at the end of 6x11, beginning in 6x12, the show spent a lot of time showing how uncomfortable it was for Buck whenever he tried to rest on it.  Also, they AVOIDED showing it in a lot of other scenes even though Buck’s previous couch (the black leather one), when he still had it, could always be seen in the frame (post linked here).  However, the orange couch wasn’t fully seen until 6x18 before Kameron gave birth on it.

IMO, her giving birth on the couch Buck's mother purchased represented a lot of things including Buck’s idea of the life he always believed he was supposed to have.  Reminder, he gave his sperm (I don’t think the baby is his but let’s roll with this idea for a moment) to Connor (a former roommate) so him and his wife could have a baby even though Connor and Buck hadn’t seen each other in years.

He met him while they were in Peru and the only reason Buck ended up in L.A. was because Connor suggested he move with him and his friends because they were “kind of like a family”.  Also, he said Buck has a good heart and that was the reason why he wanted him to be their donor but reminder, the reasons why he said he chose him aren’t hereditary.

It appears the way Connor presented himself in 6x4, with a wife and in search of that "missing" piece (a baby) is exactly what Buck’s always wanted and that’s what his couch represented.  Let's be real, Connor manipulated Buck and they aren’t friends because if they were, wouldn’t he have invited Buck to the wedding or kept in contact with him over those three years? It kind of seemed like he wanted to rub his nose in the fact that he finally settled down while Buck was still living the bachelor life (not really because he already has his own family with Eddie and Chris, he just hasn't realized it yet).

The issue with Buck’s couches was he’s wanted his own family for years but the way his life has been presented, it appears he believes no one wants to build a life or a family with him and that's why he gave away a piece of himself. In doing so, he was trying to fix the issues he may have seen in Connor's and Kameron's marriage since it was barely hanging on by a thread.  Reminder, Connor let his pregnant wife leave and he didn’t try to reconcile with her.  Also, Buck never said why he didn’t want to turn them down when he was talking to Hen even though he should have.

I believe the destruction of Buck’s couch with the birth of the baby on it was about more than the couch itself.  It was destroyed and unsalvageable because THE DREAM OR IDEA Buck’s always believed he was supposed to have got destroyed when he gave his sperm away.  Also, the couch was his MOTHER’S idea of the life she wants him to have instead of the life he wants to have for himself, hence the reason why he told her he would get a couch when he was ready but she ignored him and bought him one anyway.

His "destroyed couch" illustrated the image Buck’s had in his mind of the life and the family he thought he was supposed to want for years, (i.e., a wife and a child) is no longer applicable because his family will include a husband, EDDIE and their son, CHRIS.

Reminder, there was a lot of talk about the types of family in 6B and they all related to Buck's idea of a family.  In 6x10, Buck told Bobby and Eddie, “It kind of felt like we were an actual family” but then Eddie replied, “You are an actual family”.  Also, in 6x13 when they went to play poker, Eddie responded to Buck while they were walking through the kitchen and said, “It’s a different kind of family” and later in the same episode, Chimney said to Maddie, Athena and Bobby, “Every family is different” but they were talking about Buck because Maddie said she would be furious with Buck if he did what Rhonda Fitzsimmons did when she used her nephew to gain access to Maddie's and Chimney's home.

5. Eddie’s Couch

Eddie’s blue couch has always been Buck’s couch too and if it wasn’t going to be Buck's anymore, then something would have happened to it or Eddie would have bought a new one like he did at the end of season 2.  But Eddie didn’t and only Buck’s couch got DESTROYED at the end of season 6👀.

Reminder, in 6x9 Eddie was shown sleeping on it, in 6x12 Buck was shown sleeping on it and Chris was shown sleeping on it in 6x15.

Eddie didn’t get the blue couch until season 3 and the couch he had in season 2 was gray (post linked here).  It’s evident Buck still hasn’t figured out Eddie’s couch is also his even though he does know he’s not a guest there.

Therefore, Eddie’s couch and everything it represents for Buck, i.e., a romantic relationship, family and fatherhood will be in play until Buck realizes it or until Eddie explains it to him.

Will the small amount of angst Buck and Eddie experience in season 7 revolve around these 5 unresolved items or others? Only the showrunner, writers and producers know the answer to that question.

[ancuninfiles]

Okay, so I'm going to make a larger post eventually... something more eye-catching, LOL. But because you all—or 70% of you—were so interested in buying the ✨️Astarion Perfume✨️ from the wonderful small business I've been buying from for roughly 10 years, I went there today, and we've created The Scent.

The scent is rosemary and bergamot with a hint of brandy (of course), and it smells AMAZING. Not only that, it's all natural, so it's perfect for those of us who are allergic to the chemically perfumes! :)

We spent some time researching and testing out different scents until we formulated the PERFECT blend, and I couldn't be happier!

That being said, since I was the only one to contact them asking about this, they only made me one and one for my best friend. DONT FRET THOUGH because you can most definitely get your hand on this scent as well!

I've informed them that a decent number of people have shown interest on my platform here, and all you need to do it shoot them an email, saying that you are interested in the "Astarion spray" and let them know your approximate location so they can figure out how much it would be to ship! THEY NOW HAVE IT LISTED AS AN OFFICIAL ITEM ON THEIR WEBSITE SO YOU CAN JUST ORDER IT HERE NOW <3

Right now, I don't know what the exact cost would be, so I don't want to say... but EDIT: They are selling the spray for $12 CAD, which is $8.71 USD at the time of me making this edit!

Their prices have always been low and reasonable for natural products, and they always put quality before profit. NOTE: Their prices are in Canadian Dollars. You can read their "about us" tab on their website <3.

ALSO!!! (Can you tell I'm excited? Lol.) They are selling it in lotion and body butter form 😭. I'm blown away.

Not only that, but if they have enough people emailing them asking for it, I bet they'd make it something you can order straight from their website. (YUP, they do that now!)

If you want them to make the scents of any of the other companions, I'd more than love to collab with them again to create the perfect scents! So just email them, and ask!

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this, nor am I getting any kickbacks, but I just love being able to share stuff I love with you! Scent is something i care about a lot, as I have always considered myself to have a very sensitive nose. :)

I really hope at least one person buys the Astarion scent from them! Please let me know if you so, and give me your thoughts! <3 😭✨️

[jihyocentric]

sequel to alphas unnie line trying to breed jihyo from ages ago

“she might be mine, i don’t know… she looks like me a little bit.” momo shrugs, scratching her nape lazily. “the nose looks like mine.”

the four of them stand in the middle of the kitchen, all of them exhausted from taking care of their baby, who couldn’t fully relax without her mommy there.

it wasn’t the first time jihyo had to spend the night out of the city due to work, but it was the first time she did that and jisoo got sick.

the four of them barely made it through the night, getting less than two hours of sleep each of them, having to give their baby all the attention and aid needed.

“i’m sure she’s mine,” nayeon sighs as she speaks, fully convinced that she had been the one who succeeded and won the race, and so that debate shouldn’t even be happening, as jisoo was the result of her effort as jihyo’s alpha. “she definitely looks like me. she acts like me.”

the baby couldn’t quite understand what her moms were saying, watching them attentively as she sat on her high chair, with a piece of mushy carrot in her tiny fist, still considering eating it.

“let’s be honest here,” sana huffs, making use of her height to try and make nayeon’s ego any less big, but she was far from intimidating nayeon. she couldn’t under such a circumstance, not when nayeon was utterly serious about jisoo being hers. “she only looks like jihyo! we can’t know for sure, but if anything she’s mine. i’m the strongest!”

“you’re not…” momo mumbles quietly, not fully inclined to turning that into a real discussion.

they were all aware that the four of them were jisoo’s moms, no matter who had actually gotten jihyo pregnant, and all four of them had refused to make a blood test from the very beginning, as it wasn’t needed — they were jisoo’s parents.

a conventional family might not be the right way to describe them, as having more than two parents wasn’t the most common scenario for most kids, but the four of them fit all of the criteria they deemed required to be a parent.

they shared their duties as a family, divided housework equally, and, as the most important item of a long list, they loved jisoo more than anything in the world. all of them were willing to give her anything she could possibly need for the rest of her life — and that was all that mattered. all of that was enough proof that jisoo was theirs.

“should i say she’s mine or am i too late?” jeongyeon asks. she had been actively listening to nayeon, momo and sana’s discussion, waiting for her turn to speak, nearly breaking a laugh at times when sana and nayeon’s argument got heated.

“say it, just so i can deny it,” sana claps excitedly. that little debate that had been happening for hours with short breaks to keep them sane, was keeping her awake and full of energy.

if jihyo were to ask anything, they’d all agreed not to tell her about it, but finding reasons why jisoo was particularly their kid was one of the things that kept them going.

nayeon would always use the shape of their baby’s ears as an argument, sana heavily agreed that jisoo’s big eyes resembled hers, momo convinced herself that jisoo’s nose was just like hers.

and jeongyeon… jeongyeon didn’t have a reasoning, which is why she’d always take longer to come up with anything.

jeongyeon clears her throat, prepared to give them an energetic response. “you are all wrong! jisoo is mine!”

“that was kinda bad,” nayeon shakes her head. “try again, but mean it.” she gives jeongyeon her advice and sana and momo nod, agreeing with her.

jeongyeon opens her mouth, ready to formulate a better line to keep their discussion going, but she’s interrupted by a little noise, one that was entirely new for all of them.

“na…” jisoo pouts, half of her food eaten, all she could really ingest with an irritated stomach. she looks at nayeon as she speaks a new syllable, the first one after the couple of sounds she used to signify multiple different things and the ‘mi’, which she used to call jihyo, unable to pronounce the ‘j’, and the ‘m’ was easier. “na!”

“nayeon?! me?” nayeon coos happily, picking up the baby from the high chair. “see, she’s proving my point!”

but nayeon’s happiness doesn’t last long, as the next thing jisoo does is trying to jump to sana’s lap, squealing the ‘na’ again, leaving nayeon speechless.

sana laughs as nayeon’s smile disappears and a pout replaces it. “it’s for sana. i told you-”

and then again, jisoo doesn’t stop at sana’s lap. she has an angry face as she’s passed to momo’s lap, almost stopping there when momo holds her in the perfect position for her upset belly.

but the ‘na’ that she wanted to reach was entirely too close for her to give in and stay in the wrong mama’s lap.

“na!” jisoo says loudly as soon as jeongyeon holds her.

it was true that she loved all of their laps and didn’t hold any favoritism towards her moms, except jihyo, because that was the lap that also provided her with food.

but jeongyeon’s lap looked more appealing for her that time, and perhaps the reason was that it was the farthest away, making it harder for her to reach it and consequentially more interesting.

“jeongyeon-na,” momo rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as jisoo lays her head against jeongyeon’s chest and closes her eyes, seemingly ready to go back to sleep — her moms weren’t the only ones who didn’t get to rest that night. “jihyo calls her that. but that’s cheating, because ‘na’ is the easiest syllable ever for a baby to say.”

momo says and sana and nayeon immediately agree — not that jeongyeon was expecting for them to be by her side. they were all against each other when it came to that topic.

when the night comes and jihyo is finally back, jeongyeon is the only one awake to welcome her from her trip, also getting the prize of being the one to share the bed with jihyo that night.

“so how was the trip?” jeongyeon asks once jihyo comes out of the bathroom in her sleepwear, ready to sleep for undetermined hours — or until jisoo was also awake.

“tiring. don’t want to talk about it now,” jihyo sighs, taking her place on the bed, next to jeongyeon. “was she a good girl? did she give you any trouble? she was sleeping so soundly when i arrived, i almost didn’t believe she was sick.”

jihyo rests her head against jeongyeon’s chest, eyes slowly closing as she muttered her words softly, getting rest after spending the entire day worried about her baby, forced to work despite everything.

“she had a tummy ache, but i think we were able to deal with it. she’s way better now, i bet she’ll sleep more than you.” jeongyeon replies. “hyo, i shouldn’t be asking this, but… i mean, i know this doesn’t change anything…”

“mhm?” jihyo hums once jeongyeon stops.

jeongyeon takes a short time before continuing. “you do know who her biological mom is, don’t you?”

jihyo opens her tired eyes, moving slowly as she props her chin over jeongyeon’s chest, looking at her softly. that was the first time any of them had made her that question, and yet jihyo knew jeongyeon didn’t need her answer. jeongyeon didn’t really want one.

“do you want me to tell you?” jihyo asks calmly, knowing jeongyeon wouldn’t truly want her to say it — not because the answer could be bad when the four of them were the only candidates, but because it wouldn’t be fair for the others.

jeongyeon just had to be sure, not verbally, that what she thought was true. and deep down she already was.

and so, jeongyeon shakes her head. “i want you to rest. that’s all, baby.”

jihyo nuzzles up against her, head tucked in the curve of jeongyeon’s neck, muttering a small ‘i love you’ as she rubs her nose against jeongyeon’s warm skin, drifting to sleep almost immediately.

[apparitionism]

Bonus 2

Here’s the second part of a holiday story, begun in part 1, about how Myka and Helena, in a vaguely season 4 world in which nobody’s going to go to Boone but through which they have thus far been separated, are reunited for a day-before-Christmas-eve retrieval in Cleveland. Helena has been summoned by Claudia to serve as Myka’s backup, for Pete is spending some holiday time with his family... but as it turns out, the retrieval is necessary because—plot-semi-twist!—Pete Christmas-gifted his cousin, who is a bigwig at an accounting firm, with an artifact, a pen that apparently has something to do with Santa’s naughty/nice list. Which said cousin used to confer end-of-year bonuses—and penalties. As this part opens, Myka is just beginning to process the fact that the whole situation is Pete’s fault...

(And no, I didn’t manage to bring this thing in for a landing in this part. Nobody faint from the surprise.)

Bonus 2

“Okay,” Myka acknowledges, because what else can she do? The fact is that in any Warehouse-related context, “coincidence” is a non sequitur, and she begins formulating a plan to Christmas-gift Claudia with a T-shirt featuring that sentiment. How fast can she get a custom T-shirt made?

The irony is that Claudia would know.

“Yeah,” says Pete’s cousin—Pete’s cousin! She might be affirming the Claudia-irony in Myka’s head, or the situational irony Myka is now stuck in, or any of the vast array of ironies that make up the Warehousian unfolding of time itself. Myka would not have expected Pete’s cousin’s words to contain multitudes. And yet.

“He told me it was the kind of thing he thought I’d like,” that cousin continues, “and he was right. Effects aside, it’s a gorgeous implement. Perfectly balanced... which I guess works on an existential level too, doesn’t it? Naughty, nice.” She shifts the pen to rest a delicate crosswise on an extended index finger, testing its equilibrium as a chef might a knife.

The pen—or is it merely a different species of knife?—basks in Nancy Sullivan’s regard. “Resonant little instrument,” she says, with clear affection. “Anyway, we were talking about Pete.” A different sort of affection now colors her voice. “He went into this big production-number apology about it being sort of secondhand.”

“Oh?” Myka says, distracted by pens, knives, resonances... but, right, secondhand. Of course it’s secondhand. No new item could be an artifact. Or could it? This seems like a Steve-conversation topic.... and it certainly beats “H.G. is god knows where” for philosophy.

“Not because it’s not new,” Pete’s cousin says, apparently reading Myka’s mind, “but because he initially was thinking he’d give it to somebody else.”

Myka repeats her interrogative “oh?”, but she’s getting a feeling again.

“Yeah,” says Nancy Sullivan, and Myka really has to applaud her talent for broadly applicable affirmation. “He said he wanted to give it to his partner because, and I quote, ‘she likes the old-fashioned stuff,’ but then he realized he shouldn’t because, and I also quote, ‘she’s got this whole family feathery-pen dealy-thingy and I don’t want to upset her.’” She waves the pen again, this time directly at Myka, like a conductor imploring the oboes to pick up the pace. “And he told me his partner’s name,” she concludes.

“I’m sure there are lots of Myka Berings in the world?” Myka tries, weakly, raising her hands as if to offer Nancy Sullivan all those other Myka Berings. The last vestige of defensibility... then her hands drop, because really. She looks at Helena in apology, with only an indistinct, tangled sense of what she’s apologizing for. I’m sorry I occasioned this is part of it, yet there’s a deeper fault she feels but can’t quite ideate, one more consequential than an anodyne “oops.”

“Listen, he’s a really good guy,” Nancy Sullivan says.

“I agree completely,” Myka assures her. But in the interest of full disclosure, she adds, “Mostly completely. I mean, I’m going to kill him for this.”

Helena says, “Are you.” Her tone brings Myka up short: it’s impossibly knowing, suggesting insight into everything Myka has been thinking, about someday and talking and things.

Again with the reading so right.

Myka would love to have the panache to do more than glance furtively at Helena, to pull off a playful, similarly knowing response, like “that depends on my backup” (or something actually clever that will doubtless occur to her during some post-holiday post-mortem). Instead she goes with a not at all interrogative “Oh.”

Nancy Sullivan looks from Myka to Helena. Then she says, “Okay, revision: A really good guy who might be hanging onto some unreasonable hope.”

Myka wishes she could keep from glancing yet again, now, at Helena—now as she grasps the fullness of her underlying error, now as she formulates a hopeful plan regarding someday saying out loud “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that he had any such hope and that I didn’t make completely clear that any such hope would never have been anything but unreasonable”—but the wish doesn’t work. She glances... thus proving Nancy Sullivan’s point.

“He didn’t mention you,” Pete’s cousin tells Helena. “I think I see why.”

“I’m both offended and pleased,” Helena says, with her customary little thank-you head-bow.

Rather than luxuriating in the familiarity of that head-bow, Myka tries to head off a more detailed discussion of Helena’s role in it all (and what a nondescriptively limp phrase that is) by observing, “The sixth-sense thing is quite the family trait.”

“Ah. Sure. You’ve had experience,” Nancy Sullivan says, a little droop in her voice.

Has she taken Myka’s words as criticism? Myka hurries to reassure, “Sometimes it’s very helpful.”

“But. Other times.” This is heavier, and now she must be referencing her own vibe-related experiences.

“Your family get-togethers must be really... charged?” Myka tries.

Nancy Sullivan offers another all-encompassing “Yeah.” Then she laughs. “But at least we don’t have a feathery-pen dealy-thingy like your family does.”

Helena clears her throat, an attention-garnering ah-ha-hem, as if it’s in the stage directions preceding her next line in some farce. She inclines her head: more stage-direction drama. Finally, “You do now,” she says in benediction.

Nancy Sullivan’s jaw drops. “Wow,” she says, and “wow,” she repeats. Then she laughs again and says, “He really should’ve mentioned you.”

Myka might laugh too, but she is preoccupied by the way in which Helena’s well-chosen articulation has persuaded her body to remind her that it and she have reached no mutually satisfactory agreement about appropriate reactions.

And that in turn sparks Myka to a realization: once the retrieval is accomplished, there may be a nonzero chance that she and Helena could enjoy a bit more of that liminal together-presence...

Myka’s body makes its best effort to crash through the gauzy ideating her brain would prefer to do about what such time could entail, and after no small amount of nethers-vs.-cerebrum struggle, she manages to propose, truce-wise, a simple Let’s just hope it exists.

Surprisingly, body and mind are willing to shake on that, giving Myka leave to slip on a glove and pronounce, “Just give us the pen. Then it’s over. Mostly. The money will probably revert... so you’ll most likely have to redo the bonuses the old-fashioned way.” Hearing herself, she amends, “Well. The regular way.”

“I don’t mind redoing. But reverting...” Pete’s cousin tightens her fingers around the artifact, pulling it near to her body as if she might be considering, for one last “maybe,” the idea of punching her way out.

Myka tenses, and she doesn’t need to cast a glance to know that Helena is doing the same.

She glances anyway... and indeed, Helena alive with wiry readiness is a sight worth the seeing. So worth it, in fact, that Myka is genuinely, if improperly, disappointed that said sight doesn’t cause the truce to collapse.

After a moment, however, color returns to Nancy Sullivan’s knuckles, and Myka removes the pen from her slackened grip.

But then Nancy Sullivan cocks her head. “Is it really over though? I feel like something else might be happening.”

No. No. Absolutely not. “Something else is always happening,” Myka says, affecting nonchalance as she slides the feathery foolishness into a static bag, ignoring its yipping sparks of protest. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nancy Sullivan casts a skeptical look at the barky little bag. “If you say so. Anyway seeing Pete’s face when I tell him you and I –and he and I!—are fellows in family feathery-pen dealy-thingies now? Might end up being the second-best end-of-year bonus of all, given everything.” There’s a little mockery in her voice, echoing the cousin Myka knows so well.

“And the best such bonus?” Helena inquires.

“Docking Bob’s pay,” Nancy Sullivan says instantly.

Myka snorts, and Nancy Sullivan turns back to her and says, “Are you okay with me being glad we met?” Like she’s mostly but not entirely sure of the response she’ll get, and that’s another echo.

“Only if you’re okay with me being glad too,” Myka says, her own voice sounding a familiar note—one she’s pretty sure Pete would recognize.

After a nod, Nancy Sullivan turns to Helena. “I’d say it to you, but I feel like there’s something extra going on with you, like—”

Myka steps in: “Honestly, always,” and then she’s hustling Helena out of the office even as Helena chirps, “I’m both offended and pleased by that as well!”

Back in the elevator, Helena speaks first. “I did not expect that,” she says, sounding entertained by—practically bubbly about—the entire scenario.

“I should have,” Myka grumbles.

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Oh god no,” Myka says, involuntarily. “Too easy if anything.”

Helena’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes accuse. “I’ve known you for no small amount of time,” she says.

Myka’s previous review fights that statement, but she doesn’t speak of it.

Her lack of response prompts a heavy I-am-no-longer-entertained sigh. “Must I return to the phrase ‘your truth’?”

“Please don’t,” Myka says. That’s also nearly involuntary, but it sounds too harsh, like she’s dismissing as unimportant that bookstore interaction, as well as the entirety of those in-extremis manifestations of herself and Helena. Rather than apologizing for that, for surely it would prove far too entangling, she tries to draw Helena’s attention back to the entertainment. “I like Nancy Sullivan. She reminds me of Pete and his mom.”

“Pete’s mother? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

That’s a bit more jousty, backed by curiosity. Good. “She’s a Regent,” Myka says, for it’s the most salient piece of information she has about Jane Lattimer.

Helena stills. Her jaw hardens. “Then perhaps I have indeed had the... pleasure.” Cold. Cold. Cold.

You idiot, Myka scourges herself. Why couldn’t she have done the normal thing and left Pete’s mom as “Pete’s mom”? But now, but now: now she’s seen this wound, down there under the ice, and she wants to test that ice, but she can’t, regardless of her wish and want to know know know, to know everything Helena has been put through, so as to know whom to hate (and she hopes that doesn’t include Pete’s mom) and whom to someday thank (and she double-hopes that does include Pete’s mom). “Anyway I think the cousin had the right idea,” she says, pushing back to the now, to what just happened. “Using an artifact to do what are really decent things, even if they were judgmental.”

“Rather Old Testament,” Helena says. “Strangely inappropriate for this holiday, no?” She asks that like she’s really thinking—wondering—about it.

Myka congratulates herself on having provided a distraction, however minimal, from whatever Regent-pain her unthinking reveal caused to surface. “I hadn’t thought about Santa being more Yahweh than Jesus,” she says, to enhance it, “and I’m not sure what it says about my position on salvation that I genuinely wish we could have let her keep that pen. Or even better, if we could maybe ferry it around to deserving arbiters... wouldn’t that contribute to the greater good, even if it’s in a judgy Old-Testament way?”

Helena’s face moves as if she’s about to answer, but before she can, a rupturing screech of metal-on-metal complication resounds decisively through the space, and their ear-popping descent slows, slows, slows...

...and stops.

After an appropriately irony-bearing pause, Helena says, “This elevator seems to disapprove of your suggestion. Or perhaps it’s your theological indecision that displeases?”

All Myka can manage is an extremely resigned “I am not surprised.”

Efforts to summon help strengthen the “disapproval” interpretation: they’re fruitless. No one answers the emergency line, and this mirrored box is, according to both their phones, the place where cell service goes to die. Or where that service is interfered with by a theologically offended pulley-based mechanism.

“I genuinely cannot believe we’re stuck in an elevator,” Myka says. It may be the most true statement to which she’s ever given voice.

After a beat, however, she concedes, “But of course I can.”

Helena casts her gaze around. Once again, exaggeratedly stage-direction-y. “At least it’s reasonably well-appointed. For an elevator in which to be... stuck.” She seems to relish articulating “stuck,” so she’s back to being entertained. Not quite bubbly, but definitely entertained.

Myka can’t get past her annoyance with the elevator’s disapproval, so she says a peevish, “I don’t like mirrors.” She’s painfully aware now that they cover not only the walls, but also the ceiling. She can’t even look heavenward in supplication, sarcastic or otherwise, without regarding herself. It really is too much.

Given that no other communication technology is working, she resorts to the Farnsworth. She gives thanks for Warehouse mojo, or whatever enables it to elude the elevator’s wrath, when Claudia answers with, “No info on ‘lists, making them’ yet.”

“We dealt with that,” Myka tells her. “New problem.”

“Another artifact?”

“Who knows? Maybe Pete’s in an elevator somewhere else in this town making bad decisions, and they’re redounding to our detriment.” She’s vamping. Stuck in an elevator with Helena, she’s vamping. Instead of simply basking in such fantasy-made-fact, she’s vamping.

She doesn’t bother wondering whether Helena knows she’s doing that; if this little adventure has done nothing else, it’s reminded Myka that Helena always knows. It’s both wonderful and terrible to be so legible, particularly to someone Myka so often finds frustratingly illegible.

“I’m not following,” Claudia says.

Speaking of illegible: Myka, heal thyself. “We’re stuck. In an elevator,” she clarifies.

Claudia makes a noise that, impressively, marries a gasp and a snicker. “Are you really? Or did you push the stop button, like people do?”

“Like people... what?”

“When they want to have a little uninterrupted chat,” Claudia says, pedantic, as if now she’s the one who’s “clarifying.”

“Nobody does that in real life,” Steve says from offscreen. Myka is pleased to know he’s around.

“Myka just did,” Claudia insists in his direction. “Didn’t you,” she insists at Myka.

“If I did,” Myka says, “why would I be calling you to get us out of here?”

“Yeah, why would she?” Steve asks, but from farther away.

Don’t leave! Myka wants to exhort. She would never admit to needing backup in a counter-Claudia sense... but she does appreciate when Steve provides it.

“Oooh, because maybe the chat didn’t go so well,” Claudia says with great, and to Myka’s thinking entirely inappropriate, relish.

Trying for calm pragmatism, she says, “Wouldn’t I just... unpush the stop button then?”

“Myka,” Claudia says. It’s the most chiding, disappointment-laden use of her name Myka has ever heard, even when measured against all the times her father has uttered those two designating syllables. “Believe me when I tell you I’m a fan,” Claudia goes on, turning mollifying, “but you really need to lean in when it comes to tropes.” Myka can’t imagine how to respond to that, so she doesn’t. Claudia sighs—seemingly everyone’s preferred go-to when Myka fails to produce words—and says, “Did you try calling maintenance? Pushing the emergency button? Using your cell?”

“Yes, yes, and no service. Do you genuinely think I don’t understand modern communication technology?”

“I think you pretend you don’t understand newfangledness all the time. Particularly when you’re trying to show off how sympatico you are with H.G., who incidentally doesn’t seem to be piping up like I’d expect. Did you knock her unconscious after your terrible chat? Or maybe during it?”

Helena has indeed been very—very surprisingly—quiet while Myka has explained the situation to Claudia. And she doesn’t step in to help Myka out now. So much for any counter-Claudia backup.

“There was not a chat,” Myka says.

Helena is regarding herself in the mirrored ceiling.

“But there could be one now?” Claudia nudges. “Let me see if I can see what’s up. I’ve got cell service.” She disconnects.

Helena abruptly abandons her ceiling self-contemplation, focusing her gaze upon Myka. It’s disconcerting. “Are you attempting to avoid an uninterrupted chat?” she asks.

Myka can’t suss the question’s sincerity. And notwithstanding all her ideas about talking, she suffers a cringing internal “yes.” Externally, however, she says, in what she hopes offers at least a veneer of sincerity of her own, “No.”

She doesn’t follow up by asking “why would I be doing that,” because Helena would probably have a guess. And because that guess would probably be accurate: “You are a coward,” Helena might say, and Myka would regrettably have to either tell the truth and agree, or lie and disclaim any emotional investment in whatever the outcome of such a chat might be.

Silence. Longer than it should be... or is it as long as Myka deserves?

You wanted time together. Don’t bellyache about the form it takes.

“Your objection to mirrors,” Helena eventually says.

“What about it?” Myka asks. Her very soul flinches.

“What is it?”

Myka has never before stated her dislike of mirrors aloud, and she regrets having done so now. To play it off, she says a dismissive, “An artifact.” And yet the truth is that despite the unnerving nature of her interaction with Alice’s mirror and how it continues to prey on her mind, it isn’t really that—or rather, that only intensified her dislike.

But when Helena proposes, “Yet another ‘dealy-thingy’?”, clearly (and preciously) trying the phrase out in her mouth, Myka misleadingly (intentionally misleadingly) nods and says, “They’re all dealy-thingies.”

To that, Helena says, “Interesting.”

Myka would probe that word, but to do so might destabilize the ground, here in an elevator. Instead, for the moment, she tilts her head in the direction of the Christmas muzak, the literal elevator music, being piped in. “Oh, sure, that still works.” She gestures at the speaker, a thin dark stripe between two mirror-panels, from which the sound is emerging. The elevator is nothing if not insistent.

In truth, she doesn’t mind Christmas carols. She does mind the bowdlerization thereof, and isn’t that an attitude the dogmatic elevator really ought to share? O holy night, the stars are brightly... synthesizing? It’s wrong.

Now even her mind is vamping. Great.

Helena tilts her head toward the speaker, however, and Myka appreciates her willingness to be redirected. At least for a moment.

In fact, for all her vamping, mental and otherwise, Myka finds herself absurdly content to simply stand against a mirrored elevator wall and regard Helena... who in that instant of Myka’s acknowledged contentment seems to accept their predicament as unlikely to be resolved in a timely fashion: she sits down, of course elegantly, resting her back against her side of the box and stretching her legs (her legs, Myka’s body notes, just to let her know it’s still paying close attention) out in front of her.

The looking-down perspective is a bit disorienting—although at least this time it has nothing to do with being stuck to a ceiling—but Myka has no time to process it, for Helena’s next salvo, looking up, is, “You’ve been expecting me to remark further on naughtiness, haven’t you.”

Reading, yet again. “I kind of have,” Myka admits. It seems an overly judgmental statement, particularly given that Myka has to deliver it as if from an elevated bench. And yet... she kind of has.

“I’d rather not fulfill that expectation,” Helena says. “If we could speak of other things.”

Myka is a little thrown, but thankful. “That is entirely fine by me. What do you want to talk about?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Myka says, meaning it as an answer to either interpretation of Helena’s interrogative: Are you asking what I want to talk honestly about? or Are you asking, with honest intent, what I want to talk about? She hopes Helena will respond similarly.

“Something that interests you,” Helena says.

That’s not in any way what she was expecting. “Really?”

“Really.”

It’s a word similar to, yet very different from, “honestly.” What, in a real sense, interests Myka? In this moment, all she can think to say is “you.” And perhaps because her normal inhibitions are disordered, here in this stopped elevator, that’s what she blurts out.

And that seems, incongruously, to take Helena aback. “What about me?” she asks.

Myka can’t say “everything.” It’s the real answer (really), but it’s far too... big. For an unexpected reunion, an unexpected uninterrupted chat—although Claudia or rescuers could at any point interrupt it, which Myka should hope happens (should)—it’s far too big.

So: smaller. What occurs first to Myka is “where have you been”—but that would most likely seem accusatory. She needs something else. Something something something...

In the aftermath of the Warehouse not being destroyed, she’d felt herself full of hard-earned wisdom and bravery: enough, surely, to stop hesitating. Enough, surely, to act. Or enough, at the very least, to articulate.

“Wisdom” and “bravery” now seem nothing more than labels on empty containers, and so “faintheartedness” is the fullness with which Myka here initially accuses her today self. But as Helena breathes and waits for an answer, Myka revises that, gentling it to “caution.” And she adds “care.” Because she is trying to attend to, to appreciate, that breathing. And that waiting.

These might be nothing more than self-indulgently comforting shifts in vocabulary... but then again they might be akin to the shift from “Christmas” to “end-of-year.” Gentle. Inclusionary.

The something something something that occurs to her—because in attempting to avoid her own reflection, she is confronted instead with multiple Helenas—concerns a topic she probably should censor but doesn’t: “When you were a hologram... or a projection, or whatever we should call it... did you have a reflection?” She then reflexively backtracks, “It shouldn’t matter? But I don’t know.” That last, she means both ways. She doesn’t know: whether the reflection existed, or whether it matters. But maybe it’s a sneak-up on things, because she shouldn’t ignore things, and because a seemingly inconsequential tangent might tiptoe toward importance.

“I don’t know either,” Helena says. “I suppose I would have?” Her face contracts. “Or perhaps not, as I don’t know how that holographic projection of myself was... projected. But I do intend to look into it.” She says this last as if Myka has caught her in some inattention, a recklessly uncompleted assignment.

“I never even started majoring in physics,” Myka laments, which is true but also, she hopes, reassuring in an I didn’t do the homework either sense, “so I don’t know the optics of it. Projections. Light and mirrors. “ She doesn’t mention that in the wake of Pittsburgh, she had indeed tried researching such things... she’d got as far as some advanced volumetric displays, ones using dust particles as screens onto which lasers projected light, but at a certain point, a tipping point, the idea of Helena existing as—being relegated to—nothing more than light and dust seemed to scream a surpassing insult, a degradation conjuring death, and it was more than she could bear.

For now she puts that away. She shakes her head, shakes it free, and changes tack. “Anyway, that’s probably the wrong approach. This is Warehousey, so thinking outside physics, the laws... okay, all I know about reflections, unphysically, is that vampires don’t have them. So if you didn’t have one, then maybe all holograms are vampires?” Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. She would have done better to speak of dust, that and light and despair. Going with vampires instead? Talk about vamping...

“Presumably not vice versa,” Helena observes, seemingly taking Myka’s words far too seriously. “Certainly fictionally. Also not overly flattering, in the syllogistic sense of ‘Helena was a hologram, therefore.’”

“They’re very popular though,” Myka temporizes.

“Stoker’s novel was all the rage,” Helena allows.

The chat stalls out. Interrupting itself?

Myka nevertheless feels pressure to fill the silence: it’s her fault. Will a simple truth suffice? “I didn’t expect to be spending the day before Christmas Eve with you,” she says. “Or any day with you. In Cleveland.”

A small smile from Helena marks this as a more welcome fill than a question about reflection. As do her next words: “Nor I with you. In Cleveland, or any place. Equally, I didn’t expect to be sent on a mission with you.”

“That part of it went well.” Myka gestures at her bag that contains the artifact.

“We did—and now do once again—make a good team.”

“I’m glad we got the chance to do it again. Glad, but also... relieved.”

“Relieved,” Helena echoes.

That wasn’t a question, but Myka answers anyway. “Well, obviously, first,” she says, feeling herself launching into an explanatory babble that she fears she’ll be powerless to stop, “because you didn’t have to talk anybody out of using Joshua’s trumpet, so that really makes a difference in terms of how we—”

“‘First’,” Helena quotes, interrupting (stopping), conveying her full knowledge that that too is a vamp. “And second?”

“That we still are.” This, Myka says simple and frank.

“A good team?”

That is a question. Myka knows “yes” is the only sensical answer, so she tries to say it. But the depth and weight of the ways in which she and Helena “still are” choke her: they “still are” in the basic sense of existing, which was never a certainty; and even better, higher, these hours they’ve spent together today have made clear, to Myka at least, that they “still are”... well. She’d like to finish that with something like “in love,” but instead she tries to leave it, even in her head, at “still are,” with their time-crossed, maybe-destined predicate undefined.

“A good team” should be good enough—true enough—for now.

So after a stretch of time during which Myka knows she’s been focusing her gaze far too intently on Helena, she manages that “yes.”

Helena waits to speak.... are her eyes glistening more brightly than usual, or is Myka hallucinating? “I’m relieved as well,” she says, and Myka chooses to simply delight in whatever prompted such a saturated sparkle.

It draws her closer.

She crosses the small-yet-large elevator-width that separates them. “I need to either sit down beside you or help you up,” she says. “Do you have a preference?”

“For?” Helena’s eyes continue to glow.

That shine... Myka has hopes. They may not be realized, but she has them: the product of relief, “still are,” and an unknown predicate. “Whatever’s next,” she says.

A bit of time passes, with Helena now being the one focused most intently. “I’ll stand,” is her verdict.

Myka reaches down with both—both—hands, offering, and Helena reaches up, accepting. Their fingers meet and clasp, and too cold, Myka thinks, for both of them have a chill in those extremities... but first impressions of temperature promptly fall away as the new reality of the clasp roars into precedence.

Myka has never been so certain of, so certain of and enchanted by, what must and will happen next in her life. Never in her life so certain, as the clasp tightens, as their torsos lean, as Myka’s body begins an at-last congratulation, one that will become a celebration—

A voice from somewhere overhead barks, “Everybody okay in there?”

TBC

[reverie-verse]

Love Triangle Or Not (Four)- Pt 3

Here are the other parts

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Anon Request Prompt: Y/N is a trainer (very well known for her badassness) She just came back from a mission; she gets a little jelly that Tris and Four had gotten closer. There’s some feelings but on who’s end? Four asks Y/N to help Tris. Being the amazing person she is, she agrees to help, but in the process she gets hurt. After the mission ends she returns home only to have an argument with Four. Leads to late night confessions  

I’m also making Y/N a Divergent but in secret. 

A couple things, this is ridiculously long, I put it in parts and I am releasing them all at the same time because it makes sense okay. Cooooooollll I hope you enjoy. 

Established something between Tris and Four. 

P.S This is extremely action packed and its about the only action packed sequence so have fun reading it and also be very much warned.

My Requests are Open

————————————————

After that you three had spent hours formulating a plan running through different outcomes to see which was more efficient. You had prepared your tools and items as you headed out of the Dauntless. By now Tris would be taking her test, unfortunately she was quick with it so your time frame was short. In all black your assassin suit tight against your body, you had a hood covering your head and a half mask covering your mouth and nose. Your eyes being the source of all your expressions. Your weapons strapped to your thighs and hip, your black boots set and ready. Lucky for you, your boots made it easy to stay quiet. You had made it to Erudites building crouching down hiding behind the dock ports. Transport vehicles awaited its precious cargo. 

You hid behind two massive cargo boxes peeking around the corner eyeing the guards. You were running out of time. Checking your watch the clock was ticking. You waited till each soldier and erudite were not in sight slipping onto one of the transports. You reached into your pocket pulling out a tiny explosive placing it under the vehicle. On your last vehicle your watch beeped. Your time was out. You needed to get inside quickly. By now the soldiers were coming back with the Erudite transporters. You hop over the loading dock and into the warehouse. You had pressed the button on your watch causing all the tiny bombs to explode popping the back tires blowing the inside up. Screams and yelling were heard calling for backup. The air filled with smoke allowing you to run through. Some men had seen you, they charged at you. You run pulling the knife out from your thigh and you slide under the man’s arm as he swings his fist at you. You threw your knife at the man running towards you and your opponent hitting him in the shoulder causing him to fall. Your opponent behind you turned back around lunging for you. His pair arms wrapped around your waist pulling you back. 

Planting both feet on the ground you reached behind you wrapping an arm around his neck. You used your hips to toss him onto the floor knocking the air out of his chest. You lifted your leg kicking him in the face rendering him unconscious. The other man whom you had thrown the knife at, had pulled out the weapon from his shoulder. He ran towards you swinging his other arm back and forth. You ducked and dodged standing in the side of him; His arm swung again using both hands and you stopped his wrists from going any further. You took one hand in yours, bending it downwards, you placed your other hand on his elbow pushing up at the same time. He dropped the knife scream as his bones broke. You let go quickly, taking this as your chance to hit him in the throat kicking his knees out at the same time, then pushing him off the loading dock into a stack of wooden crates.

You picked your blade up off the ground shoving it back in its sheath. You made your way to the entrance of the building, the alarms blasting through the speakers. You stopped at the doors when you saw that a group of Dauntless soldiers guarded it. They waited for you as they held up their guns and pointed them in your direction. You slowly placed your hands behind your back pulling out a set of tiny devices. At the ready the men inched forward, you waited, another step, wait, another step, now! You pressed the button on the middle as you flung the explosives at the group. They each went off one by one as they tased each guard. You run through the building's entrance making your way to the top. 

As you entered The chaotic building you headed for the serum room. But by the time you had gotten there it was too late. Sure you blew up half the trucks but the rest still made it out. You stopped in your tracks, Tris stands in the middle of the room. Four is standing next to Jeanin. A voice calls out to you. “ Y/N?!” It was Eric’s voice. Anger flashed across his face. 

“ Eric” You warned. 

“ Stand down Y/N” Eric begins to circle you. Knowing full well that you never planned to back down from his dominance. You never have. 

“You know I can’t do that Eric.” 

“No, of course you can’t. But I sure as hell plan on taking you down.”

“ You and I both know that’s not gonna happen” 

Eric chuckles “ We’ll see about that” 

Eric runs towards you, you decide to meet him halfway. You aimed for his middle section throwing your shoulder into his stomach, he was able to take the blow grabbing you as well and tossing you away from him. He threw you over the table making you crash into everything then sliding off of it. Your hood falls off your head only leaving your mask on. You coughed stumbling as you tried to stand up. Less then a few strides Eric made his way to you spearing you through a glass wall shattering it. You both roll and tumble on the ground. As groaned in pain rolling over you and Eric made eye contact. You both waited until you both broke out into a run again Eric snarling along the way, you both went in for a hit, the momentum knocking you both back. You both circled each other, off in the distance screams were heard along with people running. Neither of you paid much attention.  Eric lifted his fist aiming for a punch, you stepped back using the palm of your hand to block it. You used your other hand pushing your palm into his chest pushing him back just a tab. In the same second you turn to the side, extending your leg out kicking him in the chest, he stumbles back not able to catch a second. 

You run up lifting your knee to aim for his chest again, he dodges the move, taking the opportunity to nail you in the side. He grabbed your hair from behind, bringing you back to him. You planted your feet on the ground shoulder width apart as he bent you back, pivoted to your left, turning so that you were facing him, one hand resting under his elbow joint the other on the hand that held your hair. You push up on his elbow then grab the hand that held your hair, making the palm of his hand face upward, you popped his joint forcing him to let go. Eric screams in pain…The fight had only just begun.

[cobaltsoulsearcher]

Resources for questioning/self-diagnosing autistics

Note: I am a professionally diagnosed autistic. I welcome researched self-diagnosis and also would wish to acknowledge these tools are intended largely for low support needs and mid to high masking folks without major language/intellectual disabilities , who are only one part of the autism community. Likewise, science does not always adequately study POC and AFAB autistic people.

That said, here are some scientifically based resources.

1. Look at what professional psychologists use to diagnose autism in adults. This is intended for professionals so it may be very difficult to understand. That’s okay! You don’t have to understand this! It’s just for reference.

There is one major note I have here, which is that they use the EQ empathy quotient. it is important to know does not measure empathy, but NT responses to empathy; this has been proved by comparing it with other scales of empathy. Toronto Empathy Scale is good if you want to know your actual level of Empathy and is linked later on. Low empathy or high empathy are both possible with autistics.

You can also look at the diagnostic criteria for autism! Here’s a link: https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/autism/hcp-dsm.html

2. The Autism Spectrum Quotient is the most cited number for measuring autistic likeliness, and can be taken as a self-report quiz. You can take it here: https://embrace-autism.com/autism-spectrum-quotient/#test

https://embrace-autism.com/autism-spectrum-quotient/#test

However, do note that some of them are worded weirdly. Embrace autism has this handy list of rephrased items to help with taking it:

3. The RAADS-R autism measure is another often looked at number that can be taken as a self-report quiz, though again, be aware there is bias towards white male typical traits. It is also important to note this tool is only intended to adults and generally useless to teens.

4 . You might see the Aspie quiz (https://rdos.net/eng/Aspie-quiz.php) around as well. However, the reason it isn’t as studied is because in reality, it doesn’t particularly measure autism as opposed to general neurodivergence (ADHD, OCD, and BPD folks in particular also tend to score high). The only area that IS consistently high for autistics only is “Talent”. Don’t depend on this measure.

5. There are some other scales that may be useful to understanding your autistic traits, but that only examine specific traits. Here are a few:

Masking: https://novopsych.com.au/assessments/formulation/camouflaging-autistic-traits-questionnaire-cat-q/

Repetitive behavior: https://cardiffunipsych.eu.qualtrics.com/CP/File.php?F=F_cNmWiefEt9VrJbg

Executive function: https://www.smartbutscatteredkids.com/esq/

Alexithymia: https://embrace-autism.com/toronto-alexithymia-scale/

https://embrace-autism.com/toronto-alexithymia-scale/

Empathy: https://psychology-tools.com/test/toronto-empathy-questionnaire

[noellawrites]

His Future Wife (Part 5) - Yandere!Sonny Carisi x reader

Series Masterlist

summary: you make a plan and escape, but Sonny never gives up looking for you and his daughters.

warnings: pregnancy, rape mention, drugging, break-in, yelling, threats

After you and Sonny brought the twins home, you began to act more and more affectionate towards your new family. Sonny was worried you’d want nothing to do with the babies, but instead it was quite the opposite.

You adored your daughters more than anything. From the moment you met them, you would never be able to escape and leave them behind with Sonny.

You formulated a plan. It would take a while to execute, but you could be patient. You would have to be, if it meant you and your daughters could finally be free.

You had avoided your family throughout the pregnancy, dodging their calls and avoiding their visits. Sonny had made you delete all social media, so you hadn’t had to worry about that.

When the twins were about two weeks old, your dad had called you and you answered. He asked you to come to a family dinner since it was close to the holidays and to their surprise, you’d accepted.

You wanted to break the news to them yourself, but Sonny wouldn’t let you go over alone with the twins. So all four of you piled into Sonny’s car and headed to your parent’s house in Brooklyn.

When you arrived, you introduced your parents and siblings to your fiancée and twin daughters.

Your family didn’t seem surprised, which confused you. You let your parents hold Serafina and Valentina so they could meet their granddaughters.

“Why do you not seem more surprised?” you asked.

“We’ve known for months, Deputy Chief Dodds told us. We were waiting to hear it from you,” your mom explained, a sad tone to her voice.

You played affectionate fiancée and attentive mom for the entire evening, surprising everyone including Sonny. Your parents wondered what had gotten into you. So much has changed since you’d visited them in tears almost seven months prior.

—

Four Years Later

“No! No, no, no, this can’t be happening, not again!” you cried, dropping the plastic test onto the bathroom floor as you wiped tears off your face. It was positive.

You and Sonny had finally gotten married a year after the twins were born, at the Carisi’s church on Staten Island. You went along with it, acting excited and happy throughout the planning process. You did as much as you could to pretend like you loved him, to go with what he wanted.

You had built up Sonny’s trust through the years. You were now allowed to go places alone, see your parents, go to doctors appointments alone and return to work after your maternity leave had ended. Sonny no longer trapped you inside the apartment, either.

You loved your daughters, they were hilarious and smart and responsible. Serafina looked so much like Sonny, and Valentina looked just like you. Every time you asked yourself why you wanted to run, you reminded yourself that your daughters deserve a life where you didn’t fear for your safety, where their father hadn’t raped and kept you trapped against your will.

You had been taking out a small percentage of your paycheck every two weeks for the last four years and putting it in a locked compartment in your desk at work. When Sonny asked what was in the compartment, you said “dusty flash drives,” and he didn’t push the issue.

A month ago, you’d seen a specialist for having issues sleeping. You didn’t actually, but you needed it in order to dose Sonny the night you would leave.

An old friend from the academy you’d been hanging out with in secret, Aspen, had been helping you out as well. They had a friend renting out a cheap room in the Bronx, so you’d signed the lease and they’d been helping you acquire baby items and necessities for when you moved.

But the positive pregnancy test had lit a fire under your ass.

Part of you loved Sonny and always will. When you looked at him, you saw the father of your children, a man who wanted you so desperately that he did what he thought was right. A family man, affectionate, Godly and supportive. But you had three children now to worry about, and you’d seen enough domestic abuse cases. It was only a matter of time until Sonny would trap your children or scare them, too.

Later that night, after you’d drugged Sonny’s whiskey, you packed Sera and Val’s tiny duffle bags with the essentials. They were taking a nap, like you told them, before you would take them on an “adventure.”

You packed your bag quickly and quietly, listening acutely to make sure Sonny didn’t stir from where he snoozed on the couch. He was still in his fancy three-piece suit, grey-blond hair gelled back in his signature style.

Once you were done, you quietly woke up your daughters and helped them put on their shoes.

“Mommy, is daddy okay?” Serafina asked. You sighed. She was a daddy’s girl through and through.

“He’s just taking a nap, baby. Don’t worry,” you promised.

“Daddy's funny, he’s not wearing jammies!” Val giggled, causing Sera to join in.

“We have to be quiet, okay girls? Take your bags and let’s go this way.” You left your phone and ring on the kitchen table next to the fruit bowl.

You would take a cab with the girls to a spot you’d designated with Aspen that had no city cameras. Then, Aspen would pick you and the girls up in an unmarked, hotwired car and drop you off in the Bronx at the house where you were renting a room.

“Mommy, can we go to auntie Amanda’s?” Sera asked.

“Not right now, sweetie,” you said while attempting to hail a cab. Thankfully, they still hung around late in Manhattan.

“322 West Third Street please,” you told the driver as you helped your daughters get into the backseat.

—

Sonny woke up on the couch the next morning, still wearing yesterday’s suit. His head was pounding, so he got up to grab a glass of water.

“What the—?” he said to himself, noticing your phone and ring on the table. You never took off your ring, ever. And you usually had your phone near you or in the bedroom.

“Oh, no!” Sonny gasped, realizing the bedroom door was open. You weren’t in bed. He flung the girls’ bedroom open. Nothing.

Sonny yelled, kicking the bottom of your shared bedroom’s door.

“GODDAMNIT!” He panted, tears blurring his eyes. He couldn’t believe it.

Right away, he called Liv and explained what’d happened. Her and the squad worked tirelessly to search for the three of you, but there was never much luck. Mistaken tips on the tip line, and even those trails turned up dry after a year.

For the next three years, Sonny followed every lead as far as he could and kept going even after that. He asked private investigators, cops, lawyers, your family, his family, anyone he could for help.

—

Three Years Later

“Val, can you put Angelica’s toys back in her closet? And Sera, will you start putting the clean clothes away?” you yelled up to your daughters as you cleaned the kitchen. Today was your day off from work, and you had all three of your daughters home because of the weekend.

“Mom, I can’t find my basketball socks, I thought you washed them!” Sera asked, walking down the stairs of your quaint little house.

“I was saving those to wash with Val’s soccer stuff since it’s all smelly,” you explained, showing her the unwashed items.

“Ick, gross! Hey can we go to the library? I wanna see if they have the new Dork Diaries book,” Sera asked, giving you a pleading expression.

“As long as we don’t finish cleaning too late,” you promised. Sera nodded, wrapping her arms around your stomach.

“I love you, mom,” she said, which almost brought you to tears. You’d worked hard to raise your three daughters alone, without any knowledge of their father.

“I love you too, sweetie,” you said, and she let go and ran back up stairs, shouting something intelligible at Val.

Your toddler, Angelica, was two and a half years old. Surprisingly, she was a lot fussier than the twins, but she laughed and smiled a lot. And the twins adored her, which made you even happier. You missed your siblings and parents, but you had to use a fake identity to make sure Sonny couldn’t track you down. You had also registered Val and Sera for school under their nicknames and your new false surname in case Sonny managed to track them down, too.

You adored your little home, it was the perfect size for your family. It had three small bedrooms, so the twins each got their own and Angelica’s crib was in your bedroom. When you first moved in, you had rented out one of the bedrooms for you and the twins to share, though it was very cramped. The sweet old lady who owned the house, Agatha, had taken a liking to you and your daughters. When she passed away last year, she left the entire house to your family.

You also had been working as a transcriptionist for a small medical company for about three years. You missed being a cop, but for now it was impossible. You liked your new job, as it was straightforward and left you a lot of time to take care of your girls.

Being a single mom was hard. Every hour of your day was spent working or taking care of them, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Regardless of how they might've been conceived, they were your everything.

“Mom, why are the police outside?” Val asked as she ran down the stairs.

Your blood ran cold.

“C’mere, sweetie,” you said, attempting to even out your voice. You hugged Val and then knelt down to her level.

“Everything is going to be okay, don’t worry,” you assured her, slowly closing the window and blinds in the kitchen.

“Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

You went into each bedroom, shutting the windows and blinds.

“Both of you, stay in your rooms please,” you told the twins, and they both nodded. In your room, Angelina was still asleep in her crib.

You didn’t live in a bad neighborhood, but cops from the local precinct did occasionally drive through. You were, however, shocked to see Manhattan SVU across the street at the neighbor’s house.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, watching through a crack in the window shade as Amanda, Liv and Sonny walked from your neighbor’s house towards their cars. Amanda and Liv stopped, while Carisi kept walking.

“I mean, c’mon. Two seven year old twins? A young mom in her early 30’s? This could be her, I need to help her if she’s being held captive,” Sonny explained, walking up the driveway.

You watched as Amanda and Liv exchanged a look, then headed up behind Sonny.

“Hello?” He knocked.

You stood, unmoving as you tried to figure out if Sonny would recognize you. You’d changed your hair color, style and your body looked different after having another baby, but otherwise you looked very similar.

“NYPD, we have some questions,” Amanda shouted as Sonny attempted to look into your windows. Your worst nightmare was actually happening.

“This is the house, I know it. This toy car was mine and I gave it to the girls on their fourth birthday. Hey, somebody, open up!” Sonny yelled, striking fear into you.

You silently cursed yourself for being careless and forgetting to pick up the toys that’d been spread out in the yard.

“Sonny no-“ “Carisi don’t—!”

CRASH.

You stood still in the kitchen, hand over your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks. No.

Sonny ran at you, picking you up, overwhelming your body with his. Over his shoulder, Amanda and Liv wore horrified expressions you’d only ever seen when responding to the most difficult cases.

“I missed you so much doll, ‘ya don’t understand, I-I can’t believe you’re here in front of me! Where are the girls? They’re seven now, right?” he smiled, pulling away from you.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry! I love ‘ya too. I can’t believe this! Amanda, Liv, I found her!” he smiled, turning back to you.

You watched as Liv and Amanda exchanged analytical expressions over Sonny’s shoulder.

“They gotta be upstairs, right?”

“Sonny, no—“ you began, causing him to whip around.

“Are you trying to keep my daughters away from me?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

His hair was turning a light grey, and he looked so much more severe than the last time you’d seen him. His stance mirrored Barba’s, and his suit was one you hadn’t seen, an Armani.

“Sonny, I left because—“

“NO! You do NOT get to keep ma’ daughters away from me, you hear? I spent years lookin’ for ya, for my family! And this is what I get?” he screamed, storming up the stairs two at a time.

A speechless Amanda and Liv ran up behind you to stop whatever foolish action Sonny would take.

Sonny swung Val’s door open first, decorated with soccer posters and pictures of animals.

“Valentina, oh my god!” Sonny exclaimed, immediately recognizing the birthmark on her arm as she sat on the bed, arms over her legs, cowering from Sonny.

Val looked right at you, running up and clutching onto your shirt behind you.

“Baby, it’s okay, I’m your dad!” Sonny laughed, causing Val to only shake her head.

“Mommy said I don’t have a dad,” Val said simply. You looked back for a brief second to see Sera standing next to Amanda.

“Mommy, I know you said to stay but I heard someone yell,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“Sera, my daughter, you look just like me, you look just like daddy!” Sonny grinned, leaning down to give Sera a hug.

“Carisi, why don’t you just—“ Liv began, holding a hand in front of Sera.

“Get away from her!” you exclaimed, and Sera’s lip quivered. She looked just like Sonny, no one could deny that. It was a shocking sight.

All of a sudden, Angelica’s high-pitched wail sounded out from across the hallway. You ran to your bedroom quickly, retrieving your screaming daughter.

“Shh, shhh, it’s okay. Mama’s here,” you sighed, picking her up from her crib and placing her on your hip.

Everyone had moved into the hallway, Sonny approaching you as Amanda stepped towards him.

“I-Is she mine?”

You nodded. “Her name is Angelica.”

"You kept my baby from me? All three of my daughters? How could 'ya do this?" He seethed, cowering over you.

"Carisi, let's just take a step back and--" Amanda began.

"NO! You listen to me, you're gonna come home and apologize for the absolute hell you put our families through!" Sonny yelled, getting closer to you.

Val was crying and holding onto Liv as Amanda attempted to pull Sonny away.

"Dad, stop! Please, don't hurt mommy or sissy!" Sera begged, tugging on Sonny's expensive blazer.

"Sonny, just stop this, please," Amanda insisted, getting between you two and taking Angelica out of your arms.

"I can't believe you'd do this to me!" Sonny yelled at you, pushing you into the wall and cornering you.

"Carisi, get off of her or I'll have to arrest you in front of your daughters," Liv threatened.

Sonny backed off quickly, still staring at you with a piercing gaze.

"This ain't ova’."

chapter 6 linked here

[sandsbrainhasspoken]

So I've fallen back into the pokemon fandom after years of essentially only keeping an eye on things. Because of this, I have now played both Legends Arceus and Scarlet and first I want to say: I LOVE both games, I can NOT comprehend why people act like these are terrible games.

Sure, they have their issues at points, but they are fun? Most people's "issues" seem to occur when they try to do things that are out of the normal? Like, they are /intentionally/ 'stress' testing the game and acting as though what occurs is 'game breaking'??? Like, no??? Most people won't encounter these issues unless they are intentionally /trying to break the game/. But also, most of these issues /fix themselves/ if you give them time, and are therefore, /not gamebreaking/.

I also do not understand why people call either game ugly? While there are areas and textures that don't look too great, there are plenty of areas that I have to stop to appreciate my surroundings. Especially in arceus, with its beautiful sky.

I've seen multiple people say that 'gamefreak' refuses to listen to their feedback, and I just have a question for people who think this, have you played any of the recent games at all??? They are substantially different from previous games /because/ they took in feedback.

Some people even state that Scarlet and Violet have "no effort" put into them, which is such a stupid thing to say??? It is the biggest region byfar, with more details in the areas you explore, more detailed textures and models on pokemon, the most customization of (to my knowledge) ANY pokemon game, the best storyline of any mainline pokemon game (I don't include non-mainline because I have not played enough of those to form a true opinion), and some of the best characters in the series.

Honestly, what I've learned from this is that many people refuse to look at the (many) positives and only look at the (few) negatives when formulating their opinion on newer pokemon games.

As a note, though, not everyone's criticisms of these games are unfair. I mean, the performance and graphics in certain areas certainly could have been improved, but calling the game bad because of it is absurd. I've seen people who, previously, complained about many of the previous games 2D graphics, state that they would rather go back to the /very same/ 2D graphics they complained about...

Also, to the people who complain about the ease of either game, note that not everyone is well-versed with the game series, and that even those of us who are somewhat well-versed in the game mechanics struggle because we don't optimize our teams to the max. I mean, in arceus, even with some really good pokemon, I nearly lost to /Beni/, and that was while using items. And in scarlet I nearly lost so many battles that, at this point, I've lost count. Should the games probably have a way to set difficulty? Yeah, but that doesn't make the game not fun. Look at games like Minecraft, arguably, it is an easy game. However, it is still fun (for most people that play it, there are, of course, people who don't like sandbox games likes minecraft).

Anyways, to sum this up, I like the games and don't find them to be bad games. You can, of course, think otherwise, I just recommend thinking more critically rather than just complaining. Letting minor inconveniences taint our opinions on the game in its entirety only leads to toxicity with no growth.

[jen-cannabliss]

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[flock-talk]

Can answer this privately or publicly! Was just curious if you know of the Avian Raw Whole Food Nutrition FB group with Jason Crean & if you had any thoughts on good resource or no. I've been in it for ages out of casual interest.

So I don’t use Facebook anymore and can’t see any of their content as a result but I’ll use this as an opportunity to talk about raw fed parrots in general!

((Since I can’t access any of their info none of this is reflecting on the page or the biologist who created it either))

I love the idea but it’s likely not the ideal way for the majority to feed their pets. Raw feeding just isn’t very accessible for a myriad of reasons: sourcing ingredients, prep time, expenses with the tools needed for prep, and the severe amount of guesswork.

Getting things balanced properly is hard! We don’t have a lot of data on parrot nutrition, even some of the articles I shared today notes that some nutrient ranges they were using was from data on chickens because we simply do not have the numbers for parrots yet! That’s a tricky thing to try to figure out when scientists themselves haven’t even studied it yet.

Some pellet brands have done feeding trials and there are pellet specific studies to show the long term effects of that brand! No we don’t have all the data yet but the data we do have is pointing at (good) pellets to be the safer feeding option when it comes to nutrient availability and consistency.

On top of that produce changes a lot. The quantity of set vitamins in each produce item will be different every time you purchase that produce. In season, out of season, different fertilizers, shelf life, they all affect nutrient density, unless you’re testing produce yourself with your in-home lab you won’t know exactly how much of each vitamin your bird is actually getting. You’ll have an estimate, but you won’t know for sure, that can make homemade diets very risky.

Obviously parrots exist without extruded food nuggets, obviously they are capable of surviving on raw foods, and yes ideally I would love for us to be able to provide as close to a wild-type diet as possible to them! But presently we don’t actually know what that looks like. Until we have more solid information on what their diet exactly needs I wouldn’t personally feel confident trying to formulate it myself.

Having a group run by a biologist sounds awesome and I hope there’s lots of new information, studies, and data to be gathered there so we can get closer to that goal!

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

❝ You are no angel of mercy swooping down to mop the brows of grateful men, ❞

❝ You are a 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗞𝗘𝗥- and you will do whatever you are asked.

- - No matter how 𝗗𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗬,

- no matter how 𝗗𝗨𝗟𝗟, ❞

SMALL DISCLAIMER: this is an SCP-style document for an original character used in roleplaying, feel free to reblog, but just be aware this is for roleplay purposes!

ITEM #: SCP-8713 (& 8713-B, by extension) aka. Inter Arma Caritas

OBJECT CLASS: Thaumiel Safe Euclid Safe

DESCRIPTION: SCP-8713 refers to both an anomalous painting, dubbed SCP-8713- and the anomalous entity spawned from it, dubbed SCP-8713-B

SCP-8713 is a 1m x 1.5m x 5cm reproduction copy of William Hatherall’s The Last Message, painted using a gouache medium on linen canvas stretched over stretcher bars constructed of scots pine (Pinus sylvestris) and a set within an ornate black american walnut (Juglans nigra) and plaster rococo-styled gallery frame with gold gilted detailing and sealed beneath 1cm of glass.

Analysis of the print has dated it's approximate construction and painting to date to 1919, while a stamp on the back has been traced to the since defunct J.T Williams & Sons LTD photography and printing company based out of Birmingham, England.

SCP-8713 displays wear and tear in the form of minor sun bleaching, paint cracking and canvas warping, as a result of incorrect storage in a humid environment and being displayed in direct sunlight. While it's frame exhibits boring activity consistent with Powderpost Beetle (Lyctus linearis) predation, though no living specimen of Powderpost Beetles (Lyctus linearis) or their larva could be found within the frame.

SCP-8713 depicts a Red Cross nurse seated at the bedside of a dying soldier. The soldier lies weakly with his head propped up on pillows, a bandage running over one eye and across the side of his face. The nurse holds a pad and pen in her hands and is taking down a letter. The soldier's overcoat lies over the foot of his bed, and there are a pair of slippers on the other side of the nurse's chair.

Between the hours of 23:00 and 05:00 local time, SCP-8713 exhibits inanimacy consistent with other non-anomalous reproduction copies and images of The Last Message.

At exactly 05:00 local time, SCP-8713 will begin what has been referred to as a 'shift' event and will manifest approximately 5,500 litres of a highly viscous, liquid polymer at a rate of 18 litres per second since the restoration work performed on SCP-8713 on 04/02/2000, the rate of liquid manifestation from SCP-8713 is 30 litres per second through anomalous means from the nearest unobscured hard surface.

This anomalous activity does not extend to physical or digital copies of SCP-8713, either through printing, scanning or recreation and all manifestations of anomalous behaviour have thus far been unique to SCP-8713.

Per incident report 8713.049.0204, testing of apparent deceased liquid instances shed by SCP-8713-B following physical contact with SCP-049 has determined that its contents consist of ingredients which commonly formulate traditional gouache paint (various pigments, gum arabic & chalk), water, and trace amounts of a presently unidentified chemical of anomalous origin and composition.

Analysis of 'shift' events has indicated that despite the source of this highly viscous liquid seeming to originate from the hard surfaces from which they emerge, the true origin of the liquids is presently unknown and is believed to originate from an alternate dimension, with the hard surfaces serving as a conduit for the liquid to emerge.

Liquids manifested by SCP-8713 appear to display a sort of rudimentary intelligence and a single purpose. It will seek each other out and defy gravity to build on themselves and assume a humanoid figure measuring exactly 1.8m tall, and roughly 46 cm wide at the shoulders.

To date, all attempts to hamper or halt the process of SCP-8713 liquid manifestations have thus far failed.

In situations where no clear hard surfaces are available within a distance of 12m from SCP-8713, liquids manifested are known to absorb and destroy items at the closest proximity to the painting. This feature is exclusive to non-feeling objects, as in cases of living beings occupying all available space in SCP-8713's manifestation range, manifestations will begin in place and appear to attempt to absorb and destroy the living beings until the living being has expressed pain at the process through vocalizations or movement, at which point manifested liquids will halt the process and relocate at the nearest available hard surface outside of a range of 12m.

In situations where the liquids manifested by SCP-8713 are damaged or destroyed, SCP-8713 will manifest more liquids equal to the amount damaged or destroyed. Similar behaviour of reconstruction and rebuilding is exhibited by SCP-8713 liquids that are damaged while assuming its humanoid figure.

In total, the time taken to assume this humanoid form is 5 minutes from the time of the first manifested liquids. Since the restoration work performed by Foundation on 04/02/2000, the time taken for SCP-8713 generated liquid to assume its humanoid form is exactly 3 minutes from the time of the first manifested liquids.

Upon assuming a humanoid figure, SCP-8713 manifested liquids will appear to callous and harden at the surface and undergo an anomalous process of transmutation, through methods unknown into an SCP-8713-B instance. Following manifestation of an SCP-8713-B instance, the Red Cross nurse depicted in the painting will seamlessly disappear from the composition until the destruction of the SCP-8713-B instances or the conclusion of an SCP-8713-B 'shift' event.

SCP-8713-B refers to the entity created by the transmutation process outlined above that is exhibited by SCP-8713 liquids. SCP-8713 has, to date, only been able to manifest a single instance of SCP-8713-B at any given time and SCP-8713-B instances have been recorded to exist for a minimum of 18 recorded hours and at a maximum of 21 recorded hours, provided SCP-8713-B instances are not destroyed.

In events where SCP-8713-B instances have been destroyed or killed prior to the natural completion of a 'shift' event, SCP-8713-B has been witnessed 'dissolving' into a pure puddle of SCP-8713's manifested liquid and then dissipating from that state, rather than dissipating and demanisting from it's SCP-8713-B form.

Destroying an SCP-8713-B instance prior to the completion of a shift event have shown to have no adverse effects on SCP-8713, and manifestation events will continue to manifest and demanifest at recorded times.

SCP-8713-B instances visually appear as a Caucasian female in its mid to late twenties, with thin eyebrows, grey eyes, and black hair which is pinned back beneath a rectangular white veil. Subject stands at 1.8 m and anomalously weighs 80 kg. SCP-8713-B instances appear to wear dress consistent with Red Cross VAD nursing uniforms consistent with uniforms seen between 1917-18, though notably has three horizontal white stripes and two vertical red stripes on either sleeve.

SCP-8713-B identifies itself as a Miss. Ophelia Elise Penwell, though it also answers to: Penwell, Nurse Penwell or Nurse Ophelia. SCP-8713-B when interviewed has expressed to Foundation staff that it was born in Aston, Birmingham on the 26th of July, 1891 to a Mr. Charles Edward Penwell and an unknown mother who had left the two at an early age, but whom SCP-8713-B has stated it had reconnected with and cared for, but who had recently passed prior to it ❛re-entering the working world❜.

SCP-8713-B instances exhibit sentience and intelligence on par with those typical of an adult human, testing administered by foundation staff has placed the intelligence of SCP-8713-B to be considered above average for its self-identified age range, and consistent with licensed and registered nurses both of its time period and the modern age.

When interviewed and cross-tested with SCP-8713, SCP-8713-B has appeared unable and unwilling to grasp that it maintains any connection with the painting, even when directly shown footage of its own manifestations and the apparent anomalous capabilities of the painting, and its own anomalous traits.

Therefore SCP-8713-B identifies as wholly human and will speak at length about its self-pertained history both during its alleged experience as a VAD nurse during WWI, following WWI and prior.

Research has been conducted into the stories and accreditation that SCP-8713 claims about itself, however no records on any 'Ophelia Elise Penwell' or any potential variations of this name in any records held by the schools and hospitals mentioned by SCP-8713-B, the British Red Cross Society, British National Archives, QAIMNS or the Order of St. Johns, have ever been found. However, tracking of names and events explicitly mentioned by SCP-8713-B have been found to have a basis in our reality that is backed up by news, archival and anecdotal information at the time, further SCP-8713-B has disclosed information from the time period which it has claimed to serve which is accurate to events from the time which have never been publicly released.

Pushing of the subject in interviews and attempts to use SCP-8713-B self-described knowledge to prove that it is not human or that it possesses knowledge not logically able to exist at the time have thus far only served to aggravate SCP-8713-B until it is unwilling to converse with Foundation Staff.

SCP-8713-B has demonstrated an inability to maintain memories between 'shifting' events. Following manifestations, SCP-8713-B is able to form and retain memories from any events or knowledge gained during its 18-hour 'shifts'. However, following SCP-8713-B's apparent death and demanifestation, all memories and knowledge gained during its manifested period will be lost. No attempts by Foundation staff have been able to recall memories and information lost following demanifestation events.

The exact cause of these memory issues is presently unknown, and MRI and EEGs performed on SCP-8713-B have shown no abnormalities in SCP-8713-B's brain function, and it's ability to recall memories in the short term after acquiring them.

In what has been described as a 'reverse prey instinct,' SCP-8713-B has demonstrated an innate ability to detect physical and mental distress within a 710-metre vicinity of its person, an unwavering fixation on the condition of the wounded or distressed individual in question, and an irresistible, unshakable compulsion to both track and find the individual it has detected injury or distress in and treat them until their wounds and mental distress has been stabilized to a degree where they no longer require medical attention.

SCP-8713-B instances have exhibited the innate ability to understand the severity and general manner of a detected injury or cause of distress in an individual down to the manner of severity and type of injury in question regardless of whether or not SCP-8713-B should be logically able to understand the injury or distress undergone by the individual in question. In blind tests performed by Foundation, SCP-8713-B was able to accurately assess the general manner and severity of mental and physical distress to a percentile of 85%, with the accuracy of 8713-B's predictions increasing based on the injured or distressed party's physical proximity to SCP-8713-B.

When unable to access, treat or see to the care of the wounded or distressed individuals within its detection range, SCP-8713-B undergoes intense mental turmoil, panic, distress and fixation on the subject of its detection until it is no longer capable of detecting the wounded or distressed party, be it do to them having treatment administered to them by a 3rd party or succumbing to injury.

SCP-8713-B has expressed to Foundation staff, that such mental turmoil and distress caused by an inability to locate or treat physical and/or mental distress in a patient causes it immense physical pain SCP-8713-B has related in severity to the pain of a stab wound and mental anguish it has likened to losing a patient due to error on its part.

When exposed to multiple parties experiencing mental or physical distress, SCP-8713-B will attend to injured or distressed subjects in a manner consistent with triage principles going from patients of most urgency to least urgency. SCP-8713-B will not need to speak with patients to perform these assessments and will consider them to be innate knowledge in the same manner as their aforementioned ability to detect distress and injury, though will elaborate and explain their reasoning if requested.

Treatments undertaken by SCP-8713-B to treat injured or distressed individuals are not anomalous in nature and are commonly employed methods of treatments known to field and clinical medical staff. SCP-8713-B has expressed that it is only capable of treating and assisting when the tools and methods of treatment are available for it to use. However, SCP-8713-B has displayed a measure of resourcefulness when it comes to administering treatment and has been seen witnessed during several breach events repurposing non-medical clothing and equipment in order to aid staff in escape and to treat injuries.

Moreover, SCP-8713-B will adopt an uncharacteristically aggressive, defensive, and even violent demeanour if it senses the well-being of any individuals nearby is threatened by any means be they physical, emotional or even merely intentional. Though initially this behaviour was initially thought to only extend to injured or distressed individuals, in line with SCP-8713-B's 'reverse prey instinct,' analysis and repeated behaviour displayed during breach events have displayed that SCP-8713-B is not picky about who it protects, only that they are not the instigator/on the receiving end of threats to their person or well being.

Though SCP-8713-B under standard circumstances has shown itself physically incapable and mentally unwilling of even considering causing deliberate harm or pain to another living being if it is not conducive to the betterment of another living being, while in a state of defensiveness, SCP-8713-B has been to injure and kill both SCP and human beings it considers to be an active threat to other parties. This behaviour has been shown to cease in instances where the aggressor relents or retreats, however, cases, where the aggressor refuses to back off, will inevitably lead to either SCP-8713-B or the aggressor being killed in the ensuing struggle.

Further, SCP-8713-B has demonstrated the ability to both possess and display both fear and a heightened and panicked sensory response conducive to fear; SCP-8713-B has both displayed and expressed that it is physically incapable of employing any self-preservation when it relates to perceived threats to another human being. SCP-8713-B has related such behaviour to its perceived duty, however, it cannot express any reasoning behind such behaviour and has often expressed that it wishes it did not undertake these actions which it understands will lead to its destruction.

Due to these abilities, and SCP-8713-B's self-described mentality of 'do what you must until you can't anymore,' SCP-8713-B has been credited with directly aiding or facilitating the survival and evacuation of an approximation of 16 SCP staff and security members across six breach events. With further staff mentioning that SCP-8713-B displayed cool and methodical and gallantry in the face of breach events. Refusing to even consider evacuating itself into shelters alongside other staff and free-roam SCP subjects until it was confident that all staff who could be retrieved and taken to safety were.

These actions are not be confused with loyalty or fondness towards the SCP facility, as though SCP-8713-B has repeatedly displayed itself willing to lend aid to Foundation staff, SCP-8713-B has neither expressed or displayed any true loyalty towards the Foundation, and is known to shift affiliation between the Foundation staff and external and internal forces within the facility dependent wholly on who it feels is the instigator in situations and who it feels requires its aid.

SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: SCP-8713 is kept in a two room, connected containment cell which is referred to as the primary containment cell one and secondary containment cell for brevity.

In the primary containment cell, SCP-8713 is to be kept at all times within its frame, within a wall-mounted and climate-controlled vitrine. An area of exactly 12m X 12m is to be outlined using some form of tape or marking and left entirely clear of any objects/debris within SCP-8713's primary containment chamber to allow for unhindered and controlled SCP-8713-B manifestations.

Following SCP-8713-B manifestations, SCP-8713-B is to be directed into the secondary containment cell for holding to allow for separate observation and the perseveration of both SCP-8713 and SCP-8713-B.

SCP-8713's secondary containment cell is to be outfitted in accordance with Standard Secure Humanoid Containment procedures.

In response to concerns regarding SCP-8713-B's resetting memory and immense emotional and mental distress caused by SCP-8713-B's lack of understanding surrounding it's containment as a result of it's resetting memories, SCP-8713-B has been allowed to utilize 20 cm by 5 cm ruled journals to transcribe important information for itself to reread and refamiliarize it with it's surroundings, rules in place by the foundation, individuals it is required to interact with and anything else SCP-8713-B had felt important enough to detail. These journals are to be confiscated following each shift event to be read and thoroughly analyzed by containment staff tasked with SCP-8713-B's care. Any classified information contained within that SCP-8713-B is not authorized to possess is to be redacted, And the journal, along with writing implements are to be returned to SCP-8713-B upon manifestation for reading.

As of 16/08/1994, SCP-8713-B has been granted limited free-roam allowance by due to SCP-8713-B's inability to cause knowing harm to any living beings, SCP-8713-B's repeated and extensive history of aiding Foundation staff. This limited free-roam allowence is restricted to the public cafeteria spaces, the medical facilities of any Site SCP-8713 is housed within and the areas in between these two points and SCP-8713-B's chambers.

SCP-8713-B has been given clearance and allowance to assist and administer medical care where allowed by Site medical staff but solely where given explicit permission in writing by at least two members of medical staff in positions of supervision or management.

This permission may be retracted at any time by medical staff and in cases where applicable, SCP-8713-B is to be escorted back to it's containment cell following dismissal.

Further, given SCP-8713-B's well documented inability to retain new knowledge past a 'shift' event and its tendency to become 'confused' when entering unknown locations, SCP-8713-B is to be escorted at all times by staff assigned to it or permitted sentient anomalies with free-roam allowance.

Though rare, in incidents where SCP-8713-B refuses recontainment orders or proves aggressive to Foundation staff, the application of water (H2O) has been found to painlessly and efficiently terminate SCP-8713-B instances, additionally lethal force is authorized where Security and MTF staff feel applicable.

DATE OF RECOVERY: 04/09/1986LOCATION OF RECOVERY: SCP-8713 was recovered from a farmhouse located at ██ █████, outside of Epping Upland in Essex, UK.

RECOVERY DETAILS: Though SCP-8713 itself remained unknown to the foundation for years, its instance, SCP-8713-B was well known to the foundation. Sightings and reports of interactions with SCP-8713-B and an individual matching the physical description of SCP-8713-B were extensive throughout the years of 1970-80, due to the benign nature of the tales of SCP-8713-B and the unconfirmed anomalous nature of 8713-B the Foundation declined to investigate, though kept SCP-8713-B on a list of potential objects and phenomenon of interest.

On 12/11/1983, Foundation agents received a report from an informant of an incident. Two police officers, later identified as Officer ███ ██████ and Officer ██████ ██████ responded to a call at 22:30 GMT about a distressed woman sighted outside of a convenience store in Hastingwood, UK. Responding to the call, Officers found SCP-8713-B being accompanied by a Mrs. ███ ████ who had made the call to law enforcement. Officer ██████ recalled upon being interviewed by Foundation agents that SCP-8713-B, appeared physically uninjured but appeared 'out-of-it,' disoriented and confused and recalled. Fearing that 8713-B may have sustained a concussion, the officers asked the individual accompanying SCP-8713-B why they had not called an ambulance, however, SCP-8713-B reportedly became adamant that it did not need aide and couldn't accept their aide and waste resources. Insisting that it was 'fine,' although 'foggy,' and 'needed a moment before returning to work,' Both officers, the woman, and SCP-8713-B reportedly spoke back and forth attempting to convince her to go to a hospital for roughly 20 minutes, before SCP-8713-B entered the backseat of the cruiser to allow the officers to escort it to the hospital to seek treatment.

Upon arriving at the ██ ████████ Hospital at exactly 23:00 GMT, SCP-8713-B was reportedly unable to exit the vehicle on its own, collapsing in the backseat on its side. Officer ██████ recalled that 8713-B began shallowly and raggedly breathing and appeared to be grasping at its throat. Speaking of the sound that it was

❝ haunting- I thought it was the cab that was making the sound at first- but it was her, her hands were at her throat, and it seemed like she was choking- but she kept making this awful rattling sound like when you go to shake up a can of spray paint, she (SCP-8713-B) didn't sound human, ❞

After 8713-B collapsed, Officer ██████ reportedly ran from the car into the hospital to get help while Officer ██████ remained outside, attempting to remove SCP-8713-B from the vehicle; when he had successfully dragged the anomaly onto the pavement, it reportedly went dead weight and became unresponsive to verbal commands and stopped breathing. Officer ██████ then began attempting to perform CPR on SCP-8713-B. Shortly thereafter at 23:05pm GMT, an emergency room nurse identified as Nurse █████ ████ and Officer ██████ returned. Nurse ████ dismissed Officer ██████ from CPR in order to administer aid to SCP-8713-B herself. Resuscitation attempts and aid were performed on SCP-8713-B by Nurse ████ for two minutes when 8713-B reportedly began disintegrating. Nurse ████ described the event as saying

❝ she (8713-b) was laying there- and I was trying to give her chest compressions when I heard ██████ scream. He just starting yelling ❛her arm! her arm!❜ and I looked over, and her arm was like- cracked- but not scaley, it was like- it was dried mud! But there wasn't any bones or nothing under it; it was just falling apart into thin air-then I tried to do another compression, and my arm went INTO her chest, up to my wrist, and I just- it felt like honey, runny honey- and I lifted my hands out and all this, this goo was all over me and dripping onto the pavement, then it dried too to my hands and just vanished like it was never there in the first place! ❞

At 11:08pm GMT, SCP-8713-B fully dematerialized from the front entrance of the ██ ████████ Hospital. Officer ███ ██████ and Officer ██████ ██████, returned to their patrol car and drove back to their station located in ██████ to report the incident. Upon receiving the report, Officer's ██████ & ██████ were sent home due by their Superior, and the Foundation was made aware of the occurrence.

Following this the Foundation began a formal investigation into the apparent anomalous activity associated with SCP-8713-B

Sightings of 8713-B were conclusively localized within a 55 km radius of Epping, though reports of an individual matching the known appearance and behaviour of SCP-8713-B were found as distantly as Birmingham, Southampton, UK and Dunkirk, Amiens and Verdun, France.

Analysis of urban legends, witness sightings and occasional police reports from the areas located within 8713-B's most active and frequented areas indicate that 8713-B was active in the areas between 1967-1986 though no witness account, report or urban legend could recall any interactions with the anomaly prior to September 1967.

Upon noticing the pattern of behaviour associated with SCP-8713-B and the area with which the activity seemed fixated, Foundation Agents codenamed Tailor, Drummerboy and Bonnie, disguised as police officers were dispatched to the areas of Epping, Harlow and Loughton and where 8713-B had been most frequently spotted. All attempts by the Agents to apprehend and take SCP-8713-B into foundation custody after being spotted ultimately resulted in inconclusive and unhelpful interviews and SCP-8713-B seemingly dying and dematerializing, in an identical manner as the inciting incident which warranted the Foundation looking into SCP-8713-B.

On 02/09/1986, Agent Bonnie, through observation of SCP-8713-B's movements, was able to backtrack SCP-8713-B to one definitive location, a farmhouse just outside of Epping Upland at ██ █████. Agent Bonnie, alongside Agent Tailor, was able to make contact with the inhabitants and owners of the home a Mr. ███████ and Mrs. ███████ and their adult child, Ms. ███████ and were able to confirm firsthand that none of the occupants were SCP-8713-B, nor matched the description and that they did not recall anything matching SCP-8713-B's description residing in the home, although inhabitants did seem familiar and at ease with the description of SCP-8713-B. Mrs. ███████ in particular responding to Agent Bonnie's description by exclaiming,

❝ Oh, Ophelia- what a lovely girl- she often stops by in the morning for tea, ❞

Agent Bonnie and Tailor conducted an informal interview with the inhabitants regarding the activity of SCP-8713-B; however, aside from a familiarity with viewing and interacting with the anomaly and confirming that it frequented the area, none gave any information of any value.

Upon confirmation that SCP-8713-B was commonly present in the building and the link between ██ █████ and SCP-8713-B was confirmed, Agent Bonnie and Agent Tailor used an approved 'imminent threat' narrative and offered paid accommodations to the residents in order to peacefully convince them to exit the residence in order for the Foundation a full investigation of the area.

On 03/09/1986, residents vacated the housing to stay at the ██████ ██████ hotel until the conclusion of the investigation, and Agents secured and searched the home. In doing this, Agents Tailor and Drummerboy outfitted the home with surveillance cameras and monitoring equipment and waited to see if SCP-8713-B would manifest.

At exactly 05:00 GMT, CCTV cameras captured unexplained movement within the attic of the home; when Agent Bonnie responded to the movement by running up to the area, he reported witnessing what he described as a ❛monstrous stream of sludge❜ pouring out of the floor directly in front of a painting, later identified as SCP-8713 in a manner Agent Bonnie recalled as being ❛geyser-like,❜

Agents Tailor and Drummerboy, reportedly hearing the commotion and cursing from the attic, ran into the room at 05:02 GMT in order to aid Agent Bonnie, however, seeing that Agent Bonnie was in no danger, all three watched as the stream of liquid assumed the form of SCP-8713-B and became sentient and animate. At 05:12 GMT, Agent Tailor took SCP-8713-B into voluntary custody following its animation, while Agents Bonnie and Drummerboy conducted a thorough canvas of the area and took several items of interest with them, including SCP-8713.

Further observation was conducted on the home, however after SCP-8713 was removed all anomalous activity ceased.

ADDENDUM #1: On 15/07/1995, Professor. L███ Sandoval, then serving head of the Arts and Artistic Interpretation Department of Site 19 raised concerns surrounding the condition of several anomalous objects, including SCP-8713. Professor. Sandoval asserted that the current state of each anomaly and the disrepair they had received from improper storage prior to their acquisition by the Foundation had the potential to cause the objects to become irreparably damaged or neutralized unless the Foundation intervened and employed restorative measures and upped conservation efforts.

The proposal was put to a vote and after several weeks of deliberation by O5 command, the request for proper was approved under the strict conditions that;

No instance of the original paint may be altered or covered in any way shape or form, even for the sake of aesthetic improvement and repair.

Where possible, the original frame and stretcher bars are to be reinstated on SCP-8713 following their repair and restoration.

The purpose of restoration is focused on maintaining the anomalous capacity of the object, not the aesthetics.

The above conditions, the previously unrealized extent of damage exhibited by SCP-8713, the commission and careful replacement of important components of SCP-8713 along with the complex cleaning and restoration process led the restoration project to continue through the periods of 1998 and 1999

In early 2000, all restoration of SCP-8713 was concluded and SCP-8713’s canvas and frame were reinstated within a newly commissioned climate-controlled vitrine within it's containment chamber.

[boundinparchment]

Spillways - V

Karina Alexandre, formerly of Fontaine, serves the Fatui after a series of events forces her hand and her Vision no longer glows bright. Unluckily for her, such circumstances are all too fascinating to the Second Harbinger. Prequel to ‘Tell Me Who You Wanna Be’. Hints at Il Dottore x Original Female Character. ArchiveOfOurOwn || FF.net

Dottore knocked twice and barely waited for the voice inside to respond before opening the door and leading Karina inside.  Her eyes scanned the room, finding dark wood shelves, free of dust, and finely lacquered.  Books, scrolls, and sculptures were showcased, an eclectic mix of items from all around Teyvat; the office's owner wanted it known they were worldly, then, Karina surmised.  The desk across from the door was made of the same wood, meticulously and lovingly carved and imposing in its size.  A fireplace to her left burned bright, the fire crackling happily and enveloping the space in a sleepy warmth.

Other than the chairs in front of the fireplace, there was no place to sit in front of the desk.  Only a plush carpet that gave far too easily under her boots.

The figure at the desk barely looked up from the ledger in front of him, dark hair spilling over his shoulder as he peered through glasses perched on the edge of his nose.  Despite the fireplace roaring, the person kept their cloak around their shoulders, unbothered by the extra heat.

Behind him, icy windows revealed the first glimpse of Snezhnaya she'd had since she arrived.  Wind whipped at sparkling snow across jagged formations, trees in the distance hardly bothered by the assault.  Dottore's words about the landscape came back like a slap in the face and Karina brought her attention back to the man behind the desk.

Who continued to act as if no one else was with him until golden eyes flicked up just long enough to acknowledge the intrusion.

"Doctor, I thought I told you to stop bringing in strays.  The roster for this week's matches is full."

"My, my, so dismissive.  As if I don't have better places to be, Regrator.  The conscript from Fontaine is awake.  I would like to expedite this process and be done with it.  The name Karina Alexandre should ring a bell."

So this was the Ninth Harbinger, the one with whom her parents garnered terms of her release.  Karina willed herself to school her expression as Regrator's eyes fell on her, his head tilted slightly as if the angle would help his assessment.

She knew the expression well; appraisal of worth.  She kept her spine straight.

"Ah, yes.  You're the one that made quite the headache a few years ago.  Quite the spectacle of a trial, to be accused of treason and tampering with international affairs."

"Yes, it was, Lord Harbinger," Karina replied, her tone neutral, as it had been earlier.

Regrator's mouth twitched, a ghost of a vicious smile barely crossing his face.  For a fleeting moment, Karina thought that the Dottore she met in the cathedral basement had a tamer expression.  At least he didn't try to hide his amusement with the darker aspects of life.  The man in front of her masked it with a smile that Karina knew all too well; it was the same one most nobles in Fontaine wore.

"Conscription seems like a waste, in hindsight," Regrator drawled, his gaze falling onto Dottore, behind her near the door.

"It is the better option, objectively, Pantalone," Dottore replied coldly. "You personally handled the terms, from my understanding.  I brought her here simply to close that loop and get on with my day."

She was beginning to wish she'd stayed in that solitary room in the laboratory after all.  This felt like her trial and Judgment all over again, people speaking about her, for her, as though she couldn't formulate a thought.  She steeled herself, trying to erase the tightness in the corners of her lips and in her brow but when she met Regrator's eyes again, the corners crinkling slightly, she knew she'd failed whatever test had been placed in front of her. 

"Forgive my rudeness, chevalier.  The circumstances under which you are here are grimmer than when the agreement with your family was struck; I was considering alternatives than the those of the rank-and-file Fatuus but it is the most appropriate quid pro quo, given the lives lost that day.  The details are a little spotty for me, however; can you fill in the blanks on how, precisely, you find yourself here?"

Karina bit her tongue.  Must she recount everything again?  After the flood of emotion at the Tsartisa's feet, the way cold hands took her cheeks and wiped away her tears, she wasn't sure she had anything else left.

"The abridged version will suffice," Dottore chimed in. 

His tone was calmer now, although Karina couldn't help but wonder if that had more to do with being in control again and wielding the weight of the room. 

She recounted what she could bring herself to, what felt relevant.  How her commanding officer abused his power and privilege, manipulated those who loved and cared for him.  How she blindly looked the other way, all the while wondering why Sébastien was gone for days at a time, returning in different clothes, his mood mercurial.  At first, it was children, she said, until eventually it was groups of the population that the perpetrator thought no one would miss. 

Her words were mechanical, her testimony now merely an echo of what she said to the Court.  All of the pieces lined up to fit the notion that the Fatui were taking advantage of the people forgotten by the Hydro Archon.

"The bitter war between classes in Fontaine does work in the Fatui's favor," Regrator said, interlacing his fingers and sitting forward.  "It is a delicate balance."

“I didn’t realize that, when I presented my evidence, I was handing Sébastien everything on a silver platter.  He arranged for the time and the location of the confrontation.  I later learned that he’d managed to redirect everything to remove himself from implication."

Karina turned just enough to shift her attention from Pantalone to Dottore.

"Which was how I ended up in that basement with you , or rather…the other you…"

A part of her missed the other version of him, the unruly hair and the strange three-quarter mask.  At least then she could see his eyes, blood-red though they were; he was impossible to read anyway but the mask obscuring his vision did her no favors.

"The rest is public record," Karina summarized. "Fontaine and Snezhnaya hold copies of the proceedings."

“Sébastien Evreux made quite the mess of our plans in Fontaine,” Dottore supplied after a pause.  “And he was– is –a loose thread. 

Are you satisfied, Regrator?"

When Karina turned back towards the desk, she caught sight of that smile again, amused by her tragedy.  "Quite satisfied, Doctor.  For now, at least."

Dottore released a breath through his nose.  Perhaps he expected not less from the fellow Harbinger.

"I'll have the appropriate paperwork drawn up and processed by the necessary parties," Pantalone continued. "Your service is for life, chevalier , as it is for all of us.  The truth of the matter is that you are here, alive, and your family who bargained on your behalf is gone.  You yearned for more and you flew too close to the sun."

The vicious curve of his mouth never wavered, Pantalone's expression the coldest thing in the room at that moment.

"You had best make the most of what you've been given."

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

Wesker, I have a question.

Te fog provides strange new plants as well as materials and chemicals to study and work with. Such as murky reagent. Have you attempted any tests upon this item? I personally ave a burning curiosity of just what compounds make up such a bottled item. And what sort of reactions it's chemical compounds might produce when mixed with certain odd plants or fog like parts.

Could a new strain be formulated perhaps? Maybe something flammable could be produced, which would be delightful.

"I have had some passing interest, yes.

Most of the species in the realms are replications of common species found in the real world. But then you have Dvarka Deepwood which is...I assume from a universe far removed from the one I personally came from. Or perhaps another planet? It would be pointless for me to speculate as I am limited in my understanding of botany.

Flammable compounds are fairly straightforward as it is and I doubt I would need to study any of the strange mixtures found lying around the waste to create them. You simply need an accelerant, and something to ignite it. At the very base of his mixtures, Kenneth's bottles are just Molotov cocktails for example."