#because when they talk I have to reverse engineer what word are they pronouncing and how the 'original' word/pronunciation is
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Just remembered I can listen to radios from all around the world, and of course I'm tuning in with some radios in the language I'm learning lmao
#listened a bit to the news (could understand a good half of the concept!!) and now switched to music based ones#so I only have to pay proper attention to commercial breaks/intermissions#also insane how the 'formal' language sounds so much more understandable after listening to a friend who leans heavy into their dialect lol#because when they talk I have to reverse engineer what word are they pronouncing and how the 'original' word/pronunciation is#they're very kind because they were like 'I can speak English when you're around if you want' and I vehemently asked them not to#unless I explicitly need to understand smt/am particularly curious about what was said#we also use English in one-on-one conversation so I really don't want to impose my language limits in other contexts lol#my post#anyway back to reviewing software engineering (my beloved star crossed lover 😔🙏)
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duos trilineum nummum
“Why do we accept small segments of society to object ALL of us to this bizarre, weird delusion that is happening EVERYWHERE.” ~Gutfield
What is WOKE?
The Right hijacked the word WOKE some years back and use it to describe the extreme left. WOKE was officially added into the dictionary in 2017 and its definition is listed as “to be awake to sensitive social issues, such as racism.” However, the word and its use date back to at least a 1962 New York Times article; “phrases and words you might hear today in Harlem.” A black-novelist, William Melvin Kelley, wrote the earliest known use of the word under its new definition in an article titled, “If you’re woke, you dig it.” In 1972, in a play by Barry Beckham, “Garvey Lives!” a character says, ‘he’ll “stay woke,” with the line: “I been sleeping all my life. And now that Mr. Garvey done woke me up, I’m gon stay woke. And I’m gon’ help him wake up other black folk.”’ In the modern-day the word also was used by Conspiracy Theorists to describe they were “in the know” on a subject or theory. Other close definitions are “well-informed, up-to-date.” These two are still accepted as definitions of the word. You can see how crazy this one word’s journey through existence has been. It was used by a black writer, in a black story. It wasn’t used again in relation to race till 2014 during the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. In the play, the word is used in incorrect English to describe the past or pre-tense of awake, waken, awoke. Not all English is worded correctly when spoken aloud, especially by the uneducated (in this case, used by blacks that didn't have any schooling and just talked how they talked). Should be noted I am not being racist by saying this. It’s true. It’s a part of black culture in this country and still is. Hood-talk is a real thing that is discussed within the Black American community. Black America makes its own English slang for words and how they spell names and pronounce them. All the minority races do this. This isn’t new, its cultural diversity. I see no issues with this at all. Is it correct English, no, but who cares. They know what they are saying. It’s us, people, who do not know, who are not educated in "hood talk" that lose the meaning in it all.
WOKE is both a Subculture and Internet Subculture that attempts to make minority issues displayed as majority issues and those issues be labeled as normal and/or everyday ‘FACTS…’ Try to take a bad idea, that is already widely accepted as a bad idea, change some of the attributes that define the idea as bad and make that seem good and chastise others who do not follow suit.
There You Have It…
I say one, anyone, cannot demand a thing to be real just because they want it to be real. That isn’t how concepts are brought into existence to become part of our reality. There is a process for that and the WOKE ideology does not want to learn, work in, towards, the process. They want to invent their own process that fits the path of least resistance. Herded tribalism cannot reverse engineer critical thinking, logic and common sense to fit different groups’ narcissistic delusions; that whatever they feel like when they wake up in the morning dictates what truth, a “FACT” is, what right and/or wrong is, conceptually, on a daily basis. Just because a person or group either identifies with a thing or not is absolutely irrelevant. It is why we are taught or at least used to be taught at a very young age not to react emotionally to very serious/important things. Because in most cases we cannot use our thinking brain to react correctly.
When culture decided demanding feelings come before logic and teaching kids to lash out using their feelings in a militant way is the extreme opposite of what we should teach young humans how to behave to become adults. Sure, one can blame social media and/or the misinformation that is displayed on social media, but it isn't the misinformation on social media. The misinformation of pure concept on the news networks pretending said misinformation is real life, everyday occurrences, that are teaching the young, the hypersensitive WOKE Culture, that if you want to be heard you must be loud, expressionful and militant. This includes acts of defiance, hateful words like reverse racist comments and now perverted into violence with these people gaining access to firearms or destruction of property. We need to vote those very few that rule over the many out with people that really will choose logic, problem-solving, common sense & critical thinking first over "using their feelings in a militant way" to get a society to respond... They change the meaning of a word by using it over and over again in the media and social media all while using it out-of-context. If you challenge them at all, you are either bullied, canceled or forced to change or things, luxuries are slowly stripped from you till one complies.
That Is Exactly What WOKE Is…
The problem lies in both political parties and the two party system in general. Both lie, cheat, steal from us. Both attempt to manipulate us and the media. Both have their own version as to what a “FACT” is, even though there is only one authority that deems a theory into a fact and that is the scientific community. Both do not care if said thing they spew is even accurate as long as it paints the binary opposite bad, evil, wrong. Both sides believe themselves to be right or righteous, as in correct, even if they do not have the evidence to suggest what they just said or did was actually correct or not. How much more would you like to see from this before Right/Left just get blurred so heavily one or many cannot even tell a difference anymore, besides the hue of the same color into two different shades? Red or Blue... Red and Blue are the same exact color just different hues, equals A-One-Size-Fits-ALL...
Gov't itself attempts to apply one-size-fits-all mentalities as their justification for the concept of right and/or wrong, but there is no wrong on each side as both sides believe themselves to be right at all times and the latter, wrong at all times. Like Religion, humans have outgrown the two party system when both systems practice these things as their main attributes for membership. If both parties did what they actually said they were gonna do. Worked more together than against one another and didn't lie/cheat/steal from the American People; most of these problems would not be where/how they appear NOW... Now the simple answer one or many CANNOT make a thing, anything, true or real in this reality solely on belief/faith alone. One or many must have the tangible thing to show said belief is real or just that, a belief. They must put the work in... Something else both sides makes large claims about that their facts are facts but when people who know what facts really are and how that process works, they go a lookin' only to find that these things that are said to be facts have no legs to stand on. All their attributes are built upon belief/faith solely and not any other thing that could/would prove its existence to be real in the first place.
How Does WOKE Die?
1. Move to Florida. 2. Logic.
Me: (to Chat GBT) What are the steps to being a LOGICAL being?
ChatGBT: (to me) Being a logical being involves using reason, critical thinking, and sound judgment to make decisions and solve problems. Here are some steps you can take to become a more logical person:
• Learn the Principles of Logic: There are many books, courses, and resources available that can help you learn the basics of logic, such as; how to identify and avoid fallacies, how to construct valid arguments, and how to evaluate evidence.
• Practice Critical Thinking: Critical thinking involves analyzing information, evaluating arguments, and making decisions based on evidence and reason. You can improve your critical thinking skills by practicing regularly, questioning assumptions, and seeking out diverse perspectives.
• Develop Your Problem-Solving Skills: Logical thinking is essential for effective problem-solving. You can improve your problem-solving skills by breaking problems down into smaller parts, identifying the root causes of problems, and generating multiple possible solutions.
• Pay Attention to Details: Logical thinking requires paying attention to details and being able to identify patterns and connections between different pieces of information. Practice paying close attention to details and looking for relationships between different pieces of information.
• Practice Self-Reflection: Regularly reflecting on your own thought processes, biases, and assumptions can help you become more aware of your own thinking patterns and identify areas for improvement.
• Seek Out Diverse Perspectives: Exposure to diverse perspectives can help you challenge your assumptions, broaden your understanding of different viewpoints, and improve your critical thinking skills. Seek out opportunities to engage with people from different backgrounds and perspectives.
Remember, becoming a logical thinker is a lifelong journey that requires consistent practice and effort. By following these steps and continuing to seek out opportunities for learning and growth, you can become a more logical, rational, and effective thinker.
Me: (to Chat GBT) Thank ChatGBT on your insight…
“In the United States if you made bad decisions or if you did stupid things; this did not make you a victim. What made you a victim was an immutable characteristic and then people picking on you for the immutable characteristic. Instead we have decided is you make bad decisions or you make false claims and if people don't agree with you now you're a victim of American society.” ~Ben Shapiro
If you want a more detailed view of what I think about our two party system there is my “Diatribe” Trilogy where I wrote three blogs equaling 16,631 words on the subject of “why a woman should have total rights to her body, including the child.” It should not even be up for debate, but it was or is. I had my NON-coin perspective and it took me seven-straight days of writing to hash this out for myself. Links Provided:
Mortui Infantes Translation: Dead Babies https://mineofilms.me/93-2/ Emendatione ad Infantes Mortuos Translation: Amendment to Dead Babies https://mineofilms.me/94-2/ Viene una tormenta Translation: A storm is coming https://mineofilms.me/95-2/
This is where I start to get into the journey of exercising binary thinking from my perception as “normal behavior.” I start to talk about both sides as one-in-the-same, but with different hues (digital photography word for different shad/tint of the same exact color).
Serenitas Nunc Translation: Serenity Now https://mineofilms.me/97-2/
Next is the evolution of Serenity Now with breaking down what a “real” and “fact” actually are and why “anyone” saying “air-quotes, ‘FACTS’” doesn’t make what they just said a “real” and “fact.” I again, point to the current cycle we are on with our current system and how things have been going.
Dormiens excitavit Translation: The Sleeper Has Awoken https://mineofilms.me/101-2/
My last reference will be my shortest entry attempting to define what WOKE is and why it is dangerous. After two years of writing about the WOKE; I think I really got a good solid definition of what this “thing” actually is… I do not know if anyone likes ole movies or not but “They Live” comes to mind…
experrectus locos communes Translation: woke clichés https://mineofilms.me/110-2/
Enter at your own approval…
Politica... EXERCITUS... Logica... Latin for: Politics… WOKE… Logic… by David-Angelo Mineo 3/27/2023 1,943 Words
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room to run
frankie morales/reader
a companion piece to close to what wherein the roles are reversed. written for purely selfish reasons because i needed the comfort, progress is wobbly right now but we move. concept of frankie as a mechanic was inspired by the wonderful @softpedropascal 💛 as always with this series, please heed the warnings, this is a particularly rough one.
as always, if you’re struggling with the themes of this fic, a quick internet search can help to find local resources for you.
series masterlist // main masterlist
word count: just shy of 2.1k // warnings: addiction (both reader and frankie are in recovery), relapse, drug abuse, vomit, non-specific non-sexual nudity, vague rehab mention, 18+ please
Frankie’s not sure what time it is.
Only that somewhere, in the near pitch black of his room, his phone is ringing.
An annoying tune that ricochets in his skull, set up by Pope a thousand years ago because ‘you never hear your goddamn phone, Morales’. Loud and clear even as it sits in the pocket of his jeans, buried under the pile of clothes from today that didn’t quite make it into his laundry basket before he collapsed on his bed. In his defence, it’s been a really long day.
The ache in his back is even more pronounced from leaning into the same engine that’s been giving him problems all week. Some overly expensive suped up thing, far too aggressive for the car it’s been - badly - installed in. He likes his job, but some days he really doesn’t get paid enough. He reaches out for the ankle of the jeans, pulling them up so at least he doesn’t have to actually get out of bed, and fishes the phone out of the pocket.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello?”
A prank call. A wrong number. A butt dial, whatever. He’s about to hang up, ready to slip back into a mercifully dreamless sleep, when he hears it. A shallow, shuddering breath that’s horrifyingly familiar. He spends an hour every Sunday morning, paying more attention to the steady inhale and exhale while other group members share their stories. In case he needs to reach over and snag a flapjack from the table and push it into a waiting hand.
So, not nothing.
“Petal?”
“I-” You cut yourself off, and Frankie worries you’ve hung up on him, “I’m sorry, it’s so late, I just- I, fuck.”
It all comes out in one breath, words tripping over one another. He can hear the effort you’re putting in to steady them, to try, but you just can’t do it and a choked off sob cracks his heart.
“I need you.”
And he’s up and out of bed in the same second.
The engine grease stains on his jeans don’t matter anymore, he doesn’t even bother smushing his cap over the bed head he knows he has. It’s almost like he’s back in his army days, called on a last minute emergency mission, only this time it’s you.
“I’m coming, okay? Don’t hang up.”
And, to your credit, you don’t.
You seem to breathe a little easier knowing Frankie’s on his way. The static of the air through his phone’s speaker is softer, more regular, and he’s relieved. Though he doesn’t slow down any. He just hopes there’s no cops lurking around as he hightails it to your neighbourhood, he’s not exactly sure how he could talk his way out of a ticket when he’s breaking several traffic laws at once.
Yes officer, I’ve been in love with one of my best friends for the last two years and I can’t tell them because I’m a fucking chicken, but they’re in a crisis and they need me right now. That’s why I’m going 80 in a fucking school zone, at 2am. When school is closed, so really it’s not that big of a deal.
He takes a corner a little too fast, and decides that maybe he should slow down just a touch. He can’t help you if he wraps his car around a tree on the way.
The lights are off.
The lights are off and the front door is wide open and Frankie’s heart drops to his stomach. He’s barely turned the car off before he’s jogging up the path and stepping into your dark hallway, calling out your name. There’s a sniffle from down the hall, the kitchen maybe, and he closes the door behind him. He slides the deadbolt home, so you’re safe from the outside at least.
He doesn’t quite know what to say when he flicks the light switch in the kitchen.
You’re on the ground, knees pulled up to your chest, leaning your head back against the cabinet under the sink. The sharp, acidic smell of vomit hangs in the air, the evidence streaked along the metal of the draining board and down the front of your t-shirt. Oh, he never imagined it would be this bad.
It’s like you don’t even see him. Your phone is still lying on the floor next to you, still on the call with him, but your mind isn’t even in the room. You’re so far away, he doesn’t know how to get you back without jarring you.
Someone, somewhere, is saying your name.
It’s faint at first, you can’t really hear it over the blood thundering in your ears, but it’s there. Growing louder. No, not louder really. Closer. Less muffled. And something in your brain clicks into place. Because you know that voice, you dream about that voice. And suddenly you can feel the cold hardwood floor underneath you, the cabinet door at your back, the ache in your shoulders, the dried tear tracks stiffening your cheeks. Your eyes come back into focus and they shift over to the doorway, to Frankie. One look at those big sad eyes, and you’re gone again.
The panic bubbles up so suddenly you have no hope of containing it, fresh tears streaming down your face. And Frankie, Frankie who gives you every kind of love you’ll never deserve, spares no thought for his knees as he crosses the room and falls to your side. You’ve half a mind to pull away when he reaches for you, but you know he won’t let it slide. So you let him maneuver you away from the cabinet. You let him pull your body back into his chest and settle you between his legs on the cold floor. Even as gross as you are, you find you don’t mind it.
He sits there with you, arms around you as best he can with the state you’re in, for a long time. He presses a soft kiss to the back of your head and you can’t suppress the almost painful full body shudder. The care he takes with you, it’s enough to make you want to cry again.
Frankie’s fingers find the hem of your old t-shirt, stretched out and faded from years of wearing and washing, and he sighs when you lean forward enough that he can peel it off of you, taking care to keep the stained front off of your face. It’s certainly not the way he imagined he’d undress you for the first time, not that he ever thought he’d get to. But it’s not like that, not in the slightest. He wants to help you feel better, and the first step towards tomorrow is getting the stink of your own vomit off of you, he’s sure.
You let him move you how he wants. Let him haul you to your feet and lead you into the bathroom. Let him pull your sweatpants down your legs and hold onto his shoulders as you step out of them. Let him adjust the water temperature just right, and herd you into the shower. He goes to step out, to give you a little privacy, but you catch his wrist before he can.
“Please don’t go.” Your voice is hoarse, and you might be embarrassed in any other situation. But Frankie’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek for the barest of moments and he pulls away to sit on the closed toilet seat.
“I’m right here, petal.”
It takes a moment of watching him before you’re satisfied enough to step under the warm water.
It’s easier to breathe once you’ve scrubbed away the stench of vomit and failure, at least for a second. Without the distraction, you’re free to focus on what you know awaits you. You’re reluctant to switch the water off and face him, to have to see the disappointment in those big brown eyes you’ve come to rely on.
Only, there isn’t any.
Frankie’s waiting with your biggest, fluffiest towel in hand, and he bundles you in it the moment you step out onto the mat. There’s only kindness in his eyes, kindness and a hint of something your hopeful little heart wants so desperately to name. But you won’t. Instead, you bury yourself in the warmth of his arms.
“Third drawer.” You whisper, once he’s led you through to your bedroom and settled you on the edge of the mattress. He’s grateful that you save him the trouble of rooting through all your drawers to find a new set of pyjamas.
He pulls out the softest ones he can find, and helps you pull them on. Maybe it’s overkill, but he gets the feeling you appreciate it all the same.
“Do you want me to take you anywhere in the morning? I know it’s not a group day but we could find a different meeting, check you in somewhere if you need it.”
Suggestions. That’s what you’d given him, way back at the beginning of your friendship when he had his first real wobble. When Pope had called you in a panic and you sat on his bathroom floor until your ass went numb because he needed you. You shake your head as he tucks the covers up around you.
“Okay. Cleaning stuff?”
“Under the sink.”
He smiles. A real smile, not the tight, annoyed kind that you’ve come to expect when you get into a mess like this. It’s not a ‘tired of your bullshit’ smile. It’s a ‘I’m gonna go clean up your sick at 3am because you’re my friend and recovery is a bitch’ smile. You’ll start crying again if he looks at you like that for any longer.
“Frankie,” You sit up as he’s leaving, “There’s a bag on the worktop.”
He nods solemnly. He already knows, he clocked it when he first came in.
“I’ll deal with it.”
The full blow of the situation doesn’t hit Frankie until he’s halfway through scrubbing at your sink with disinfectant.
He’s seen you stumble, he’s seen you struggle, but never like this. He’s never considered you might fall off the wagon completely, even for a moment.
If he were more optimistic, he might think you only found an old stash and panicked. But the half dissolved pills on the draining board don’t lie. At least you threw them up. At least you called him. At least he could be here. Though he worries he isn’t enough, he worries because he isn’t a doctor or a therapist or anything important like that. He’s just him. But maybe that’s okay.
Maybe that’s all you need tonight.
It’s a relief to peel off the washing up gloves, your kitchen sink up to a sparkling shine, and he dumps them right in the bin. He’ll buy you new ones.
Frankie turns back to the counter and spies the little plastic bag, two remaining white pills settled in the bottom. They look so harmless, so unthreatening, but the sight of them makes his stomach turn. He opens the bag, tapping the pills out into his palm, and drops it into the bin after the rubber gloves. He snags your phone up off the ground, finally hanging up on the call with his own, and tucks it into his back pocket. The pills he takes into the bathroom, dumping them into the toilet with a satisfying plop, and he wastes no time in flushing them. Gone.
You’ve shrunk back in on yourself in the time he’s spent cleaning up, your eyes still so far away when you don’t know he’s looking, and it breaks his heart.
“Looks brand new out there, I should charge you.” He tries and you laugh, at least, but your little giggle is bordering on hollow.
He doesn’t want to leave. He’s not sure you want him to either, but he won’t push you if you’d rather be alone.
“Okay-”
“Please don’t go.” You cut him off, repeating your words from the bathroom.
You sound so scared. And Frankie knows he couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to.
“Okay.”
You shuffle over to make space as he tugs off his shoes and jeans and slides in beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You cuddle into him the moment he settles, face shoved into his chest, and his arms wind around you. Safe, secure, solid. That’s Frankie, through and through. He kisses the top of your head and sighs.
“Go to sleep, petal. I’m right here.”
His heartbeat lulls your own, and you do.
TAGLIST (add yourself here):
@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44 @captain-jebi @sarahjkl82-blog @miulola @thisshipwillsail316 @amneris21
also tagging everyone who said something lovely on the first piece and might be interested in this - pls let me know if you want to be removed: @waywardimpalawriter @lawfulgranola @fuckoffbard @softdin @thirstworldproblemss @casifer-is-king @yespolkadotkitty @f0rever15elf
#this is pretty intense so please please do read the warnings#and if you decide to read but you find yourself struggling please click out okay#i love you#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#triple frontier#liz does words
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A Man of Letters - Chapter Three
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 3538
Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: Violence, assault, humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.
A/N: This series has been rattling around in my head for a while. It would never have made it to the light of day if it was not for my beautiful group of friends with whom none of this would be possible! You know who you are and I love you all!
Thank you to my beta @winchest09 without her none of this would be possible. If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**
Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters
This series is ongoing!
No Gif’s are mine
“Weird,” Y/N huffed looking out the front window of her Main Street photography studio, “Photos That Rock”. That same black muscle car has passed by her shop window at least five times today. She feels like she should recognize it, but it is just out of reach. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail she began to straighten up around the studio. Last night was a late night, then tossing and turning all night thinking about Mr. Tall, Dark and Plaid. It was an early morning today with a full schedule of studio time and then she was set to go back to The Zoo for Blues night. “Thank God it’s Friday!” she thought.
Tomorrow she opens at 11:00 and only for a few hours. During the summer, the hours are reduced with people being on vacation or just busy. The last thing they want to do on a Saturday is to come in and have their picture taken. She had editing to do, but she could do that on her laptop at home barefooted, wearing shorts and a T shirt.
Y/N locked the door as she flipped the closed sign around. Walking to the back of the studio she grabbed her garment bag off the hook and proceeded to change clothes. She didn’t have time to go back to her house. Besides, once she went home, she wasn’t leaving. Finding that charming little 2-bedroom bungalow was a blessing.
Thinking back, she remembered driving around quaint little neighborhoods when Y/N saw the “For Sale” sign being put out. She pulled her black Jeep over to the side of the road and jumped out, clad in jean capris, her favorite white sneakers with a black ZZ Top “Tres Hombres” mugshot picture on the front, hair in a ponytail and large sunglasses adorning her face.
“Excuse me,” she said politely, as she approached the elderly woman trying to pound a sign into the hard dirt of the front yard. “May I ask you about the house?”
The old woman peered at her over her glasses. “Ya by yourself?” she almost shouted.
“Yes ma’am.” Y/N smiled.
“Ya like strong coffee?” she questioned again, “it’s the only kind of coffee I make,” she mumbled. Y/N nodded her head agreeably.
“Well, come on then, come in and look at the house. You can have a cup of coffee with me and I’ll tell ya about it.” Y/N followed behind the slowly shuffling woman with slide slippers and a faded blue house dress.
Within 2 hours, Y/N learned that Hazel had lived in this house her entire married life. Her husband Everett built it when he returned from the Pacific after WWII. The house was a little run down she explained because she had a hard time taking care of things after Everett died 18 months ago. Hazel was ready to move into the senior apartments where all her “widow friends” live. By Y/N's second cup of coffee, she and Hazel agreed on a price and that Y/N could have the house in a month. They agreed to meet at the lawyers in town the following Monday. She had a bounce in her step as she returned to her Jeep after hugging Hazel goodbye. Her step stuttered as a somber smile pulled at her mouth. “This was the first good thing she could use her parent’s life insurance for.”
Y/N shook her head to clear her mind of the past. Glancing at the clock she noticed that she needed to be at the bar in 30 minutes and it was 15 minutes away. She quickly stripped off her T-shirt and jeans and shimmied into her black leggings and pulled on her knee high, 5-inch heeled boots. Pulling her grey sleeveless flowing top over her head, tugging it down, it skimmed right at her mid-thigh. Focusing on her reflection, she quickly touched up her makeup and added lipstick. Yanking out the hairband, she returned it to her wrist, finger combing her hair.
“Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get today,” she said to herself. Turning around, she grabbed her backpack and keys and ran out the back door to her Jeep, praying she didn’t hit traffic.
The Jeep careened into the parking lot of The Zoo, throwing gravel as “My Kinda Party” by Jason Aldean blaring from the speakers. She made it with 5 minutes to spare. The bar was busy already, so she had to park on the far end of the lot. She grabbed her backpack off the seat and sprinted to the front door just as it swung open.
Stepping inside it was apparent it was going to be a different kind of night. The place was packed just about shoulder to shoulder. People weren’t here to dance, they were here to have a few beers and listen to great Blues music. Y/N snaked along the edge of the crowd to the bar, carefully removed her camera from the bag and handed the backpack to Travis. Surveying the crowd she knew she would get the best pictures by positioning herself on the edge of the stage.
Painstakingly she made her way to the front as the band rambled out. . She motioned to one of the members to confirm she would not be a distraction and he gestured for her to join them while grinning at her. “Make sure you get my good side.”
As they began to jam, the crowd surged forward and Y/N was glad she wasn’t on the floor tonight. She focused on the band and the front of the crowd for their first set, capturing ecstatic faces as the music rose and fell. After a hasty break the band began their second set with “Got My Mojo Working” by Muddy Waters. Y/N steadied herself on the side of the stage and began to scan the bar through her lens, capturing bits and pieces of the enthusiastic and eclectic crowd. The camera halted at 2 men that didn’t belong. They were leaning against the back wall with their arms crossed in front of their chest. They were tall and seem to tower above the crowd. Even this far away they seem pasty and unkempt. Y/N chucked to herself because one has a John Deere hat on and the other a Caterpillar hat, direct competitors. As she studied them, both snapped their heads up simultaneously. The look on their faces was so murderous that her stomach tightened, and she began to quake. Trying to settle herself her camera moved on instantly. As she wrapped up her shoot at the end of the night, she could still not shake the pit in her stomach.
She talked to the band for a few minutes as they were packing up their instruments and the crowd began to clear out. Jumping down off the stage, she went to the bar to gather her things.
“Thanks so much for tonight Y/N,” Travis pronounced handing her the backpack. “Do you need me to walk you out?”
“No, I’m good.” Y/N shook her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for the second blues show.”
Smiling, Travis toasted her with the glass he was polishing.
She hefted her backpack over her shoulder and with her head down, she headed outside. En route to her parking spot, she observed a group of men congregating close to her Jeep. Slowing her pace she began eyeing them closely, spotting immediately the 2 men in ball caps that creeped her out earlier. Giving them a wide berth she dug her keys out of her bag, kicking herself the whole time that she didn’t already have them in hand.
As she drew closer, the group began to watch her, making lewd remarks and vulgar gestures. She ran the rest of the way to her Jeep, jumped in, cranking the engine almost simultaneously. Y/N jammed it into reverse, throwing gravel, then ramming it into drive in one fluid motion, putting as much space between her and the group as possible. Her heart was thundering in her chest while her entire body began to quake. Her breaths came in short bursts as she propelled down the road, putting a few miles between her and the bar. Y/N began to talk herself down, trying to remember her yoga breathing as she berated herself for thinking of yoga at a time like this.
Steering closer to her house she began to compose herself. As she pulled into her driveway, she put her Jeep in park resting her head on the steering wheel, breathing slowly, in and out. Yanking her keys out the ignition she threw them into her bag. Taking one last calming breath she hoisted her bag on her shoulder and got out, slamming the door behind her.
She had taken three steps when a vice like grip wrapped around her bicep swinging her around and slamming her against the side of the Jeep, hurling the bag out of her reach and knocking the wind out of her. Y/N was momentarily paralyzed, the disbelief so profound. A large hand gripped the back of her neck, pulled her away from the Jeep and crushed the side of her face into the driver’s side window. He clenched her neck tighter as he pushed her face into the window. Tears are running down her face and she strains to hold in cries of pain and fear. She feels the weight of his chest press into her back, feeling his sticky hot breath on the side of her face.
“Did you think you could run?” he seethed. “Did you think we would not fucking find you?”
“W-W-What are you talking about?” Y/N choked out.
Spinning her around by her arm and tossing her back against the door, Y/N hit it like a ragdoll, sliding down the side of the vehicle as her fear incapacitated her mind and body. Looking up, she recognized her assailant from the bar with the John Deere hat. He gripped her by the throat, dragging her back up the Jeep. Y/N feet dangled off the ground, her right eye already swollen shut blood dripping from the side of her head and lip.
“Bitch, we’ve been looking for you for a long time,” he sneered. Y/N tried to shake her head back and forth.
“NO!” she struggled, “I don’t know you!”
He laughed as she tried to focus her one good eye. An index of faces flipping through her mind like a rolodex. He bent down, his fingers digging into her throat, leveling eye to eye with her.
“Oh, but we know you. You were supposed to be in the cabin with James and Diane. We should have been able to take care of all of you at once.” His mouth twisted, “Instead, we had to chase you ass across half the damn country.”
Uncontrollable tears were rolling down her face, blood pounding in her ears. The stranger straightened, his hand slightly loosening around her neck, feet still inches off the ground. “We usually like to play with our food, but those fuckin’ Winchesters are in town. I’ve messed around enough.”
Y/N could not make sense of anything this lunatic was saying. He knew about her parents’ cabin? He knew she was supposed to be there? Play with their food? Maybe she was blacking out from lack of oxygen. Winchesters?
She could feel herself weakening. She could hear screeching tires and yelling but it was so far away. She was opening her mouth to scream but only a raspy moan escaped. A look of panic crossed the strangers face. He looked at her, his features began to change. Sharp pointed teeth emerging from his gums. Y/N began to blink rapidly, attempting to process what she was seeing. She began to kick her legs in terror. Her brain was telling her what she was seeing was a hallucination, but her body was peaking at the fight or flight mode. The stranger's mouth was agape as a hiss left his throat. She stared at his mouth with what looked like hundreds of teeth made of needles
She opened her bloody lips to attempt to scream for the last time while looking into his eyes. His head completely disappeared, releasing his hold on her neck in which she crumpled into a heap on her driveway, gulping for air. She heard metal clattering on the cement and from her one working eye, saw a large hand grab the stranger’s body and toss it into the grass. In a flash, two strong hands grasped her shoulders and her flight kicked in. Thrashing around and trying to get away but he was holding on tight saying her name over and over, attempting to get through to her oxygen deprived brain. Shaking her shoulders as gently as he could, drawing his face closer to hers
“Y/N, Y/N look at me, just listen to my voice and look at me, look at my face.”
She peered up at him, the adrenalin beginning to dissipate as the tremors convulsed her body . She was trying to focus on what she saw but it was irrational. She felt like she was trying to put a puzzle together but none of the pieces fit. She squinted at his face and moved her lips to speak but nothing came out. She stuck her tongue out trying to moisten her lips wincing as she swallowed. Trying again she croaked, “Hot Flannel Guy?”
Chuckling Dean gathered her to his chest, “That’s right, sweetheart, it’s me, Hot Flannel Guy.” He picked her up, as if she weighed nothing the uninjured side of her face rested against his chest and she could feel the rumble of laughter against her cheek. She closed her uninjured eye and tried to breathe deep. He smelled clean and woodsy with a hint of sweat. “A sexy smell for a hot man,” she thought. She remembered she had caught a hint of that same smell yesterday when they danced.
“Where are we going?” she whispered her head foggy, feeling so tired. Dean started for her front door, Sammy not far behind. “We just need to get you in the house sweetheart”
“We only got three of them, the other two made it to the pickup and took off,” Sammy informed his brother, looking over his shoulder.
“Damn it!” snapped Dean “We can’t fucking leave her here now.”
Sam was juggling the machete, a bag and a first aid kit. “Let’s just get her in the house and then we can make a plan. It’s not like they are coming back tonight.”
Dean looked at Sam then at the front door. “Not to be a dick Sammy, but that door isn’t going to open itself.”
Sam rolled his eyes. He looked at Y/N in Dean’s arms and immediately felt bad. “Right.” He dropped the armload of stuff behind him on the large front porch and opened the screen door. There was a keypad and a doorknob and sighed. “What’s the code?”
Dean carefully jostled Y/N in his arms. “Hey, Y/N?” he asked her softly, “we need to get in the house, what’s the code?”
She had almost forgotten where she was, she hurt all over and could not stop trembling, but she was taking a small comfort in the feel of Dean’s arms around her.
“Let me down,” she croaked, starting to struggle, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just let me down.”
Dean’s arms tightened around her. “Sweetheart, just tell Sam the code, we’ll get you in the house, THEN, I‘ll put you down.” She slumped back against him huffing
“8675309,” she rasped in the best sing song voice she could. Dean threw his head back and laughed as Sam smirked. “Jenny’s number? Your code is Jenny’s number?”
“I couldn’t help it, it’s the only number I could always remember.”
Still chuckling Dean leaned against the house as Sam entered the code. He pushed off, his elbow hitting the doorbell just as the door swung open. Robert Plant’s voice wailed from inside the house.
“Hey, Hey Mama said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove”
Dean’s eyes snapped to Y/N’s face. “Woah, Zeppelin? Seriously?”
One side of her mouth tilted up. “Nobody wants a boring doorbell.”
Sam shook his head as he gathered the things off the porch, holding the screen door with his foot so Dean could carry Y/N in the house. He was beginning to feel like he was stuck in some kind of kismet thing between those two.
As Dean entered her home, he looked around trying to figure out where to lay Y/N down.
“No way does a Dude live here.”
All the walls were white with dark grey trim. The furniture was white in the living room with grey throw pillows and a turquoise throw on the side of the couch. The floors looked like they were finished in a weathered grey tone and it opened up into the airy white and grey kitchen. Different sized vases filled with fresh daisies and framed black and white photographs were placed throughout the area. With all the white, one would think that it would feel sterile but something about it gave off a cozy, comfortable feeling, like a breath of fresh air.
Sam strode into the kitchen and placed his armful of gear on the kitchen Island. He turned to Dean pointing to the couch.
“Nope.” Dean shook his head and looked at Y/N, “no way Sammy, it’s too clean in here.”
Y/N began to wriggle in his arms. “Lemme down,” she whispered. He had held her in his arms for so long she began to feel embarrassed but Dean tightened his hold around her. “Shhhh,” he said looking around again.
“Dude!” she yelled, shocking all three of them. “PUT. ME. DOWN.” Dean set her on her feet and her legs started to crumple from underneath her. He caught her again and hoisted her back up in his arms.
“Now what?” he ground out.
Sam pulled out one of the grey upholstered bar chairs from the kitchen island, “Put her here.”
He opened the freezer and grabbed a bag of peas and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Setting them on the island he walked over to the sink, tore some paper towels from the roll and saturated them with water.
Dean deposited her, none too delicately in the chair. Sam made his way back to her, walking around the island to stand next to Dean to face her. Her right eye was swollen shut and the right side of her top and bottom lip were busted covered in drying blood. As she looked up at her savior, they could see the purple handprint developing around her neck. Looking directly into Dean’s steely green eyes, she visibly flinched at the barely contained anger. Inhaling a shuddering breath, she spoke quietly.
“Who are you?”
“Oh yeah, that,” Dean smiled. “I’m Dean and this,” he motioned towards the other man, “is my brother Sam.”
He raised his hand, “Hi.”
Y/N studied both of them. Her good eye ping ponging between them until she finally landed back on Dean expectantly raising her eyebrow with a grimace of pain.
“Winchester.” Both spoke at the same time.
She huffed out a breath. “Of course it is, that creepy dude said he couldn’t play with his food because of the fuckin’ Winchesters. But I think I must have imagined stuff from lack of oxygen or something because after that, it’s all a blur and isn’t rational.”
“Well,” Sam hedged, reaching for the wet paper towels, “why don’t we try to get your face cleaned up and you can maybe take a shower. After that we can explain it all to you.” He reached up to start to blot her battered face.
“Dude, I got this!” Dean hip checked him, knocking him off balance. Sam scowled at him. “Sammy, why don’t...you know…” he motioned with his head toward the front of the house, “handle that other thing we need to do.” Sam looked at him incredulously, sarcasm flowing. “Great, yeah I’ll take care of that right now.” Spinning around he headed out the door. Dean knew he was going to hear about that later but he really didn’t give a damn.
Turning his attention back to Y/N he grabbed the damp paper towels off the island counter and started to dab her face. Wincing she pulled back. “Dean,” she murmured
“Yeah, sweetheart?” he began reaching around lightly, holding the back of her head so she would stop drawing back. “I need you to hold still for me for just a few minutes so I can get you cleaned up.”
She reached up, grasping his hand, meeting his eyes. Her bottom lip began to tremble, tears shimmering. “Thank you,” she breathed, “thank you for saving my life.”
He tenderly touched his forehead to hers. “I’m just glad we made it here on time.”
“Me too,” she choked out.
Chapter 4
Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17 @swinchester27@4fareader @deans-baby-momma @squirrelnotsam @clumsy-nerd104 @sarahbaker2010 @supernatural-love14 @akshi8278 @lyarr24
#dean winchester x you#deanwinchester x reader#dean x you#dean x reader#dean winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester x y/n#reader insert#dean winchester fluff#dean Winchester smut#slow burn#dean Winchester series#waywardbeanie
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What it’s real like being a Dyslexic
Today's post shall be about Dyslexia from "Dyslexia the Gift". Well I didn't know that I was blessed with such an omnipotent power. Thank you Dyslexia the Gift for Awakening my abilities. Anyways this post is just my rebuttal to this list as an Anthropomorphic Tangerine with severe dyslexia. Here we go: General:
1. Appears bright, highly intelligent, and articulate but unable to read, write, or spell at grade level.
Ahhhhh.......... so I am all those big words that I can't spell or pronounce.
BTW who ever came up with the word Dyslexia is a troll cause you knew damn well I can't spell that.
2. Labelled lazy, dumb, careless, immature, “not trying hard enough,” or “behavior problem.”
Hey I am not lazy just because Suzie spends her the night figuring out Algebra questions and I on the other hand will look at her formula, "Copy and Paste" for myself and even then at the end of the day I stilled will have learned it. Einstein did say there are different types of genius.
3.Isn’t “behind enough” or “bad enough” to be helped in the school setting.
Let's just pretend it didn't take me 3 times to read this inorder to understand it. Anywhose.
The school suggested to my parents to take me to get tested. Although I think it was because they wanted justify their discrimination against me.
4. High in IQ, yet may not test well academically; tests well orally, but not written.
Lies. I failed in both.
5.Feels dumb; has poor self-esteem; hides or covers up weaknesses with ingenious compensatory strategies; easily frustrated and emotional about school reading or testing.
*clear throat* In best Beyonce voice "I'm survivor................"
6.Talented in art, drama, music, sports, mechanics, story-telling, sales, business, designing, building, or engineering.
Ohh.......come on I suppose to be talented in these fields why didn't Dyslexia tell me this.
7.Seems to “Zone out” or daydream often; gets lost easily or loses track of time.
They were in the Zone like in Soul
woahh..... that was a bar.
8.Difficulty sustaining attention; seems “hyper” or “daydreamer.”
As I type this I peer out through the window wondering if clouds really are made of precipitation or that is what the Illuminati wants you to think.
9. Learns best through hands-on experience, demonstrations, experimentation, observation, and visual aids.
Crash Course history is my religion.
Vision, Reading, and Spelling:
10.Complains of dizziness, headaches or stomach aches while reading.
Starts going in the 4th dimension if I pick up a book.
11.Confused by letters, numbers, words, sequences, or verbal explanations.
Algebra is not for dyslexics. You mix letters and numbers together. Mathematicians were not thinking of dyslexics when Algebra was created.
12. Reading or writing shows repetitions, additions, transpositions, omissions, substitutions, and reversals in letters, numbers and/or words.
Yes Yes . Truly feal for all of of my teacher who read my essays.
13.Complains of feeling or seeing non-existent movement while reading, writing, or copying.
I am Percy Jackson so I am a god.
14.Seems to have difficulty with vision, yet eye exams don’t reveal a problem.
I actually had glasses.
15.Extremely keen sighted and observant, or lacks depth perception and peripheral vision.
Yet another sentence I can't understand. Hold up let me go and look up “depth perception” so I can understand this sentence, real quick.........................This is true.
16.Reads and rereads with little comprehension.
Reading number fifteen (15) proves this.
17.Spells phonetically and inconsistently.
Hooked on Phonics told me otherwise.
Hearing and Speech:
18.Has extended hearing; hears things not said or apparent to others; easily distracted by sounds.
Being an only child while being home alone this ability doesn't have any benefits.
19.Difficulty putting thoughts into words; speaks in halting phrases; leaves sentences incomplete; stutters under stress; mispronounces long words, or transposes phrases, words, and syllables when speaking.
I feel called out.
Writing and Motor Skills:
20.Trouble with writing or copying; pencil grip is unusual; handwriting varies or is illegible.
I may have changed my writing style multiple times. Some legible, some not.
21.Clumsy, uncoordinated, poor at ball or team sports; difficulties with fine and/or gross motor skills and tasks; prone to motion-sickness.
But if I am supposed to be talented at sports in the afro-mention point why can't I catch a ball.
Dyslexia being confused since 1877.
22.Can be ambidextrous, and often confuses left/right, over/under.
Yip...A 20 something that doesn't know their left from their right.
Math and Time Management:
23.Has difficulty telling time, managing time, learning sequenced information or tasks, or being on time.
Well if I can't tell time I can't manage my time thus I don't have enough time to do tasks so that is why I am never on time.
24.Computing math shows dependence on finger counting and other tricks; knows answers, but can’t do it on paper.
Only if Math exam were oral I would have accolades in Math.
25.Can count, but has difficulty counting objects and dealing with money.
Y'all I have nightmares about being a cashier.
26.Can do arithmetic, but fails word problems; cannot grasp algebra or higher math.
As I said before Algebra not, for dyslexics.
Memory and Cognition:
27:Excellent long-term memory for experiences, locations, and faces.
I wish could forget about that time I fell down in front the entire school. And yes this is not an exaggeration. The ENTIRE school saw this.
28.Poor memory for sequences, facts and information that has not been experienced.
Subjects dyslexics shouldn't do:
Science: too many big words you can't spell.
History or Literature: reading is detrimental to your health.
Math: A-L-G-E-B-R-A
29.Thinks primarily with images and feeling, not sounds or words (little internal dialogue).
Sad truth I wear my heart on my sleeves. It's fricking annoying cause I want to be mad in peace without anyone knowing Goddamn it .
Behavior, Health, Development, and Personality:
30.Extremely disorderly or compulsively orderly.
I am Death the Kid.
(If you don't get that reference you are uncultured)
31.Can be class clown, trouble-maker, or too quiet.
Like I was disliked in school for being too quiet. You would think that it was students oh no no no Patricia it was teachers.
Sorry Mrs. Emily for not giving you grey hairs, so you have the opportunity to go home to your loving husband to complain about how much you hate your job and kids. While you thinking about your affair with the young nextdoor neighbour, who you would end up marrying only to then leave them for a hot 20 yea.............................Ummmm that got a bit personal there lets continue shall we
32.Had unusually early or late developmental stages (talking, crawling, walking, tying shoes).
It took a while to learn how to tie my laces.
33.Prone to ear infections; sensitive to foods, additives, and chemical products.
So wait not only did Dyslexia inhibit my ability to read, comprehend and to tell my right from my left to function normally in society but it caused my ear infections too. That is it I'm done
Moving to Siberia.
34.Can be an extra deep or light sleeper; bedwetting beyond appropriate age.
I was a very well trained tangerine.
35.Unusually high or low tolerance for pain.
Everytime I stub my pinky toes it feels like an aeroplane wheel rolled over it.
36.Strong sense of justice; emotionally sensitive; strives for perfection.
Facts!
37.Mistakes and symptoms increase dramatically with confusion, time pressure, emotional stress, or poor health.
2 second Rant
Examiners don't think of dyslexic people, even with extra time. The sheer amount of times it takes just to understand the question then to answer with the best possible Grammar is straight cruelty.
You automatically want me to fail and not finish don't you.
You Demon.
Mini sidestory:
While writing this I asked my significant other to spell "Exaggerate", dude looked at me and told me to sound it out. Past me knew he was going to say this and I did sound it out before he asked me to sound it out. I told him that I did and that I don't know what letter comes after "Ex", he was like babe sound it out..................................
Tangerine internal thoughts: (Exsqueeze me) Every time try that a ""H" is coming up in my head. I thought this through ya know.
In conclusion I sound it out to my phone.
To anyone who don't understand Dyslexia fully I do suggest researching.
My commentary is completely subjective but if you relate that is good :)
That's all my Fruits until next time
- TheeTangerine
Proof read by TheeApple<3
https://www.dyslexia.com/about-dyslexia/signs-of-dyslexia/test-for-dyslexia-37-signs/
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A Study In Stargate
*This one is a bit of a doozy so bare with me a bit.
All notations and theories presented are just theories(not necessarily facts) regarding what is known and what can be inferred from cannon and ambiguously cannon(the novels and RPGs) sources.
For the purposes of this study if an ambiguously cannon source directly contradicts cannon it is disregarded as being relevant to the main universe and should be regarded as occurring within an alternate reality.
~On with the study~
.
.
[What is a Stargate]
The Stargates are constructed of a tempered naquadah composite that is virtually indestructible through practical means.(impractical means would include destructive power such as destroying a planet or dropping the gate itself into a star) Though this is only in the case of second and third generation designed gates as the proto-gates constructed and dropped by gate-seeder ships are seemingly a great deal more fragile and less powerful.
[The Begining]
The Stargates and their network were designed by The Ancients(Altara/Altarans) and originally conceptualized by the Altaran Amelius – the night before they left their original home galaxy(The galaxy occupied by the Ori).
Note: Given the presence of a Stargate on Celestius it seems that either there were plans for the creation left behind when the Altarans left or perhaps more likely the Ori reverse engineered them for themselves after finding one during their hunt for the Altarans.
Though it would seem that the first actual gate(Permanent non proto-gate) built may have been the gate on the world Dakara as the location of the first Altara settlement in the Milky Way/Avalon Galaxy.
Note: This would make the Dakaran gate the oldest gate in the Milky Way having predated even Earth’s 50 million year old Antarctic gate
After the settlement of Dakara and the expansion into the Milky Way/Avalon, the Altara built a series of ships to explore new galaxies and lay the framework for more gates as they went. One of such ships was Destiny, the survey ship that follows in a 2000 year wake of the seeder ships.
Note: there were at least three seeding type ships ahead of Destiny. Potentially one to catalog planets and resources(Such as naquadah and other proto-gate building materials), one to lay the glyph point network, and one to seed the gates. Leaving Destiny to be the one to autonomously initiate the gate networks.
Note 2: It would have been during that same time period that the facility known to the Tau'ri as 'Icurus Base' would have been built to facilitate the necessary eventual contact with Destiny.
Note 3: It would be 10 million years between the launch of Destiny and the founding of the Alliance of the Four Great Races(est. 40 mil prior to start of series), implying that perhaps Destiny and her sister ships were instramental in the first contact between the Altarans and the other three races.
[How does it work?]
Within the Stargate network a Stargate uses six unique glyphs to find an address in the local galaxy network(with an additional glyph to dial another galaxy) and a final glyph as a Point of Origin. Each glyph represents a physical point in space within the local galaxy. The Point of Origin Glyph would hold the saved location data (the six glyph points that make up its own unique location) of the planet being dialed from.
Note: Given that planets and planetoids that are likely to have Stargates on or around them move a great deal(tending to be in habitable zones of their stars with much more rapid orbital period), the orientation of indicated by a gate address is likely referring to the surrounding solar system rather than an individual planet.
The implications of this would mean that multiple planets in a solar system would share the same gate address even if there were gates on multiple planets of the same solar system.
This being said a newly added gate can not dial out until it has connected with the already established DHD(which has a limited range – seemingly high orbit at most) or receives an incoming wormhole.
Meaning that in practice every world in that theoretical system would have to be a complete pair(Gate and DHD) on its own or an orbital path that brings them within range of the counterpart mechanism. Though they could create a very interesting Antarctica type scenario of being close but so much farther than they think.
On the gates themselves there are either 39(Milky Way/Avalon gates) or 36(Pegasus and Proto-gate networks) glyphs. From this we can surmise that after subtracting the unique Point of Origin Glyph from the count a gate network needs to have at least 35 points to properly work.
Note: Though Pegasus gates only have 35 spacial points and a Point of Origin Glyph, Proto-gates seem to have 36 spacial glyphs being able to use any glyph as a substitute Point of Origin(kinda like pressing 'ENTER' rather than the typical journey path.)
With all Proto-gates behaving in the same way and being known predisesors to the second and third generation gates the implication is that perhaps all systems have a minimum of 36 spacial glyphs and for whatever reason the Pegasus system only uses 35 of them.
If a gate network only needs those 36 points to function that implies something special about the fact that the milky way gates have 38.
It uses these glyphs to connect with another gate found at that point in space and establishes a captive stable wormhole between them. Each gate in the pair takes on a specific role: the dialing gate converts the traveler into its most basic components (sub-atomic particles) and transmits it, while the receiving gate reassembles the transmitted matter back into its original form.
[Gate Sounds]
Each glyph on the gate has a corresponding sound attached to it so that a gate address may be spoken aloud.
Note: Though the glyphs can be used as a mathematical conversion and numbering system for the gate network itself, the sounds associated with the glyphs are not actually numbers but rather a mnemonic device.(Think variables. Like pi = π =3.1459..., the sound has a value attached to it but the sound itself is not a number)
While the Milky Way/Avalon gates have a mnemonic device attached to them most spoken addresses are unwieldy and unpronounceable. Shorthand for the naming of planets based on their gate address seems to be reading whatever the glyphs are on the center ring of a DHD counter clockwise from 6:00 position
Original Shorthands would have been (Dakara) Ravacla Fin De'shi- Declara, (Earth) Vabo'Othe Ze'ka-Theva
Note: Theva (Latin pronounces 'Th' as a sharp T and hard H separately rather than 'th'. Making it sound like T-hev-Ah.)would have morphed into Terra which would morph into Taura in Goa'uld thus creating the word Tau'ri- from Taura, which would change in definition over time to simply refer to all humans and colloquially defining how goa'uld view humans i.e. beasts of burden/vessels.
Note 2: Obviously this naming technique is not always accurate due to planets being renamed whether by their inhabitants, by their conquerors, or words simply morphing over time. Not surprising since many of those names would be some 50 million years old and for the better part of three million years would only have been passed along verbally if passed down at all.
It would also theoretically allow for more than one planet to have the same shorthand
It is unknown if Pegasus gates ever had a similar mnemonic device attached to their glyphs or not. The only ones who would likely still know would be the wraith who as a primarily telepathic/nonverbal species would have no need for such a thing
Note: Most wraith only communicate with their fellow wraith through telepathy, as such verbal communication may actually be uncomfortable for them being physically unused to the task.
***Headcanon: The reason Todd talks so much is due to his imprisonment and functional solitary confinement with the Genii. Being unable to hear any other wraith he talks out loud to be able to hear something.
[Implications Part 1]
That being said it has been shown that third generation gate technology accessories – such as puddle jumpers – are capable of using second generation gates even though they are not constructed for use in the same local system. The implication here is that the gate system or perhaps the puddle jumper's onboard dialing computer is doing conversion math based on the numerical positioning of they glyphs on the gate itself.
Note: The inner track of Milky Way/Avalon gates spins clockwise and their default position is at rest over the Point of Origin Glyph(mostly because that’s always the last glyph dialed anyway) going by that logic the conversion from milky way to pegasus glyphs would be 1:1 going clockwise around the gate until reaching the end of the corresponding numbered glyphs.
However this means that puddle jumpers would be incredibly limited in their access on the Milky Way/Avalon network however due to the fact that their systems only have glyphs up to 36(including Point of Origin)
***Headcanon: While Atlantis is Earthbound the Tau’ri crews put number stickers on the puddle jumper dialer to remember what symbol goes where. (They’d make Sheppard annoyed and he’d spend a Sunday peeling them off.)
Given that an address has to be dialed in the proper order for it to connect to its assigned planet, each place in a gate address represents an actual spatial orientation.( for example: up, down, left, right, front, back) Using six addresses that share a the same glyph with each address using it in a different place we could find the physical location in space of that glyph and determine the orientation pattern of a gate address allowing the the ability to know where all the glyph points are in space.
Note: I feel like there would be an actual buoy(a buoy may be the most accurate term here as traditionally buoys are used for navigation as a location marker whether visual or digital relay), satellite, or star located at each of the glyph points allowing for the DHD to track the points and compensate for stellar drift. Something physically present though perhaps out of phase
Note 2: With the nature of the gate network’s automatic updates it feels like there should be a sort of equivalent to a hard drive somewhere in the galaxy that records the buoys location and that is what the DHDs(and potentially Destiny) calculate from rather than compensating for nearly forty unique points in space drifting for thousands of years every time it dials.
Buoys would ping to the network harddrive. And the network harddrive would ping to an active DHD.
Given that the Point of Origin Glyph is actually a shorthand of the dialing gate's own spacial address this means that a gate can't dial out unless it 'knows' where it is, thus an incoming wormhole to establish its connection with its DHD(hence teaching its DHD where it is relative to the glyph-points) or a pre-established gate system is needed.
Note:This would give reason to why the gate aboard Apophis's ship could not be used to escape even after they dropped out of hyperspace even though there was a DHD present
With this in mind and conceiving of the fact that the gate system is capable of dialing every gate simultaneously. It is implied that there was a single point that dialed all other gates to 'set' their Point of Origin Glyphs.
The problem with this situation is that for a single point to commit a mass dial the system would have to already have a known location point. At the beginning of the gate system the only established location points would be the glyph-points themselves. As all the glyph-points are counted as stationary values being calculated none of them could have been the origin of the first dialing. This means that the first system dial would have had to have been done by a known value that was not part of the calculating values.
In a proto-gate network all glyphs on the gate are used as locational markers with Destiny acting as a real time drift calculator and DHD. The implication of this means that all 36 symbols on the gate have a corresponding physically located glyph-points.
The only glyph on a Stargate that is not part of spacial calculations in second and third generation gates is the Point of Origin glyph.
The implications of this are that the Point of Origin glyph-point has both a physical location within the local gate network and a means in which to dial out – making it the location that would have been responsible for the original mass dial that established the gate network in the first place. Once the mass dial was done the DHDs would save their own locations to the Point of Origin glyph and the glyph-point's actual location would be lost.
For the Point of Origin glyph-point to be the origin of the first system dialing it would have to have a archive of all the other glyph-points and the original gate addresses placed.
Note: This is what makes the most sense as Destiny has the ability to recall addresses to worlds in a galaxy that is new to it(as its journey is one that moves ever forward rather than crossing paths it has already been to). Meaning that its getting its information from somewhere.
And with its sister-ships being two thousand years of travel time ahead of it they are doubtfully within reach for quick information access.
It would have to act as a sort of mainframe for maintaining the entire local galaxy's gate network. This location would have to hold all the data of the gate network including a full and complete atlas of gate-baring worlds within the local system and a sort of hard drive that would maintain precise spacial coordinates of every glyph-point, which it would relay to the DHDs as periodic network updates.
*from here one the Point of Origin glyph-point will be referred to as the Archive Point
(A/N:...this sounds a little too eerie ...did Ba'al find the gate network harddrive?)
Note: The idea of Ba’al having found such a system or device as the core of the Milky Way gate network isnt too terribly far fetched as Dakara was held deep within his own territory for much of his reign.
[Implications Part 2]
Mathematically calculations start with 0 instead of 1(this was made a big deal in series by Carter). Zero is the starting point and the collective idea of 'where you are now/begin' thus in and of itself it is its own set of coordinates. It would be no different within the complex calculations of the Stargate system. For all intents and purposes 'AT' – the Point of Origin glyph and the first glyph on the gate – would represent Glyph Zero in the gate's calculations between worlds and galaxies.
On most worlds the DHD is missing a glyph(not the Point of Origin). This missing glyph is not always the same one, indicating that certain points can not be safely called upon from certain areas of the galaxy.
Note: This means that Earth's use of a dialing computer over a DHD is yet again capable of circumventing safety protocols built into the gate network by its creators (~Sigh~ Damn Tau’ri).
If one knew the physical locations of the missing glyph-points they could map out the space between the worlds with missing glyphs and their corresponding glyph-points. With enough of these missing glyph worlds mapped there would be an intersection that would indicate where something was being avoided.
The gate network is millions of years old and seems to disregard most spacial anomalies that may occur within a travel path. This leaves the question of what would be enough of a hazard that the gate system would not allow a traveler to pass through?
It has been shown that large scale disturbances such as black holes and other cosmic events can affect gate travel meaning while it isn't a visible stream going from one place to another it is a physical presence capable of being interacted with to some extent(similar to being out of phase was portrayed).
It has been implied that Ring technology and Stargate technology function on similar principals with magnitude and distance being the defining differences between them. With this in mind that would lend the idea that there is an object between the missing glyph worlds and the worlds with addresses baring those glyphs that would either prevent travel or cause damage if traveled through.
Operating under the idea that Stargates and Rings function similarly then theoretically an un-designated Stargate (one without a DHD to give it an address) could 'catch' an incoming wormhole if it was positioned exactly between those points.
With that in mind it is possible that the disconnected space could be the location of the Archive Point. A Stargate that has no address within the system. As the Archive Point would be subject to automatic mass dialings to update and maintain the entire gate network trying to gate elsewhere from there would have the possibility of ending very badly(solid matter being transported through multiple wormholes doesn’t sound good) Thus having the possibility of even crossing over it by accident would be problematic.
(A/N) Now I need me a SG1 grade goof up scenario where the team accidentally finds the most important piece of the entire gate system by sheer dumb luck and the broken safety protocols of using an Earth made supercomputer in place of a DHD.
[Going Further than Before]
Within the gate network the commonly used seven glyph address reaches planets within the same galaxy.
With the addition of an eighth glyph the gate becomes capable of reaching worlds in other galaxies. Though achieving an eight glyph lock requires a specialized control crystal within the outbound gate's DHD (or just using the SGC's dialing computer). The seventh non-origin glyph in an eight symbol address is not a locational marker as with a standard address but rather a network extension.
The glyph in question would be defined by numerical value assigned to local networks seeded by Destiny and its sister ships as they were reached over the course of their journey. This would explain why a jury-rigged power generator was enough to reach Othala in the Ida Galaxy(Seventh glyph is #9) while a ZPM was required to reach Lantea in the Pegasus Galaxy(seventh glyph #20).
Note: Something odd to note on this matter is that the Milky Way/Avalon galaxy has a seventh glyph of 3. Implying that it was not in fact the first galaxy the Altara tried to settle and plant gates in.
With the Milky Way gates having 39 glyphs and Pegasus and Proto-Gate networks having 36 glyphs the network would have a design flaw of only being able to go as far as 39 galaxies out from the Milkey way and even fewer from Pegasus and the Proto networks. This would indicate why they instituted the 9 symbol address lock to gate to Destiny directly. Past a certain point it would have been impossible for them to reach the ship otherwise. And yet the logs aboard Destiny indicate that that Destiny and the gate-seeder ships have seeded more than sixty galaxies with Stargates.
Under very specific conditions(thus far only shown to exist on two known planets) a nine symbol address can be entered and this causes a complex series of equations to be pinged within the Stargate network to pinpoint the gate aboard Destiny.
As it is known that the Altara always played the long game with everything they did it wouldn't make sense for them to even passively go through the effort of seeding so many galaxies without having the ability to reach them. Something that, even with the ability to dial Destiny, would eventually be lost to them without alternative methods.
This implies that the network itself has the means to connect to those additional galaxies. With the maximum possible number of galaxies to be contacted it would have intended to use the 38th galaxy as a buffer point to reach any further galaxies.
This would also explain why the Milky Way/Avalon gates are different than Pegasus/Destiny gates as the Milky Way/Avalon gate system is both a local and intergalactic network hub. The 38th galaxy would be a second gate network hub.
Note: Given that the Milky Way/Avalon network seems to be both a hub network and not the first in its sequence it is unknown if the other two local networks prior to it would have been attempted to be hub networks as well or are simpler local networks like those of Pegasus
Potentially, given that they would predate Destiny's launch, they would be second generation styled gates like those in the Milky Way/Avalon Galaxy(Dakara being the oldest known gate in existence is still of the far sturdier second generation style gate design) but only having the 36 glyphs of a Pegasus and Proto-gate system.(making them reachable within the system but not really part of the fully fleshed plan to the grand scope of the gate network as a whole)
Likely the gate networks of those galaxies themselves would have been much smaller especially if the reason for them being left behind was the Altarans trying to put more distance between them and the Ori. There might have only been a handful of gates in the networks at all, only connecting to Altaran occupied worlds or worlds with resources vital to them.
Note 2: With the possibility of either a reverse engineered stand-alone network or a stolen concept network existing in the Ori home galaxy and without the set up of Destiny and her sister-ships or even the gate network as a whole the Ori galaxy should have been cut off. For it to be used to connect to the main established network of Stargates would require negative calculations within the gate system itself.
Following this logic any further galaxies in the second network hub would use glyph 1 for the 38th galaxy while the 38th galaxy would use a double Point of Origin address(where both the 7th and 8th glyphs are the Point of Origin – The mathematical Glyph 0 – to reach the hub galaxy previous to it.
This would create a bridge along hub networks with each one down the line dialing a double Point of Origin address to reach the one prior to it while the one prior would simply dial its 38th galaxy glyph. Hub network points would fall in galaxies 3(Milky Way/Avalon because...reasons?), 38, 76, 114, and so on. This bridge type system would allow them to circumvent the ever increasing power requirements of further travel as well as ultimately removing a projected limit to the number of gate systems.
***Headcannon: What happens to reach Destiny so many galaxies away is the Archive Point(the hard drive of the gate network) initiates a gate buffer bridge(like the Carter-McKay Gate Bridge only much much bigger) to conserve as much energy as it can to send travelers directly to Destiny.
However each link in the bridge is an intergalactic dial along hub galaxies and requires a guaranteed massive amount of power to begin with, thus reaching Destiny requires exorbitant amounts of energy.
Icarus-Class planets have unique high energy naquadria cores allowing for large amounts of power on demand(making the entire planet's core functionally one big naquadah generator). For that reason they are the only worlds that receive gates with DHDs capable of running the nine chevron program code regardless of the presence of all nine chevrons on all gates. And thus the only gates that would be used in the Destiny Bridge buffer dial would be on Icarus-Class planets.
This also entails that one of Destiny's sister-ships must scan the entirety of a hub galaxy to find an Icarus-Class planet to settle a prime gate on to continue on its chain. Unfortunately this means that if a Hub-galaxy loses its Icarus-Class planet then any connection to Destiny will be lost with it.
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It Had To Be You
Ch.22: The Queen Bee // Story Masterlist
Fandom: The Flash
Pairings: Barry Allen x Female OC
Pronunciation of OC’s name: Bell-en. The last syllable has an emphasis so it’s not pronounced like ‘Helen’ would be.
~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~
Chapter Summary: Barry struggles keeping his suspicions about Wells a secret and Belén conducts her own investigation against Noah. Along the way they discover killer bees and one Queen Bee trying to enact a revenge plan.
"So I just heard something interesting," Belén walked into Barry's lab yesterday in the afternoon.
Barry sat at his desk, working on a current case, when he looked up to see her already standing beside him. Her face spelled a mixture of annoyance and confusion. He leaned away from his work to properly give her his attention.
Belén cleared her throat before beginning. "I talked to Iris, and, uh, she told me something...interesting."
"Interesting?" repeated Barry, still not getting the jist of the problem. But he was sure this was going to end with him being in trouble. "What kind of thing?"
"The kind where Eddie has told her not to worry about Mason because he's in Brazil hitchhiking with some girl," Belén now crossed her arms and settled quite the sharp look on Barry.
Yup, he was going to get into trouble. Barry immediately shifted in his chair despite silently telling himself not to blow it. He, Joe and Eddie had all come up with that plan and all promised not to say anything. Somehow, he saw it wasn't going to work for him. "Th-that's...that's weird…"
"Yeah I thought so too," Belén agreed with a small nod. "Because…" she started to walk behind Barry's chair, her nails lightly dragging over the tip of it. Barry felt he was in one of the interrogation rooms and this cop was not going to let him go until she learned the truth. Belén leaned down beside him. "Mason would never go to Brazil. He hates it. He once went there to cover some story and he came back complaining about some stupid bugs. He vowed to never return. And I doubt he would go back for a woman."
Barry met her challenging eyes. She was no cop but the reporter side of her was intense enough to be a cop. "W-well...people change their minds…"
Belén tilted her head in a 'really?' manner. She straightened up and moved to lean against his desk, just beside his chair. "I've known Mason for three years. He doesn't change his mind. He still hasn't changed his opinion on my talent as a reporter. Wanna tell me what's going on before this ends up with me smacking you?"
"Um…"
"I assure you it's your best option."
Barry gave up with a long sigh. "It's a long story…"
"I've got time," she promised him. "I wanna know why Eddie lies to Iris that way and more importantly, why you would belittle not only Iris' intelligence but mine as well thinking you could fool both of us with that lie."
"First of all," Barry pushed himself out of his chair, "I did not mean to belittle anyone's intelligence. I was doing this to keep you safe-"
"Safe?" Belén frowned. "Safe from what?"
Barry took a moment for himself, considering the two pathways before him. If he kept everything from her, they would definitely get into an argument. They hadn't been going out for very long and he was not interested in creating their first big fight.
So, he spoke.
He told her everything he and Joe - featuring Eddie - suspected from Dr. Wells and how Iris' life had been put at risk from their search for the truth. They had no option but to give Iris a false story just so that she would stop digging into Mason's disappearance. Barry never intended on feeding Belén the same lie.
"So you're saying…" Belén now freely walked about in the lab, thinking, "...that Dr. Wells is this...Reverse-Flash?"
"Shh!" Barry rushed up to her and gently covered her mouth. "We can't discuss it here, it's dangerous."
"Sorry," she lowered his hand. "But, okay, just for clarification, why do you believe this again?"
"When Wells was talking me through phasing so I could get the Trickster's bomb off my wrist, the way that he described my being The Flash, running, feeling the wind and the power, it's like he was talking from experience. I know it's him." Barry knew what he said sounded completely ridiculous, but he knew in his gut that it was true.
Belén thought it was ridiculous - the idea that Dr. Wells was actually an evil man who murdered Barry's mother? It was ridiculous; it was a fact. But Belén also knew that Barry wouldn't just throw this accusation at the man he basically idolized for God knew how long. He wouldn't come up with all this if he wasn't 100% sure of it. She could see even now, when he explained, that it pained him to admit that he'd been working with the man who murdered his mother, who destroyed his family...who murdered her father.
"So...how do we get him?" she asked in a determined stance.
Belén spent countless nights thinking about that conversation with Barry. He disclosed everything he, Joe and Eddie had in their case against Wells. It made her sick that she'd felt support and affection for the man who murdered her father - the murder Wells had expressed condolences for. She made fistful grabs of her blanket as she turned to the side and looked at the bed stand where her family portrait stood. Her family was no more, and Dr. Wells took a big responsibility in that with his Particle Accelerator.
She forced her eyes shut and prayed that she could get some sleep. She already had an idea of what she would be doing the next morning.
~ 0 ~
Noah had seen better days. Granted his double life was difficult sometimes to maintain, but at least he could freely go to one place and the next. Now his days were pretty predictable living in a squared prison beneath the frikin ground. So when he felt his entire compartment begin moving forwards, he quickly got up and moved towards the wall where he could see light getting closer. He took quite the surprise when he spotted Belén waiting with crossed arms and a grim face.
"Well…" he had only managed to say when Belén cut him off, her voice unusually cold.
"Let's cut the crap and go straight to the point," she stepped forwards, glancing back to see if anyone was passing by the pipeline. "You and your crew have hated STAR Labs and everyone in it. Why?"
"We told you why. The Particle Accelerator ruined each of our lives. I lost my mother in the chaos, Plasticine lost her partner, Pixel lost her sister...and do I even have to say what your brother lost?"
"Who are they?" Belén's question came in fast and demanding, not sounding like a question really. It was more like a command and it made Noah smirk. "Who's Plasticine? Pixel? Say something!"
Noah brought a finger to his lips, still wearing that annoying smirk. "I'd rather wait till you find out on your own. I just wish I could see your face when you do."
Everything that Barry had told her about Wells was coming back to her and it just made her even angrier. People truly loved to mess with her and her friends. Did they have a sign on their faces saying 'come and mess with us, please' or what?
"There's something else," Noah tilted his head. He was studying Belén while the woman was in her pensive state. He'd worked with her long enough to know that she was harboring something else. "I make you mad but there's something else that's making you even more mad...what is it?"
"You, my brother and your stupid team is enough to make me angry for ages," Belén meant every word. "Every day I have to live with the fact my brother is off committing crimes for fun. You think that's easy?"
Noah gave a carefree shrug. "Eh, if you knew these days he's not really doing much." Belén raised an eyebrow at that, wondering what he meant. "Those powers of his are messing with his head."
"What do you mean?"
Noah sensed the interest and immediately shut down the topic. If he was going to remain in prison, then would at least keep something over her. "Nothing."
Belén scowled. "What's wrong with my brother!?"
Noah's snort irked her even more. She never realized how annoying he was. "Now you want to know about your brother? He's been wanting you to join him and you've dissed him at every opportunity you got. And for what? Speedy in red?" Belén's scowl grew and deepened, but it just made Noah smirk. "You think I didn't notice? I wonder how your CSI boyfriend would react if he knew his girlfriend had a thing for another guy?"
Belén pursed her lips, forcing herself not to laugh at him right there. It was better if Noah hadn't made the connection Barry was the Flash, but it didn't stop being funny. "Listen Noah, with you here I know the others are going to come after my team and I. So, I'm going to make sure they all end up here to keep you company...in different pods, of course."
"That include your brother?"
"I told you I'd lock him if I have to and with what you told me, it sounds like Rayan really needs to be at STAR Labs for his own health." Belén didn't want to hear more from him so she shut the pipeline down.
She watched him disappear into the pipeline and couldn't help feel prickly tears fill her eyes. The feeling of betrayal wasn't a new feeling for her, but it didn't mean it hurt less. This had been her co-worker, and granted they've had their differences...but she never would've guessed he would turn out to be one of her enemies. It just seemed like everyone was betraying them.
~ 0 ~
CCPD was brought upon a curious murder case in a University parking lot. Barry had finished taking what he needed to come up with a reason for death when Joe came by. The corpse of the woman had been placed into a gurney with only her face visible - full of purple, sizable bumps - as the rest of her body had been placed into a proper bag.
"Victim's name is Lindsay Kang, engineering professor at Hudson University. Just got tenure," Joe explained what he had learned from the witnesses.
"Her whole body's covered in these puncture wounds you see on her face," Barry gestured to the woman's face. "Bite marks maybe. Whatever it was, she must have gone into anaphylaxis."
Joe leaned forwards to get a closer look and immediately went wide-eyed. "Daaaamn."
Yeah. The blood sample should tell us everything we need to know. I'll run tests back at my lab."
"They can do it faster at STAR Labs," Joe gave him a pointed look for his odd behavior.
Barry shifted in his spot, thinking it was obvious why he would be reluctant to take everything to that place now. "Well, yeah, but, I mean, it's just…it's kind of weird being there right now."
"Barry, you know we have to play it cool with Wells. If he finds out we suspect him…"
"I know. I get it," Barry assured, but sighed. "I just think that we should tell Cisco and Caitlin. They could help us."
Joe shook his head in disapproval of this idea. "The more people who know, the more chance Wells is gonna find out we're on to him. Don't think I'm too happy you told Belén about this. I mean, what if one of slips up? Or panics? Or what if…"
"What?" Barry arched an eyebrow.
"What if they're not on our side?"
"Wait," Barry stepped back. "You want me to consider the idea that my friends - that my girlfriend - are involved in whatever he's planning?" he honestly couldn't think of a more ridiculous idea than this one.
"I mean, Wells is Caitlin's and Cisco's boss, their mentor. They've been with him for a long time. I've seen plenty of people make the wrong choice for loyalty. Please do not include them until we can be sure."
Barry hated when Joe made sense like this. But still, he refused to believe it all. "Belén met everyone after me. She came in afterwards. It's impossible for Wells to even consider she would have more loyalty to him than me."
"Okay," Joe relinquished that idea after deeming it logical, "And Cisco? Caitlin?"
Once again, Barry despised this logical side. "Fine," he mumbled and walked away.
~ 0 ~
Belén was pouring herself some coffee from the refreshment table at work when Iris approached her.
"Hey Bells," she greeted and received a very quiet 'hello' back. Considering she herself was having problems, it wasn't very difficult to figure out Belén had some of her own. Iris leaned forwards to catch Belén's falling gaze on the table. "Hey? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Belén snapped out of her thoughts and turned to her friend, plastering on a smile for the sake of no more questions. "But um, what's wrong with you? I, uh...I hear there's some...things happening between you and Eddie?"
Iris made a small noise that basically told Belén the rumors were true. She reached for a styrofoam cup on the table and poured herself some coffee. "Hmph, lately Eddie's been very distant with me. I get the feeling he's hiding something. I mean, I try to get him to talk to me but he keeps giving me these lame excuses. Sometimes-" she paused just as she was about to pour sugar into her cup, "-he doesn't even give me an excuse. He just goes 'uuuh' and leaves." She rolled her eyes and dumped more sugar than was needed into her cup. "Can you believe that?"
"I mean, cops…" Belén bit her lip nervously, "...they're so...complex...and weird. That entire business is skewed."
"It isn't," Iris disagreed with a shake of her head. "Does Barry tell you things? Like...what he's feeling?"
"Um…" Belén tried finding a honest answer that wouldn't release anything that shouldn't be, "...sometimes I have to ask him...over and over...at times, I have to interrogate him. See? They're just like that. There really is nothing to worry about." And at this moment Belén hated herself for lying straight to her friend's face, the friend who had helped her through so much. Feeling overwhelmingly guilty, Belén gave a widened smile and hastily walked away.
On her way to her desk, she happened to pass by Noah's...and her feet seemed to stop automatically. The days were passing and people were beginning to notice Noah's absence at work, but thankfully no one had gotten through to anyone of Noah's family. It made Belén conclude that he truly didn't have anyone. It also made her realize that his place had to be empty too...and with no one there to guard his things…
She plopped down on Noah's desk before she knew it. Knowing where most of his things were, she went directly for the last drawer on the bottom of the desk, hoping to find a clue of where he lived. She couldn't believe that in all this time she hadn't bothered asking him where he lived in the city. It proved she really didn't know him.
How could she have been so ignorant?
~ 0 ~
Going against his primary instincts, Barry had brought the case to STAR Labs for the others to look at it and offer up different opinions. They had pulled up the profile of Professor Kang on one of the computers on the wall.
"Death by apitoxin," Caitlin said, sounding a bit bemused. "Honeybee venom."
Unlike her, Cisco was almost glued to the spot he stood as he stared at the profile. "Bees," he pretended to shiver. "Why did it have to be bees? Y'all, I don't do bees. Ain't nobody got time for bees."
"But when a honeybee stings, the stingers are literally torn from their abdomen, and they die," Caitlin said as she took a look at the tablet she held which contained the apparent evidence of murder of the woman. "But there were no stingers in the body and no dead bees in the car. A honeybee can only deposit .1 milligrams of apitoxin when it releases its stinger."
"And yet, Ms. Kang was found with enough venom in her system to kill a herd of elephants," Wells recalled the information. "It appears not only is a meta-human controlling these bees but also increasing their toxicity."
"Bees communicate by releasing pheromones. Maybe this meta's controlling them through secretion?" elaborated Barry.
"Anyone want to join me in getting a beekeeper suit?" Cisco said, eyes still glued to the screen.
"I'm pretty sure I can outrun a bee," Barry smirked.
"Just don't run into a lake," said a very familiar voice from the entrance. Everyone turned to find Felicity Smoak standing there with one of her quirky smiles. "Bees will wait for you to come up for air and then they'll sting you. Discovery Channel. Turns out there's a lot to discover."
While everyone was pleased to see the blonde techy, Barry couldn't feel this was the worst time possible for her to make a visit. "Felicity, what are you doing here?"
Felicity thought her answer would be better suited outside. "Can you guys come outside for a sec?"
Five minutes later, everyone stood outside the building waiting for whatever it was Felicity was going to show them. But then passed on more minutes and nothing happened except Felicity staring into the sky.
"What exactly are we waiting for, Ms. Smoak?" asked Wells after a decent moment passed by.
Felicity beamed at the sight of a figure in the sky. "Up there!"
Caitlin squinted her eyes trying to get a clearer look. "Is that a bird?"
"It's a plane," Cisco said, making a face as the figure grew closer.
A man in a metal red and gray suit came to a rather wobbling landing on the ground, actually making several cracks from the force.
"It's my boyfriend," Felicity anxiously announced, gesturing as the man removed his helmet.
"Hi," he beamed a flashy smile. "I'm Ray."
~ 0 ~
Meeting Ray Palmer turned out to be quite an interesting sight. As soon as he got his suit off Caitlin took him in for a check up while Cisco and Dr. Wells began examining his suit.
"So...he seems a little tall for you," Barry remarked as he and Felicity watched Caitlin and Ray behind the glass wall of the side room.
Felicity faked a small gasp. "Barry Allen, are you jealous?"
"He better not be," Belén surprised them both with her presence. She'd come in taking quite a surprise at their new visitors.
"I'm not!" Barry exclaimed defensively, raising both his hands.
"That's what I like to hear," she came by his side and pressed a kiss on his cheek. Then she turned to Felicity wearing her first expression after hearing of the blonde's arrival. "Felicity, what are you doing here!?"
Felicity chuckled and gave Belén a hug. "My boyfriend-" Felicity jerked a thumb towards the room Ray was in, "-needed some help with his suit." She then gestured to the ATOM suit on the metal table.
Belén looked into the wall for a better glance at Ray Palmer and was deeply impressed. "He's your boyfriend?" Felicity nodded her head. "Wooooow."
"Ahem?" Barry coughed, making a face at her dazzled face.
"Hi," Belén smiled at him, in the dark of his brief moment of jealousy. "Now shh. He's cute...what is he exactly?" she asked Felicity.
"Businessman - really rich businessman."
"Daaaamn," Belén looked to the side as if she were it considering this for herself.
Barry could not believe her and waved one hand in front of her face. "Hello!?"
Belén looked up in confusion. "Barry, I already greeted you."
Ray and Caitlin emerged from the room after a nice check up that bore no consequences as far as Caitlin saw.
"Ah, well, my ears popped, so that's something," Ray cheerfully said.
"You're lucky you didn't break your neck," Caitlin felt the need to point out. "What is it with billionaires being superheroes?"
"I think they get bored," Belén said in thought then looked at Ray. "Did you get bored? I'm Belén, by the way."
Ray laughed but shook his head to answer her. "Ray," he shook hands with her.
"So have you... picked a name yet?" Cisco inquired afterwards.
Ray nodded excitedly. "I'm kind of partial to The Atom."
Cisco squinted his eyes at the name, not quite feeling it. "Sooo, you married to that, or...?"
Wells turned away from the wall computer after a thorough examination of the suit's compartments. "Your ATOM suit... it's quite the technological achievement, Mr. Palmer. I'm impressed."
"And he is never impressed," Caitlin added afterwards with a tiny smile.
"Well, thank you, but I can't quite seem to keep it up," Ray had innocently said, prompting Felicity to run for him to clarify.
"He means the suit!"
Ray quickly went to clarify as well. "Yeah, I mean the suit."
Barry's eyes widened in horror as the two continued trying to clarify what they'd been referring to. Belén giggled and buried her head in his chest, hoping to god they would just stop talking.
But they didn't. It seemed like they were incapable of it.
"I can attest that everything else works just fine. There's nothing we need to fix in…" Felicity clicked her tongue, "...that area."
"No, no, no. The sex is great," Ray sounded like he was letting his words tumble out before he thought of them completely.
"My God, there's two of them," Caitlin whispered to Cisco but she was heard by everyone else.
Ray shook his head, paused for a moment to recollect his thoughts, and explained himself completely. "I know from Felicity that you have been very helpful with Barry and the Flash suit, and I was hoping to get another set of eyes on my...problem…"
"Please don't continue elaborating," Belén pleaded when she saw Ray opening his mouth again. "We really do understand what you're trying to say."
Wells jumped in as well before anything else was said. "Any friend of the Arrow's is a friend…"
"Hell, yes!" Cisco interrupted excitedly.
"Uh, guys. We kind of have a lot going on already," Barry made the unusual call for everyone to slow down. "There's the meta-human killer that can control a whole swarm of bees?"
"Cool," Felicity blinked.
"There's a what now?" Belén looked up at him like he was crazy.
"You missed news," he explained distractedly to her and consequently missed her frown.
"I'm sure Caitlin and I will provide ample support, Barry," Wells assured, not that it mattered to Barry. His words meant nothing now.
"And I will be happy to sit this one out," Cisco raised a finger.
Seeing Barry was overly disappointed - because he was beginning to see what Joe was talking about in regards to loyalty - Belén stepped up for the job. "I can help," she volunteered cheerily.
"Thanks Bells," he smiled softly at her. He gave a kiss to her hair and looked at the others, meeting Felicity's eyes. The blonde was even more wide-eyed at them now.
"Ray, why don't you stay here and work on your suit while Barry, Bells, and I run to Jitters for some java?"
"Sounds like a plan," Ray shrugged, glancing at Cisco to see if it was alright with him. Cisco gave a thumbs up and turned for the suit to continue the examination period.
"I, uh….can't," Belén said once they began heading out of the cortex. "I've got, um...a work thing…"
"Oh, you can't go later?" Felicity made a small pout with her lips. She really wanted to know how Belén had advanced in her powers dilemma, plus she wanted to know when the hell she and Barry ended up together.
There was a nervous flicker in Belén's eyes that neither Felicity nor Barry noticed. Belén shook her head, gripping the strap of her bag as she picked up her pace. "I really have to do this today - but I'll catch you guys later okay? We can work on that bee problem."
Being who he was, Barry watched her leave making a mental note to discuss this with her later...because he was sure there was something she wasn't telling him. Felicity didn't give him a chance to think more about the subject as she practically dragged him to Jitters for that pending conversation.
When they received their orders from the counter, Felicity got straight to business. "You know I left Starling City to get away from the mood and brood, but it looks like it followed me here." She sipped her cup while narrowing her eyes Barry, prompting him to speak now.
"I know. I'm sorry. It's like I said before, now is not the best time," Barry was running out of ways to structure that sentence. He didn't want to tell Felicity anything that might put her danger.
Felicity sat down at an empty table and watched him take a seat across her. "Barry, I have been through enough with you to know when you're holding something back. Is this because I told Ray your secret? Because he is trustworthy, Barry. He wants to help people, just like you."
"I know, that's not what I'm worried about. It's... I really don't want to put anyone else in danger."
Felicity scowled and put her cup down. "In danger of what?"
Eddie chose this moment to approach their table, but in his defence he had quite the problem himself. "Barry, hey."
"Eddie, hey. You remember Felicity," Barry gestured to the blonde who gave a small wave and took to her coffee.
But the more she looked at Eddie, she realized - and was not remotely surprised - to see the similar expression on his face as Barry's. "What is wrong with you? Is everyone in Central City in a bad mood? I thought Central City was supposed to be the fun one."
Eddie gave a tilt of his head, muttering, "It's, um... It's not…"
"Felicity knows," Barry said once he realized Eddie was trying to be incompsicious.
"Wow," Eddie glanced at the blonde. "So everyone but Iris?"
"It feels that way…"
Eddie sighed and turned to Felicity for some honest answers. "How do you lie to everyone you care about?"
Felicity made a humming sound as she thought. "For starters, don't think of it as lying. Think of it as protecting her from getting hurt... with a fib."
"But Iris can tell I'm hiding something, and it's putting this distance between us!"
"I have an idea. Why don't we all go to dinner tonight?" Felicity suggested, glancing at Barry. "We can get Belén to come too. A little wine and dine is sure to bridge the gap. Come on, we all had fun last time."
"Suuure," Barry mumbled under his breath, thinking this dinner would be full of awkwardness and deceits.
"It'll be fun, I promise," Felicity said to both men when she saw their grim faces for her idea.
~ 0 ~
"He's not going to answer, darling," an elderly woman with short, white hair said after hearing the first knock on her neighbor's door. "Hasn't been back for days now. Probably out doing God knows what. Youngsters," she chuckled and went inside her own apartment.
As soon as the woman had locked her door, Belén stepped impossibly close to Noah's apartment door. She placed her hand on the doorknob and put all her focus on getting one of her vines - an extremely small one - to go through the locks. Having no key was a pickle, she admitted to herself, but not impossible for the Azalea. The moment she got the lock picked she stepped right inside and shut it as quietly as possible, locking it too.
She turned around to face quite an unusually clean apartment. Her bag was left to drop right on the carpet floor as she stepped further inside. Her eyes passed over the dull, gray walls that held several family portraits she assumed had been Noah's family. Getting a closer look at them, she saw an older blonde woman she suspected was Noah's deceased mother.
"If she could see you now, Noah," Belén whispered and turned away from it. She stopped by the coffee table that held several papers, some of them - she realized - were newspaper clippings.
She sat down on the couch for a moment as she stifled through them. Very quickly she discovered they were news about the particle accelerator before it had been activated, then its aftermath including cases of missing people. She paused at some of the obituaries.
"Lucianna," she read aloud the name of Noah's mother. She'd died in an accident caused by the particle accelerator. Belén sighed and lowered the clipping to her lap to think.
Noah's mother had died because of the accelerator and somehow, he too had gathered powers. What she wanted to know was how the hell Noah came in contact with Rayan. If she got lucky, she could even discover who Plasticine and Pixel were. She kept the clipping on her lap but continued to go through some more. Seconds later she began to see trends: most, if not all, were about the Flash and Dr. Wells. There was nothing about her and Belén wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. She remembered something about being 'off limits' apparently thanks to her brother.
~ 0 ~
Barry had just finished his coffee when he felt his phone vibrate in his jacket's pocket. He took it out and saw Cisco's text. "Another bee attack. Folston Tech."
Eddie nodded his head, making a move to leave. "I'll see where Joe is!"
"I'm gonna call Bells," Barry said as he too got up to leave. He dialed her number when Felicity gave a very poor call.
"Bee careful!"
Barry turned around with a face. "For real?"
Felicity winced. "Bad pun. Sorry. Just don't die. Same for Bells."
Barry shook his head and went off, still trying to reach Belén on the phone.
~ 0 ~
Inside her bag - still on the floor - vibrated Belén's cellphone. The woman in question however, was moving through the clippings that now had a lot of Plasticine's latest crimes of that week.
"What was your obsession with her…?" she couldn't understand as she flipped through them. There was plenty of Plasticine's odd robberies that included milk and other various snacks. She remembered her previous investigation and how stumped she was when she saw the things that Plasticine would steal. She gathered the clippings into one neat pile and left it on the couch where she would come back for them after finishing the rest of her search.
Her phone continued to vibrate as she walked into the hallway. This time the call rang from Cisco.
Belén walked into Noah's bedroom that had been left unmade. She looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary.
She extended several vines from her palms that did most of the job for her. Drawers were opened and ransacked, closets were opened and clothes were sifted through - everything was going to be searched through.
~ 0 ~
Barry had arrived at the building in trouble where people were already running out in terror. He'd come straight to the office of the man but found he was too late as the man's corpse was languidly lying on his chair.
"I'm too late," he spoke into the suit's comm.
"Where are the bees?" asked Cisco who thought it should be a number one priority.
"I don't know. There's no sign of them," Barry said after a quick look around. But then he began hearing a small buzzing noise he configured to be of a bee's. He leaned forwards after seeing something poking out from the man's mouth. One bee came out...and then a swarm did. Barry stumbled back. "Found them."
Not a minute was wasted in him getting away. However, the swarm of bees chased after him.
"Uh - how do I get out of here?" he called for his friends' help.
"Take the northeast crossway. It's the quickest way out of the building," replied Cisco not a moment after.
Barry followed the instructions but came to a glass wall where more of the swarm was already waiting for him. "Guys, they're everywhere. I'm surrounded!"
He looked around and saw many more bees coming for him. Seeing no other way out he decided to go through them, despite it costing him parts of his skin. He felt many of the pricks on his face and parts of his suit, but he managed to find another exit through the back, downstairs.
As soon as he made it out, he collapsed on the ground. Thankfully, Joe had made it to the site in time to see him get out. He got out of the car and ran for Barry. He could tell he was unconscious and when he checked for a pulse he was terrified to find there was none. He pulled out his phone and dialed for Cisco's number then placed it on the ground beside Barry.
"Barry, stay with me!" he began performing the first aid rituals in which both hands pushed on Barry's chest. As soon as the call was picked on, he shouted. "Cisco! Barry doesn't have a pulse."
"Step away from him!" Cisco exclaimed, running for the desk.
"What!? Why!"
"We need to jumpstart his heart. There's a defibrillator in the suit," he quicky set up the program on the computer and let Wells take over.
Caitlin stepped behind him and gave the command. "Charge it to 360 joules."
"Charging in three, two, one!"
Back in the field, Barry's body did a jolt as a the surge of electricity went through. Still, he remained unconscious.
Knowing it didn't work, Caitlin gave a second command. "Hit him again. 400 joules."
"Charging in three, two, one!"
The second jolt of power did it for Barry. He awoke with a deep gasp and began coughing. He didn't really remember quite what happened but he was sure it would come back to him eventually.
As soon as he made it back to STAR Labs, Caitlin took him straight to one of the exmination side rooms. He had come in with sizeable bumps on his face - one that had made Cisco declared to stay far away from him for the time being - and Caitlin wanted to make sure he was alright.
Afterwards, Cisco had taken a look at the suit and was forced to come to the conclusion that it no longer worked. "That is it for the defibrillator. It is completely fried."
"You're lucky to be alive, Mr. Allen," Wells shook his head.
Felicity was giving Barry a very serious look as she reminded him, "I was very specific that you not die."
"Yeah, that's a pretty big thing for her," Ray mumbled.
"Cisco, what happened out there?" Barry glanced at his friend, completely puzzled. "I followed your directions exactly."
"I'm sorry. I led you the wrong way. The schematics that we had, they... they weren't up to date."
Barry frowned. "What, they weren't up to date? What do you mean? That's never happened before."
"What, you think Cisco was trying to get you killed?" Felicity meant as a joke but chose the absolute worst time to use it.
"No. Why would he do that? That doesn't make any sense," Barry frantically looked around, unable to keep hearing Joe's words run through his mind.
"I know. That's why I was joking," Felicity tilted her head at him.
"Barry, it's our job to protect you, and today, we failed, but that'll just serve as a warning for all of us to be more vigilant in the future," Wells managed to continue being calm despite the awkard silence that had followed.
"Good news... the apitoxin is out of your body," Caitlin declared as she studied the results of his check up on her tablet. "Your levels are back to normal."
"Terrific," Barry sped out of the place and returned a second later wearing a gray suit with a white, buttoned up shirt. "Ray, Felicity, Bells and I will you for dinner-" he paused and looked around, "Where the hell is she actually?"
"I don't know man, we called like crazy for her to come help you but she never answered," Cisco shrugged his shoulders, giving off his light worriment over the woman.
"We tried calling her home too but no one answered either," Caitlin felt the need to add.
"I'll find her," Barry nodded, determined to figure this little issue out as soon as possible.
"You know Barry, we could just cancel-" Felicity began to say when Barry immediately shut her down.
"I'm fine. Alive. Hungry. All right?" he shrugged. "We'll see you there. I've gotta find my missing girlfriend." And with that, he sped out of the place, leaving everyone with no choice but to continue with their pre-made plans.
~ 0 ~
Belén had everything she had taken from Noah's place spread around her bed. She had her bedroom door locked in case Maritza - or even Axel - decided to barge in. Clippings where everywhere along with other papers and...even a laptop. Yes, she had even brought Noah's laptop with her. It would've been grand...if she could figure out the password on it.
"C'mon!" she growled and banged on the side of the computer after another failed attempt of logging in. "How can I figure out what you're up to when I can't even get into the frikin computer!?"
The tapping on her balcony door made her jump in her spot, gasping loudly. On instinct she shut the laptop's lid and looked up to find Barry making a gesture to let him in.
"Uuh…" she slowly got out of her bed and looked down at her mess. If Barry saw any of it she would be in a full-on interrogation session. She grabbed a blanket set against the wall and dumped it over everything.
Afterwards, she rushed to go open the balcony door.
"Hey, I've been looking for you everywhere," Barry said as soon as he got inside. "I went to the park, to your work, made a fool out of myself in front of Linda Park-"
"Not a surprise," Belén couldn't help flash a little smile at him. Linda had taken to making fun of Barry after discovering he got flustered really easily.
Barry rolled his eyes. "And then I went to your old college just in case, followed by your community theater meeting - which I have to say I don't quite like-"
"Wha - now wait a minute," Belén crossed her arms. "I love that place."
"I don't like those guys that stare at the girls-"
Belén laughed. "I can assure you it's all platonic. We're a team - well, I'm kind of a special team member but-"
"Bells," Barry cut her off laying a hand on her arm, "Where the hell have you been? Everyone tried calling you earlier and you didn't answer. There was another attack today and a man died. I almost died."
Belén gasped. "Oh my god, are you okay!?" she quickly looked him over for any signs of physical injuries.
"I'm fine now," Barry took hold of her arms and captured her attention, "But I'd like to know if you are."
"M-me?"
"I know you're doing something behind my back - behind everyone's back. You weren't doing a work thing, I know because I asked Linda."
"I...I was…" Belén pulled away from his hold and walked a couple steps away. "It doesn't matter," she shook her head. "What are you doing wearing a suit?"
"We have a dinner date with Felicity, Ray, Iris and Eddie tonight," Barry responded and went after her, gently grabbing her by the arm and turning her back to him. "But you still haven't answered my question. "What have you been up to, Ms. Palayta?" He tried being fun with her but she couldn't find it in her to follow his game.
"Like you have your secrets, I'd like to have mine," she came out with instead. Barry was taken aback by her so blunt response. "At least for the moment," she added with a quiet sigh.
"You...you're realize what you're asking me right?" he scratched his head. "You're…"
"It's just for the moment, trust me," she gave him a warm hearted smile he simply could not return.
It was that word that plagued him with terrible turmoil. He didn't realize it would be a problem between him and Belén, until now. Joe's words followed him once more, and for a split second, he had to wonder if he could truly trust Belén at a time like this.
"Just for a bit, I promise," Belén reiterated and gave him a short, sweet kiss. "So, we're having dinner then?" It took a long moment for Barry to force himself to just go with her plan for the moment. He gave a small nod and watched her backtrack towards her closet. "Fancy restauraunt I imagine if Ray's inviting…" she hummed to herself as she began searching through her closet.
Meanwhile, Barry continued to stare at her, feeling enormously guilty for beginning to consider if he could trust her like she had asked him to. Could he?
~ 0 ~
It wasn't long before everyone met up at the restaurant Ray had chosen for them. Iris and Eddie had been waiting for the two couples at the entrance bar, and it appeared they were having a small disagreement.
"Wow Iris, check you out," Felicity praised the tight, white dress Iris had chosen for the night.
Iris chuckled and looked at Felictiy's bright red dress. The woman had abandoned her usual glasses and curled her hair. "I think we're all looking pretty good," Iris declared, then glancing at Belén. She'd worn a baby-blue, laced at the top, dress and mildly curled her hair for the occasion.
"Guys, this is Ray Palmer," Felicity introduced the man to Iris and Eddie formally now.
"Hi. Nice to meet you," Ray shook Iris' hand first then Eddie's.
The lead waiter came in from the grand room inside. "Bienvenue chez Massimo Restaurant. maitre d': Mr. Palmer, your table is ready."
"Great. Shall we?" Ray looked at the rest of the group who nodded, for the most part eagerly.
"Hey, how did he get a reservation here?" Iris whispered to Barry as they walked in. "We've been trying for months."
"I don't know," Barry admitted with a light chuckle.
"Could be the rich part," Belén added from his side with a chuckle of her own.
The waiter led them into an entirely empty restaurant save for one decorated table designated for them. "Here's your table, sir."
"I thought it'd be nice if it was quiet, so I bought out the entire restaurant," Ray cheerfully said to the group was looking far too surprised for his taste. "Too much?"
"Just a tad, sweetie," Felicity patted his arm, looking very unsurprised for this event.
And so everyone took their appropriate seats. After ordering their respective meals, they conversed to pass the time.
"You know, I'm a little surprised that I never got a phone call from you Belén..." Felicity swayed her head in Belén's direction. The woman in question blinked in confusion so Felicity just said it. "I didn't know you and Barry just magically started dating!"
"Oh," Belén laughed shortly and glanced at Barry. The speedster was more strained in his expressions but he did smile at her. "Sorry, I guess we never remembered...?"
"Yeah," Barry agreed. It truly had slipped his mind but in his defense there was a lot going on in his life.
"They were so slow, it was agonizing," Iris' remark made the two metahumans blush.
Felicity kept her laugh to a minimum seeing the red-faced metahumans. "Well, I'm happy for you two."
"Thank you," both Belén and Barry simultaneously said.
"So how did you two meet?" Eddie inquired from Ray and Felicity.
"Work," both scientists answered him.
"Well, actually," Ray cut in to explain, "I bought the company where Felicity was employed, and so she was forced to join me at Palmer Tech."
Felicity made a face and quickly clarified. "It's not as creepy as it sounds."
"Leave it to you two to make it awkward," chuckled Belén who took a sip of her drink.
Iris, on the other hand, seemed far less cheery than normal. "So you two work closely together?"
Felicity nodded her head. "Mm-hmm."
"Interesting," Iris said innocently, although her gaze was leaning now towards Eddie. "I guess you guys share all of your thoughts and feelings and…"
"Yeah...I share everything with Felicity," Ray said, beginning to get confused.
"It's nice that you guys have that level of communication."
It was then that Ray noticed the tension between Iris and Eddie and ventured to at least try to help Eddie. "Oh, well, no, not every-everything. I mean, sometimes it's good to just shut up."
"I get that," Eddie laughed with him. "Some things are better left unspoken."
Iris frowned at him, almost taking offence to that. "Really?"
Eddie didn't know what to say anymore. Barry spotted the waiters coming by with their food and mumbled, "Oh, thank God. It's the food." He cleared his throat and spoke to the others. "Food's here."
"Our first course on the tasting menu is a quail egg frittata. Bon appetit," the lead waiter placed a plate in front of Ray while the rest attended to the others.
"Barry, I got to admit, I envy you spending so much time at STAR Labs," Ray chuckled as he admitted. "Harrison Wells is, like, a personal hero of mine. I mean, it's amazing just to actually be in the same room with him." Barry nodded very slightly, but his insides were screaming for him to tell Ray how wrong he was. In fact, the more Ray went on, the more sick Barry felt...that and frantic. It felt like a ticking time bomb had been placed and Barry wasn't sure when he would explode.
He got up fast from his chair, like an instinct. "I'll be right back. Just excuse me." His break away from the room didn't go unnoticed.
Belén cleared her throat and put her fork down, giving a small smile to the rest as she stood from her chair. "I...have to go to the restroom," she weakly made the excuse and rushed off in the direction Barry had gone into.
By the time she caught up with him in a winery room, Barry had been pacing back and forth letting his mind fill him with different thoughts.
"Okay, what the hell was that back there?" she tried not to sound angry seeing he was clearly upset himself. He wasn't one to act this way, and she had a pretty good hunch why it was happening now.
"I can't - I can't take it anymore, Bells," he frantically gestured to himself. "Can I - can I trust you? Can I trust him? Can I trust Caitlin? Cisco? I don't...I don't know!"
Belén's neat eyebrows rose simultaneously. "You think you can't trust me?" it appeared she had been wounded.
Barry felt worse, but he couldn't keep quiet anymore. "What weren't you telling me today? Why didn't you answer your phone when we needed you? What were you doing?"
"I didn't know this was going to be an interrogation," Belén frowned, crossing her arms and pursing her lips together. "At least when I did it, I knew you, Eddie and Joe had lied to Iris but you have no basis on accusing me of anything."
Barry stormed up to her with a ferocity Belén had never seen before. "Just tell me what you were doing so that I can trust you!"
There was flicker of pain that crossed through Belén's eyes, along with the inevitable disbelief. "I'm going to do something," she spoke quietly, swallowing hard, "I'm going to leave, and I'm going to hope that you come to your senses and see how ridiculous you're acting." She shook her head and turned to leave.
The feeling of desperation had never been so high for Barry. He watched her go feeling like the worst boyfriend yet still, on the other side, feeling justified in asking for her explanation. He balled his fists and growled turning away just as she opened the door and left.
On her way out, Belén almost bumped into Felicity. "Woah," Belén shook her head.
"Oh my God thank God you're back - Iris and Eddie are having a bit of a problem," Felicity quietly, and quickly, said to Belén. She nodded back to the table where indeed Iris was once again hassling Eddie for the truth she knew he wasn't telling her.
Belén sighed. "Men are idiots but I'm pretty sure metahuman men are morons. I want nothing to do with them tonight."
"What?" Felicity frowned as Belén went past her. She grabbed onto the ombre-blonde's arm and stopped her. "What happened?"
"Iris, please," they heard Eddie pleading, clearly their argument getting no better. Belén turned around in time to see Iris frustrated dropped her napkin and fork.
"Okay, so it's my fault that we're not having a nice evening? I am your girlfriend. Who you live with. I shouldn't have to beg you to talk to me."
"If I could talk to you about this, I would, believe me. But I can't," Eddie was also growing impatient with her.
Iris' eyes filled with tears. "You know what? I am not hungry anymore," she got up from her chair and grabbed her plate. "You know what? When you are ready to act like we are two people who love each other, call me. I'll be at my dad's."
"Iris," Belén hurried towards her friend, grabbing her bag in a hurry, "Wait up. I wanna go home too." Iris seemed surprised of this request, able to realize she'd also had some sort of argument with Barry. Well, Iris wasn't going to judge. She nodded her head, with that look of 'solidarity and understanding', and the two walked out of the place.
Awkwardly, Eddie excused himself as well, calling it a night. Felicity made a gesture with her arms at the disaster this date had turned into. As she turned to Ray, the winery door opened and out came Barry. While surprised to find the table empty, it didn't confuse him as to what must have happened.
"Iris and Eddie had a fight," Ray explained thinking he hadn't yet connected the dots.
"And apparently so did you and Belén," Felicity crossed her arms. "Care to explain?"
"Felicity," Ray gave her a meaningful look. However, Felicity was done asking questions. She wanted answers and she was gonna get them.
"Barry? Explain. Now."
Barry looked between the two and figured what more could go wrong after tonight. With a deep breath, he began his story. "Okay. Joe and I found out that Wells isn't who he says he is. He...he is the man that killed my mother."
Felicity's eyes widened, her arms dropping to her sides. "Oh, my God. But he's been helping you. Get faster, stronger."
"I know."
"Why would he do that?" frowned Ray.
"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore, especially who I can and can't trust!"
Felicity raised an eyebrow then. "What? So you think Belén, Cisco and Caitlin are helping him? Barry, that's impossible."
"I keep telling myself that too but then...then I start to doubt-"
"-then stop doubting!" Felicity exclaimed.
"I thought that Wells was a great man, and I was so wrong about him. What if I'm wrong about everything else too?"
Felicity shook her head, the idea far too crazy to even entertain. "Look, I may not know Caitlin and Cisco as well as you do, but I do trust them. And what's more, I do know Belén, and I can assure you - swear my life on it even - that she's not in league with Wells. She's always been with you."
Barry sighed, of course he knew that. But it was that little paranoia bug inside his mind that didn't allow him to see it completely. Hearing his phone, he cut short the conversation. "Uh, emergency at STAR Labs."
Felicity looked nowhere near done, but for the sake of the others she let him go. "Go!"
~0~
At STAR Labs, there sure was an emergency - a bee emergency. Caitlin and Cisco stood back to back, Caitlin holding a fire extinguisher and Cisco a small gray device.
Containment breach. Foreign object detected.
Caitlin thought she saw said bee and activated the extinguisher. But, at the same time, Cisco thought he saw it and fired with his device at the desk. A good chunk of the desk vanished into melting metal.
"Did I get it?" Cisco quickly asked and looked around. "I think I got it."
Caitlin wasn't too sure and just held the fire extinguisher for protective measures. "Where is he?"
Wells had come out of the side room, completely calm until he saw the bee heading his way. Well, he wasn't going to allow himself to be killed by an idiotic bee. He'd rather get up. And he was going to do that when Barry sped in and captured the bee in a tiny jar.
"Thank you," he smiled at the metahuman.
Cisco took the jar with the tips of his fingers. "Let's see what makes this bee so poisonous."
"You saved my life," Wells once again thanked Barry, but only god a small nod in response.
Cisco had gotten the 'bee' under a microscope in the side room again. Caitlin leaned beside him and squinted her eyes at the motionless bee.
"That is one odd-looking bee," she mused at the sight.
Cisco soon realized there was more to it. "That's because it isn't a bee at all. It's a robot."
"No way," Caitlin took a turn on the microscope to see for herself. "Unbelievable."
"This bot's got a 360-degree vision system," Cisco began to explain as Barry and Wells entered the room. "I mean, we're talking multiple micro-cameras all coming from various angles at the same time. Which means…"
"It can see all around the room at once," Wells concluded. "That is…"
"Amazing," went both.
"Disturbing," Caitlin sharply corrected them.
"It's also next-gen hardware that's nowhere near the market," Cisco added as they began filing out of the room.
"So we're not dealing with a meta-human?" Barry asked, just to be sure.
"It's just a mad scientist."
"Robot bees?" Belén's voice called their attention to the entrance where she, Felicity and Ray had just come through.
"Can you believe that?" Cisco didn't know whether or not to be impressed or even more terrified of those bees now.
Belén thought about it for a moment then quickly nodded her head. "Actually, I can." She walked further inside, heading for one of the desks where she took up a computer. "Because I know someone who once had a maniacal experiment with robot bees."
"You do?" went the entire room, much to her amusement.
She rolled her eyes and continued to type. Eventually, she pulled up a profile of a young blonde woman with thick-rimmed, black glasses. She looked up just as everyone else noticed the profile. "Her name was Brie Larva," she stood up from her chair, casting narrowed eyes on the stranger's picture.
"And how do you know this woman?" Cisco made a funny face for her.
Chuckling, she crossed her arms and replied. "She used to work at Mercury Labs. I sometimes saw her when I visited. She was like...ridiculous smart status."
"What happened?" Wells inquired.
Belén shrugged. "My dad never told me the full story. He just said that Brie had different ideas than the ones Mercury Labs had and she had to be let go. But I saw her once, with her mechanical bees, and she looked creepy. She yelled at me to leave, though. Apparently, I wasn't going to understand the purpose of her oh-so-grand experiment."
Taking all this into consideration, Wells called for Cisco to perform a task for them.
"Cisco, you said the second victim, Bill Carlisle, was a robotics engineer. Let's cross-reference his previous employers with those of Lindsay Kang."
Felicity practically broke into a desperate run for the nearest computer. "Allow me. Mama's been away from a keyboard for far too long." In no time she had pulled up the two profiles needed and sure enough they had a similar employer: Mercury Labs.
"They both worked at Mercury Labs," Wells mused, unsurprised.
"I don't know who they are," Belén said after a well thought examination of the two victims' pictures. "But if you ask me, Brie is probably coming for some revenge."
"Which means Dr. McGee might be in trouble," Caitlin looked at the rest in alarm.
"I think it's time we paid a visit to an old friend," Wells resolved quick.
Belén gave them an approving nod. "From my part, that's all." And for that, she looked directly at Barry. "I only came because Felicity told me the problem."
"Actually, we could use your help," Dr. Wells said, surprising her. "Dr. McGee might not be so welcoming towards us anymore considering what happened the last time we visited."
"I-I mean...is that really necessary?"
Wells nodded. "Absolutely. Unless…" he began to look between her and Barry, "...there is a problem we don't know about…?"
Barry cleared his throat, eyes on Belén. "Not really," he spoke quietly. "Bells?" immediately after saying that he knew Belén was eager to tell him he wasn't at liberty to use her nickname at the moment.
But, for the sake of time, and lives, Belén swallowed down that urge and agreed. "Course. After you guys," she languidly gestured the way out with one arm.
Yes, everyone could see the tension then.
~0~
After talking to Joe, it was agreed the best they could do was warn McGee of the possible attack and also to verify with her if they were truly talking about Brie Larvan. Using their strongest weapon - who was still in fancy gear - Belén walked into the office of the woman first.
"Evening, Dr. McGee," Belén greeted politely as she walked towards the desk.
"Belén, how nice to see you," McGee reached over her desk to shake Belén's hand. "How are you?"
Belén recognized the meaningful look on the older woman's face. It had been long since she entered the lab building, and to be honest McGee thought it would never happen again. "I'm doing better now," Belén replied with a slight nod.
"What can I do for you?"
"Well...see," Belén nervously smiled, "I don't know if you've heard about some recent killings in the city with potential evidence of it being animal vs human sort of thing."
"I haven't," McGee shook her head, momentarily stumped on where Belén was going with this.
"Um, well, see I have friends in the police force and they told me something interesting about the culprit. She's killing them with robotic bees."
The moment the words left Belén's mouth McGee was on board. "Brie Larvan," she automatically said. She remembered the young scientist quite well.
"You think it's her too, then?"
"Has got to be."
"Good, so then, uh…" Belén cleared her throat and looked back at the open door, "...you guys can come in. It's her."
Before McGee could question who Belén was talking to, she saw the familiar faces of Wells, Barry and Joe coming through her door. "I didn't know these were your friends, Belén."
"Conditional," Belén clarified, shooting a warning look to Barry.
McGee was frowning at the three now. "Twice in one year, Harrison. You really are vying for comeback scientist of the year."
"Always a pleasure, Christina," Wells gave a widened, fake smile.
Mcgee sighed and looked at Belén in question. Belén quickly jumped in To clarify their purpose. "They're just here to clarify and to give you protection."
"Protection?" McGee nearly laughed.
"Brie Larvan, remember?"
McGee sighed. "Brie was a brilliant roboticist who went down the wrong path. But I assure you she can do me no harm. I can tak care of myself."
"But Dr. McGee-"
"Good day, Belén," McGee gave her that look that said it was over.
Belén sighed and looked at the others to see what they could do. Unfortunately, McGee made herself very clear again and the group had no choice but to leave the building. And even though Belén tried once again to leave, it was made impossible with the reminder Brie Larvan was still out and probably scheming her final blow.
"So is this Queen Bee going down soon?" Felicity asked after Belén and Barry returned to the cortex. Dr. Wells had stayed back to speak with Joe in the hallways.
"She'll show up, eventually," Belén shrugged carelessly and walked up to a screen where Caitlin was currently watching. Felicity arched an eyebrow at Barry, gesturing what the hell were they still doing angry with each other. "What are they doing?" Belén questioned Caitlin once she saw Cisco and Ray working over Ray's suit.
"They're working on the suit in hopes of getting it done," Caitlin mused, crossing her arms. "It is so fun to watch grown men play with their toys."
Belén snickered. "Rayan used to play with these little metal things for hours in his room. I used to make fun of him for that." Caitlin looked at her from the corner of her eyes, apparently disagreeing with Belén's actions. "What? He made fun of me for aerial dancing. It was only fair I get him back where it hurt."
In this meantime, Felicity had been expectantly looking from Belén to Barry as if one of them would come up and say they needed to discuss their previous argument. But, seeing this wasn't going to happen on its own, she jumped in. "Belén?"
"Hm?" the ombre-blonde glanced back.
"Can we talk?" Felicity pointed at the threshold and before Belén could give her answer, she pointed another finger at Barry. "You too - let's go!" And she began a hasty walk towards the threshold.
"What?" went both metahumans, exchanging a quick look between each other before turning.
Felicity merely stopped underneath the doorway and nodded her head to the corridor. "Let's go."
Caitlin giggled as she made way for a side room, of course not before teasing, "You guys are in trouble."
"What is she doing?" Belén broke in a stalk after Felicity, Barry doing the same beside her.
"I - I don't know!" he answered truthfully, although looking more mortified than anything.
"This isn't getting you out of anything, mister-"
"I don't intend it to-"
"Good," Belén shot him a look.
Barry sighed. "But it wouldn't be bad if maybe we talked…"
"Oh, what for? To accuse me of leading a metahuman riot against you now? What other false accusations are you gonna give me?"
"Look, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said what I said-"
"But you meant it," Belén stopped abruptly to face him, her eyes soon to tear up. "And that's what hurts."
Another sigh escaped from Barry. He happened to see Felicity standing across them, now smiling warmly at them. Giving her a small nod, she slipped away into a nearby room to give them some privacy.
Belén was still waiting for him to make a response, while simultaneously doing her best not shout again.
"I shouldn't have said that," Barry began after taking in a small breath. "Not because it was wrong, but because...you could never do that to me."
"Is that what Felicity told you? Or is it because you believe it?" Belén crossed her arms and waited for his answer.
"It's what I believe. I promise."
Belén kept her eyes locked on her boyfriend whom she knew was possibly going through the most horrible time of his life. With a sigh, she placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped closer to him. "You can trust me, okay?" she whispered, "With anything and everything." Barry nodded, although couldn't help let his head hang a little in shame. "Listen," Belén began after a moment's pause, lowering her voice to a faint whisper so that only he was able to hear her, "I do have something that you don't know about. It has nothing to do...with him. I need your help, Barry. Again."
Barry raised his head to see her concerned eyes, and instinctively matched his own with hers. "Wh-what do you need?" Belén bit her lip nervously, eyes roaming the hallway as she considered if this was the best place to reveal. "Belén?"
The woman snapped her attention back in front of her. "Maybe you can...come to my room tonight?"
"O-okay," Barry agreed to her terms without a single word of argument. Although he was a bit curious why he needed to visit her at a late hour just to hear this secret.
"Guys!" they heard Caitlin's call from the cortex. Almost immediately, they ran back to their friend thinking they were in danger again. A couple seconds later, Felicity joined them as well.
Caitlin was frantically watching Brie's lonesome bee buzzing underneath the computer it had been placed at. "It must have re-activated."
Felicity smirked. "And if it's being controlled wirelessly, I can trace its signal and figure out where it's trying to go!"
"I'm going to get Dr. Wells and the others," Caitlin moved towards the desk to get the comm. And missed the looks of the other three.
"Oh, no. Oh, boy," Felicity gaped as she pulled up street security feed for them to see. A swarm of bees was heading its way down to Mercury Labs.
"Dr. McGee is in trouble," Belén gasped. "How do we stop them?"
Wells, Cisco and Ray entered the cortex with anguished expressions as they figured what was going on.
"She's got to be remotely piloting those bees from somewhere," Felicity was in the middle of explaining.
"We need to stop this bug-eyed glasses woman," Cisco shook his head.
"And her mini bandits," added Ray.
Something clicked in their minds and they quickly looked at each other as both said, "Bug-Eyed Bandit. Bug-Eyed Bandit."
"Not one of your best ones," Belén side-commented, earning herself annoyed looks from the both of them.
"Got her. She's in an abandoned greenhouse," Felicity glanced back at the others with a widened smirk.
"You have to take out Brie," Wells said to Barry and Belén. "It's the only way to stop these nanodrones."
"I'd love to get a piece of Brie Larvan," Belén smirked at the idea, surprising Barry with the comment. "What? Did I forget to mention that besides being stupid smart she was ridiculously a bitch?" Now Barry tilted his head at her, eyes slightly widened as he rarely heard her curse. "I don't like her!"
"We can tell," he couldn't help chuckle.
Belén smiled, now giddy, but glanced back at the screen where they could see the bees on their way. "But what about Dr. McGee?"
"The defibrillator in Barry's suit is broken and I am not letting you go anywhere near bees," Cisco warned her with a pointed finger her way, making her chuckle. However, Barry had a different look set on both of them. There was that little feeling again, the very one Iris advised him not too long ago to get rid of.
"Bees can't penetrate my suit. I'll go," Ray volunteered, holding a hand up.
"Whoa. We haven't tested out the new power system yet," Cisco reminded him, now turning to him in concern as well. Did no one understand how dangerous bees were? Even more so that they were talking about robot bees!?
"We'll do it now," Ray assured, waving them to get going.
"I'm following you," Cisco said as a warning.
Caitlin nodded and made to leave as well. "I'm driving."
Felicity got up from her chair and rushed up to Ray. "And I'm kissing you!" she cupped his face and planted a kiss on him.
"You don't get a kiss yet," Belén warned Barry in case he got any ideas. "That's your punishment."
Barry swayed his head, letting it hang back in the end. "I deserve it."
"Yeah, you do," she patted his arm and turned for her suit.
~0~
Ray soared through the city night to find the robotic swarm of bees. With the sight so illuminated it wasn't as difficult. "Found her. Felicity, can you jam their frequency?"
Felicity had remained back on the computers to hopefully help them. "I already tried, but I might be able to redirect them onto a new target. Ray, get ready for incoming."
Ray smirked just a little, and Felicity knew that. "We have the technology."
~ 0 ~
Brie Larvan sat on a raised platform, inside what looked like a makeshift hive where all her computers and equipment were set up. She was busy overseeing her bees through one screen when she heard a...rubbery noise? Least that's what it sounded.
But then Barry came in, and remained a bit behind. "It's over, Brie. I know you're trying to kill Dr. McGee. You think that she betrayed you. I can imagine how that feels."
Brie turned on her chair, her delicate eyebrows furrowing together as she took a look at the speedster. "You think you understand the sting of betrayal? I'll show you what it means to be stung."
On command, a new swarm of bees flew up from behind her desk and went straight for Barry. He had no choice but to speed away for the moment.
Just when Brie thought she'd have some quiet again, something cold latched onto her arm. "Eugh!" It turned out to be a green vine, and it swung her chair over to face in the direction Barry had been seconds before.
"Hello, Brie," Belén stood straightened and did her best to hide that ill feeling she still got when using her powers. While it wasn't the same fear she had weeks ago, she still felt like at any moment her other side would try to come out. "We gotta talk about your stupid bees."
Brie made a quick move back to her desk to activate more bees when Belén used two more vines to turn her back around.
"I wouldn't do that, I can use poison too you know," Belén gave a half smirk as she released a tint of pink poison through her lips. "And I assure you mine is deadly too."
Brie struggled to move with the vines around her arms. "You can't stop my bees from hurting your friends anyways," she said as a last resort.
But then Felicity made the announcement she had managed to get control of the bees.
Belén smirked at Brie then. "Look at that - you're out of a hive."
Although that struck a chord inside, Brie maintained a glowering look on the metahuman, reminding them, "I still have a swarm outside - good luck getting them."
Perhaps it was just all of Belén's pent up frustration or maybe she really did just hate Brie, but she snapped and used a vine to punch Brie across the face. The blonde scientist was out cold before she hit the ground. Barry was able to return after the swarm of bees after him literally dropped dead. He blinked at the unconscious scientist then gazed over to Belén. All she had was a smirk on her face and no regrets.
It felt really good.
~ 0 ~
Ray had managed to stop the remaining bee swarm by leading them into the city ocean. Now as Cisco gave a little lookover on Ray's partially wet suit, Ray and Caitlin had stepped from the van to take a little break.
"Ah. Some kind of team you have here," Ray remarked, feeling quite euphoric after that triumphant battle. His suit was a little ruined but he was confident it wasn't something permanent.
"Helps to have friends in your corner," Caitlin gave a small smile.
Just as Cisco was coming to them, he heard a buzzing noise behind and turned to find one remaining bee making way for them. He didn't think properly but automatically blocked the way to Ray and Caitlin, allowing himself to be stung. Hearing him drop to the ground, both Ray and Caitlin turned around.
"Cisco!" Caitlin ran for her friend who was already going unconscious. She pulled out her phone and dialed for STAR Labs, immediately shouting, "Cisco's been stung!" the moment the line was answered.
"He's going into shock!" added Ray loudly for the phone.
~0 ~
"Go," Belén told Barry in a hurry. "Brie and I will wait for the cops."
Barry nodded and hurried for Cisco and the others. He found Ray trying to do cpr on Cisco to a failed attempt.
"Hold on. Back up. I'm gonna try something." Barry began vibrating his hands until they managed to conjur up electricity. Like a machine would, he pressed his hands on Cisco's chest and watched his friend jolt. He waited another couple seconds and thankfull Cisco came to life again.
Cisco coughed violently but was otherwise alright. "Either my fear of bees is over or it just got a lot worse."
Caitlin laughed happily and hugged him. "Thank God you're okay!"
~ 0 ~
The moment she was back at STAR Labs, Belén went to see how Cisco was. Needless to say she had him hugging for a good, straight five minutes.
"Bells, I'm really okay," Cisco couldn't help release a couple laughs here and there, patting her back.
"Why the hell would you purposely let yourself be stung by a robotic bee!?" she pulled away and smacked his arm.
"Ow!" Cisco clapped a hand to his beaten arm, taking a good step back. "What happened to you being worried?"
"You know how crazy Brie is," Belén sighed, shaking her head. She walked back to the desk where Caitlin and Felicity sat.
"Hey, you know what I just realized," Cisco began pointing at Belén, the widening smile telling her this wouldn't be good, "We finally figured out a person that did hate Bells."
Barry chuckled as he saw Belén gape at the statement. She seemed in disbelief, which only made it funnier.
"I don't get it," Ray spoke up after pausing his suit examination from the other side of the room.
"See-" Cisco turned around fast to explain, "-Barry, Caitlin and I are all self-proclaimed nerds who got bullied at school but Bells over here-" he gestured with both arms towards the ombre-blonde who was now crossed-armed and glaring his way, "-apparently had no bullies whatsoever."
"I didn't," she assured.
"Until today," Cisco pointed at her. "Brie Larvan!"
"She wasn't at my schools!"
"But she still hated you."
The face on Belén spelled utter doom. "I punched her and I sent her to jail, so I win."
It was then that Barry decided to cut in before he saw his friend murdered. "I think we should call it a night," he walked towards Belén who still had a glare glued on Cisco. "Coffee?" he tried to get her attention but she wouldn't budge. With a sheepish smile at the others, he tugged Belén out of the room.
"Everyone likes me," she huffed as they left.
Barry chuckled at her seriousness. "Of course they do." He slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a kiss on the head. "But no one more than me."
"Cheesy," she playfully rolled her eyes.
While he did enjoy their quality happy moments, Barry did have a high curiosity about her apparent secret he'd been sort of right about. He stopped them down the middle of the hallway and turned to face her.
"Wanna talk?" he asked cautiously.
Belén took a quick scan of their area before she answered. "My room?"
Barry nodded and in less than a minute he had taken her to the balcony of her bedroom.
"One of these days someone is going to see you," she couldn't help but joke as used his vibrating powers to get himself through the door and thus open it from the inside. As soon as she walked in she made a beeline for her bed. "Now, I really didn't want to cause any problems between us-"
"I know, I really do," Barry nodded quickly, "It's just with everything that's going on with Wells-"
"I get it too," Belén promised him. She bent down beside her bed and reached for something underneath. "And I should have known better than to ask you to trust me on a secret. It was my problem, not yours."
"So what is it, then?" Barry curiously asked, taking a step forwards once she had pulled out a bag from underneath the bed.
Belén sighed as she stood up again. "I thought that maybe for once I could solve things on my own instead of getting you and the others to help. But, as usual, I am horrible with technology." She sighed deeper and handed him the bag so he could see for himself.
He dug a hand inside and felt the curious feeling of papers inside along with a couple of other objects he couldn't quite make out there. "What is this?" he took out a file and let the bag fall to the floor as he began going through.
To say he was surprised to find a file about his girlfriend's family was far from what he felt. He was utterly lost.
Belén waited until he looked up at her again. "Weird, huh? Imagine what I felt when I found that in Noah's bedroom."
And perhaps she could have worded that sentence a bit better, for now Barry was close to losing it. "You were where now!? In his bedroom!?" for a moment he forgot that Maritza Palayta could be in the next room.
Thankfully, Belén knew her sister was out with some friends. "Barry, calm down, it's not what you think."
"You said you got this from his bedroom so you were-"
"Ransacking his place this afternoon," she finished for him with an amused smile. "I snuck in and took what I found." She then turned to her bed and pulled down the covers to reveal Noah's laptop underneath. "I also took his laptop which I can't seem to get into."
"Bells you're going to have to help me here," Barry shook his head and let the file fall flat on her bed.
"I wanted to know what Noah and my brother were up to, maybe even learn who Plasticine and Pixel were. So, I went into Noah's apartment and I got all this stuff."
Even with his speed it took Barry a couple minutes to understand it all. "Belén, you broke into an apartment?"
"I locked the door on my way out," Belén said as if that made it all better. "I was just so mad that I've had an enemy so close to me - working with me - and all this time he's been laughing at me."
"Yeah, I get that..." Barry gave a small nod of his head. "People you thought you trusted...turn out to be completely the opposite…"
"I just can't believe it. And it makes me even more angry when I remembered how hard he fought just to make you look bad in my eyes as the Flash. It makes sense now. My brother wanted Noah to convince me to come work with him so what's a way to do that? Make me see that my partner is not what he says he is."
"Oh, now I'm mad," Barry turned to the laptop beside him and reached for it. "Trying to make me look bad in front of my girlfriend - I don't think so!" Belén giggled and inched closer as he opened the laptop. "So what do we have here, then?"
"I wish I knew," she sighed, getting a look from him in return. "I haven't been able to get through the password. I was kind of hoping my super-duper intelligent boyfriend could help me with that?"
"Oh, you got it," he smiled. Belén looked up at him with a smile of her own.
"Thank you," she said quietly, curling one hand around his. "And I'm really sorry for keeping all this from you. I just thought I could do it on my own."
"You don't need to do it on your own anymore, Bells. We're a team," Barry leaned down a bit kiss her cheek but at the last moment surprised her with a kiss. "I'm sorry I forgot about that for a moment."
Belén took a leaf out of his book and stole a kiss from him. "I forgot too, but the important thing is we're together again. We won't forget ever again."
"We won't," Barry agreed.
"And you know...maybe it's time we're all together. As in...Caitlin and Cisco? I don't think they could ever be with Dr. Wells in all this. No matter how much loyalty they have for that man, neither of them would ever condone murder. They're first and foremost, you friends, Barry. Our friends."
Barry decided to gamble on that. There were too many things coming at them and it would make things easier if they were together when the storm hit.
~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~0 ~ 0 ~0 ~
Author's Note:
I loved this episode simply because it guest starred the wonderful Emily Kinney (Brie). Spoiler alert I love her and her music. I was so sad they only had her for one episode and that she wasn't a metahuman .
#ocappreciation#arrowverseocs#the flash#barry allen#the flash fics#barry allen fics#oc: Belén Palayta#oc: Belen Palayta#fic: it had to be you
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New year, same old WIP! More from “Last Year’s Wishes Are This Year’s Apologies”. We’re at 58,000 words. Managed another 1000 today. Since I missed the brief Sunday tease, here’s an extra long bit. Previously shared bits here.
***
“I don’t know if we can reverse engineer your serum to rebuild cells..”
“Ha, not with a set of pipettes and a microscope, we can’t.”
“Hey, if I’m working on getting some equipment, but I can’t just steal a mass spectrometer from the pathology lab and expect no one to notice. That active shooter and the mysterious fire has the whole place on heightened security.”
“Well I don’t know how I’m going to come up with a solution if I don’t have the tools or resources to use. It’s not like I can cook up some alien renewal serum in my dad’s kitchen.”
Kyle leaned back against a sturdy white cabinet that lined the wall of the garage. In the interests of avoiding scrutiny, Alex had advised against meeting at the Project Shepherd bunker or anywhere near Isobel’s house. With the Crashdown the scene of tourist foot traffic, the only option left was Kyle’s townhouse.
The townhouse was part of a new, ultra modern group of recent construction designed to lure younger professionals to Roswell. High end furnishings with no outside maintenance was popular with the growing skilled worker population pulled in by the new Air Force base construction out by Fosters Homestead Ranch.
The garage was gleamingly bright, with shiny high gloss floors that would look more at home at an art gallery than a place where someone would park their car. Kyle had set up a large whiteboard in the middle of the garage, and had arranged a pair of fairly sophisticated microscopes on the counter top of the storage cabinetry.
Currently, Liz was setting up the very basic set of chemistry equipment and her laptop next to one of the microscopes. Frustration covered every inch of her as she took in the archaic tools.
“You could always take a job at the hospital. I know there aren’t any good research positions open at the moment, but even entry level at the pathology lab could be useful.” Kyle advised.
“I’ve got 3 degrees, Kyle. No one is going to hire me for simple lab work without thinking I’m shady.”
Alex was absently checking his phone as the two of them bickered in the background. There were new notes updated by the Chaves County Sheriff’s office on Noah’s disappearance, updating his case with an even higher priority. Someone had noticed that the entire personal history of Noah Bracken was completely fictional and a query had been sent to the US Marshall’s office under the theory he was in witness protection.
Interestingly enough Agent Rollins was not interested in the new theory by the local sheriff, he was still determinedly pursuing Michael as his main person of interest.
“Well let’s talk theory for now. Interrupting the electrical charge causes the cells to decay, and presumably increasing the charge is what gave Max the power to save Rosa. We just need to find a way to do that short of being a lightning rod.” Kyle shuffled through the surviving notes on the death serum, still slightly smelling of smoke.
“What we need is Mikey. Where is your fake boyfriend, Alex?” Liz asked.
“Don’t call him that. He said he had two jobs at Sanders to do, before he could join us. Honestly I thought he would be here by now.” Alex opened his message inbox, looking for a new text from him, but found worryingly nothing.
“It’s kind of funny, with all the stories my mom has about him, I really expected to hear about more of his drunken antics with everything that has happened recently. Instead, he’s going to work, and apparently showering regularly.” Kyle smirked. “Shacking up with you, has really tamed him.”
“I seriously doubt that considering I picked him up last night at the Wild Pony completely wasted.”
Liz made a face. “I heard, when Maria called me at five this morning to yell at me about keeping her in the dark. He was adamant about not telling her, but then got shit-faced and did it anyway.”
“I think the order was he told her, and then he got shit-faced.” Alex replied dryly.
“See? That’s your positive influence.” Kyle teased nudging Alex with his elbow. “Normally he gets drunk and then he does something self-destructive.” The smile slowly dropped, and Kyle frowned in concern, “speaking of destructive, does he know about the drives?”
“No, not yet.” Alex glanced over at Liz before frowning at Kyle. The existence of the data collected from Caulfield had only been known to the two of them, but apparently that was going to change.
“What drives?”
Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish under the darkening glower from Alex. “Remember how I told you about finding that old prison my grandfather used to work at, that it was being used to house ‘47 crash survivors? I managed to grab some of the data before it blew up.”
Liz brightened eagerly. “What kind of data? Is there anything in there about amplifying powers?”
“So far it just shows my dad murdering Kyle’s dad. Oh, and I found a bunch of footage of my uncle torturing Michael’s mother.” Alex spat out bitterly, before pocketing his phone deep in his pocket. He shifted his seat on the stool, pressing down on his prosthetic toes hard to ground himself in a renewed shock of pain. “I don’t think we’ll find the answers about preserving life in there. It’s all about misery and death.”
“Oh…” She replied softly, the momentary excitement brutally dashed. The dark circles under her eyes looked more pronounced as she paled. “That’s pretty awful, Alex. For you and Michael. You haven’t told him?”
“He knows my family helped run Caulfield. He knows his mother died there. I just haven’t been able to find the words to tell him that they recorded so much of her captivity.” He raked his fingers through his hair, feeling the longer locks brush down on his forehead. At the end of his enlistment, his hair was well out of regulation length, something that should have brought him pleasure in having back from his pre-Air Force life.
As Alex looked around the sad attempt at a lab set up in Kyle’s garage, the thought lingered that maybe it was time for a haircut and a new contract. They were badly in need of someone with access to the type of resources needed to save Max and divert the police away from Michael.
“Speaking from experience, it’s better if he learns this from you, Alex, and not getting blind sided because he stumbles into the knowledge.” Kyle advised kindly.
#fake dating your ex because of the feds#ex-lovers-to-fake-lovers-to-friends-to-real-lovers slowburn#another season 1 post ep#Malex#wip#rusty writing muscles#will be writing this fic forever haha
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Fill me in. What is this new thing we're watching? Who is BA? Who is Claire? Who is Brad? We clearly like them? I always trust your opinion and my sister was supposed to hang out with me tonight but is going out with her high school friends instead so I need something to watch since she ditched me. Is this show on Netflix or something?
Lol your sister is about to miss out on the best entertainment around. OK so BA is short for Bon Appétit which is a really dope culinary magazine that has been around since like 1950 or something. Anyway, they eventually started expanding into video content when everyone in the print world did so maybe 6-7 years ago or something like that. You know how a lot of restaurants and culinary magazines have "test kitchens" where they develop the recipes they either sell or print every month? Well after a period of trial and error and weird stuff they eventually started shooting videos in their test kitchen. At the beginning they were like what I can only describe as "Tasty videos but instead of just hands and music you would actually see the talking head giving you the recipe and talking to you."
The writers/editors for the magazine are obviously also recipe testers so they were the first ones that started to host these little cooking videos. I think Carla and Claire were the first two to actually start doing them. Anyway so Claire was a full time Senior Food Editor at BA. She's a nerd with three degrees (one of them from Harvard). She can cook anything and has videos ranging the scope of savory and pastry but she really especializes in pastry.
Eventually BA started trying to expand their content and they were like "What would happen if we had one of our chefs try to recreate junk food in our fancy test kitchen?" That's how Claire's show Gourmet Makes started in 2017 and we've all been blessed infinitely since then. Basically every episode Claire is assigned a snack food of some kind (Twinkies, Cheetos, Pop Tarts, Cheeze Its, Snickers, etc) and she has to reverse engineer it and make it "gourmet". The videos started at like 13 minutes per episode and like three years later we're up to full on 40 minute episodes because they're the pinnacle of entertainment.
Claire is basically a grumpy house cat who goes through multiple entire existential crises every episode. Like...she actually truly does hate the show which makes it 10000000% more entertaining. She hates it so much that she actually said "FUCK THIS!" and quit BA in 2018. After a very nerve-wracking hiatus for all of us they somehow convinced her to come back just to host the show and make some other guest appearances but not as a full time employee because she wasn't having any of it anymore lol.
Her videos are CRAZY popular and they've made her some weird internet sensation. All her videos trend on YouTube the day they're dropped. She gets crazy amounts of views on her videos compared to literally anything else BA does. Goes to show how truly cool/funny she is. You legitimately can't help but love her and want to protect her from evil snack foods at all costs.
The best part of what has come to be known as the "BA Cinematic Universe" in the fandom is not the content of the actual videos. Am I ever going to make a homemade M&M in my entire life? Never. But legitimately every single person who works at the BA Test Kitchen is a character so good that no writer could've come up with in a fictional world so the shows/episodes have expanded to become this weird, real life, work place sitcom that is just as rich and detailed as any fictional show I've ever watched. And not a damn second of it is scripted.
They each have their own shows now but they all happen in the same place so it's literally just like watching the same show for hours even though one "episode" was about how to make a Twix and then the next "episode" I'm watching someone blindfolded and the next "episode" is a giant fluffy hyperactive man who can't properly pronounce a single word in the English language pickling some eggs. And all the jokes cross over from show to show because everyone appears in each other's show anyway so it truly is the Cinematic Universe Marvel wishes it had 😂
That brings us to our giant golden retriever in human form: Brad. Imagine the absolute antithesis to Claire in every way...you have Brad. That's exactly why they're lightning in a bottle together. They carry the entire BA video enterprises on their tired backs. Brad is just...Brad. I don't even know how to describe him because I wouldn't do him justice.
Honestly, I've given you enough context and background info already. You need to witness it for yourself now. Here's a playlist with all the episodes of Gourmet Makes. I promise you, you won't regret it.
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKtIunYVkv_RwB_yx1SZrZC-ddhxyXanh
There's only 33 episodes and more than half of them are less than 20 minutes long. Start from the oldest cuz if not you'll be lost with all the running jokes. When you're done with GM watch Brad's shows. They're called "It's Alive" and "It's Alive: Going Places." After that there's still like 30 other shows from all the other people you'll be introduced to along the way and hundreds of other videos/hours of content. But you won't even need to be prompted to watch them. Everyone is so great that you'll want to do it anyway cuz its genuinely shit that puts you in a good mood. It's been my Happy Juice for years now lol It's why the internet loves the BACU haha
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About Mimeosomes
Everyone who’s played through the main story knows the basics: Mimeosomes were designed to bridge the unknown amount of time it would take humanity to find a new habitable planet. This way, people wouldn’t grow old and be able to maintain the White Whale and protect the Lifehold. We know that they are artificial in nature and that they are controlled from the consciousness stored within the Lifehold.
Elma mentions in one of the chapters (l can’t remember which one rn, but if someone requests it I will look it up) that the Lifehold cannot be too far, since they would otherwise feel the lag. Considering how the player can move freely all around Mira it is suffice to say that while the Lifeholds transmission range is limited, it is nonetheless still huge. Like, encompassing a whole planet huge.
(Though, this observation might be futile since the endgame reveals that humanity would have been dead all along, so Mira Magic prevents us from making a sensible estimate as to how far this range could have been.)
What the main story chapters don’t tell us are the little details: can mimeosomes get sick, do they need food, etc.
So here is what I found:
Right off the bat: Mimeosomes have organic components. It is why in the sidequest “Lakeside Getaway” the cantors are able to exterminate the workers there, as they had laid eggs inside their bodies. We also see symptoms of sickness in Ajoa (the NPC who either dies or survives depending on your choices) because of that.
Despite that, other NPCs tell us that a mimesome doesn’t experience allergies and that they keep the humans safe from germs and contaminations which means they can’t get sick.
I’ve seen other speech bubble dialogue pop up when you walk past NPCs, talking about the ration bars BLADE use when they are out in the field (unfortunately I didn’t take screenshots at the time because I didn’t think I’d make a blog with all that neat trivia. They didn’t say anything important, just talked about the taste of these things).
If they didn’t need to eat at all, I figure they’d just pass on eating while they are on a mission since it’s just additional hassle – which is why I believe that (part, if not all) those organic components make up the digestive system. A lot of parasites do settle in the intestines, so I feel this is most likely the case.
Other neat things I found:
We know that mimeosomes are supposed to mimic the actual human as close as possible when it comes to looks, but there are a few NPCs that tell us that there is a bit of leeway included when it comes to outer appearance.
Hair, for example, can be easily swapped out (or in Felice’s case replaced), so there don’t seem to be any restrictions on hairstyle and color. Used to have straight hair and want curls now? Apparently no problem.
In the same dialogue Dorothy tells us that ‘bells and whistles’ is stuff like less weight, get rid of scars, beer bellies, etc. (I really wish I had screenshotted that latter part too, but again, I didn’t think I’d make a blog with this. I tried talking to her again, but I had cleared a chapter or the main story even and the dialogue didn’t pop up again.)
So from how I understand it: As long as it doesn’t concern one’s facial features (you know, that thing that makes a person actually recognizable, like eyes, nose, mouth, jawline, etc. you are good to go. Height, I assume, is one of them. Not sure on eye color, since technically there do exist contact lenses that change eye color) one is free to do whatever they want. Make oneself skinnier, get rid of wrinkles, whatever comes to mind.
And it kinda makes sense, really. The higher-ups would know that people would never get their old bodies back and start over with newly created ones, so things like scars or overweight and other stuff one did to their body (surgeries and tattoos included) wouldn’t carry over anyway. The new body would be a blank slate in regards to that.
Other bits of trivia:
Another NPC says that one can regulate the growth of their hair and nails, even shut it off completely if they so wish.
(Unfortunately I do not have a screenshot and I don’t remember which NPC that was, so until I go through the game again and actually find it, take this one with a grain of salt.)
One of the NPCs in front of the mimeosome maintenance center (Kent D. Carr) says that sensory impressions like taste are just data that one could easily recreate by uploading them in the mimeosome maintenance center. Which means that any kind of sensation can be recreated as long as it is in the database. (I assume this doesn’t only apply to the taste of say, chocolate cake, but also touch or maybe even visual recreation of something.)
I find it very interesting that this is even possible to do, since mimeosomes can eat and taste well enough to differentiate tastes (if they didn’t why would fellow BLADEs gush about Lin’s food or complain about the taste of the ration bars. And Lin has this whole thing in one of the official short stories where she complains about the canteen food on the White Whale). I guess it is still different from the real thing. Or maybe this is to preserve the taste of food one can’t get on Mira anymore. All human food is synthesized after all and in no way ‘natural’, so it wouldn’t possibly taste the same.
(I actually do have a screenshot of this buuuuuut it’s in German and I took it with my phone because I couldn’t connect the Wii U with the internet at the time. If anyone wishes to see it, I will gladly upload it though.)
The blood substitute is called “biocirculatory plasma”
This is said by Lin in Ch. 5 after Cross gets their arm blown off (screenshot available, but I didn’t deem it necessary to add as it’s a mainstory cutscene). Not exactly missable, but thought I’d throw it in here in case someone needs it for fanfiction or anything. The plasma is also blue, not red, as implicated by the following things:
a.) Mimeosomes are called Blue Bloods in Japanese
b.) After the attack on NLA (Ch. 8) there are NPC who do express their surprise at the humans being blue blooded/mimeosomes.
c.) This picture:
The plasma also has to circulate somehow inside the body so it’s not a stretch to assume that mimeosomes have an artificial heart that acts as pump.
Ch. 5 also shows that mimeosomes can be shut down to prevent pain or further plasma loss. It is also possible to just turn off the pain response and stay conscious (I think this was said in the Sylvalum mission “Predator and Prey”).
Mimeosomes are able to feel some sort of “reverse phantom pain”, i.e. feeling the (partial) lack of a body part even though it’s connected and up and running. This is also part of Ch. 5 after the player awakens in the maintenance center and is asked if they feel okay. One of the options leads to this bit of trivia.
Okay, I think that was all I had for now. Thanks for reading :D
If anyone can provide missing screenshots or has found other bits of trivia regarding mimesomes do tell – or even better, submit!
An extra bonus:
The name mimeosome may come from the Greek μνήμη (mnimi, pronounced as mnee-mee)) and σώμα (soma). Minimi means memory and soma body so the word would basically translate to memory body. And that’s kina dope.
Not sure if this is right, obviously, the “mimeo” might be latin or some shit (or ancient Greek which is NOT the same, lemme tell you, as a native Greek speaker) and just mean mimic (as in mimic the human body), but, oh well.
Edit:
So, someone in the tags said that “Blue Bloods” is a term used in Japan to describe the rich and exempt (makes sense, here in Germany the nobility used to be referred to as such as well because the veins look blueish against pale skin. And back then pale skin meant you didn’t bust your ass open working in the fields), so basically sth among the lines of “rich and lucky ones” which is a neat bit of foreshadowing that got lost in translation. (I know who you are but since this was just tag-rambling I figured you might wanna keep your name outta this - if not, I can edit your name into the post.)
They also wondered how tf this mix of organic and mechanic components would even work; now, I don’t think the game is ever going to give us an actually coherent and scientifically sound explanation for that - I think they most likely settled on bullet points of what mims can/can’t do to keep things consistent (bc one would need not only a medical, but also a scientific and engineering degree to have a good grasp of everything and I’m sure af the developers didn’t study up THAT meticulously on this), but I was thinking about it, bc ya know, I studied biophysics and find this kinda stuff interesting af.
And then I remembered that one of the research groups at my university studies the interaction between organic molecules and solid surfaces.
This kind of research can be used to get new insights on how those molecules function, and also helps developing better prostheses (in regards to biocompatibility) - obviously they aren’t trying to make artificial organs or anything related to mimeosomes, but it IS a pretty big field afaik.
Organic molecules can be viruses or bacteria for examples - and bacteria are a very important part of our intestinal flora.
So, what if a mimeosome’s intestinal tract is made out of a material that those kinda bacteria can thrive on? (It can’t be cells imo, bc human cells have to replace themselves very regulary. Intestinal cells get replaced every 2 - 4 days for example - and making use of life cells that need renewal seems to defeat the purpose of almost-immortal machines since the point was to live in and with them as long as possible as it was unclear when they’d find a new planet to settle on.) Gut flora can digest carbohydrates and certain sugars, so there is a starting point as to how mims could digest food. These bacteria can’t break down everything, but it is common practice in life sciences to use bacteria as hosts to express certain enzymes (even though they weren’t native in that bacterium before), so engineering bacteria that could digest all kinds of food doesn’t seem like too much of a stretch to me.
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A View To A Winchester (Part 2)
Series Page
Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.
A Dean X OFC story. No idea how long it will be, but I’ve got time on my hands. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. I’m thinking it will go the fluffy route, with some angst, and maybe some smut down the line. Not sure yet.
Section Word Count: 1,976
Section Warnings: mild language
~~~~~
A tune she’d heard that morning on streaming radio flooded her head during the shower. The humming continued as she dressed into jeans and a comfy, form fitting Henley. It was an attempt at looking semi-presentable, even if she had no one to impress. She twisted her long brown wet hair into a bun and fastened it with a banana clip. A slathering of lotion and sliding into flats was close to her weekday work routine. Maybe I’ll take mom out for a shopping trip.
“Giulia? What you doin’?”
Oh my God. This is truly going to be a reversion to my adolescence. She exited the bedroom and called down the stairwell. “Took a shower. What’s up? You didn’t make dinner already, did you?” The smart watch on her wrist noted it was only a little after two. “I’m going to gain ten pounds this week if you don’t slow down on the cooking, Ma.” Julie traipsed down the steps.
Her mother stood by the landing, both hands on the railing’s edge. She blew air out of her mouth. “You’re too skinny anyway.” Julie noticed that look on her mother’s face. She waited with dread for her next sentence. “I met your neighbor.”
Oh no. A mixture of excitement and fear flooded Julie’s veins. She walked past her mother and glanced out the sliding door. The Impala’s back.
“What neighbor?”
A hand landed on her mother’s hip. She shuffled her not quite five foot frame over to the door and pointed with the other hand. “Dean.” Her italian accent added an “ah” to the end of his name for emphasis. “Nice lookin’ man.”
Julie shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t met him yet.”
“That’s what he said. I told him you are a ‘ermit and don’t leave the house much.”
“Ma…”
“It’s true. He laughed and said he’s the same. He’s got a nice smile, Giulia.” Her mother’s eyes lit up.
Might try to snatch him up for herself. She couldn’t help but smile at the effect Dean had on her mother, too. The smile fell at the unease building up inside. “What else did you tell him?”
Her mother shrugged. “Not much.”
God, that means he knows my whole life story.
“Wes was out, too, we were all talking.” Julie opened her mouth to say that wasn’t reassuring, but her mother raised a hand to silence any commentary. “Anyway, he lives by himself in that house.” Hands pointed and dipped, performing gesture acrobatics as she continued. “He said he was going to mow his lawn today. I told him that was good because his yard needed it.” Julie groaned and placed a hand over her face. “I told him you didn’t have anyone to mow your grass and how long it was getting. So, he might come around and take care of it.”
“Ma!” Julie waved both hands, defeated. So, now I’m a pathetic hermit. “I told you I was going to find someone to take care of the landscaping and lawn soon. Why are you begging a neighbor I haven’t even met yet?”
“You’ve got too much going on, having to help me this week along with work. And, if you do hire someone, they’re going to charge an arm and a leg. You’re already paying for the mess at my house that we didn’t cause. And, everything with Steve...” She cursed in Italian. “I didn’t beg anyone. He was nice enough to offer.”
Julie narrowed her eyes and sighed.
“I’ll cook him a bowl of pasta with some of those meatballs and sauce I made yesterday. That will be a fair trade.” She smiled. “Giulia, he’s really nice looking.”
“Ma…” Julie mumbled.
“He’s your age.” She seemed extremely pleased with herself. The roar of a mower got both their attention. “There. See. He does what he says he’s going to do. Already out there mowing his grass.”
Julie followed her mother’s quick steps to the glass. They both peered out. Dean Winchester steered a lawnmower around the perimeter or his thirty by forty patch of yard.
Her mom’s hand patted her shoulder. “I’ll be in the kitchen. He looks like a man that likes to eat.”
Dean made his way toward the edge of the fence that divided both their yards. She studied his profile, concentrating on the task at hand. The pair of jeans he wore, faded and loose, hung lower on his hips than the pair of well fitting ones she’d seared into her brain. His grey t-shirt made up for it. The fabric was tight. Everywhere. Even riding up a bit to display some skin around his waist. And his biceps. Jesus. The muscles in his arms were threatening to rip the sleeves to shreds like the Incredible Hulk.
His gaze rose up from the mower and shot over in her direction. She cursed and jumped behind the curtain. Smooth. What are you going to do if he does come over and mow your lawn, Ex-Lax? You’ll have to talk to him, thank him. You don’t want to come across as an unappreciative bitch.
The lawnmower engine turned into a gut-twisting countdown. The longer it went on, the sooner the possibility that it would turn off. She paced in the living room, out of view from the glass door. Pots and pans clanged in the kitchen. Anxiety built up and reached a painful crescendo when the engine died down.
“Shit.” She whispered. Her brain worked out the logistics. He’s gonna have to go around the corner and up the street with the damn mower. Then, up the drive. Or, maybe he’ll start in the front? Nah. It’ll be too much trouble. He probably just said it to placate mom. She peeked out the glass to locate him. When she didn’t see him, her heart sped up again. He might be in the shed by his driveway. Looking, she saw the door to the detached shed alongside the Impala was still open. Yeah, he’s probably putting the mower back.
Then, Dean appeared. He rounded the corner of her house, having walked up her driveway and stopped. He looked over to the sliding glass door. She gulped.
“Dammit, Ma.” She whispered. A deep inhale prepared her to go out and introduce herself. She swung the door open and slammed shut behind her harder than intended. Her body tensed at the sound. Smooth. It took every ounce of courage for her to turn in Dean’s general direction. He was twenty feet from her. The air around her felt like it shot up twenty degrees due to the proximity of his body.
Dean waved from the driveway. “Hiya. Did your mother fill you in on the lawn service scheduled for today?” The deep voice questioned as he eyed her with hesitation. He took a tentative step on the concrete path and strolled closer.
She smiled and dug her hands in her back jean pockets. “I believe you may have been unknowingly duped into manual labor. I’m sorry.”
Dean flashed a smile and Julie broke into little pieces. He waved both dirty hands in the air. Grass stains criss-crossed over the chest of his grey shirt where he’d wiped. He was a sweaty masterpiece. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He shrugged.
“I’m Julie,” she nodded.
He nodded back. “Dean.” He took a few more steps, then stopped an arm’s length in front of her. Jesus. Was he for real? He was even more gorgeous in high definition. Her heart might stop if he got closer. His eyes locked with hers for some seconds, before his gaze did a quick assessment, traveling down her figure and back up. Then, he licked his lips and smiled at full wattage. Beating stopped. “Your mom mentioned she’s staying with you while some stuff gets taken care of at her house. Nice of you.”
Julie shook her head, forcing a language she thought was English spill from her mouth in response. Words escaped that she seemingly had no control over. “No brainer. We’ll drive each other nuts by tomorrow. But, you do what you have to for family.”
“Not everyone would.” He muttered in soft response, still smiling. “Well, I’m going to get started in the front, then shoot up the right side of the yard, and wrap around back.” His finger drew his plot of attack in the air.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” The sound of the sliding door behind Julie forced her eyes shut. Please don’t embarrass me anymore than you have, Ma.
“Dean-ah! Thank you so much for this!”
“No problem, Brigida.” Julie grinned at the way he pronounced her mother’s name. “What are neighbors for?” He smiled.
“Do you like pasta and meatballs?”
“I like all things Italian.” He grinned and gave Julie a side glance. She felt another blush racing over what she knew was her already red and inflamed cheeks.
“Good. Giulia will bring some out for you to eat under there when you’re done.” Julie knew her mom was pointing to the covered patio.
He waved a hand. “That’s not necessary…”
“Yes, it is. You’ll stay and eat something.” Before he could protest again, she added, “It’s the least we could do, right Giulia?”
Julie smiled. “Of course, Ma. Please, Dean, let us occupy even more of your time today.” The sarcastic tone was lost on her mother, as usual.
Dean, however, laughed. “Twist my arm. I’ll have even more reason to finish in a hurry.”
“Good. Giulia, will you help me in the kitchen?”
“Sure, be right there.”
Her mom smiled and left them alone.
Julie shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“I enjoy mowing.” He shrugged and stared at her again for a few seconds. “Besides, it’s been forever since I’ve had someone cook for me.”
She smiled. “Well, you’re in for a treat, then. My mom is an amazing cook.”
He clapped his hands together. “Awesome.” He pointed to the driveway. “Gonna get started.” He nodded and disappeared.
Julie exhaled and escaped into the house.
I believe I’ve just been set up by my mother on a date with my hot neighbor.
~~~~~
“I raised you better, Giulia.”
“Ma, I get the hospitality gene. It’s just not something you can shake.” Julie grabbed two water bottles from the fridge. “But, the silver tray… really? Where did you even find that?”
Brigida gave her the side eye. “I found it in one of the boxes in the basement you haven’t bothered to unpack yet.”
Julie nodded, peeking out the front bay window by the breakfast nook. The mower’s engine could be heard off to the left of the house. She imagined Dean riding up the ten foot wide patch of lawn and popping around the corner any moment. “The wedding gifts box,” Julie mumbled. “Ten years worth of stuff that never got used during our entire time together. I should have donated it instead of hauling it here.”
“Ah, you’re always throwing things out.” Brigida deposited two pasta bowls atop the tray lined with a placemat. The aroma of tomatoes, basil and garlic overwhelmed the kitchen in the best way possible.
“Donating isn’t throwing out.”
“It is when you don’t even use the stuff first.”
“Ma…”
Her mom’s fingers wrapped over Julie’s wrist. “Giulia, do your mother a favor. Enjoy some time with a nice lookin’ man. I’d like to see you smile again.” Moments passed and Brigida’s eyes shined like glass in the sunlight pouring through the window. Her lids blinked in quick succession.
The request tugged at her heart. “Okay, Ma.” Brigida nodded and dipped a saucepan over the bowls. Three enormous meatballs were ladled in one. “I’m guessing that one’s for Dean?”
“You can have as many as you want. But, you’ll tell me just one like you always do.”
Julie rested her chin on the top of her mom’s head and gave her a side squeeze. “I love you, Ma.”
“Watch the sauce.” She scolded.
Part 3
Series Page
#dean winchester fanfiction#spn fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#dean x ofc#spnfanficpond#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester angst#spn fanfic series
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Okay then, since both of y’all are just delving in I’ll try to keep things (relatively) spoiler-free and stick to story sense and semiotics! Few caveats:
Have not had prior experience with Kojima’s body of work and if that’s a prerequisite in how I “should feel” about it then yike on a bike (just getting this out of the way based on what I’ve had talked at me)
My read excludes the entire context of moment-to-moment gameplay; I basically watched chronological story cutscenes stitched together with NPC interaction vignettes sprinkled in-between. 9 or so hours in total.
I did this because the gameplay does not interest me at all - and not in protest of chill social games (I adore both No Man’s Sky and thatgamecompany stuff, for example, and try to champion anything without Gun in it), but because the setting and length did not align with my expectations for something to invest so much time into. Still, I was super intrigued by the story, and, to a lesser extent, the plot.
also I have a hard time writing in condensed English, so this may run quite long. I’ll put the rest under a break. Second language, sorry!
I’m trying to think of a good way to start this. Like I said, the story, or what the thing was ABOUT, was infinitely more interesting to me than whatever wacko packaging Kojima thought up for the narrative. Which was a complicated, thought-out piece of fiction shattered into many disparate pieces and fed to us in a mystery-box-filmmaker kind of way, making us reverse-engineer what essentially was a rather simple interpersonal uhh. family tragedy, I guess.
But to its credit the lore is visibly built solely to support whatever thematic messaging Kojima would want to weave in there - something I can respect. Meaning it gets as wacky and as nonsensical as it needs to be in order to reflect the high-concept allegories at play, aaand then it does so to a fault. I adore works of fiction that don’t give a shit about “tone” - I hate that word more than anything in modern media - but effective symbolism in storytelling, IN MY OPINION, requires a deft hand, nuance, strong authorial position, and a good grasp of social context.
I want to like, go through these four points individually and nitpick my problems with the game in their lens, because I think they cover pretty much everything I feel like saying:
1. A deft hand - to me means to selectively dramatize correct themes and plot points as you go so that shit makes sense in the end. I felt this was incredibly lacking here. It was like a symphony going for hours without a crescendo. The absolute wrong bits of soulless exposition would be reiterated THRICE within a single cutscene while necessary context of, hell, character motives or even plot geography would be left vague. Intentionally vague, some would argue, but their later function would never arrive. Other times, what would visibly be conceived as wink-and-you’ll-miss-it foreshadowing could overstay its welcome to the point of inadvertently spoiling a later plot point. My girlfriend sniped the (arguably) most important reveal of the game, which is left for the tail end of the final epilogue (!), in the first hours of watching. The symbolics and allusions were just too plentiful where they should have been more subdued. I am DYING to provide examples here but I’m keeping it spoiler-free. Again, if this is a Kojima-ism, too bad; but it’s not a catastrophic failure of storytelling by any means. There are very few masters of this thing working today. But what can be easier to navigate, I think, is...
2. Nuance - this kinda goes hand-in-hand with the upper point but is a bit more important to me and applies to what SPECIFICALLY you decide to heighten in order to slap us across the face with your deeper meanings. Certain characters - not all of them - feel like caricatures. The silly names and overt metaphors (wearing a mask means hiding something! connected cities all have ‘knot’ in their name!) are honestly, genuinely FINE as long as their function isn’t betrayed, but the lean into metaphor worship can sometimes wade into SERIOUSLY shitty territory as contemporary implications are ignored altogether, and that ties into my fourth point, which I’ll address before looping back to the third; needless to say, approaching sensitive subjects with broad strokes is not exactly the way to go. But broad strokes is almost exclusively what this game does, forgetting to incorporate...
3. Social context - and I feel like avoiding examples here will be difficult lest I end up sounding like a dogmatic asshole; but there is a right thing and a wrong thing to do when co-opting IRL concepts to fit fictional messaging/storytelling. I feel that a character “curing” themselves of a phobia by experiencing emotional growth that vaguely corresponds to what the disorder could have symbolized is a wrong thing. And I don’t even want to get into all the wacky revisionism the lore ended up twisting into, which was mostly honestly entertaining (the ammonite will be a good hint to those who’ve played it), until it decided to, again, lean a bit too hard into painting today’s reality as a crisis of human connection and imply some questionable things about why, uh, asexual people exist, for example. Yes it makes some sense within the context of the lore and what’s happening in the plot, but it’s completely lacking in social know-how of the here and now. In other words: a Bad Look. To me, this type of wayward ignorance is a much more serious issue that can historically snowball any piece of writing into a witless disaster. I don’t know if it quite does it here, but it’s not really my place to say. Still, you can have wacky worldbuilding that has no sense of dramatic tension, nuance, or awareness towards the audience, and yet containing one last vital glue holding it all together, and that would be...
4. Strong authorial position - or intent I guess, to speak in literary terms - and I still have trouble pinpointing how and where this exists in this game. A bullshit stance you say, and I hear ya; cause this here is a video game very pronounced in its pro-human-connection messaging, painting the opposite outcome as an apocalyptic end to our species. And as I understand the gameplay is all about connections too - leaning into that theme so hard it even renders itself unapproachable to most capital-g Gamers. I honestly respect the balls of that. But really, as an author who headlined the creation of this thing, what was it really about? What were you trying to say?
And beyond “human connection is real important to beat apathy” I got nothing, and I think that’s because of points 1 and 2 failing in succession, and then point 3 souring the taste. It just had to be apparent the moment the curtain fell, is what I find. You just have to “get” it immediately, get what it was trying to say, but that will happen only if it’s been articulated incredibly well up to that point. Maybe the entire punch of that message REALLY depends on you spending dozens of hours ruminating on the crushing cost of loneliness as you haul cargo across countries on foot and connect people to your weird not-internet? If so, I’ve missed a vital piece of context, and with this being a videogame and all, it’s honestly a fair assumption. But otherwise.. it felt like a hell of a lot of twisting and turning and plot affectations that only led to more plot affectations and sometimes character growth (which had its own bag of issues from point 3) and not a hell of a lot to say about human connection beyond the fact that it is. good and useful. It felt like a repeated statement instead of being an argument. Does that make sense? I understand the story optics here are zoomed waay out and set on targeting the human condition as a whole, but like.. if you’re committing to a message, you have to stand by it.
Why is connection good? it’s a dumb question without a DOUBT but since the game has set out to answer it then it.. should? Did I miss the answer? I may have, I honestly can’t exclude the possibility. My lens was warped and my framework of consuming storytelling is a bit rigid in its requirements (the four points I mentioned), so maybe I’m just too grouchy and old to understand.
I just think Pacific Rim did it better and took about 7 hours less to do it! And yet, it, too, involved Guillermo Del Toro. Curious.
If you made it this far and are interested in my thoughts on the technical execution of it all as well, uhm, it’s pretty much spotless? Decima is utilized beautifully, the Hideo vanity squad of celebrities all do their very best with the often clunky dialogue, the music is great, the aesthetic and visual design is immediately arresting, and it certainly does an all-around great job at standing out from the rest of the flock. I fell in love with the BB a little bit. It is also a game that is incredibly horny for Mads Mikkelsen, which almost fully supplants the expected real estate for run-of-the-mill male gaze bullshit. It is. A change.
That’s all I got folks
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Are the ASOIAF audiobooks worth buying? I've heard the narrator isn't good at all.
I like the audiobooks. They were worth buying for me. YMMV.
I don’t listen to podcasts. I don’t particularly like watching youtube videos. (I would much rather have instructions or information written down for me to read.) Nothing is ever going to replace my ASOIAF ebooks. I would die if you took my ebooks away from me…but…. But.
I had a (relatively mild) migraine yesterday, and it was nice to close my eyes and just let AGOT wash over me. Even better than Rainymood. Sometimes I am too tired to do anything, but I’m not tired enough to sleep, and I don’t particularly want to watch tv - the audiobooks fill that void nicely for me.
I get impatient with a lot of audiobooks (I can read much faster than most narrators speak), but I do not feel that way while listening to ASOIAF. GRRM has written a lot for tv, and I think that medium has made him well attuned to the way his writing sounds when spoken aloud. There’s a rhythm to his words that is beautiful to hear.
Also, I think I visualize the scenes better when I close my eyes and just listen. (It probably helps that listening to someone else forces me to slow down.) For example, I had either forgotten or I didn’t realize it until today that in the scene where Tyrion first speaks to Jon Snow, Tyrion is sitting over the door to the Great Hall. (I do not think that is a small door. How did he get up there?) I think previously I had imagined Tyrion on top of a merlon or some other part of a castle wall that people can see over.
So, like, I did not originally imagine Tyrion up that high. We know from later books that Tyrion likes to view the world from on high (the Iron Throne, the battlements of the Red Keep), so what does it mean that Tyrion sought out this place “on the ledge above the door to the Great Hall, looking for all the world like a gargoyle.” What made him climb up there? Why? I imagine it was for the same reasons Jon sought the emptiness of Winterfell’s courtyard.
And I notice different things when I listen as opposed to when I’m reading. For example,
“Gods, Catelyn, Sansa is only eleven,” Ned said. “And Joffrey … Joffrey is …”She finished for him. “… crown prince, and heir to the Iron Throne.”
istg, while listening to the audiobook, istg it felt like Ned was looking for a way to say, “Joffrey is a Lannister.” I never had that feeling during one of my rereads (and I don’t even have that feeling now, looking at that text I just copy/pasted), but istg the audiobook made me feel it. That “Joffrey … Joffrey is …” in the audiobook made me feel like there was something terribly, terribly wrong, in a way that the written line has never captured for me. The narrator of the audiobooks takes that pause, that silence, at the end of “Joffrey is …” and uses it to ominous effect. Something is so wrong here that Ned cannot even find the words to tell you what it is.
And I never really noticed this before, but this
“In Highgarden there are fields of golden roses that stretch away as far as the eye can see. The fruits are so ripe they explode in your mouth—melons, peaches, fireplums, you’ve never tasted such sweetness. You’ll see, I brought you some. Even at Storm’s End, with that good wind off the bay, the days are so hot you can barely move. And you ought to see the towns, Ned! Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air.”
leads nicely into this
“She was a Stark of Winterfell,” Ned said quietly. “This is her place.”“She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean.”
to suggest that Robert is really talking about himself, not Lyanna. Robert wants to be on a hill somewhere, under a summer sun, with the rain to wash away his sins.
So, idk, I like the audiobooks. I think the main series novels are better to listen to than GRRM’s history books (which are a great soporific! the history books put me to sleep in 8 minutes flat! almost every time!), but I think GRRM’s writing itself is weak in the histories, so I wouldn’t fault the narrator for the history books.
There are certainly problems with the audiobooks. I don’t like how the narrator pronounces certain names. (For example, I pronounce Petyr like Peter; the narrator’s pronunciation is Bad. V Bad.)
I don’t imagine Tyrion having that mousey, squeaky voice, but then again, I never imagined GRRM to have such a high, squeaky voice before I heard him. (ILU @George, I say that with love.)
Also, I’m not ashamed to admit this, but some of the words GRRM uses, I know what they mean but I have never heard them spoken aloud, so hearing them for the first time can be a wtf moment while I reverse engineer the spelling and subsequently update my mental pronunciation.
So I personally find the audiobooks to be a great supplement to my ASOIAF experience. I would not want the audiobooks to be my first time through, and if I was trying to introduce someone to the books, I would give them ebooks instead of audiobooks, because GRRM’s writing is so dense and he packs in so many details. But for a second or third time through? I think the audiobooks are great.
Should you buy them? Depends on what you want them for, and what you’re willing to overlook. If you can’t put up with the weird pronunciation of Petyr’s name, they’re not for you.
But if you want to close your eyes and hear that ache in Ned Stark’s heart over the family he lost … to hear the bitterness in his voice … if you want to feel the chills pass through you as Ned says sadly, “Now it ends” … then maybe you would like them.
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original space drama preview
i’m going to be working on this on and off, so if you want to know what the heck it is, read below the cut. please note that this is SUPER ROUGH so fair warning
“This is your last chance to back out.”
Isaiah opens his eyes only to narrow them. The soft-voiced, hard-eyed woman standing above him had been beside him through his entire application process, his numerous physicals, and the small mountain of legal paperwork. He’s flat on his back, so he supposes any intimidation factor he may have had is at least halved. “I’m not going to back out.”
She tightens the straps on his arms and legs, silent as the dozen or so doctors and physics and technicians move around him like a school of fish just at the edge of his vision. Finally, she says, “I don’t understand why you chose the last slot. A thousand years is – a long time. We have no idea where you’re headed.”
“No one has any idea where they’re headed, but at least some know when,” he quips, repeating back the slogan printed on their promotional material. “Why are you trying to talk me out of this? As soon as I’m sent onward, you get a great big check for signing me on, don’t you?”
“CLEAR THE ROOM,” one of the technicians bellows.
She sighs, then leans down to carefully press her lips to his forehead. He’s so startled by the action he doesn’t even think to react to it. “I hope you find what you’re looking for in the future.”
She’s gone, and it’s just him, strapped down into a machine he can barely pronounced, with a small army of people watching him through three feet of solid glass. They’ve done this hundreds of times before. But this time is different.
He’d taken the last possible slot.
Time travel is a one way trip forward. No going back in time, which means once you arrive in the future, there’s no way to return. For smaller trips, a few years, a dozen years, they offer excellent salaries for doing nothing more than going in the machine and popping out the other side. Ever test had been successful. So far.
But for longer one hundred years, there was no safety net. Just the promise of something new. Something different. All they could promise was difference.
For a trip one thousand years into the future? They couldn’t promise anything at all. They couldn’t even promise he’d survive the trip.
“Goodbye Isaiah Dally,” the head of the program says, his voice crackly through the speaker and echoing around the chamber.
Any response he might have given is cut off as the machine whirls to life, louder and more terrifying than any MRI machine. Light threatens to blind him, and there’s the oddest sensation of pressure on every inch of his body that isn’t quite painful, but it intense enough to make him nauseous.
He closes his eyes, knowing that if he opens them again, he’ll be some-when else.
~
Tara has been stuck on this shitty outpost in the middle of nowhere space for years, fixing up spaceships for crumbs, and somedays it’s hard to remember why.
Today is one of those days.
“Fifteen hundred denarios?” the Mitger growls, a species known for their bright blue skin and dozen eyes. “This is robbery!”
“It’s a bargain,” she retorts. “Your entire engine is shot, this is the completely wrong ship to take into deep space. If you want to get running again, and you want to actually make it to another station, that’s how much it’s going to cost. The parts alone are going to run me over a thousand. This is practically charity.”
“Charity from a Viatorum,” he sneers. “Your species is an eternal vagabond, searching for a planet to replace the one you lost, and entirely willing to swindle, steal, and cheat in the meantime! You’re a disgrace even to your own kind, not even stealing to get things. Your skin is looking a little blank there, girl.”
Tara is going to take that pipe and shove it down his stupid, ignorant throat. Mitger can breathe through the skin, so it won’t kill him. But it will be incredible satisfying.
She’s a pacifist. A pacifist. She’s not going to be shoving anything down anyone’s throat. Those days are behind her.
A single, steady beep emits from one of her monitors. She knows which one without have to look. There’s code rushing across it too fast for her to read, but that’s okay. It doesn’t matter. She knows exactly what it’s saying.
Finally.
“Get out,” she says, “I’m busy.”
He opens her mouth to argue, and Tara doesn’t give him the chance, grabbing him by his exceptionally bony shoulders and pushing him out of her shop. “I’ll fix your ship. Come back in two days.”
“Two days!” His face contorts into anger. She doesn’t have time for it, and slams the door in his face.
She runs back over to the monitor, scrolling through the mixes of ones and zeros until she finds what she needs. Coordinates.
When she enters them in, she curses, and slams the flat of her palm against the table. She’ll never make it there in time, not even if she had the materials to bend several of the rules of time and space. She’s a mechanic and an engineer, not a miracle worker.
She needs backup. They need back up.
Roksana is going to murder her.
~
“Hey, Han,” says a slim, petite Benaid witth the typical pale white color skin and wide pupiless eyes. He only comes up to Ji-won’s elbow, but he’s at least three times as strong as him, which is saying something. It’s obvious by the way he yanks a snarling, pissed off criminal on an electric lead like it weighs nothing at all.
“Barneet,” he responds, cordial. The tax evader who’s meekly following behind him seems even less impressive in comparison. Not that this is really a game he’s interested in winning.
Ji-won doesn’t like being a bounty hunter.
But he’s a quarter Human, a quarter Tilethikos, and half Pugnator.
The human is valuable, and the Tilethikian species is known for their empathy and intelligence.
It’s the Pugnator that damns him.
He’s never been able to get a clear answer on how his gentle, quiet father had ended up with a warrior bride of a species that spoke in crushed bones and bloody enemies more than actual words. It’s not like he can ask his mother either. She died a week after he was born, fighting over the rights to farm a couple miles of land that wasn’t even fertile enough to produce grass.
He can’t hide it either, there’s no way he can pass as mostly human, not like his father can. So he’s stuck doing this – hunting down wanted criminals and turning them in for reward money.
The irony isn’t lost on him.
He’s wanted criminal. If anyone found out who he was – what he used to do – then he’d always be on the run. The bounty on his head is ten times that of anyone he’s brought it.
Maybe that’s why Roksana betrayed them.
As soon as the thought enters his mind, he tosses it out. It’s been a long five years. Most days, he can keep himself from thinking about his former captain. Most days.
He turns his criminal in, gets his paltry reward, and is hurries back to his ship, nearly hitting his head as he opens the door and pulls himself inside. It’s cramped, a little thing, barely big enough for two people to squeeze inside. Addy is practically on his lap the few times they’ve flown together.
It can’t be helped. Addy has most of the world’s knowledge locked up somewhere in his head, but he’s not a mechanic, and it’s a struggle for the two of them to keep even a small ship in decent enough shape for cross-galaxy space travel. They make do with what they have.
Ji-won enters in the coordinates for Earth more out of instinct than anything else. He’s flown from this particular International Criminal Collection Center enough times that he could make the trip blind.
He checks his fuel level, then the crystal matrix, and he has enough fuel, and this crystal set is holding up much better than the last one.
Flying home usually takes around three days. But at lightspeed, it should only take about six hours.
Ji-won didn’t understand the math of it all himself, but he’s applied the equation enough times that he could make it work, even with a dinky ship on the periphery of deep space. He sends a quick message to Addy to let him know when he should be arriving, double checks his equation one last time, and shifts the lever forward.
If there’s something he’ll never get tired of, it’s the streak of starlight at the corner of his eyes as he maneuvers his ship around them.
~
Artificial Intelligence Human Simulation Unit #5432, more commonly known as Adexios, less commonly known as Addy, is falling apart.
He’s not quite the last of his kind, but he’s very, very close. It would be incorrect to say that that the Pandora Program had been a failure. It had, in fact, been a fantastic success. But they hadn’t actually wanted humans made of metal and code. They’d wanted something obedient and useful, and humans had only ever excelled at being the later.
That was over a hundred years ago. He only knows of one other unit still functioning, but considering one of her ongoing workplace goals is to see to his code deletion, it doesn’t really do him a lot of good.
He’s falling apart, and no one can fix him, not really. Even a hundred years later, he’s too complicated to reverse engineer, and all copies of the manual and his designs were destroyed long ago.
So now he’s here. A forgotten android on a forgotten planet.
No one lives on Earth anymore. It’s just him and Ji-won, trying to stop himself from falling apart, trying not to die before his lover.
Falling in love while he was falling apart is the worst thing he’s ever done. It’s one thing to die. It’s another thing entirely to die and leave someone behind. Adexios had tried leaving, had tried running, but his lover had simply followed him, all the way to a backwater planet where there’s nothing to eat but mostly poisonous plants and animals almost too tough to digest.
Ji-won had refused to let him leave. Because apparently they were both intent on making this as painful as possible for the both of them, it had just made Adexios love him more.
A high pitched beep echoes through the air, then another. He freezes, then scrambles into action, tripping over his feet and banging his hip against the side table in his rush. Pain shoots up his side, because of course his touch sensors are still going strong after a hundred years, even if nothing else is. He reaches the out of date tablet mounted on the wall, and swipes it open.
A Viatorum fills the screen, shoulder length white hair and dark navy skin. None of the tattoos Adexios knows she has are visible. “What’s wrong?”
He hasn’t spoken to Tara in years. Not since everything fell apart. She wouldn’t be calling him if it wasn’t an emergency.
“You’re on Earth,” she says, and he blinks, because, okay, clearly she’s been keeping closer tabs on him than he has her. “Tell me Ji-won is with you.”
“He’s off planet working on a job,” he says. “He should be back in a few hours.” There’s not a lot of work someone of Ji-won’s background can get. None of them are pleasant, and few are legal. They are trying so very hard to stay on the legal side of things. For once.
Tara slams her fist into the screen. The crack that appears across is on hers, not his, but for a moment it looks as if her anger had managed to force its way through the connection and break his tablet. “Damnit!”
“What’s wrong?” he repeats. “Why do you need Ji-won?”
Her lips press together and she asks, “Is this connection secure?”
He doesn’t answer, only crosses his arms. His body may be falling apart, but his mind is perfectly functional. As if any connection into his home wouldn’t be secure.
“The last one is coming, and Roksana just sent me coordinates and a time,” she says. “I’m too far away to try and intercept. You’re right there. I was hoping you could do it.”
If he had a stomach, it would lurch. He still feels a little queasy anyway. Roksana, who betrayed them, who left them for dead. Who found them and dusted them off and brought them together in the first place. “How could Roksana have gotten anything to you? I thought – they still have her locked up, don’t they?”
Roksana had abandoned them, had been captured, and everything else had fallen apart.
Tara ignores his question. “Can Ji-won make it back to intercept? We’re only going to have a two minute grace period after they arrive before the Agency swoops in.”
“You know this isn’t our job anymore, right?” he asks. He’s already grabbed a spare tablet to patch a message through to Ji-won. “What’s the time and coordinates?”
She tells him the coordinates, and it’s not too bad, right over where the main facility was, so at least it’s on the same continent. Then she tells him the time of arrival, and he just stares at her. “That’s in an hour! There’s no way Ji-won can make it back in time!”
“Then the Agency will get them,” Tara says. “Is that what you want?”
“How do you even know this information’s correct?” he asks.
She rolls her eyes. “Roksana sent it through. It’s correct.” She rubs at the bridge of her nose, “The Agency is really going to get them. The last human from the past.”
He’s known Tara a long time. This is the most emotional he’s ever seen her, which doesn’t seem like much, but of their team, she was always the one people assumed was a robot.
“I’ll go,” he says. He doesn’t realize he’s made up his mind until the words are already out of his mouth. “I don’t have any viable spaceships, but there’s a hovercraft that’s fast enough to get me there in time.”
Tara’s head snaps up, her eyes wide. “You can’t do that! With your luck, your legs will stop working and you’ll be caught and dragged before Madame President. Who would love nothing more than to wipe your memory banks clear herself, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“How could I forget?” he asks dryly, opening a kitchen cabinet and taking down a box of spare electronics. He grabs a remote, an old communicator, and a computer missing it’s screen out of the box and starts stripping them for parts. “She’s the reason I’m hiding out a planet that’s been empty for six hundred years.” He rustles around for piece of tinfoil, and ends up using a gum wrapper. He undoes a stack of manuals for basic robots just so he can take the rubberband. There’s a soldering iron around here somewhere – oh, there! Excellent. “I’m not going to fight. Or run. I wouldn’t be able to get them out of there before we got caught.”
“Is that a slingshot?” Tara asks.
He holds it up proudly, along with a piece of smooth metal no bigger than the size of the nail on his pinky. “Yes. And a tracker. I’m not strong enough to take on a half dozen Agency mercenaries. But I can at least get a tracker on this person, and maybe if we’re lucky they’ll have to stop somewhere to refuel, or have engine trouble, or – well, maybe we’ll be able to save them.”
“I thought this wasn’t our job anymore?” She’s almost smiling.
“It’s not,” he says. “But you’re asking for help. So I’m going to give it to you.”
Tara softens. “Thank you.”
“Just say something nice at my funeral. I’m a dead man once Ji-won finds out what I did while he was out.” He gives Tara a cocky salute, and it’s almost like how it was before. He moves to end the call, but hesitates. “It’s good to see you again.”
She smiles at him, a rare expression that isn’t a scowl, and closes the line herself.
Well, time to go do something stupid, unnecessary, and suicidal.
Just like the old days.
~
Thargelia had to give up a lot to keep her programing functional, to remain not only part of the Agency, but also the head of it.
Humans are a hot commodity these days. Everyone wants to say that they met one or worked with one or hired one. Across the galaxy, people tell stories about the species that burned too hot and too fast, who died before they had a chance to begun. A chameleon species, who from the stories could be anything and everything given the proper motivation. A supernova people, and people so did love getting their hands on a bit of starlight.
It’s why her business model was sound.
Find those rare travelers who popped into being, train them, house them, feed them, give them the choice of many lucrative and interesting career paths, and pocket half their check for all her trouble.
The problem was, humans were drying up. There were less and less travelers, and those that had traveled before were disappearing too, because she was far from the only person interested at profiting off human curiosities.
Most people weren’t as nice as her, though. She offered opportunity, comfort, fairness.
All the traffickers provided was destitution or death.
But it was fine. Her team was on earth, awaiting the arrival of the last human traveler. No over eager trafficers were going to get in their way. Not that any of them had been able to for the past five years. After this human, second generation or more would be their only option.
She’s make it work. She always did.
~
Adexios has seen many human travelers, but this is the first time he’s seen one appear. The coordinate locations were closely guarded secrets, and the Agency hovered around the forgotten planet Earth like locusts, waiting for travelers to show up so they could be snatched up.
There were a fair number of poachers who circled the blue and green planet, hoping to get lucky and snatch up a human that the Agency wasn’t poised to grab, but there weren’t many left these days.
When Ji-won had wanted to move here, of all places on this very large planet, Adexios hadn’t argued. They’d never said anything out loud, swore up and down they were done with trafficking and running. Yet, in the whole universe, they chose to settle on Earth, still ended up in the place were so many travelers popped into their time.
They were about as good at lying to each other as they were at lying to themselves.
He’s sitting up in a tall tree, waiting. Climbing had been a pain, putting too much strain on his already failing support structures and gears. He’s going to have to wait until Ji-won gets home to help him down if he doesn’t want to break some other part of him that he had no idea how to fix.
The only warning he gets is a heat shimmer in the air, then a slice of blinding light and a sound that would cause his ears to ring if he was organic.
When the light dies down, there stands a young human man. He falls to his knees and vomits, a reaction he’s heard from many travelers is inevitable. He has dark skin, curly brown hair, and has on the same light, skintight clothes that all travelers get sent through wearing.
Adexios looks down at his shaking hands and takes several deep breaths, trying to get them under control. He’s just nervous, not breaking. He’s most worried about losing his fine motor control in the long run. Once that happens, he’ll have to direct Ji-won to do the physical work for anything they have to make, and he’ll become even more useless.
He doesn’t have much time. He places the tracker in the slingshot, aims for the human’s neck, takes one more deep breath, and lets it fly.
It lands in his mass of curly hair, and Adexios slaps his hand over his face. He used to be much better at this.
It’s fine, the tracker will stick to hair too. He thinks. Hopefully.
The man doesn’t notice, still busy emptying his stomach of its contents. He wishes he could go over and help, he wishes he could rub a hand down his bag and tell him that everything will be all right. But he can’t.
He can just sit there are sleek white ships descend around him, and various people with the Agency’s logo stamped across the back surround the man. They pull the man up and half carry, half drag him into the closest ship while those around them raise their tasers into the air.
Adexios would like to say they’re being paranoid, but they’re not. Real, original human travelers are worth a fortune, and poachers will do almost anything to claim one for their own. And this man is the very last human traveler. From here on out, they’ll have to make do with alien tainted decedents and cheap imitations.
They leave, and it’s probably safe for Adexios to climb down from the tree and go home. Except if he does that, he can already tell his systems are going to overheat, and he’ll end up prostrate on the ground unable to move until he cools down.
There’s no need to make Ji-won any angrier than necessary. He’ll just wait. Hopefully, he’ll reach acceptable temperatures before his lover gets home.
~
Tara isn’t a pilot, or a captain, or someone who particularly enjoys flying a metal tube through space at breakneck speeds. She’s a mechanic. When necessary, she’s even a passable nuclear engineer. But she’s not a pilot.
Luckily, these days ships will pilot themselves. Especially fussy tourist ships that have no business being flown into deep space to begin with. She told the Mitger that his ship would be ready in two days.
Instead she does a barely passable patch job in six hours, considers feeling guilty for a moment, and instead throws her dresser’s worth of belongings into a couple duffle bags, inputs Earth’s coordinates, and takes that jerk’s ship into the sky. She hopes it will survive the trip.
It’s been three years of waiting, of silence, of rotting in the middle of nowhere waiting for a sign. Now that Roksana has sent her one, she’s not going to sit around wasting her time any longer.
~
Adexios gets an alert when Ji-won’s ship enters the atmosphere. As much as he doesn’t want Ji-won to see him like this, having his partner come back to an empty home would be so much worse. He gives in and sends him his coordinates along with a short message saying he could use a hand.
Less than a half hour later, Adexios can see Ji-won cutting through the field towards him.
He looks unfairly good in the light of the setting sun. A golden halo surrounds his short black hair, and it makes his skin looks warm, both the soft, tan human skin and the places where it blends to pebbly purple from his mother’s side in a neat diamond pattern. His clothes look like they’ve seen better days. It’s a good thing fabric is easy to manufacture, even if Ji-won is the only of them with any skill with a needle.
“What the hell are you doing up there?” he demands as soon as he’s close enough. “What if I hadn’t come back today? What if it had rained? You could have rusted!”
Adexios doesn’t roll his eyes only because he knows it will infuriate him. “All of my technological components are covered by three inches of waterproof synthetic skin. As you well know. I’m not going to rust.”
Ji-won crosses his arms, head craned back to look at him. “Addy. Why are you in a tree? Why did you waste your limited amount of energy to climb a tree?”
“How about you help me down first, and then I’ll tell you?”
Ji-won sighs. Adexios had struggled to pull himself up the tree, worried about moving too fast and overheating himself. Ji-won doesn’t have that problem, and he has the added advantage of Pugnator strength. He doesn’t even use his legs or set his feet down, just uses his hands to pull his entire body weight up the tree until he reaches the branch Adexios is straddling, not even out of breath. “You have a leaf in your hair,” he says, running his hand through Adexios’s hair, presumably to get the leaf out.
He picks Adexios up, an arm under the back of his knees and against his back. Adexios loops an arm around the back of his neck to help steady himself, but he knows he doesn’t need to. Ji-won jumps from the branch and he barely feels it when Ji-won’s feet hit the ground. He starts walking, presumably back to his ship, and Adexios doesn’t waste his breath saying he could walk on his own. “Thank you.”
“Will you tell me what you were doing now?” he asks. “I wish you’d wait for me to be home before doing stuff like this. What if you overheat or your code glitches in the middle of the forest?”
Adexios ignores the last part. While getting into that familiar argument might buy him some time, he’s still going to have to tell Ji-won the truth, and he’d rather he wasn’t in a bad mood from them arguing when he hears it. “Tara called.”
There’s a moment where Ji-won’s every muscle tenses, then he forces himself to relax. “Oh?”
“She had the coordinates of the last human traveler.”
Ji-won freezes. “No.”
“I couldn’t do anything, obviously,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels. “But I put a tracker on him. I think she’s planning to go to after them.” He’s also pretty sure Tara’s going to ask for their help, but he’ll save that bit of information for later.
“Where did she get the coordinates?” he asks. “I thought she was pretending to be a no name mechanic in the middle of nowhere.”
To the sticking place, and all that. “Roksana.”
Ji-won slowly, carefully puts him back on his feet.
Adexios grabs onto his arm with both hands. “Don’t – look, don’t overreact.” He winces as soon as he says it.
“I’ll just be a couple of minutes,” he says in that completely calm tone of voice that Adexios hates. He pries Adexios’s hands off of him, then goes walking towards the nearest tree.
His purple, pebbled skin shifts and grows to cover him, and he snaps his arm out against the trunk of the nearest tree. A twelve inch long pale white blade snaps out of his skin and slices through the tree, then he does the same with his other arm. The thirty foot tree falls to the side with a dramatic crash that shakes the ground, but Ji-won has already moved on to the next one.
Adexios sighs, but sits on the ground and pulls his knees to his chest.
They don’t have secrets, but they do have silences. Roksana has been one that Adexios hasn’t been able to break through these past five years.
~
Isaiah has no sooner arrived in the future than he’d been ushered onto a ship by creatures that didn’t look anything close to human.
That answered the intelligent life question, at least.
They’re speaking to him, but he it’s in language he can’t understand, or a variety of languages he doesn’t understand. Once they get him inside, they don’t touch him, just direct him to a seat, strap him in, and rocket into the air. They go past the clouds and break into the empty darkness of space, and Isaiah wishes his seat was next to a window.
A gangly bright yellow alien with four arms and two dozen blue eyes sits down next to him. It takes out a tablet, and presses a few buttons on it. A light, female voice speaks from the tablet. It sounds like – Chinese? Those two dozen eyes are all focused on him, and he just shakes his head.
She presses another button, and this time the same voice speaks in Spanish. He can order dinner and start a bar fight in Spanish, and that’s about it. He shakes his head again.
Another press of a button, and clear, familiar English comes out of the tablet. “Hello, traveler. Do not be afraid. You have arrived in the year three thousand forty eight. We are your friends. You are not the first traveler to arrive in our time, and you are being taken to others of your kind. The transition to your new home will go much smoother if you are able to understand those are around you, and be understood in return. Many beings in today’s day in age have a translator implanted in order to ease interplanetary communication. Do you consent to receiving this translator?”
He waits, but the voice doesn’t continue speaking, nor does anyone move to make him respond.
What’s got to lose? He’s a thousand years in the future traveling on a spaceship with a bunch of aliens. He nods.
The yellow alien stands up, and opens a compartment to pull out a large syringe, making him immediately regret his decision. It stands behind him and presses the syringe to the base of his neck. There’s a sharp pain, and for a moment everything goes hazy around him, but when he blinks everything back in place, the chatter surrounding him suddenly makes sense. It’s not that he understands the languages everyone is speaking, it’s that now they all sound like English. It’s all technical jargon and report he doesn’t really understand.
“Better?” He looks to the yellow alien. Its voice is deep, and soft. He nods again, slightly wary of speaking out loud.
“Do not worry,” it says, kind. “We are the Agency. It is our pleasure and duty to help the remaining humans and their decedents.”
“Remaining?” he echoes. He twists to look behind them to see his blue and green planet getting smaller and smaller behind them.
It places on of its hand on his back. It’s cold. “Your kind has been extinct for hundreds of years. All that remains is your travelers.”
It shouldn’t matter, not really. Everyone he knew is long dead either way. But it feels like someone dug out his heart with a spoon. “We’re all gone? Earth is just – vacant?”
“I did not mean to distress you,” it says earnestly. “Earth is home to much fauna, and a significant minority of animals. Some aliens choose to make their homes on this planet. But there are no more humans on Earth.”
“Oh,” he says. “Okay.”
That doesn’t make it better. At all. But he has a lot to process, including the extinction of his own species, apparently.
~
“Miss Sassani,” says an old, rough voice. From the sound, he’s standing right in of her, but it hurts too much to raise her head. “They are coming. They’ve retrieved the last human.” There’s a brief pause before he adds on, in case she couldn’t figure it out herself, “Your people failed.”
“Watch it,” she croaks, tilting her head back even with the white hot agony that it sends down her spine. The old man in a janitor’s uniform mopping in front of her cell looks almost entirely human, from his short grey hair to the wrinkles that settle naturally over his face. It’s the electric blue eyes that give him away. They’re almost glowing in the low light. “They can’t fail at an objective they didn’t have. I sent coordinates. Not instructions.”
“You wanted them to fail?” he asks. He’s not looking at her, so anyone watching them on the camera won’t notice anything odd.
She shrugs, unwilling to answer.
He sighs at her silence. “You know, if you were not so antagonist toward the Madame, she would not order such …creative interrogation methods.”
“If I give that bitch an inch, she’ll take a mile. If she wants my silence, she can kill me and take it from my corpse,” she says, and doesn’t flinch when her smile splits her bottom lip open again. “Get out of here, Archi. Too much time spent talking to a prisoner can’t look good for you.”
He almost looks like he wants to say something. Instead he finishes mopping the place in front of her cell and says, almost too soft for her to hear. “Get some rest, Roksana.”
Roksana Sassani snorts and leans against the wall. She makes sure Archi is long gone before letting her eyes slide shut as she takes in slow, careful breathes in an attempt not make her damaged rip cage even worse.
Her people don’t fail. What a preposterous suggestion.
#i have a general outline for this but idk how long it will be or how much of it i'll post unfinished#we'll see i guess#also idk if anyone's into my weird alient story#so yolo#osd
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@47098
hello again. rip
I REALLY like this dude. hes one of my faves?
WARNING: talks about a Lot of death and experimentation. Hope thats okay!
I love characters themed around death and experimentation, so Yes we’re all good.
Name: AUSCUL ASNERI
Name comes from Auscultation, or the sound of listening to certain organs. Asneri is a mush up of the word Arsenic.
Now this to me immediately reminds me of like… those “doctors” in the old days who would offer medical assistance to people, bring them in, and then slowly poison them to death with arsenic for kicks. Which happened WAY more often than you think it would. I can think of like, 4 nurse/doctor arsenic poisoners off the top of my head.
Handle: iterativeChemist [IC]
WEAPON: Stethoscope, which he uses to press against walls and listen for when his enemies come closer.
Oo, I do like this, but I have to wonder how often it could be used for an actual weapon? Maybe you could have him use a poisonkind specibus too, just for some on the downlow murdering?
INVENTORY: OPERATION! there is a model of a troll body, and he has to uses tweezers to pull the inventory card that he desires out. If he fails, it buzzes and he has to start over.
That’s Ominous.
QUIRK:
uses ≡ after all Os and Hs, representing how acids ususally contain oxygen and hydrogen. Makes a lot of chemistry puns. Also mentions acids a lot, even going so far as so copy/paste their formulas when talking about them. ALSO talks about anatomy a lot.
example:
O≡, yo≡’re really burning up to≡igh≡! I’m excited to see ho≡ th≡s go≡s! Yo≡r to≡uch stubs seem to≡ be swo≡en! Did yo≡ kno≡ th≡t a co≡mo≡ sympto≡ o≡ th≡ co≡mo≡ co≡d is th≡t yo≡r fingers swell? No≡ to≡ wo≡ry, th≡ugh≡! I can examine yo≡ fo≡ no≡ co≡t!
I do like this, but it’s a little hard to read. I think maybe if you didn’t replace the letters, but instead just have the ≡ come after the o/h and leave it at that? ex: “Yo≡ur to≡uch≡ stubs seem to≡ be swo≡llen.”
LUSUS: A venus flytrap with long, disgusting tentacle-roots that pulls trolls into it’s maw. Auscul originally brought trolls just to satiate it, but eventually decided that he wanted to try and experiment on them as well. They were going to die anyways, right?
Ooo, I love that. We’ve not really gotten many plant creature lusii, but I approve of them. Maybe you could do something with the arsenic theme, too? Like have the plant excrete fly-water, which is an arsenic-heavy sweet solution used to attract and then poison flies? It could be part of what Auscul uses!
INTERESTS:
CHEMISTRY SCIENCE (ANY AND ALL) JOURNALIST RESEARCH DESTRUCTION (for ‘research’) DISMANTLING THINGS (for ‘research’) REVERSE ENGINEERING disguises psychology
With the medical theme and stuff, you’ve definitely got to have some doctoring in here. Some… interesting doctoring. Maybe he could also like poking around in cadavers, but they’re just so Hard to obtain ethically…
personality:
Friendly and optimistic, Auscul is the definition of deceit. He is the friendliest, most open person in the room all the time. He will interact with everyone and talk to people who feel down. He may not always have the best solutions, but he always tries and willalways act as someone to lean on. People who know him will describe him as a charasmatic goof, a bit too obsessed with his sciences.
He hardly really gets close to anyone, as he never really cares to make deep connections. Someone would have to be extremely stand-out to really capture his interest for that long of a time, in order for them to get to know him. He seems to have a cage around his true self, as if he has intentionally isolated himself from the rest of the world. He only gets close to those he sees fit, to those who can offer him something, or those he is obligated to. He is, however, constantly putting up a front. Even is he never connects with anyone, he will act overly friendly anyways. He is acutely aware of every move he makes, always projecting him in a way to make himself seem nonthreatening. He lures people in, makes them do anything he wishes or does anything he wishes. He is a manipulator and never regrets his actions. He is doing it all for science, of course!
He is way into experimentation. Like, he enjoys testing things out on other trolls and aliens just to see the resuts. He will dismiss any judgement of his personality or motives easily, not actually caring about what anyone thinks. He is chaotic neutral more than anything. He stays on the side that he finds the most interesting.
He is also partially blind. He was born almost completely blind, making him a target from an early age. He took out his own eyes when he was capable and invented his glasses, which gives him the ability to see his environment. It’s all green-tinted, though, so he never knows anyone’s blood color or anything.
also hes trans, just to mention that i guess
Okay I love all of this, and I love the whole him pretending to be nice and putting up a front thing, so I dooo want to push it a little more. Maybe he could be someone who offers to help the ill, like in those Arsenic Poisoning stories. He’s the good doctor, goofy and friendly, and he lures people in under the promise of taking care of them, because of course he’d take such GOOD care of them, he’s so charismatic and nice. And then he just selectively takes some of them to experiment on, poison to death, and then feed to his lusus. You didn’t tell me what his blood color is, but I’m assuming Jade, so I think that’s an interesting take on/distortion of the stereotypical jadeblood caretaker role, too!
dream planet: PROSPIT
Title: MAGE OF RAGE. Because of this, he is Very Hard to kill. Like, you can stab him a bunch and he’ll just keep coming back. He’s brutal.
He also does actively understand the ways in which he can break down and destroy… And he does passively change people’s options…….. by killing them.
Design:
Face: I made the bridge of the glasses a bit thicker just to try to balance the large size of the brims. I also added black lips. Male jadebloods have the pronounced black lips, too, from what we’ve seen in canon so far.
Outfit: It was just Jake English’s outfit, so I decided to give it a bit of additional flair. I took inspiration from old victorian doctor outfits and gave him coattails and a cravat, as well as beefing up the bow a little more. I took the cleats off the shoes, since he has no reason to need cleated shoes. I added some buttons and details to his shorts. As for the symbol, I added a little bit of the pretzel influence from Viricorn!
you guys are super good at what you do, thanks for all the help so far!
Thank you for sharing all your lovely trolls! We’re glad to help! ^_^
-CD
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What do you imagine edgeworths voice to sound like? Do you think he has any kind of accent?
Haha, ooh boy… While I do enjoy the fact he’s given an unnecessarily English accent in dubbed cutscenes (and I personally headcanon that Gregory was English), I don’t necessarily think that corresponds with what we know about Miles’ geographical placements. So I’ll do some reverse engineering to explain my conclusions, but to give you a tl;dr first:
Speak to Miles for a little bit (without knowing anything about him), and you’ll get the impression he’s an Englishman who’s lived in America for most of his life. Hear him talk for longer, however, and you’ll think he’s a German who’s lived in England for most of his life.
Linguistically, early accents tend to be influenced by one’s environment over their family—but that doesn’t mean completely. As a child growing up in California with an English father, therefore, Miles definitely sounded more American than he would later, but Gregory was fond of playfully ‘correcting’ the way his son pronounced things (e.g.: say vAHse, Miles, not VAYse). Couple this with Miles attending a mainstream school later than most, and he didn’t have time to acquire a Californian accent in such a way that it would ultimately define his speech.
So by the time he left for Germany, he sounded American, but only on balance. I hesitate to say he ever had a transatlantic accent (that 1940s Hollywood standard of blending ‘standard’ American with English received pronunciation) because he wasn’t that ‘posh’, but he was well-spoken enough to sound ambiguous.
And then you have a period of eleven years in which Miles’ dominant language was German. This was the language his adoptive family spoke at home; this was the language of his newfound country. Whenever Miles would have reason to speak with someone for whom English was their first language too, it would be with, well, English people, or with other citizens of the British Isles. Outside of that, he would be speaking German, and have the merits of the Berlin dialect undoubtedly hammered home by Manfred.
When Germans speak English—to deliver a sweeping generalisation—you don’t get a standard adherence to American or English pronunciations (leaving out all talk of regional accents). The pronunciation of vowels is very standard and prominent, which is more like British English than American English; think about the difference between an American saying ‘can’ (cay-uhn) and the harsher English version (caHN). Miles sounds deceptively ~British because these purer vowels carry over now.
But he’s also picked up the German tendency to have rolled/sharp ‘r’s and consonants, which is more American. (Think about the word wander: the American treatment would end that word with a more prominent -err.)
Therefore, to someone who isn’t particularly paying attention, Miles will sound like an Englishman who’s been hanging out in California a bit too long. But the things that make him sound American at first will soon betray themselves to be more influenced by German standards after a while. The pure, ‘English toff’ accent he’s got in the games isn’t quite messy enough to be what this blog imagines Miles sounds like!
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