#and also i have you know my lab job. with all the tubes and things

[unopenablebox]

cant believe i have to give up my brief attempt at having a fanfiction hobby again because i am, extremely against my will, in charge of union communications and have to compose 5-page emails on a turnaround of like a day and a half

and my diseased wrists simply do not have the capacity for any recreational typing left over after that

[superiorsturgeon]

out of curiosity, why do you like sturgeons so much?

A chance to info dump about my favorite fish…?!

I grew up in the Great Lakes area of North America, where fishing is pretty popular but everyone knows that fish populations aren’t anything like “the good old days” when people took out huge numbers of fish while messing up their spawning sites. I got pretty into fishing when I found out that I could catch bluegill in the surrounding farm ponds, and once in a while my family took me to an isolated fishing cabin for vacation, but for years I never encountered a wild fish bigger than a kilogram or two.

BUT THEN…

I found out about sturgeon! They were HUGE fish that had once lived in the rivers and lakes all around my home, and better yet, fish almost exactly like modern sturgeon had existed all the way back in the Cretaceous period alongside the dinosaurs, and they STILL EXIST TODAY!!! The fact that small numbers of these huge dinosaur fish still existed made them seem almost like a real-life lake monster/cryptid, except that we had proof of their existence!

Furthermore, there’s just nothing else like them. Sturgeon get big. Like, REALLY big. The record for the largest sturgeon was almost 11 meters/24 feet long, which is colossal for freshwater animals. They have armor plates of bone running down their sides, and at the same time they don’t have bony skeletons. They also have a crazy mouth structure, which allows them to actually pop their jaws out like a tube and suck up food. And on top of all of this, the adults are absolute tanks. I’ve seen skin nearly 8mm thick, and it’s so tough that people make leather out of it, and they occasionally lose fins or even entire gill plates and just keep on swimming! (I found out about that last one when I tried to wrestle a big female out of a river and my hand went straight into her gills. She didn’t seem that bothered by it!)

For a long time I filed sturgeon along with Alligator Gar, Giant Mekong catfish, and Yangtze paddlefish as a semi-legendary fish that may still exist, but I was never going to see except possibly in an aquarium, until I enrolled in graduate school. For those unfamiliar with grad school in the US, it typically involves both high-level classes as well as an independent research project the student designs and carries out with help from an experienced professor. When my mentor asked what kind of thing I wanted to study, I tossed out “sturgeon” as one such possibility, expecting to hear that I would probably have to limit myself to more common/accessible species.

I was blown away when she said “Actually, I think I know a guy…”

For the next several years, I got to ride along collecting wild adult sturgeon, gathering eggs, and raising the baby fish in a lab and in a hatchery. I was holding something that I had thought of as a semi-mythical lake/river monster in my own hands! I got to see a river choked with giants as big as 2 meters long, and I got to hold a 5-centimeters mottled baby whose armored scutes were still sharp and possessed the little arrowhead shape and big black pectoral fins that remind me of Mickey Mouse ears! In the video below you can even see a little heartbeat! (Don’t worry, this little guy was returned to the tank soon after to recover from his anesthesia!)

Sadly, I didn’t find anything super groundbreaking in my research, but my experience DID land me a job working in sturgeon aquaculture! If you’ve ever had caviar that wasn’t poached, it probably came from a sturgeon farm, and if you want to see a lot of big fish up close, this is a good place to do it! I probably personally handled more individual sturgeon than there are wild fish in several sturgeon species. In addition, while the wild broodstock I mentioned above might reach 2 meters and over 50kg, the sturgeon I dealt with at the farm would easily double that, and there were a LOT of them! I got to see sturgeon behavior that had never been recorded in field guides, and even a few crazy one-in-a-million mutations like the infamous “ghost” sturgeon!

I even got the opportunity to cook my own sturgeon meat (Yeah, I basically turned into the Touden siblings from Dungeon Meshi except for sturgeon instead of RPG monsters). I got pretty good at making smoked sturgeon, but the meat is also good on the grill or baked, and people have been cooking them in various ways for centuries.

My favorite part of the job was physically wrestling the big fish! Sturgeon are easier to grab than other fish with the right know-how, but a human-sized fish often has its own plans for the day and won’t always cooperate. I was pretty good at moving the adults by the time I left that job, but it was still a wild rodeo every time!

Even more exciting was how we spawned each new generation of sturgeon. In the wild, they form massive spawning runs in big rivers that in the past would be enough to tip small boats, but in a lab or farm we have to use other means. I’ll spare you the details, but I am one of a small number of people who have surgically extracted eggs from a live sturgeon and sutured them back up to swim another day.

The tldr of this essay is that sturgeon are a big, crazy-unique fish that have been around a long time, and I’ve spent a lot of my career handling and working with them. There’s just nothing like them for a fish nerd and they’re damn cool!

(Clip art not mine, I think @sturgeonposting drew or shared it!)

[dyns33]

No Fear

Being a while since I wrote about Homelander. I want to do a second part for this story, but I'm not sure about the ending yet.

Homelander didn't have a soulmate.

That was what was written in his file, written by scientists who had brought him into the world, raised him in a lab, studied him for years, in order to make him the ultimate superhero.

If you had asked Y/N for her opinion, she would have said that they hadn't done a great job, and that the report could be thrown in the toilet.

For the most part, Frenchie's partners seemed to agree with this conclusion.

When he had called her to ask for a favor, she had hesitated. Vought was a big fish, and Y/N had never liked fishing.

The job paid well, as well paid as it was dangerous. But that wasn't the problem. because danger didn't scare her. She wasn't afraid of anything.

If she had to thank her father, it was for showing her that soulmates were bullshit, that no one should be trusted, and that there was no reason to be afraid.

The worst thing that could happen was death, relentless, certain, and since she had died in their basement during the time he had kept her locked up, there was nothing left to make her tremble.

If she hesitated, it was because she didn't know Frenchie's companions well, he wasn't always reliable himself, and she hated wasting her time with undoable jobs.

She had followed from afar the adventures of the small team against the big bad corporation that created fake heroes, and they had never really had any results.

For her part, Y/N didn't give a damn about the supes. She had no direct grievance against them. They were assholes like billions of others in the world, the only difference being that they were harder to kill.

Butcher's rage against Homelander was understandable, after what he had done to his wife, his soulmate. If he didn't try to stab her in the back to achieve his ends, everything would be fine.

The supe didn't have a soulmate, since he was superior to everyone, he came out of a tube and he had no soul. It was possible to use the information to hurt his fragile ego in constant demand for love, but nothing else.

It seemed smarter to avoid annoying Homelander, or even if possible not to attract his attention so that the job would go well.

But Butcher was not able to keep his distance nor his tongue in his pocket, to the point that his best enemy could recognize his scent on other people.

"How's dear William ?" Homelander purred as if everything was normal, while he was alone in the Vought elevator with Y/N, who had posed as a delivery girl.

"Dying but still a pain in the ass."

"I don't think we've met before. He recruits into his little gang of losers and they send them to get killed instead of him ? That's heartbreaking."

"Hmm." was Y/N's response who hadn't looked at him for a single second, focused on counting the time left for Serge's creation to hack the building's systems.

"… Excuse me, I'm telling you I'm going to break your neck."

"That's great, big guy. I would believe it if there wasn't a camera, no proof that I'm a criminal or a danger, and you didn't look like you were totally having a blast. This is my floor, bye."

She even had the audacity to pat him on the shoulder as she left, which left him speechless.

It had really happened without her thinking about it. The problem with being afraid of nothing and not caring at all about Homelander.

If she had been a little more interested, Y/N would have known that he hated being ignored more than anything, but that he was also very intrigued when people weren't scared in front of him.

Since he didn't have a soulmate, he quickly and dangerously latched onto people who made him feel something other than disgust.

It was Frenchie who had insisted on installing surveillance cameras in the small apartment she was renting for the duration of the mission, since she refused to stay with them longer than necessary.

Half-laughing, she had told him that he was a pervert. Since she didn't see the need for this surveillance at all, Y/N had never looked at the footage.

No point in looking at empty rooms or herself sleeping, the rare times she was there.

"Maybe you should look, love." Butcher muttered with a serious look that he rarely displayed, almost as if he was worried about another human being.

"Because you have access to the images ? Do I have to charge you a subscription ?"

"Haha, you're not my type. But obviously, you had an effect on the super cunt."

Since the elevator, Y/N had seen Homelander two or three times. They hadn't really talked, she had continued to talk to him as if he were just a harmless guy with a big maniac smile and his eyes that never left her.

There had been a tiny change the last time. A strange feeling in her chest, a buzzing in her ears, and Y/N had felt like he was coming, which was impossible.

With his vision passing through walls, his sense of smell and his obvious paranoia, Homelander also always seemed to know where she was.

That didn't explain his recurring presence in her apartment.

He had first come when she wasn't there. According to Billy, the supe loved doing that, to study the enemy, mark his territory, prove that he could do what he wanted.

Like a big cat, Homelander could be seen wandering around the rooms, touching absolutely everything, searching the fridge, testing the couch, sniffing her clothes.

Y/N wasn't going to pretend that it made her happy. But they were just objects, nothing really important. While he was having fun like a child, she could enter protected areas with the certainty of not running into him.

The problem was rather when he came while she was there.

Sometimes while she was showering, he could be seen through the window, or who remained in the entrance, staring at the wall, before leaving. It was ridiculous to feel uncomfortable, because he could see through her clothes absolutely all the time.

More and more often, he came while she was sleeping. Y/N had had nightmares for a large part of her childhood. It still happened sometimes, waking her up with a start, feeling stupid.

While she was tormented by her inner demons, her body continued to not give a damn about the superhero standing right next to her. Sometimes, when she was agitated, he would put his gloved hand on her cheek, as if he wanted to reassure her. You couldn't say that it had any effect, but it seemed to please her.

He didn't touch her as much as he could have. Most of the time, he just looked at her, standing more or less close.

Obviously, he sometimes talked to her. The video didn't pick up the sound, so it was impossible to tell what he was saying.

Homelander was in the middle of a long monologue when he strangely froze, leaning over Y/N, and kissing her without warning. A quick, simple kiss, so simple that it hadn't woken her up despite a slight flinch.

It had been several weeks already. Since then, he came regularly, almost all night long, and by hacking into a few surveillance cameras, it was obvious that he also followed her during the day whenever he had the chance.

Y/N had often had this strange feeling when he was around, without ever being able to determine what it was.

"… Shit." she murmured as she looked at the images.

"Shit indeed."

"This is going to be a problem, a real problem. I mean, he was already keeping an eye on Butcher, so now it's going to be impossible to move without that motherfucker on our backs."

"We could use that."

"No, Butcher !" Hughie said with his expression of constant worry that was bordering on constipation. "It's too dangerous !"

It took Homalander coming just to save her for Billy to admit that there was indeed a problem.

For the cunt to save him from the explosion of Stilwell's house to laugh and show him Becca and Ryan, okay. But for him to break the sound barrier, traveling all over town, just to catch Y/N, when he had no way of knowing she was in danger ?

That bastard was known for having no heart, but at that moment, he thought of his wife, he thought of what she had been through, and even if he didn't know Y/N well, he didn't want her to end up like that.

"You have to get out of here."

"And what ? I hide in a zinc-walled dungeon for the rest of my life, praying that he doesn't find me or that he gets tired of me ? Please, Butcher. Because he will get tired of me, I'm sure of it."

She wasn't sure. She knew these types of guys. For a long time, she had hoped that her father would come to his senses and let her go. Then she had stabbed him thirty-two times before burning down the house.

After several attempts, it was obvious that it would not be possible to do the same thing with Homelander. But he hated humans, it could only be a passing fascination.

A way to fill the boredom and emptiness, since he had no other women to harass, all the others having been killed or committed suicide.

Running away could have been a good option, since it would have indicated that Y/N was afraid and it would have been a disappointment to Homelander. But he could have still chased her away just for that.

"Why does it always have to end like this with you Serge ?"

"What can I do, chérie ? It's all your natural charm. You broke my heart the first time we met, so it's not that incredible that you seduced the great fucking Homelander."

"You fall in love with everyone. He hates 'mud people'."

"You're not 'people'. I shouldn't have brought you here, désolé."

Frenchie spoke to her as if she were already dead. The whole team looked at her with sad and resigned eyes.

The receptionist looked at her the same way when Y/N showed up at the reception of the ridiculous Vought tower, asking to see the flying cunt. In fact, the request had made the woman laugh at first, a mocking laugh, but she had still called Homelander's apartment, and that's where she had looked panicked.

But maybe it was more about the fate he had reserved for her for speaking badly to Y/N, and not for the future of the woman who got into the elevator, armed only with her courage and a small knife hidden in her shoe.

Homelander's bright blue eyes looked at it with a small smile, as if he found it adorable, before returning to her face.

"We need to talk." Y/N said calmly as she stood in the middle of the hallway.

"I think so."

And if at the end of their little discussion, there was no way to reason with him, then one of them wouldn't be leaving this apartment, even if she had a pretty good guess as to which one it would be.

[suzukiblu]

Day four of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

"Dead," Tim says, because it's not like it's a secret in the community or anything. "Joker happened to him."

And a lot of other things. Sheila Haywood and Felipe Garzonas and Bruce's eternal control-freak paranoia and constant inability to just talk, to name a few. But Joker, in the end.

Still, Tim can't help thinking about the chances to have avoided what happened to Jason. Especially when thinking about what's currently happening to Kon.

If Kon gets taken advantage of or hurt or killed because no one's paying enough attention . . .

Tim takes another drink.

"That sucks," Kon says with a grimace. "No wonder Batman goes all weird mama Bat on you all the time."

Tim chokes on an incredulous laugh and also a mouthful of soda, because Bruce is definitely not that and this isn't something to make light of either, but–

But also, he thinks about how no one ever goes "weird mama Bat" on Kon. No one ever has, as far as he knows.

No one takes care of him at all.

Tim really, really doesn't like that. Kon shouldn't have to rely on working for people who think they can build custom-designed personal-use superheroes based off of stolen dead bodies and are constantly making clones that are just inhuman-looking enough to not be able to blend into society outside the lab, and therefore don't have a choice about where they live or what they do with their lives.

Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds, or at least not as malicious as it sounds, but it's still the results of what Cadmus is doing either way. Kon has the option of being a superhero, at least, but he also has a custom-designed face that looks exactly like the face of one of the most famous heroes in the sector and was given absolutely no idea how to either establish or support a civilian life, so that's just about his only option.

Aside from, again, just working for Cadmus for the rest of his life.

Tim definitely hates the world.

"Please don't call it 'going mama Bat'," he says to distract himself.

"Please tell me what else you'd call it," Kon says.

"Micromanaging," Tim replies matter-of-factly, and Kon chokes on a laugh of his own.

"What, is being Robin your after-school job?" he teases. Technically it is, Tim supposes, but he doesn't exactly think of it that way.

"I consider it more of an unpaid internship," he says, since explaining the whole "emotional support sidekick" thing would probably damage Bruce's Bat-mystique, and if he tells Kon the full story there he's basically telling all of Young Justice. Kon barely seems to understand the concept of secrets, much less the concept of keeping them. "Like I get an expense account but not a paycheck, you know? And sometimes we get cookies in the Batcave."

"Cookies. In the Batcave," Kon echoes, his eyebrows shooting up. "Are they bat-shaped?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Tim replies with a pleasant smile. Alfred doesn't usually bother with anything quite that on the nose, but according to Dick there are Halloween cookie cutters in the kitchen that he's not above bringing out when Bruce has been being especially ridiculous, so . . .

"Oh my god," Kon says delightedly. "Does he make them himself? Is there a Bat-apron? A Bat-oven? Or does he just order them special from the Bat-bakery?"

"There is not a Bat-bakery," Tim says, trying not to laugh again. Goddammit, Kon shouldn't be so fucking funny all the time. He's not even that funny, objectively; Tim is just a smitten idiot.

"So there is a Bat-apron?" Kon says with a smirk.

"I plead the fifth," Tim says, since explaining the novelty Halloween apron Jason bought Alfred when he was thirteen is not actually on the table. Details compromise identities, loose lips sink ships; all that.

"Listen, man, Cadmus doesn't have a bakery unless you count the test tubes they cook us up in," Kon says with a snigger, grabbing himself another slice. Tim thinks thoughts about incendiary devices. "They buy our cookies frozen or just get the industrial-sized pudding cans. Or make bread pudding, the bastards. So you gotta tell me about the Bat-cookies."

Tim winces at the thought of industrial-sized pudding cans and bread pudding, because that sounds absolutely horrifying and he never, ever wants to taste industrial pudding. Ever.

"Well, they're definitely not frozen," he says. "But Nightwing started being Robin a lot younger than I did and the last Robin started younger than me too, so I think I'm just reaping the benefits of younger kids needing after-patrol snacks and everyone else getting in the habit of it."

"I could get into that habit," Kon says musingly as he tears a bite off his newest slice. Tim immediately resolves to order takeout after every possible Young Justice mission that he can. Or they could go get ice cream or something, he doesn't know. "What do you think, wanna make me Bat-cookies sometime, Rob?"

Every weekend for the rest of their respective lives, although Tim would never actually say that. He's not even a good baker. He doesn't even like to bake.

This crush is definitely a problem.

"You're not Gothamite enough to handle Bat-baking, Kon," Tim says dryly, and Kon sniggers.

He also ducks his head a little, looking . . . oddly soft, for a moment. Tim doesn't understand why, until he realizes–oh. It's because he just called him "Kon", isn't it. He wasn't even thinking about it; just did it reflexively.

Tim is pretty sure he needs to ruin the credit of every single "responsible" adult in Kon's life for not naming him sooner. Well–Dubbilex can have a pass, considering he was also made by Cadmus and his own name is Dubbilex, so it probably never occurred to him that "Superboy" wasn't a perfectly acceptable name. And also he probably doesn't have credit either. But all the rest of them, definitely and for sure.

Superman is getting an envelope of powdered Kryptonite in his fucking mailbox, to start. Or maybe Tim could aerosolize it and pepper-spray him with it. That might work.

"You don't know, I could be," Kon huffs, putting on a mock-offended expression. "I was born and raised in a lab, I'm way tougher than the average guy."

"A Metropolis lab," Tim says pityingly. "Might as well be a kindergarten science class."

"Oh fuck you, Batboy!" Kon protests with a laugh. "Tell that to the next alien invasion."

"Aliens know better than to invade Gotham," Tim says. Kon laughs again. It's–weirdly nice, honestly. Usually Kon's too busy trying to act cool in front of whatever "audience" he thinks they have to actually, like . . . just talk all that much or anything. And also usually he gets offended really easily or starts being annoying about something he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does about or just . . . something.

Tim admittedly is less and less annoyed and more and more endeared by that kind of stupid behavior these days, but still. It's the usual pattern their interactions follow.

He guesses they're actually just, like, hanging out right now. It's not like there's a bad guy or a crisis or even any teammates around or training to do, so . . .

Yeah. He guesses they're just hanging out.

Kon decimates the pizza and wings, Tim pretends to be helping and takes a few mental notes on how much Kon is eating and what that may or may not say about his required caloric intake, and they just kind of keep . . . hanging out, really. And they talk, at least as much as Tim lightly interrogating Kon and subtly evading providing any personal identifying information counts as "talking".

Tim really doesn't know if the guys at school or Young Justice are more authentically his "friends", at this point, but at least Young Justice knows there are things they don't know. Everyone from school . . .

Not so much, with them. They all only know Tim Drake, and none of them have any reason to suspect the existence of Robin. Young Justice only knows Robin, but at least they know there is a Tim Drake somewhere, whether they know him or not.

Maybe they are the ones who are more his friends, thinking of it that way.

It'd explain why things never really go anywhere with civilians and he's developed this stupid inadvisable crush on Kon, at least. Though not why things fizzled with Steph, since she knows Robin better than anyone in Young Justice. If he should be having a stupid inadvisable crush on anyone, at least it could've been someone with an equally stupid and inadvisable crush on him.

Unfortunately, he and Steph have officially friend-zoned each other and also Kon exists, so Tim is having his stupid inadvisable crush on an alien hybrid metahuman clone in a terrible living situation with stupid taste in sunglasses and a mysteriously infinite-seeming supply of leather jackets. So now Tim is in this situation and his supervillain timeline needs recalculated, and also he's going to be buying Young Justice so much takeout to make sure Kon gets to eat something that isn't cafeteria food in a way he won't get offended by.

Hopefully, anyway.

"Well, I'm glad the new job's working out," Tim comments eventually, after some very careful conversational maneuvering, and Kon . . . pauses.

"I guess," he says after a moment, picking olives off the remains of his current slice and not quite looking at him as he says it. Tim resists the urge to absolutely pounce on the blood in the water and makes himself wait. "I mean, it's fine, it's not like it's bad there. Like, I don't love that it's my only real option and I don't love the same lab that made me out of DNA that it literally got out of a literal grave being in charge of me, but it's not like Westfield's still running the place or anything. So like, could be worse."

Tim hates the world. All of it. Seriously. Alfred's snickerdoodles get an exception and that's it. Nothing else.

"I'm sure it'll all work out," he says, because yeah, he officially needs to actually do something about this. He doesn't know what something, but something. If he doesn't, who else is going to?

Kon puts on a fake grin and says something stupid and easy in reply, the comment lighthearted and dismissive and a screamingly obvious coping strategy from someone who doesn't see any way out of their current situation but through, and Tim . . .

Tim finishes his Zesti and starts to think.

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

Speaking of antivenin, what's the closest call you've ever had with a venomous snake? Has anyone in your lab that you know ever been seriously injured by accident?

Also, do you guys keep antivenin on hand for all the venomous snakes you care for just in case an accident happens? Follow up to that, do you have a Dr/ nurse or someone certified to administer the antivenin on shift incase of emergency or is anyone able to administer it?

Sorry for all the questions!!

Easily the closest call I've ever had was a very big, very grumpy, sick cottonmouth. He wasn't feeling well, and we had him out in a tube, and I was holding him and showing the interns and new staff how I palpate snakes to check for intestinal obstructions. He'd been puffing up real big (he wasn't feeling well and he was big mad) and the person who handed him off to me had accidentally put him in a tube that was too big.

So, there I am, holding his snake in the middle of a crowd of interns, and he suddenly slips right out of the tube and I'm left just holding this cottonmouth in my hands. I was able to use the tube as a sort of makeshift hook to control his head until one of my coworkers (thankfully, very quickly) brought a hook over and helped me get him secure again. It was very scary because there were so many people around, and I knew if I made one mistake someone else could have been bitten.

Every other close call I've had has been 100% my fault. There was a time when I was working with stiletto snakes on internship and forgot to put on full-arm guards - nothing happened, all was well, but that could have been disastrous.

None of my coworkers have ever gotten hurt on the job (knock on wood), at least not beyond things like sprained ankles in the field. My boss at my lab has been bitten a handful of times, but he's an elder in the field and honestly I don't know many of the older generation of herpetologists who had to figure out to secure and restrain snakes for venom extractions who aren't missing at least a couple fingertips. It's gotten to be a much safer field to work in the last few decades, but while my boss was figuring out the technique and there weren't really a lot of people to learn from, he made mistakes while restraining snakes and got bitten on his hands and fingers a few times.

We do indeed keep antivenin for all our species on hand. Since we keep snakes from all over the world, we have to since hospitals won't have it and it can take too long for it to arrive if they need to order it. Antivenin has to be given through IV. If an accident ever did happen, we're trained to call 911, grab the appropriate antivenin, start driving, meet the ambulance on the way (we're out in a rural area), and start the IV in the ambulance.

[skylarkking]

"One in the Same"

A Blitzwing x Mech!Reader Fanfic

Word Count: 2k+

Prologue: Creation

“Percy, are you sure this is a good idea?” Wheeljack asked as his fellow scientist tapped away at one of the workstations. “I mean, wouldn't this be safer if we used a blank protoform?”

“The number of blank protoforms are dwindling rapidly.” Perceptor said. “To use one in this experiment would risk losing it. The cadaver Ultra Magnus has provided us will do.”

Wheeljack turned to look at the cadaver in question, an unassuming looking bot with a strangely peaceful face as his form floated in the amber fluid filled test tube. His optics were closed as if he were in stasis, when in actuality, his spark was snuffed. Attached to his back like great wings were hundreds of cables, sensors, and wires, giving him an extremely alien look. 

“Who was he anyway?” Wheeljack asked.

“No one knows,” Perceptor said. “His frame was found lying in an alleyway. No identifying marks or even a serial number. A no one.”

“Weird.” Wheeljack said. 

“It is indeed unusual. But let's not lose focus.” The pair of bots retreated away from the test tube and into a sort of safe room, Perceptor entering a few equations into the console and grabbing ahold a lever. “Initiating data transfer and power sequence.” 

The scientist pulled the lever, and a shock of electricity ran through the cables attached to the cadaver's frame. His frame jolted and kicked wildly as it thrashed about, bubbles forming within the amber liquid with each convulsion. His chassis heaved as helicopter blades erupted from the protoform along with other attributes associated with flyers. His chassis heaved as if a gasp were taken, a spark igniting within the core. My spark. 

Alarms blared, and lights flashed all around, my optics snapping open as I tried to scream. The sound would be muffled by the fluid, and there were only two things I felt at that moment. Pain, and fear.

“SHUT IT DOWN!” I heard a voice shout, terrifying me further as I writhed in the tube, my razor-sharp digits clawing at the glass before curling into a fist and smashing into it. Cracks formed in the glass with each strike until it shattered, the shards and liquid pouring out of the tube and onto the pale metallic floor along with my frame.

“CODE RED IN LAB! LOCK EVERYTHING DOWN!” Wheeljack cried out. My optics darted to the scientists, and I shrieked in fear as they ran to pin me down. I managed to roll out of the way and rip the cables and sensors off of me, my frame shakily rising and making a run for it. 

Doors began to close, and the alarms blared even louder than before. Bots with weapons swarmed the halls, chasing me as I ran. I let out a shrieking whir when one of the halls I was going to run through was blocked by one of the bots. My pedes skidded to a halt, and I tried to go back, but that way was also blocked.

I was trapped.

“Perceptor. Wheeljack. We have it cornered.” One of the bots said as he aimed a weapon at me.

I screamed and instinctively slashed my claw like digits at the bot. The claws dug deep enough to cause him to leak trails of energon, and the bot hissed in pain. This caused him to drop his weapon and back off. I grabbed it and shakily pointed it at him, more bots flooding the halls with weapons drawn.

“He's got a blaster!” One of the guards yelled. In a panic, I pointed it between the two groups of armed bots, the blades on my back shaking and trembling with terror. 

“What's all the noise?” A grouchy sounding voice yelled, catching my attention. My optics flicked to the source, and I saw a cranky looking medic with a white and red paint job shoving his way past the armed bots.

“Ratchet, stay back.” One of the bots said. “It's dangerous!” 

The medic glanced over to me and saw I was absolutely terrified. On occasion, my optics would flick between violet, orange, and blue coloration. I was leaking energon and heavily venting as I struggled to focus on the multitude of bots.

“Hey kid.” Ratchet said softly, my optics darting to him with fear. “You're scared, aren't you?”

“Ratchet don't try to reason with it.” The bot said. “It attacked one of us.”

“S…. Scared.” I managed to say, my voice cracking and fritzing with static.

“I would be too.” Ratchet said calmly. “Can you give me the blaster?” 

“NO!” I panicked as I pointed it to the other armed bots. “No no!”

“Lower your weapons.” Ratchet ordered the bots.

“Are you crazy?!” One of them snapped.

“I said lower them dammit! He's scared enough as it is!” One by one, the armed bots lowered their weapons, Ratchet holding out his servo to me. “Give me the blaster kid.”

“Wh… why?” I asked.

“You're hurt and scared. I want to help you. But first you have to give me the blaster.” 

My optics glanced at the other bots, and with slow and calculated steps, I approached the medic and handed him the blaster. Ratchet took it and handed it to the injured bot before returning his attention to me.

Ratchet motioned for me to take a seat, and hesitantly, I did. I felt fatigue wash over me while the medic worked on welding my injuries, the slight sting and hot hiss of metal filling my senses, and seeming to drown out all other sounds.

“There.” Ratchet said as he inspected his work. “Good as new.”

“Ratchet!” Wheeljack called as he and Perceptor came running through the group of bots. I immediately stood and shielded the medic from the two scientists, my optics switching to violet as I growled like an angry beast at them.

“Hey hey its okay.” Ratchet said. “they're friends.”

“f… friends?” I questioned, the color of my optics flicking back to blue.

“Yeah kid. Their friends.” I lowered my guard and shrunk back behind the medic like a scared sparkling. Due to my height, the medic shielded me quite well from view. 

“Perceptor!��� The bot I had injured snapped at the scientist. “You and Wheeljack need to terminate that thing! It could have killed me!”

“Sir, it only scratched you a little.” Another bot commented. “I mean, it already stopped leaking.”

“Shut it!” The bot snapped. “It had my blaster in its servos and was going to kill us!”

“Because you cornered him with weapons drawn!” Ratchet argued. 

“S-scared.” I whispered, and I shrank even further behind Ratchet. Ratchet turned and placed a protective but gentle servo on my back in a silent form of reassurance. 

“The subject currently has the mental maturity of a sparkling.” Perceptor said. “It was logical for it to react the way it did.”

“Logical? You call clawing at me and grabbing my blaster logical?!” The bot argued.

“Loud!” I whimpered as I covered my audials and vented rapidly.

“Hey hey hey its okay.” Ratchet said softly as he tried to calm me down. 

“Ratchet, do you think you can get the subject back to the lab?” Perceptor asked. “We will take care of this.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ratchet said. The medic motioned for me to follow, and I anxiously did, the group of bots parting and allowing us to pass. I could feel their optics fixate onto me, and my own flicked to orange as intrusive and impulsive thoughts raged around. But I didn't do any of them despite wanting to so badly. 

We eventually returned to the lab where maintenance drones were cleaning up the mess I had made, my orange optics landing on a shard of glass that looked a lot like a dagger.

I giggled and went to reach for it when Ratchet slapped my servo away, snapping me out of my Mania and back to a Lucid state.

“Don't touch that kid.” Ratchet said. “It could hurt you.” 

“Sorry.” I meekly apologized. Ratchet sighed and motioned for me to sit on an examination table, to which I curiously complied. 

“Kid, I'm going to run diagnostics on you, okay? It will feel weird, but it will help me help you.” Ratchet said as he pulled out a diagnostic cable from his toolkit. 

“No thank you!” I whimpered when I saw the probe.

“Hey hey its okay.” Ratchet said. “It's not sharp, see?” He gently let me touch the tip of the probe, and, as he said, it was dull just like an audio jack. “This will click into place right here.” Ratchet demonstrated the probe by inserting it in a port on the side of his helm. “See? It doesn't hurt at all.” He unplugged the cable and gave me a small smile. “Will you let me run the diagnostic now that you know it won't hurt?”

I hesitated a moment but nodded meekly. Ratchet inserted the probe into the side of my helm, and to me, it tickled. I giggled a little before freezing up when I saw the two scientists re-enter the lab with a tall, bulky blue mech weilding a massive warhammer. I made anxious whining noises, and my optics flicked between the scientists and the new bot.

“Whatcha doing there, Ratch?” Wheeljack asked.

“Running a diagnostic on him.” Ratchet said before turning his attention to me. “Okay, we're all done. I'm gonna take the probe out now.” I nodded and allowed the medic to disconnect the diagnostic probe. The sensation of it being pulled out was less that savory. “Good job, kid.” Ratchet said. 

“Ratchet.” The new mech said, his voice mildly frightening me. Ratchet turned around and finally noticed, his own frame stiffening a little.

The sight of him being distressed triggered my Wrath state. My optics flicked to Violet, and I hopped off the examination table with servos balled into fists that were ready to defend the medic.

“Kid it's okay.” Ratchet said calmly, snapping me right out of my Wrath. “That's just Ultra Magnus. He won't hurt anyone.” I glanced at the Magnus and then back at Ratchet before lowering my fists. Ratchet ushered me to a spot and was quietly talking to me like a sire to a sparkling while the trio watched with interest.

“Perceptor. Wheeljack.” The Magnus said. “What exactly is this?” The pair of scientists looked at each other, clearly not sure what to say.

“We… don't know.” Wheeljack admitted. “We were attempting the conversion project on a cadaver and BAM! All Pits broke loose.”

“By all calculations, the cadaver should have been converted without igniting a spark.” Perceptor added. “Yet somehow one did.”

“It's clearly unstable.” Wheeljack said. “I mean, it attacked the guard captain, uh, what's his face?”

“Sunstreaker?” Perceptor said.

“Ah scrud I don't know.” Wheeljack shrugged. “Regardless, the subject has shown to be unstable mentally.”

The groups attention was drawn back to Ratchet when they heard a quiet yawn leave me, the trio watching as I rubbed my optics like a sleepy sparkling. 

“Tired kid?” Ratchet asked, to which I nodded. “Yeah I bet. You had a huge first day of being online. Anyone would be tuckered out.” 

“Ratchet, a word, please.” Ultra Magnus said.

“Wait here, I'll be right back.” The medic said. I nodded and leaned into the wall before slowly dozing off while Ratchet and the others huddled together. 

“Ratchet, what did your diagnostics say?” Perceptor asked.

“Poor kid essentially has 3 states of mind that are connected to 3 forms.” Ratchet said. “Explosive anger is connected to his ground mode, intense Mania connected to his flight mode, and Lucid is connected with his bot mode.”

“3 forms in one frame? That's not natural or normal.” Wheeljack said.

“Can these states of mind be controlled?” Ultra Magnus asked.

“Not really. They are highly volatile and can switch at a moments notice.” The medic explained. 

“Then… wouldn't it be merciful if we-”

“Don't you fragging say what I think you're going to say.” Ratchet growled. “I won't let anyone deactivate him.”

“Ratchet, he's too dangerous.” Perceptor argued.

“He's a scared young bot.” Ratchet huffed. “He's essentially a sparkling right now, a child.” Ratchet looked up at Ultra Magnus with almost a pleading gaze. “Sir, please. Let me work with him. He deserves a chance at life like anyone else.”

“Then he will be your responsibility.” Ultra Magnus said. “But if he attacks anyone again, he will be deactivated.”

“Yes sir.”

--------

A/N so usually I post this stuff on Wattpad but I figured this could be a Tumblr exclusive or something. Idk man.

Next chapter: Click Here

[dangerprone2000]

Hey Guys! Here’s Chapter three of my new fic! Hope you enjoy it. 💗

Chapter three.

Bleach. A small amount discreetly strained into a test tube in the chemistry laboratory. It was easy to find, just look in any cleaning cabinet and mix the vial with a little alcohol to create chloroform, a quick solution to the need to evacuate the laboratory in less than five minutes. But not before slipping a pair of lab coats into his backpack during the chaos. Nothing too dangerous, Fred reminded himself, it only took a couple of minutes for the chemistry teacher to identify the sweet smell coming from one of the test tubes, hopefully they´ll think it was an error in the labels.

And the job of the janitor was a small price to pay.

The idea had come to him the night before while watching a science program on television, although it was not his favorite topic, he had to take a dive if he wanted to solve this mystery. Now all that was left was to wait.

They had planned it all that morning. Fred picked up Daphne a little earlier that day and had explained to her the plan he had put together in his wonderful head.

When leaving school, they would wait in the van for the transportation of new bodies, and during the shift change of the forensic examinators, they would go in to steal the report. They leaving without being seen was entirely another story.

The bell rang, sending all the students in different directions.

Daphne hurried to get up, while Fred quickly picked up the backpacks from the floor, walking towards the exit, in a desperate attempt to get to the truck as soon as possible, avoiding Velma, Shaggy or Scooby in the process.

“Wait Fred!” Velma yelled at them, making her way through the group of students. “Where are you going? “I’ve been trying to talk to you guys the whole day.”

“Um, uh, we- we are just…”

“Studying for our SATs” Daphne cut out.

“Without me?” Velma stared at them blankly, taking a moment to readjust her glasses. “Someone reached out to me, leaving a message on my blog. There’s a mystery for us to solve, and they are giving a reward of one thousand dollars.”

Fred dismissed her, shaking his head. “I really do need to study for my exams, otherwise, the wrestling team is kicking me out.”

“C´mon Fred! It’s one thousand dollars!” She insisted, looking at them in disbelief, “they will give us all the details once we accept to solve it. This is a one in a lifetime opportunity for us to people start taking this as a serious business.”

Fred and Daphne exchanged weird looks.

“I'm sorry Velma.”

She frowned. Since Daphne got sick and recovered magically, they both became odd and awkward, sneaking out of their classes and avoiding them during lunch.

And then, Fred rejected her mystery…

“Okay,” Velma said, wiping the determination from her face. “I guess Shaggy and I can also make use of the time to review some things.”

Velma Dinkley, who was an expert at putting puzzle pieces together, she, who was an expert in mystery and an intellectual of clues, had set out to discover what was happening between Daphne and Fred.

There was something fishy going on and she was determined to uncover it.

“C´mon Shaggy. Cardio is good for you anyway.”

She gave them a darting look, and then left.

Fred took a deep breath, feeling a spark of hope that they may get out of this trouble undefeated.

***

The wait was tense and tedious, charging the air with nervousness.

They had waited for the transport van for hours when the doctor on duty finally came out.

The transfer truck must have been approaching and they had a short window of time to conduct the robbery before the new doctor arrived.

Fred turned the knob on the service door, attempting to enter the facility.

“It's closed,” he said. “We can try to enter through the hospital.”

She gave him a head shake “Staff will ask you for a credential.”

“Well- I… I think we should have planned this better. Maybe we can pick the lock.”

Daphne spoke with her chin up “I think I know how to do that” she loved to feel useful more than she loved feeling pretty.

Daphne was intelligent, artistic, gracile, she knew how to paint and play the piano, she loved musical theater and photography... but those were hobbies that she was never able to practice, since to be honest, in the search for mysteries, they were not very useful. At least she was still danger prone. And being a magnet for problems had led them to live their best adventures...

“We can use a couple hair pins to open it.” She said, removing a couple off her hair “It looks like a simple lock.”

Daphne unfolded one pin, inserting it into the base of the lock, and turned it, maintaining tension while she engaged a second pin as a lockpick.

“One click and Voila,” she said, pushing the door open in front of them.

The morgue was almost empty, except for the a few bodies. It was very cold, and some lights were flickering, giving the place a gloomy, eerie air.

Crystal Cove was a quiet town, with very few deaths, most of them from natural causes, however it did not make the place more comforting. Finding herself so close to death gave Daphne goosebumps.

“We must avoid Joey, the medical examiner on duty” Fred muttered, grabbing Daphne´s Hand. “You know, I don't think he's used to seeing living people walking around.”

But the jokes did not seem funny enough to laugh in a place like that.

“Jesus Christ, Fred. I can’t believe we are entering this place like amateur burglars”

Nothing was random. Except of course, having to pick the lock. One more crime added to the list wouldn’t make a difference...

The cold penetrated her bones, making her shiver as they walked along the hallway, where a small room was set up: a table, a couple of chairs, and a small filing cabinet. A type of refrigerator with metal cubicles arranged for each body was on the opposite side, next to an examination table surrounded by a curtain of transparent plastic material placed over a drain.

“I overheard my father once talking about Joey and his bad habit of falling asleep at work” “You have no idea about the conversations I have heard from my room…”

Daphne walked over to the rickety old wooden filing cabinet, hurriedly searching for the folder with Amanda's last name.

Blue paint peeled off at the edges, rust corroding the metal handles.

Bailey…Barker…Barnes…Beck.

Bingo.

She grabbed the folder, giving it a Quick Look when they heard steps from behind.

Daphne was suddenly frozen, glued to her place, listening to the tick and tack in slow motion.

“Quick” Fred hissed, snapping awake almost instantly, tossing a shaking Daphne onto his back and into the closest door he found, sending the yellow folder to fly across the room.

It was a small cleaning closet full of bottles with transparent and dark liquids, terribly stinky towels, a couple of boxes with gloves and other utensils as sharp as unknown.

“Shit. What do we do now?” He shook Daphnes shoulders gently.

“I lost the folder” her response was slow, like honey running through a dropper. “It flew out of my hand. I lost the folder. I lost it.”

Fred grabbed her hands, squeezing them softly, somehow, hyper aware of her hand in his, and the way their knees touched. “Did you manage to read anything?”

She shook her head.

“It is handwritten. And in bad calligraphy. The worst calligraphy I’ve ever read “

“Daphne…” Fred begins, and that's when they hear the gunshot echo through the place.

What happened next was catastrophic.

Fred jumped, crashing the glass on the shelves, spilling all the liquids on himself and on Daphne, who couldn't stop shaking.

The sound of another gunshot drowned out her screams, filling Fred’s body with both dread and adrenaline.

What should he do next? Should he play the hero and stand up for whatever was happening outside the closet, or stay right where he was, protecting his best friend with it?

Another shot, followed by another ask for help.

“I’m sorry Daph, I can´t just stay here and ignore what’s happening.”

“Freddie, please” She begged, tugging her fists on his shirt “there's nothing we can do against a gun.”

He felt like a coward.

They stood in silence just holding each other for what looked like an eternity, their eyes watering for the strong, sharp odor permeating their clothes, making it difficult to breathe.

“We must get out of here. Now. Before we start choking on formalin”

“This doesn't smell like formalin” she said, robotically “if it were, our skin would be burning right now. “It’s Maybe some kind of antiseptic.”

“Whatever it is we have to go before the police arrive.”

Fred's phone chimed in his pocket.

“Daph” it was a message from his father. “Whoever did this also got Charlie Cooper killed.”

Fred's hands encircled her, guiding her out of the janitor’s closet.

Her chalk-white face was drained of all emotion. “The other medical examiner, right?”

Fred agreed.

“He was found dead in his car, with a ton of cash with him.” “It looks like he was desperate to leave Crystal cove”

Outside, Joey was crumpled to the ground, with three bullet holes in his chest.

“Gunshots. That’s not very witchy, is it?” Fred said, grabbing the yellow folder from its place, under a metal cubicle.

The blood was smeared all over the walls, spurting from Joey's chest, soaking his shirt, deep red splatters coming from his lips.

“We shouldn't leave him like this” Daphne said, her breath sharp and fast. She closed her eyes, wanting to rip the acrid dress off her skin.

Maybe if she closed them long enough, she would find herself wrapped in the blankets in her room, waking up from that horrible nightmare.

Fred looked down, unable to meet her eyes. He felt guilty of all this slaughter, wanting to close Joey´s eyes with one hand, but his face was so full of blood it would leave fingerprints. They would be difficult to check, but still… Instead, he covered him with a gray tarp that he had seen in the Janitor´s closet. He knew well that disturbing another crime scene would only make his situation worse, but he couldn't just walk away and let his body go cold with that horrible expression of fear burning in his brain.

Even if they found his fingerprints on the tarp, they would have enough time to uncover the mystery… as long as it took to find a new medical examiner.

And there was something else, a feeling of camaraderie and complicity growing between them, in the privacy of the Van, Fred took her hand again.

That last hug lasted a little longer than it should have.

[peculiarbluerose]

Tips I wish I knew for my first RE4R Hardcore playthrough (Original Campaign)

Notes:

-This can also be applied to lower difficulties to make it 10x easier

-This does not include tips for the Separate Ways DLC, but some of them can be applied, I suppose

-All of these are picked up from personal playthroughs as well as YouTube videos (Neon Slice influences the majority of these)

-I've also just played this game on the hardest difficulties too many times lol

1. FLASH GRENADES - They WILL be your best friend, I promise you. Why? They stun enemies for at least 5 to 10 seconds and you can melee them. Alternatively, you have a window to stab them (always a critical hit, perfect for mini bosses like the Brutes)

2. Keep at least one first aid spray on you at all times; this has saved me on several occasions, and not doing it has killed me

3. Ashley's armor is worth the hassle if you are trying to get the S+ rank on Professional (if it's your first run, professional will only be unlocked after you beat the game at least once)

4. If you are in a spot where you are overwhelmed, just RUN. Run if you can, especially if you're out of bullets and you're on your last knife. This is another situation where flash grenades are useful.

5. Speaking of flash grenades, if it is your first playthrough (or you just lack attention to detail), Plagas hate light and die when flashed by a flash grenade. If you have too many Plagas in the area, don't hesitate to throw a flash grenade. This is especially useful against the knights in Salazar's castle.

6. The only way you're gonna get infinite ammo is through an S+ rank on Professional, so don't even worry about that until later.

7. Yes, there are limits on saves and the number of hours it takes to complete the game in order to get certain ranks. If you don't know the rules to a rank, Google them. The game, if it does tell you, doesn't like to make those rules obvious.

8. Ashley is a pain in the rear end even with the armor. In areas like the Water Hall, she's immune to enemy attacks and Leon's bullets, yes, but she will still crouch down when surrounded, or get picked up (they can't carry her anywhere though since the armor makes her heavy, so she'll be in a constant cycle of screaming until you get rid of the zealots). Added this because I don't know how many people address this part of Ashley's armor.

9. On the flip side, the armor makes Ashley immune to attacks even during her segment of the game where you play as her, so you can walk through the knight room and be hit 45 times and be just fine. It makes that part of the game much easier.

10. One hit in Ashley's segment without armor, however, (yes, even just one) will result in a game over. Keep moving, know your paths before triggering things, and be quick about it.

11. Saddler is pathetic, even on hardcore mode. At the start of his battle, just shoot him with a rocket launcher and you'll be good to go, no time wasted

12. Two golden eggs thrown at Salazar (start of his battle, preferably. Much easier from there) will easily get his battle out of the way.

13. You know the room with the 4 Regeneradors in the test tube things? Yeah, those. Don't bother killing all of them, just get the wrench from the one and you'll be fine.

14. Speaking of Regeneradors, they're a pain. A big one. Keep your distance, they're slinky's. Keep your distance.

15. If the Regenerador is asleep (like the 4 test tube ones in the lab), line up two of the parasites (if you can, all three would be awesome, though) and shoot. It will make your job MUCH easier

16. Use the rocket launcher on Krauser when you're in the final battle with him. He's a tough one, and it's much easier to skip the fight. You also get his knife once he's dead, and it's better than Leon's. That's nice, I guess.

17. There's nothing you can do about Leon's slowness when approaching Luis's lab. That's meant to happen, and no, you can't skip it. On the bright side, you won't get hurt, either.

18. You may or may not have heard about the heavy grenade trick when Ashley is using the wrecking ball. Two heavy grenades will do the trick. If you don't have those, several normal grenades will suffice, but it will add a little extra time to your run.

19. Use flash grenade right as one of the two Giants (with Luis) are approaching the center of the room. It takes a second for the flash to go off, and it stops them just enough to open the trap door to incinerate one of them. Nice.

20. Take out the lamp guys ASAP. You know, the ones with the red lamps that make the zealots turn into Plagas? Those things. I hate 'em. Flash them with a flash grenade, then knife them. Best way to go, just like Brutes.

I hope this was of SOME use to you. I racked my memory for this info, it's a long game. If you want more, let me know. Should I do Separate Ways next?

[kursedmayo]

Story time. I think Donnie would also hate most lipbalm. They're so fucking greasy on the lips and good lord, I would rather feel the pain of dry ass lips than have it plump and moisturized but feeling like I just put cooking oil on, so with the power of headcanon on my side I'm inflicting this annoyance to him too.

I bet he takes like an obscene amount of time researching on lip products before realizing that there's no guarantee that they'll help all too much because he's half-turtle, his skin is different than a human's, which eventually compels him to go on a sort of lip care pilgrimage trying out all sorts of lip balm, like a lot of them. A LOT of them. He jots down the results in a fun little spreadsheet before he manages to narrow down to one brand which happens to be from a smaller, more ethical company than the rest. Even if that brand was much more expensive than others, its not as if he didn't have money that he stole to spend on quality products, so he managed to put his cracked lip woes to rest.

Unfortunately for him however, his brothers keep stealing from him so he barely even get to use the stuff he buys.

Mikey's the biggest culprit of this of course, he's one hell of a yapster (/pos ofc I love Mikey) his lips dry out easily, and he doesn't usually carry a lip balm with him (because he forgets to/keep losing them/keep eating them) so sometimes he just swipes on those bad boys off Donnie's pouch and he doesn't even notice and well, its not as if Donnie wants to take it back anyways. Its already got his lil bro's cooties all over it.

Meanwhile, Leo mostly just steals for funsies. He doesn't even use the ones he steals from Donnie, He's got like, a whole stash of flavored lip balms because he's the face man, he doesn't want chapped lips it'll ruin his gorgeous face! Anyways he gets a whole different bunch in case he loses one (which he never does) and keep buying some until he amassed a whole ass collection (which Mikey also steals from, not that Leo minds). He doesn't need to steal Donnie's, but its REAL fun to figure out how to. He'd literally figure out a whole ass 8 step plan in his head and even learn new tricks with his portals because Donnie literally had to resort to locking his lip balms up in a multi-password protected vault, only to end up not even using the damn stolen things because like Donnie, ew his twin's cooties.

Donnie's extra offended because of that cuz like, at least use the damn thing like Mikey does you heathen he paid 15 dollars for a tube!!

Anyways, since Donnie's no pushover he schemed to get revenge on Leo and begun to steal his chapsticks too, much to Leo's (hypocrital) annoyance and amusement, so now there's an unspoken war that's happening in the Hamato household at the moment which they both refuse to back down on.

Meanwhile, Raph's at the corner just shaking his head in exhasperation. He doesn't really care much about lip balms in the first place because he didn't really use those, but Donnie got disturbed seeing him walking around with El Niño on his lips one winter and begrudgingly gave him one to use, which Raph does use but only sparingly so he doesn't run out, though it's not like he doesn't have money to buy his own cuz he does off jobs in the hidden city then and again. Also he kinda gave up trying to stop the disaster twins from fighting over lip balm because they're gonna keep doing it anyways, so he kinda just kinda tune them out when something inevitably explodes in Donnies lab and Leo comes out running holding a lil tube. Mikey gets let off the hook though, lil bro priveledges you know?

So yeah.

Even if there's a huge L in Leonardo there's still two Ls in Donatello. He's gonna be having PTSD flashbacks whenever someone mentions chapsticks near him for sure.

[kidflashimpulse]

I have a question: Do you know if the series explains why Dr Dorado did not take his family to the United States? I am aware (as an Argentinian) that Eduardo and his father are a bit stereotyped but the choice for Mr. Dorado to leave his family in Argentina is a bit strange. Because otherwise, the only explanation I see is that his job was considered dangerous, so he decided to leave his family to prevent them from being hurt. (Sorry for coming straight to you with this question but I have a hyper fixation on Edu and you are the one I see the most in his tags 😅)

no worries i’m happy to answer edus my boy i love talking about him :D (lmfao my bad for practically spamming his tags 😭)

i like ur explanation ! i can see that being a reasoning, i mean we know that STAR labs is always involved in all sorts of stuff so …

the show has never given any particular reasoning for why Sr left his son with either his (or his wife’s) father (i.e Eds granddad). All we know is that Sr studied Zeta-beam tech for two decades and at some point moved to the US.

i don’t have one explanation set in stone, but here r some possible reasons he could’ve just went himself without his son (they’re not necessarily the most logical, just possibilities): either he felt like he didn’t want to remove his son from a place that he knows as home and had enough trust in the granddad being able to take care of him in the mean time. Considering Ed was young when his dad left, sometimes parents feel like they don’t want to remove them from an environment they feel comfortable with.

or if they would’ve moved, he’d either have to take the grandfather with them or possibly just leave him alone, which he maybe didn’t want to do and felt better leaving Edu behind with him too to give him company (doesn’t make it right but again parents can think like this sometimes). Also he might’ve thought sending money back to them might’ve been more fruitful than having the full family with him. Old people can feel very strongly about not wanting to leave their home behind.

Sometimes also with ppl who leave the country they don’t necessarily plan on just staying there, they return back (in this case to Argentina) frequently. And with the zeta tubes maybe this was something easy for Sr to do at first, but i can see this becoming less and less through the years (just something that i feel like can naturally happen especially with someone so consumed by his work like Ed Sr) and Ed grows more angry and pissed at his dad for being there less and less and that’s what prompts him to say fuck it and runaway to go to his dad.

Also we know that Eds mom is not in the picture (for unknown reasons, either leaving the family or because of death) so maybe Sr didn’t want to be around the place and people that might remind him of her as much and distance himself.

But I see this as unlikely cause despite all his shortcomings, Sr is shown to care very much about his son. I feel like a likely reasoning would’ve been something that started with good intentions but then through the years just didn’t work out as well as he hoped, prompting Ed to run away from home.

i also think something worth considering is he maybe felt the granddad would be able to take better care of Eduardo than him, because he knows how much work takes up his life and he wouldn’t want to be an absent father to a son who’s then alone most of the time in a new place and new environment. He might’ve reasoned to himself that it would’ve been better for Ed to stay home with his granddad who would be there when he needs him. And he would then try to visit when he can.

the logical thing would’ve been to take his family with him, but people often try to make things work out despite it not necessarily being the easiest or best solution.

so no the series doesn’t say anything about it, but i would sure be interested to know what reasoning they have :) thanks for the ask <3

[doctor-fancy-pants]

That Researchin' Maritime Life

We've got a bit of downtime - there's a trawl going down to 5000m right now.

I've rotated and freshened up the sea cucumbers, packed away the echinoderms (starfish, sea cucumbers, sea urchins, brittle stars, feather stars and sea lilies), thrown a few buckets of seawater in the cold room (including the smaller pails seen below, I'm refining my holothurian rescue plans), and had a snack because This Machine, She Runs On Heavy Fuel.

This is actually a very comfortable ship to live on. Each cabin has a private ensuite, so you're not clambering down the bunk ladder and teetering out into the hall in search of the head in the middle of the night (I have been very spoilt and have only had one voyage like that). The mess has plenty of room at mealtimes. There are two lounges ("quiet" and "you're allowed to make noise and have informal meetings" respectively), and my favourite beanbags in the world.

There are, however, some drawbacks to marine research as a specialty (apart from the lack of job security, she says, as a short term contract taxonomist), and using a laboratory on a boat.

What drawbacks, you may ask.

Well, after my shift ends, I've been known to totter wearily into an online chat with mates and just drop random observations (you may note a somewhat laissez-faire attitude to punctuation).

For example:

you know it's amazing, you can be totally fine working in the dirty wet lab and you'll leave for five minutes and it's like your olfactory filters completely reset and then you get back down there and the nose is shouting at the brain "BOY HOWDY IT SURE DO SMELL LIKE FISHY PRAWNS IN HERE HUH JUST GOTTA SOAK IN THAT BRINY AMBIENCE"

summation: the science smells bad.

related outcome: the scientist also smells bad.

Yuuup, the smell is a whole freaking vibe. We can't dump too much seawater down the sinks that go into the grey water holding tank, we can't open the chute in the lab if there's an operation in progress (i.e. a trawl, a tow video, a Baited Remote Underwater Video, a fish trap) (which has been the case more often than not), and the same restriction is in place for simply tipping buckets over the side

That means that buckets of filthy seawater, sea cucumber guts, discarded excess critters, banged-up prawns and so on... just have to sit in the lab for a bit.

I've got a very sensitive nose. I have never been good at filtering out unpleasant smells, and yet somehow I kind of adapt to the lab odours... until I head up to the mess, and back down again.

(side note: we do actually clean the lab very thoroughly between trawls, and it does not smell all the time! It's more when you have to take a break in the middle of processing and then come back to it.)

What I do not adapt to is how bad I smell. By the end of the day, if I've been racing around in my coveralls, especially if I've been carrying heavy things, I will stink to high heaven.

(I will be quite self-conscious standing next to anyone.)

That shower is... so good.

But showering every day raises an issue. It's not what I normally do. Now, I realise there are some people who will find that horrifying (and most of them are from the US for some reason), but every second day, or when I need to wash my hair, or after a workout or, on a hot day? Yeah, that shower is good.

Every day? My poor skin is dryer than shoe leather, and I use a very gentle shower gel.

Shower Discord thoughts:

have been speculating on how one transitions from "I own body moisturiser but only occasionally remember to use it" as a terrestrial organism, to "I am pretty sure I could start a black market trade by subdividing this half-tube of Body Shop Hemp Hand Cream into small aliquots" as a person who is

1) at sea (the briny sea! The salty [drying] air!)

2) when not outdoors in the salty air, indoors in the drying A/C

3) regularly shoving one's hands into 100% ethanol and... usually... nearly always... wearing gloves while doing so

I mean this cream is the good shit

like basically liquid gold

which... could also be distributed in aliquots

okay. have decided: will not trade Body Shop Hemp Hand Cream for less than the equivalent volume of liquid gold

On later reflection, while I continue to believe that this asking price is fair, I may be pricing myself out of the market, if for no other reason than the simple lack of gold on board the vessel, regardless of phase.

I have decided that it doesn't have to be liquid. Melting gold on a moving vessel far off the continental shelf is an untenable safety risk. It just means that we will have to try to match the quantities by weight.

And that means using the scales in the clean wet lab, because the balances in our lab are not up to that sort of task.

And that means that I have definitely thought about this far too much, and I should go do something else (mainly clean my teeth and get ready for bed - need to get the energy for tomorrow's science-ing!).

We're still doing a fair bit of transiting and deeper sites, so I plan to try and knock out some taxonomic work on the few crinoids that have made it into the lab, and maybe set aside some time for the Sea Cucumber Salon.

Cukes gotta get their glamour shots, dammit.

[isagrimorie]

continued from this post:

@lovecanbesostrange: For the Borg stuff, pretty much what you usually talk about. I mean we can't go back and add that many visible implants/reminders. They really gave us beautiful-woman-in-tight-suit and when it fit the narrative it was "btw her head can open up and this is her actual vision". But mostly it felt like her nanobots and some enhanced senses were a nice deal. tbh I don't think PIC S2 did that good of a job to highlight what it meant for Seven to be 100% human. And in a show

Honestly? I agree with you -- it's like they had it in the first 3 episodes, and then just lightly touched on it after -- again, 10 episodes is not enough time with a story with such big ideas.

There's so much they could have done more than the visual of Seven not having her implants anymore. Seven was fully Human -- not just visually Human.

This means a lot of changes to Seven, not just intellectually. She had a visual acuity of 99.3% or something. She could see temporal changes. Her vision had a green filter.

The fact that she's not bowled over at seeing full color the whole time, like people who were color blind and seeing the full spectrum of color the first time is frankly astonishing.

Seven, being frustrated at not being as strong, being amazed she doesn't hear anything more than the ordinary person.

And she doesn't have steel running through her bones, which means she is also physically lighter.

She should find trade-offs to being fully Human. She finds that she loves it but also realizes she kind of hates it too and misses some of the things her implants gave her.

But the show is called Picard and at the end of the day, they will prioritize the time and scene-stopping moments when Picard has to hallucinate about his dead mother. (Sorry, I'm salty about the middle part so much).

lovecanbesostrange: with her as the center character again, we could maybe find some odd curiosities about her day to day behavior. Like everything you mention here. Including the standing for example. || I was actually more interested in the Romulans and the Borg separately than anything to do with the main AI storyline. Everything was way too big in PIC (which is also why I don't enjoy lots of stuff in DSC; make it smaller!).

This is where I trust in Terry Matalas, I know Terry from 12 Monkeys, and I trust he would handle Seven's story well. I also tracked what he said he wanted to do if given the chance to run with a new show -- and that he would love to go back to episodic storylines with some linking arcs.

Terry also likes writing about characters who carry a lot of guilt for what they've done in the past and complicated and messy characters who, in the end, are trying to do the best they can, which is something Seven fits to a tee.

(If you haven't seen 12 Monkeys yet, I highly recommend it! 4 seasons of great sci-fi time travel TV! And Jones is really very much influenced by Janeway!)

But my dearest wish is for the possible show to have Seven falling in love with Science again. I missed her doing science. I miss her turning up in a Jeffries tube unexpectedly doing repairs because it calms her down.

I miss her popping into an Astrometrics lab just to watch the stars.

I love warrior!Seven, but being a warrior is not just all who Seven is. She's a scientist, an engineer. She wanted to put star charts up on her wall because they pleased her aesthetically.

Seven was the unofficial Science Officer of Voyager. I hope we get that reflected, I hope in the pinning ceremony, Janeway quizzes her on all things science just like that one Admiral did to Janeway in Relativity.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

[ptiautiste]

Finally...

I was looking for a really good shortwave receiver for at least a decade -an old tube equipped one of course. The problem getting one nowadays is that they were only produced in small numbers half a century (or more) ago, since then most are scrapped, botched, altered or corroded cause of bad storage -or all together. So if you have the chance getting one today you most likely will buy a 'construction site', needing hundreds of working hours for restoring it in a good working condition.

But after a looong search finally i had real luck. A big wooden crate was delivered on a pallet.

In this crate was one of the -for my opinion- ugliest shortwave receivers ever built, but at the same time also one of the best ones: a Rohde + Schwarz EK07.

Built in 1958 this one was a storage unit from the German Army. Well stored, regularly maintained and serviced, not altered, not botched, never used. So it is in nearly mint condition. It wasn't cheap but getting my hands on this was just sheer luck. Without doing anything: it's in perfect working order. No potentiometer, no switch crackles, every tube checks new -of course you can check all the tubes in the radio itself without removing them.

The manufacturer is more known for it's precision Lab-Equipment and less for it's shortwave receivers. This is also because their receivers weren't consumer or amateur gear, this was pro gear by any means. They were used in applications like coast guards or military surveillance and such. Always things where equipment costs doesn't matter -only the outcome. So back in 1958 when this unit was manufactured you could buy at least two brand new cars for the same amount of money. In exchange for this you got a masterpiece of german engineering and craftsmanship -and also an electro-mechanical nightmare if anything fails and you're not absolutely familiar with it's guts.

Fancy? No, there's absolutely nothing fancy on these. These are absolute workhorses, designed for doing an important job 24/7/365 for decades. Just take a look to that bandswich gear in the photo above. How often you have to switch over the bands until this would be worn out? Millions and Millions of times... And nope: this dark residues at that drum on the left and box below isn't mold or such. These are completely silver plated so it's just the darkened silver.

As you may see, most of the structural parts are made of die-cast and aluminum, so from the materials used it's relatively light weight. But all that built-in sturdiness and shielding adds up to staggering 147lbs/67kg. It's only a receiver, not a transmitter or a power amplifier.

Tubes... and more tubes

If you're not familiar with tube radios: your average AM (and shortwave) Radio from the 50's or 60's used 4 tubes (without the rectifier if this was a tube). Your trusty Hammarlund or Yaesu shortwave receiver from that time would have somewhat from 8 to 12 tubes -and these were quite good and sensitive receivers! This Rohde + Schwarz counts 28 tubes.

Some tubes here, some there, all fully shielded. But why the hell that much? The answer is quite simple: stability. On every count. Constant and stable gain over all bands and for a looong service time, stunningly stable VFO frequencies and all that stuff. No, they used no consumer tubes like in your TV or such. All of them are out of the 'commercial'-tube-series with a guaranteed service life of at least 10000 hours like in every aircraft of that time or such. Failing was not an option, this HAD to work.

Speaking about stability and accuracy:

this of course isn't digital stuff -it's purely analog. In the pictures below you can see the dials. Just add both frequencies and you know where you are -here on 29.630MHz or 29630kHz.

As you see: your readout is easily accurate down to less than 500Hz. So you can read at least 500Hz out of 29630000Hz. With other words the accuracy of your readout is 0.001687% in this case. Your average modern digital multimeter would be proud if it came only near to this 65 year old contraption.

Of course that large dial in the picture on the left isn't the only one. There are 12 of 'em, mounted on a drum and rotating according to the selected band. Giving you a simple S-Meter like in other shortwave receiver was of course also not possible.

Instead they provided you with a Voltmeter which displays directly the input voltage at the antenna input -and the threshold voltage for the 'Squelch' (if you have set that) which isn't a normal squelch. If activated it doesn't cut your Audio, it reduces the Gain instead with a settable time constant, so it acts more like a active noise cancelling between any signal -also between any dash and dot if you're receiving CW (Morse Code). Besides that you can choose your IF-Passband between 150Hz and 12kHz, have a absolutely stable BFO, a good Envelope Detector for AM-Reception and a perfect Audio Stage - that's all.

Speaking of the Audio Stage: 2W undistorted output power from a single end class-A is more than you need with a good speaker. McIntosh ® would call that circuit 'Unity Coupled', further a E88CC for the Audio-Preamp. We're talking about an Shortwave Radio, not an 'High-End' Audio Amplifier. Wanna take recordings of what you hear? No problem: here's your Line-Output, symmetric, 600 ohms, transformer coupled and with +10dBm (if you want) and in accordance to all Studio-Standarts. Sound quality for AM Broadcasts? With a passband switchable up to max. 12kHz for the IF better than the majority of stations can provide.

Precise?

So far so good, but what's about the heart of every shortwave receiver: the Oscillator or VFO? How stable and precisely does it beat after 65 years?

In your trusty -and quite good- Hammarlund or Yaesu amateur Radio from these days the VFO usually is equipped with two tubes: the Oscillator itself and the buffer amplifier -both sometimes also united in one bulb. If i hadn't lost track here they used 12 -and tons of other stuff. So that frickin VFO has a component count which is easily about the order of a complete shortwave receiver.

What the hell is all that stuff about -and wtf they had for breakfast back then? The answer is again simple: precision and stability.

As i said: this thing is 65 years old and i touched nothing. Of course I checked how much it's 'off' in terms of the frequency. After warming up for 20 Minutes i checked it every 1000kHz from the bottom to the top of its range. It was a bit different between all points, at some less than 50Hz and about 1kHz worst case.

My Lab-Equipment is quite good and precise, but for these low errors the tolerances of the measuring equipment has absolutely taken into account. So i made a separate measurement only for 10MHz -with the aid of a frequency standard sourced from an atomic clock. So this was 'the real thing'. After warming up for an hour i measured for 15 Minutes. The deviaton was between -717 to -722Hz. Including the error of the dial. This means frickin' 71.7...72.2ppm. PPM -parts per million! 65 years after manufacturing.... Just absolutely stunning -and with what freaking kind of equipment they had calibrated this back then??? Just have in mind: this is pure analog goodness, not a modern PLL. How the f***k they got there? Here's the clear link between a manufacturer of high-grade Lab Equipment and a shortwave receiver. I'm just stunned over the knowledge of the engineers who designed that circuit back then and the precision this was built.

All without doing anything and all it's original capacitors. Yap, i could realign that but tbh it's just wayyy to less been worth the effort. So it will stay as it is.

Nope,

you're not provided with that fancy stuff your new digital or SDR may have on board. There's no notch filter, no panoramic display -not even SSB! Why the hell they just 'forgot' all these things? The answer is easy: it's modular. The EK07 is just the 'mainframe', everything else you wanted to have can be added as external components you had to buy separately -also for tons of money of course.

Wanting SSB? Just add this:

35kg/77lbs and 18 Tubes more -to mention it's also a synchronous detector for AM is not worth the effort. Panoramic display, digital frequency counter, Teletype Adaptor, a remote control for controlling that beast over a telephone line? FM? Diversity reception?? No problem, you had just buy it. Everything of course with the same standards for precision and build quality.

The outcome...

Yea, i spent a good amount of money getting this -but in my opinion it was worth every dime. I wanted a good tube receiver and i got a really good one. Compared to upper class modern Radios it's still a very good radio. So the only thing I have to add is an external SSB/AM-Synchronous Detector. The originals are nearly impossible to get today, so i decided to build one. It's on the way and i will give you the results later. So stay tuned...

[sailor-toni]

Casper Highs Football Captain: Danny Fenton (OneShot)

You can also read this on AO3, FF.net, and Wattpad

Danny Fenton was your normal fourteen-year-old boy, black hair, blue eyes, upper middle class, and captain of the Casper High football team. He was your perfectly normal all-American teen, expect for his parents. The jumpsuit duo never fail to embarrass their only son. Recklessly driving around Amity Park, screaming and hollering about ghost, ducking in an out of alley ways at strange hours of the day, holding small vials of green slime for their portal to a world unseen. Danny rolled his eyes at that. World unseen, more like world untrue! There was no such thing as ghost.

At least, that’s that he assumed, and everyone knows what happens when you assume.  

“YO, Fenton catch!” The leather hit Danny’s hand at the perfect angle, the slight sting of leather against skin gave him no pause.

“You have to do better than that to get me off my game Baxter!” Danny said tossing the ball back at the quarterback.

“Hey Fenton!” Kwan rushed over, throwing one of his arms over Danny’s shoulders, “How was your weekend bro. I didn’t see you Katie Smiths party on Saturday.”

“Oh yeah. I got in trouble with my parents and they forced me to spend all weekend cleaning their test tubes and lab equipment,” Danny said.

“What? Really? That blows man, you missed everything. Katie came out of the closet and made out with Cindy. Dash got absolutely destroyed and carried Mark Flinch to the roof and threw him onto Katies trampoline. The cops were called. It was dope man,”

“Yeah Fenton, Kwan and I had to climb over a fence to get away from the cops.” Dash joined the two tossing the ball in-between his hands.

“Yeah, I was like, I’ve never seen a fence that high before! and then I did it. It was sick. Maybe I should do parkour,” Kwan said.

“You gonna start a YouTube channel Kwan? Kwan’s amazing Parkour. Like comment and subscribe,” Danny said.

“Danny man, you’re not gonna ring the notification bell?”

“Depends on how good your skills are man.”

“Kwan’s got some skills man, He was like a little spider money, climbing up those walls like he was Spider-man or something,” said Dash, who slammed open the front door of Casper high, crushing a smaller teen in a red hat with its heavy metal side. “Move it!” He snapped, “Anyway Fenton you missed Paulina.”

“Or better yet. She missed you,” Kwan said.

“Paulina? I told her I was grounded.”

“Maybe she didn’t get your message then, because she was looking for you all night and she got destroyed. At one point her and Valerie were on top of the table crushing cans and jugging them down. Her shirt was soaked.” Kwan teases, mimicking the gestures she must have been making that night.

“And she was wearing a white shirt,” Dash said.

“Sucks that your whack-job parents grounded you thought. It would’ve been the perfect night to make a move,” Kwan said.

            The three stopped at Danny’s locker. The inside covered in Casper high banners and a growing pile of dirty gym clothes. A broken mirror was hung in the back, grey skin would sometimes flash along its surface.

“You think? I don’t know if she actually likes me or not? I think she just sees me as a friend,” Danny said. In truth he didn’t know if he liked Paulina. Or maybe he didn’t like girls that way? It was not a thought he like to admit, or talk about, or even entertain. He shoved it to the dirty gym pile in his mind. Maybe Paulina wasn’t his type and he was over reacting. He assumed.

“Nah man, she is like totally into you,” Kwan began.

“She wants that D man.” Dash finished, his tone was much more malicious than Kwans.

“Can we not call it that?” Danny asked.

“She wants the little Fenton.” Danny and Kwan burst out laughing.

“Let’s not call my junk little either.”

“I would prefer if we had school appropriate conversations Mr. Fenton.” Mr. Lancer stood in front of his room, a copy of The Picture of Dorian Grey in his hand.

“Ah Mr. Lancer” “Hello Mr. Lancer.” “Hey Mr. Lancer.”

The three were suddenly quiet. Their previous laughter now gone from their sullen faces.

“Keep the locker room talk for the locker room please.”

“Of course, Mr. Lancer” “Sure man.” “Got it Mr. Lancer”

The three began shuffling away, small giggles stifled as went.

“SAM MANSON! Dress code directly prohibits showing one’s midriffs!”

“But Pau-“

“NO BUTS! Either find a jacket or go to the nurse and change.”

            Everyone was looking now. Watching Sam and her crop top of misfortune.

“NO! I see other girls around school wear tops like this every day! And there’s no reason for me to have to hide myself!”

“When you attend Casper high you are expected to dress in a work appropriate attire and no workplace would allow such sexual clothing. This is the rule for every student here, nobody is even special; treatment.”

“But!”

“Change now or else I will have to call your parents.” Sam backed down at that, pulling a black jacket from her bag.

“Is this better!?” The jacket was covered in patches and metal studs.

“Not ideal but it’ll work,” Mr. Lancer said, returning to his book. Sam’s face twisted in anger, turning a bright red.

“Oh no, looks like one of the losers is getting mad,” Dash whispered to Danny.

            Sam’s head snapped to the three, the sour look on her face gave Danny goosebumps. She marched past him, bumping into his shoulder. No apology was given.

“What’s her issue?” Kwan asked.

“Who knows, maybe its her period or somethin’,” Dash says rolling his eyes. Danny lets out a long sigh. His body was already aching from the weekend, and today was already going great.

            All day. Every time he went into a classroom or went to use the bath, all anyone could talk about was Katie Smith’s party and how he had missed it. All freakin day. It wasn’t his fault. And it wasn’t his parents either, but what was he going to tell his friends. Sorry I missed the party Katie but I got arrested by ghost and had to spend all weekend breaking out of jail! The thought of Danny even saying it out loud made him shiver in shame. Words like that were a quick one-way ticket to weird-o loser land. Population, his parents and Sam Manson. Speaking of Sam…

            She had spent all day glaring at him. He didn’t even know they shared a History class till he felt her eyes bring a hole into his back. Right now, they were in English class, otherwise known as Mr. Lancer territory. His classroom as covered in pictures of classic books, quotes, and shelves of books. Most of the shelves were bending under the weight of his French and Spanish versions of Dante’s complete trilogy. Danny wondered why anyone would read books that big. Maybe in the past when they didn’t have phones reading a book that big would be fun, but Danny was one of the few people he knew that liked books and even he wouldn’t object himself to that.

            Glancing behind him, Sam looked away. Her makeup looked fresh. Turning back to the front, where that kid in the red hat was helping Lancer with the smart board was. W-was it a hat? Danny always wondered what it was and why nobody ever asked him to take it off. Oh God, his thoughts were rambling again, and SHE was staring at him again.

“Hey what is your issue?” He harshly whispered.

“What issue?” She whispered back. Even her quiet whispers were dripping in venom.

“You’ve been drilling holes in my back all day?”

“I haven’t touched your back.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it Manson.”

“No, I don’t know anything, Fenton. Please tell me, what do I know?”

“You’ve been staring at my back like I killed your dog, all day. SO, how about you drop the attitude and stop. I didn’t do anything to you.” She seemed to know just how to piss him off.

“Of course, innocent little Fenton can do no wrong.”

“What is wrong with you? I-“

“Mr. Fenton! Would you like to join the class?” Like a god dam demon Mr. Lancer appeared next to his head, with his arms crossed and a face of displeasure. Turning around he mumbled a response before writing down whatever was on the smart board. After a few moments he could feel her glaring at him again.

            As soon as the bell rang, Danny was out of that room. Paper and books hasty shoved into his bag as he made his way to the cafeteria. Several students waved hi to him, and tried to engage in conversation. And all of them asked “Where were you Saturday?” It was starting to become exhausting having to reexplain himself to everyone. It made the trek to the cafeteria feel like shopping with Paulina, stopping every few minutes to go into another store.

“Oh, Danny!” Speak of the devil, “Where were you Saturday? I missed you,” Paulina said

“P-Paulina, I was grounded. Didn’t you get my text?” Danny Said.

“You sent a text?”

“Yeah,”

“I must not have gotten it. You know how bad my phone is.”

            The two walked to lunch together, Paulina almost dangling off Danny’s arm, her jacket was wide open reveling her pastel pink crop top. All of lunch Danny was nervous about Lancer, or another teacher yelling at his friend, but it seemed fine.

“Oh Danny,” Paulina’s sickly-sweet voice clung to his ears like taffy.  

The hallway was quickly pouring out students faster than people can get into a Walmart on Black Friday.

“Yes Paulina?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to help me with my science homework tonight?” Her arms here under her breast pushing them up.

“Uh no thanks I’m still in trouble with my parents and I don’t think they-“

“But I don’t know if I can pass Mrs. Crossant’s test this Friday without your help,” she said, leaning forward, so that her top reveled more skin. Danny put a book over the opening.

“If I get in anymore trouble, I’ll be kicked off the team. I’m sorry but I have to go. Maybe Dash can help you?” He slammed his locker shut, “Have a good night Paulina.”

            Fast walking around the corner, he burst into a full-on run. Throwing caution out the window, as he ducked under a bush. Cold white rings enveloping his body, he let the air phase through him, lifting him high above the school Now sporting snow white hair, and neon green eyes Danny was free. Soaring through the city, dancing on the tops of buildings. No one called out to him. Nobody cared about him. It was just him and the open blue sky.

“BEWARE!” And other ghosts. If it wasn’t for his parents he would be a propaganda poster for the perfect American boy, but he would gladly trade that away to stay above the clouds. Nobody knew phantom the ghost boy, a halfa born from a lab accident n his parents’ basement. And Danny wanted to keep it that way. Plus, it was fun to watch ‘Invisible hero saves jewelry store’ videos on YouTube.   

[bouncybongfairy]

Growing Pains: A Morgan Stark FanFic

Summary: Morgan Stark, who is now starting her freshman year of college, was feeling on top of the world. Just posing for the cover of Empire Magazine in a Pink Iron Man suit that she designed and engineered herself. Accepted into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and living on campus, away from the watchful eyes of her mother and Happy. Like any fresh face to a college campus, she had found stress relief in the frat parties, especially on dollar shot nights. While maintaining the stress of school, mommy issues and a troubling identity complex, she must also confront the grief of her father that she locked away for so long. While doing so, she must deal with the criticism of the tabloids and general public.

Word Count: 4k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was Friday night, and Morgan was walking back to her dorm after her last class. She was looking forward to going out tonight with her roommate, Allison. She was halfway through the second semester of her freshman year and right now; she was feeling a little cocky. She had just posed for Empire Magazine, wearing the Pink Iron-Man suit she started designing at 14. This is part of what got her into MIT, but of course her 4.0 GPA, 4 years on the water polo team, and presidency of STEAM and Chess club didn't look too bad on her application either. There was controversy behind her going to the school that has had a statue of her father in the courtyard over a decade. Claims that her admission could be a conflict of interest but these were all shot down by her stellar academic record. She had laminated a Vogue article that named her the princess on campus and hung it on her vanity. Her mother was calling. She rolled her eyes before answering the call. 

"Hey mom," she said. 

"Hey baby, how was school?" she asked. Morgan would never admit this, but she heard her mother's voice. It brought her a great deal of comfort. 

"It was good. I feeling pretty confident about the English Essay I have due next week, I pretty much done," 

"Oh good, I'm glad to hear that, I just wanted to remind you that tomorrow you have a speaking engagement and it's so-so important to be prepared because you'll be speaking in front of almost every media outlet so please-" her mother began but was interrupted by Morgan. 

"Mother, when have I ever not delivered when it came to publicity or literally anything. I think I proved that I can be trusted with myself," she said. 

"Of course honey I know that, I don't mean to project on to you. I guess I just called because I miss you, I'm always going to bug you about these things, it's my job," she laughed into the phone. 

"I miss you too. Sometimes I wake up and wonder why you haven't barged into my room yet," Morgan laughed while unlocking her door. Allison was getting ready, deciding on what dress to wear. 

"Well, we should go out to dinner after the event. I would never give up the time to be with you. I have to go but please try and jot down some notes for the engagement pretty please?" she asked. 

"Of course, I'll take it easy tonight. I love you mom, okay bye," Morgan said, hanging up and letting her backpack plop down on the ground. 

"Are you really not coming out tonight?" Allison asked as she glued one of her eyelashes on. 

"Fuck no. I didn't go out last weekend and how many times have I pulled through even if I was hungover. Remember that chemistry lab that I threw up halfway through and got extra credit points for finishing," she pointed out while pulling her jeans off before continuing, "not to mention I got up early today and shaved, exfoliated, and washed my hair so I'm coming out," Morgan said. 

"How can I forget, you convinced the professor but the entire classroom could recognize the smell of Pink Whitney from a mile away," she joked, changing into her dress, "too much?" Allison asked. She was wearing a tube top dress that has a hole to show off her belly ring. 

"Not enough," Morgan joked, changing into a denim miniskirt and a white, tightly fitted long sleeve that had the word BITCH bedazzled across the chest. To complete the outfit she added a pair of chunky brown heels. 

It didn't take long for the girls to finish getting dolled up. They didn't have to go far because the party was gonna be at a frat tonight but not just any frat, they were going to Kappa Sigma; this was the biggest frat on campus. Morgan was extremely excited, things were hard mentally but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. The type of anxiety that someone gets on summer break because they aren't used to being free of responsibility. She chalked it up to being away from home for the first time in her life and all the reminders of her dad that were on campus. There were posters, quotes, and of course that statue. She was so young when he died, she didn't really remember him. Of course she had some core memories of him but she was 5 years old. As she got older, they began to become harder to piece together. Her mom made sure to keep her busy throughout her childhood, in an attempt to distract Morgan from the grief. Now that you were away from home and in what everyone referred to as 'her prime' she was questioning if she was really.. okay. Maybe she was just masking her personal issues with school and her social life. They finally reached the lawn of the fraternity, the house music was blasting so loud Morgan could feel the vibration through the ground. She could feel her phone buzz from her purse, she dug through it letting out an irritated groan when her pen dropped on the ground. 

"Hello?" she answered. 

"Morg, I got a notification that you left campus. Your mom told you that you have a speaking engagement tomorrow right?" she immediately recognized Happy's voice and laughed a little. 

"Yes, I'm just hanging out with a couple girlfriends at their sorority and then going right back to my dorm," Morgan explained. 

"Well that's weird considering your location is showing me the Kappa house and I can hear the music in the background," he said. 

"I'm only going to be out for a couple hours and I'll call you if I need help and when I get back to my dorm. I'll be fine just please don't tell my mom I don't want her to freak out on me over something so small, please?" She tried as hard as she could to convey her puppy eyes from over the phone. 

"Promise to call? Just for my peace of mind please, even a text," he agreed.

"I promise, love you Happy," you said smiling. 

"Love you too kid," he said ending the call. 

She really did have every intention of going home after a few drinks but that all changed. They met up with a couple of their friends and were drunkenly dancing with each other. Morgan made her way to the kitchen and poured herself about half a red solo cup of vodka. She poured a fair amount of the cherry kool-aid liquid concentrate into her cup and swirled it until it was decently mixed. She was a bit tipsy by this point which influenced her decision to throw a couple ice cubes into the cup. Her logic was that once the ice melted it would water down her drink. Allison found Morgan and let out a sigh of relief. 

"I've been looking for you, one second we were dancing and the next I was lost," Allison slurred slightly. 

"Just getting another drink is silly," she replied and Allison led them to the dance floor. 

"Soo, one of my friends wanted to go really hard tonight because Monday is a three day weekend. She has Molly and I think we should take some together. I know what you're gonna say but I don't know, I feel like we've gotten so close since we moved into our dorm together. You're constantly working and I feel like you should let loose so you don't like.. combust," she laughed out towards the end. 

Morgan didn't realize but she drank half of her cup while she was talking. She opened her mouth to respond but before she could, she turned into something else. She looked past Allison and made eye contact with what appears to be her father with a concerned face. Her heart stopped and she could now physically feel the rhythm in her finger lips. She looked at Allison in disbelief before going to point him out. As she arm raised to gesture to him, she realized it wasn't her father at all. Just a guy with dark hair and the same beard pattern. She almost started to freak out but began to talk herself down mentally. The only reason she thought she saw him was because 1: that dude looked incredibly similar. 2: she was drunk and therefore overly emotional. 3: she was projecting her sober stress onto her drunk mindset. Allison looked at her more concerned and asked if she was alright. Morgan at this point was a bit discombobulated, she was just telling herself that she was letting her anxiety get the best of her. She figured maybe a little Molly would give her a mental reset and easy some of her anxiety. To be fair she was pretty drunk by this point. Alli ends up leading Morgan into a bathroom, which she would have protested to in any other case. 

"Oh my god! It's so pretty!" Morgan drunkenly gushed as one of her girlfriends pulled out the clear baggie that contained the pink powder. 

"Right?" Allison remarked. 

She used her fingernail to scoop the molly and bring it to her nose. It burned and made her eyes water a bit. Someone began knocking on the door which forced the girls out of the bathroom. They stumbled their way to the main common area where a huge group of people were dancing to We R Who We R by Ke$ha. Morgan was now dancing with Alli, who was standing behind her as she grinded against her backside. The drugs were really really starting to hit her and at first it really was helping with her anxiety. She was laughing, swaying back and forth to the music. She started laughing to herself about even having anxious feelings in the first place. She really was in her prime, front cover of Empire, full ride to MIT, projected to be valedictorian of her class, and she was hot as hell, on top of that she knew it. She had been told her whole life that she had a gifted mind, that the hurdles she was jumping over were remarkable. She always thought that was what adults told to every kid but it was like she hit an epiphany. She was the heir of the Stark fortune, not only did she inherit money but her fathers mind. She wasn't powerful; she was power. This was the first time she looked at herself from a different perspective. She was so high she felt like her body was buzzing with potential. 

She turned around to find Allison was gone. Feeling a bit lost, she made her way to the bathroom. She grabbed her phone and texted her roomate to see where she was. It was after that she noticed her teeth were chattering slightly. She grabbed her pen from her purse and took a long drag. She turned around and looked into the mirror, at first she was just checking her outfit and makeup but then she got focused on her face. She had never noticed how brown her eyes were, it reminded her of the painting of her father that was in her mothers house; a honey, almost amber brown. She swore she could see specks of color floating around in her eye. She brushed her fingers over her lip, every other time she blinked she could see her father's face. She had to physically put her hands over her face to ensure it was still her. Her heart-rate was through the roof and tears began pooling in her eyes. She swung the bathroom door open again and started looking around for Alli who was nowhere in sight. She began to panic, she didn't want to call her mother or Happy. That would just cause mass amounts of problems, they specifically asked her not to do this. After taking a deep breath, she shoved her phone into her pocket and decided to walk back to her dorm. It wasn't like she was at a club, she was still on campus and a little less than a mile away from her room. Once she stepped outside the cool breeze pushed her hair out of her face. 

It was dark and Morgan's high had started to turn from fun to scary. She could barely see anything around her and she felt like she was going around in circles. Everytime she thought she was finally starting to get close to her dorm, the less familiar she would become with her surroundings. Her feelings of paranoia and anxiety were getting bad, her emotions were heightened and she couldn't stop tears from flowing out of her eyes. She thought for a second she might be having a heart attack or something which terrified her. She was now on her phone debating if she should call Happy. Cats out of the bag if she did though, there was no way Happy wouldn't tell her mom. She could feel her heels sinking into the ground which scared her until she realized it was grass. Morgan looked up from her phone and realized she had walked all the way to the courtyard. Her hands fell to her side and she looked up at the bronze statue of her late father. As she started, she felt like the eyes were watching her.. maybe even judging. She tried to look away but she couldn't. She started walking backwards and accidentally bumped into someone. Once she first noticed that it was a man she got a bit scared but then realized it was Brandon: her highschool sweetheart.

"Brandy.. holy shit how -hiccup- long has it been," she slurred wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Morgan thank fuck I found you. Allison was throwing up in the kitchen skin and her friend told me you guys took MDMA. So much shit could have happened to- you know it's one thing to do drugs, it's another to wander off alone at night on drugs," he said, supporting her weight. 

"I miss being on the chess team together, do you remember that time at the chess tournament? At that Hampton hotel and we snuck out of our rooms? I miss when times -hiccup- were like.. easy you know? The only thing to worry about was getting caught for dumb things," Morgan's face was flooded with tears and her teeth were chattering as she continued, "do you ever look back at things in your life and realized you might have been really sad without realizing it?" she asked, looking up at him. 

"Let me take you home," he said more gently. 

"Are you mad at me?" she asked. 

"No, I was just worried," he said, taking her by the hand, leading her back to his fraternity. 

"Why were you worried if we're not together, were you missing me?" Morgan giggled. 

"This isn't fucking funny Morgan, it's not some game. You could have gotten abducted or raped. You think I don't notice you at the frat parties? You're drinking constantly and now you're doing drugs? I just don't get it, are you okay like honestly who are you nowadays?" he asked, turning around so that they were face to face. 

"I don't know I- it's just kinda complicated and it's just a mix of all kinds of things. I'm sorry I didn't- please don't be upset with me," she said. 

His face dropped when he saw her face. She looked so vulnerable and it made him feel bad for snapping at her, especially when she was this wasted. He grabbed her face and wiped the mascara stained tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. He was always infatuated with her, ever since he could remember. Even as children he liked the way she always had her nose in the air, especially because it wasn't in a cocky way. Being cocky meant that you were trying to be arrogant, Morgan just knew her worth and it showed in her demeanor; he loved that. They were on and off throughout middle and highschool. The type of couple that would look married walking into school, going through a three year divorce at lunch, and like they were on their honeymoon walking out of school. She was as smart as she was beautiful, athletic and knew where she was going. 

"I adore you," he said, taking his long sleeve shirt off and draping it over her, leaving him in a blank muscle tee. 

"Aren't you gonna be cold?" she asked? 

"Better me than you," he replied. 

They walked back to his room, the party was starting to die down. People passed out sitting up while sleeping against the walls. A couple that were making out on the couch. Brandon got Morgan to his room safely, she plopped down on his bed and took her heels off. He had gone into the bathroom that was attached to his room and came back with a wet towel. As she slid off her skirt he came back and sat on the bed, wiping the makeup off her face. He gave her three tylenols and made her drink an entire water bottle. After he was done, he went to walk out but Morgan begged him to stay. He ended up taking his jeans off and laying with her, he commented about how he was worried. That the pupil of her eyes were so wide and that she shouldn't have taken so much. She convinced him everything was okay, before they drifted off to sleep. 

<3

The next morning, Morgan slowly woke up to the sound of pounding at the door. It was slowly becoming louder and more frequent. At first she buried her face into Brandon's neck but then all of reality hit her at once. She sat up and pulled her long, tangled hair into a bun. She hit Brandon in the thigh a couple times which stirred him awake long enough to hear the banging. Morgan jumped out of bed and grabbed her skirt, sliding it up her legs. She took her phone out of her pocket and saw that it was 3:30 pm and she had about a hundred missed calls from her mom and Happy. She grabbed her purse and sat back down on the bed, slipping on her heels and giving a kiss to Brandon who looked half asleep while sitting up. 

"Call me?" Morgan asked giving him another peck on the cheek, he nodded and laid back down. She flings the door open revealing a pissed Happy; like really pissed. 

"Your moms in the car, she made you wait until she laid her eyes on you. She's gonna hit the damn roof," he said. 

"Happy not right now I don't feel good," Morgan said, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of her purse. 

"Course not, you're hungover," he said. 

"There's worse things to be in this world than being hungover," she said. Once they got to the car, she was kinda scared to face her mother. Morgan took a deep breath before sliding into the backseat. 

"Morgan Stark, where the fuck have you been? I've been calling and calling, you weren't at your dorm. You told me you weren't going out last night and look at you," she was speaking with such intensity. 

"I know I didn't think I was gonna go out I just-" Morgan started. 

"You just disregarded the conversation we had yesterday? I told you that you had a speaking engagement yesterday and you just figured it didn't matter? That I could call and residual? doesn't that sound familiar?" Pepper said. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" Morgan asked.

"I didn't-'' She started to rephrase but was cut off by her daughter. 

"No i'm so sick of that honestly, when it comes to my academics i'm always praised. Told things like 'oh you're just like your father' or 'he would be so proud of you' and then if I show signs of mental illnesses he had that when being like him is a bad thing right? You know other than school you never compare me to him in a positive way. It's always 'oh you're so impulsive just like your dad' or 'oh you won't rest until it's done just like your dad' like what the fuck is that? Now you're making me go speak to a group of students and preach to them how adversity makes you stronger? I'm not a role model, I have my own issues and don't really feel up to playing Hannah Montana for a group of people. You do understand that I'm a full time student and when I have days off I don't want to be carted around and pretend to be something I'm not," Morgan said, sinking back into her seat after she finished. 

"Oh my gosh, where is this coming from?" her mother pried. 

"I'm just tired of you booking events without talking to me about it first. I have a lot on my plate and no offense or anything but publicity stunts are so not my priority right now," Morgan grumbled, her mouth starting to salivate uncontrollably. 

"But getting wasted at a frat house when you know you have obligations the next day is the priority?" Her mother asked rhetorically.

"Why is it that I could literally wipe God's ass and you wouldn't bat an eye but obsess over the one time I went a little overboard at a party. I'm telling you that I don't want to do this and you don't care!" Morgan exclaimed.

"Well getting drunk and being too hungover to attend a public appearance isn't the proper way to tell me you don't want to do it," her mother said. 

Morgan grabbed one of the ice buckets, dumping the contents out before vomiting into it. She could hear Happy and her mother going back and forth but obviously. She was throwing up so hard that she was struggling to breath. Vomit was coming out of her nose which burned horribly.  She secured the bucket on the floor in front of her and reached up to grab a couple napkins. After wiping her mouth she looks up at her mother who has a mixed look of concern and disappointment written across her face. Morgan grabs the bucket again and continues to empty her stomach, even though she could smell the alcohol coming from her throw up. Morgan's anger was building and she couldn't talk herself out of it. She was upset that her mother wasn't understanding how she was feeling. That she wasn't taking her well-being into consideration. She did everything right, her whole life she was like the poster child of being a good daughter. Morgan was tired of feeling like her mistakes and flaws were the only thing being taken into consideration. 

"I just thought you had things more under control and-" her mother started but was interrupted by Morgan. 

"That's just the thing, you think things without knowing what actually knowing what's going on. So maybe you should fix that about yourself before judging anyone else," she said, getting up and getting out of the car which was stopped at a red light despite the protests of her mother. 

Once she got out she started speed walking back to campus. Tears were still streaming down her face, she must have some molly in her system because she was feeling so vulnerable. She turned into a bookstore, not wanting Happy or her mother to pursue her. She called Brandon who picked up after a couple rings. She explained to him the situation and that she needed a ride back to campus which he agreed to. She sat at a small table and wiped her face with her hands. She was mentally and physically exhausted, she was also having a bit of a pity party for herself. She didn't get into fights with her mother often so when she did it always felt like the end of the world. She pulled her pen out of her bag and went to take a hit but remembered she was in a store. Not long after she started waiting outside, Brandon pulled up in his blue Mazda. 

"What are you laughing at," Morgan said while putting her seatbelt on. 

"You're a hot ass mess girl," he said, driving her away from her problems temporarily.

[hylianengineer]

*asks about job*

Anon you are my favorite.

Okay, so, I'm a laboratory and field technician in a soil and water science lab.

I love my job so goddamn much. I get to work with fancy machines like the gas chromatograph and spectrometer! (The spectrometer is actually really boring but shhh.) I get to go outside and watch birds while I collect water samples! I am getting paid for this! I get to learn data processing and engineering and wilderness safety precautions and how to explain complex science to people whose careers are Not This.

Also, research labs are chaos and I delight in it. Okay maybe not ALL research labs, I'm informed the chemistry department does not look like this. BUT this is an environmental science lab. It is full is bizarre, deeply nerdy, deeply passionate people. Who do things like eat baked potatoes like apples, improvise experimental setups with mason jars and duct tape, and nickname every instrument either a human name or a Pixar reference. I love them so much I have no words.

Crazy and fun things I've done for this job:

Freezer jenga followed by freezer tetris (had to take all the things out of a the freezer, put them in coolers to keep them cold, defrost the freezer, and put them back in except organized this time. I was delighted by this for no logical reason, my boss thought I was nuts).

Okay you know in scifi movies where they have some weird mystery substance and they put it in a box with gloves attatched so they can work with it without actually touching it? I've done that! Not because of hazardous substances, we just needed to put stuff in jars without exposing it to oxygen. But still! It was cool!

Shopping trip to get food for like half a dozen people for three days (I had weird dreams about being overwhelmed with tortilla chips afterwards, this doesn't sound that crazy but I promise you it felt like it).

Taped plastic tubing to 200+ funels until the boxes we were storing them in overflowed and there was no longer floorspace to walk (AFTER cutting the plastic tubing into 200+ equally sized pieces and stuffing it with ion exchange resin, which is like evil microplastic sand. Between all those things, this took WEEKS. It got really boring).

Dissolved like 10kg of KCl (KCl my behated, its very harmless but hell to get off glassware) in water to make 80 LITERS OF KCL SOLUTION (that's over 20 pounds of solid KCl and over 20 gallons of solution! My coworker and I were sort of laughing hysterically over this entire process because come on! 80 liters! For reference most lab protocols need like, a liter or less of whatever solution.) Fun fact about solid KCl, it tends to stick together into a giant brick. We were chiseling at it with scoops, spoons, whatever was on hand (i really wanted to attack it with a screwdriver but it would introduce dirt into the chemicals so i couldn't) and eventually we got so frustrated we went outside and dropped the thing off a second floor balcony. After wrapping it in like 3 layers of plastic bags because we knew at least one bag was gonna break. This did not actually help much but it was very cathartic.

There was a project once where we had to take sealed mason jars and replace all the air in them with nitrogen gas. Repeatedly. For over a hundred jars. My PI (principle invesitgator, means the scientist in charge of a project and usually a lab) is good at building things, so of course he assembled this manifold thing so we could pump nitrogen through a dozen jars at once. Which was great, except it involved two dozen needles, half of them attatched to flexible plastic tubing so they'd kinda bounce around when you pulled them out of the jars. It looked like a very stabby centipede-slash-octopus monster. Impressively, we only stabbed ourselves a couple times each with this thing (and changed the needles of course, we are aware of the risks of transmitting blood diseases).

Actually one of the craziest things about this job in my opinion is how many fucking needles we work with. You see, we study atmospheric gases. And to do that, we need to transfer gases between sealed containers, which means needles and septa (the rubber things they put on vials so you can poke needles through them). So. Many. Needles. Did you know you can only use a needle four times before it gets too dull? It's extremely noticeable as you're using them - not as they get dull, but when you discard an old needle and get out a new one it is a huge difference. I don't know why I find this so fascinating, but working with needles is honestly so fun. I feel like a mad scientist or something. Also, for the first couple months I kept poking myself on accident so I was just walking around with these pinpricks and papercut looking wounds. It felt a bit like a badge of honor, somehow, like a rite of passage for working in the gas lab. Another thing about needles, if you get scratched with one horizontally instead of stabbed, they look like papercuts. It's weird. Also weird is how good you get after a while at not stabbing yourself.

I think I like working with needles because they're something that used to make me nervous. Not horribly, but I have more than typical anxiety and I get nervous about everything. And yet I am now totally chill about needles, because I work with them all the time. It's... freeing I guess. Maybe empowering, even. I am scared of so many things, but I am not scared of this. Ditto large quantities of acid, once you've had to work with dozens of liters of the stuff you stop being scared of it - this was for the same project as the KCl and yes it was equally ridiculous. Dilute acid, thankfully, but to make dilute acid you have to mix the really concentrated stuff with water. It does not come as dilute acid, that would be too easy. So we spent multiple days in a row diluting acid and soaking things in it, there were plastic boxes full of the stuff on every available counter space with handmade warning labels, it was A Thing™️.

Anyways, I'm a person who's scared of everything, except weird stuff like hydrochloric acid, needles, and wasps. I can blame all three of those things on this job, which I love dearly. I love to learn new things, pretend I'm in a scifi movie, be surrounded by crazy people (affectionate), and apparently overcome my numerous fears. You absolutely did not sign up for this big puddle of feelings, anon, but thank you for inspiring it nevertheless.