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randomfoggytiger · 7 months ago

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The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XIII): The Erosion of Scully’s Security, on Tape

Scully’s abduction is split into many mini arcs. Season 2 scratched the surface of her trauma with allusions to her and Mulder’s recovering stability (One Breath, Firewalker, Red Museum, Irresistible, Our Town, Anasazi); Season 3 taps into the loss of Scully’s family and innocence; Season 4 will dig deeper into her denial and loss of faith; Season 5 will twist her burgeoning confidence into a weapon against herself; Fight the Future will find her center; Season 6 will show her determination and growth; and Season 7 will shed the last of her self-consciousness with resolution.

Each of these arcs showcase the impact of the wrongs done to her and the women (and people) by the Consortium, as well as her strength of character, righteous conviction, and unbreakable spirit and will. While Mulder initially crumbles under loss and heartache, Scully battles against it; and, once finally exhausted, leans against her partner for strength to move forward. Both of them fight hard in the coming years; and on the heels of Paper Clip, their reliance on each other is so unbreakable that Mulder and Scully never question their reciprocal loyalty, despite the allure of pretty faces or treachery of madness. The show may hinge on Mulder’s childhood trauma, but it takes equal (if not more) time to explore Scully’s pain and emotional turmoil properly-- which is fair and right.

EVIDENCE OF THINGS ONCE SEEN

Season 3 continues its focus on Scully’s losses, bookending the arc with the Syndicate and their video tapes, ala Nisei and Wetwired.

OH, NISEI CAN YOU SEE IN THE CAR OF 731

Scully and Mulder get in trouble (again) when Mulder’s magazine alien autopsy video tape leads them straight to shifty activity and a suspicious Japanese diplomat. After further (officially discouraged) investigation, Scully stumbles upon a MUFON group where the women claim to know her. Here, the seeds are planted for her cancer arc in Memento Mori, complete with an introduction of Penny Northern.

One of the women asks Scully: “Did you have an unexplained event in your life last year? Were you missing for a period of time that can’t be accounted for?”

This implies that Scully was part of the latest round of abductions; and that no one has been taken since their return last November (post here.)

“You may not remember-- you’ve only had one experience. Most of us here were taken many times.”

“Taken where?” Scully asks.

Their answer-- “The bright, white Place”-- unlocks a flash from her experiments.

At her reaction, another member asserts, “You remember it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” she responds, shakily.

“There are men there, performing tests,” the member continues.

“What men?”

“They don’t reveal themselves. They take our memories away; but somehow, they start to seep back.”

“Some may have come back to you, but they don’t make sense,” Penny adds; an unintentional foreshadowing to her and Scully’s interactions in Memento Mori.

When asked if she knows about regression hypnosis, Scully looks down, closing her eyes and answering, “Yes.” This is the first of several reminders of Melissa's impact on Scully-- it was Missy, after all, who'd urged her into hypnosis therapy; and Scully who'd bailed from the session right before her sister’s death.

“Have you ever considered it?” the women press; and Scully backs away from the subject as fast as she can, regaining her scientific skepticism in the face of their probing: “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m ready to discuss this.”

“You’re afraid to remember, aren’t you?” the member from before questions, moving closer to Scully in understanding. “It’s okay. We were all afraid at first.”

Scully takes in the women seated around her-- all different ages and stages of life-- trying to fit herself into a group so disparate yet united under one common tragedy. She doesn’t yet know these women have prepared to fight for their freedom and lives; and will all, in a matter of months, die before her own battle against cancer begins.

“I don’t know: when I opened that door and saw you standing there, it was like a revelation-- the image your face was so clear to me,” the first MUFON women expounds.

The dialogue here is filled with biblical language, likely on purpose: image and revelation hand-in-hand-- a nod, perhaps, to the fated and religious undertones Chris Carter often works into his scripts. Scully and Mulder are often painted with allegorical higher callings and fated purpose, creating a contradiction between the mytharc fate versus stand-alone freewill episodes. Scully, in this case, seems fated to be abducted and returned, to meet these dying women, and to get cancer; but she turns out to be the only one to beat this fate, and survive. This could play into my hypothesis on breaking the soulmate curse inflicted on her, Mulder, and Melissa Rydell in The Field Where I Died, (post here), or fall in line with fate ala the Navajo’s White Buffalo prophecy (post here.) I think that topic requires more in-depth discussion than would fit here; and suggest we press on with Season 3 for now.

“But why is it I don’t remember you?” Scully prods, shaken.

“All you remember in the beginning is the light,” Penny consoles. “And then sometimes the faces of the men that performed the tests.”

This triggers another memory Scully forgot-- the stomach air pump-- and she scrambles for a different explanation other than the simple truth. “How do you know you’re a not mistaking me for somebody else?”

“You have the mark, don’t you?” the other MUFON woman says, drawing Scully’s attention and showing her the recent scar on the back of her neck.

Scully closes her eyes again, fearfully.

The women then show their extracted implants, proving their words as one.

Afraid to believe, Scully tries to flee, (her go-to trauma response, post here): “I have to go. I just came--"

“--to see Betsy,” the women chime in.

“Yes-- to see Besty Hagopian. Why are you all at her house? Where is she?” Scully raises her arms, surprised she hadn’t questioned this fact before.

The MUFON spokeswoman and Penny then take her to Betsy’s oncology treatment center, explaining she is in "the advanced stages of full-body tumors"-- a different type of cancer than Scully had.

“They’d been taking Betsy since she was in her teens,” Penny reveals. “This is what’s going to happen to all of us.”

“What do you mean,” Scully softly questions.

“I don’t know if you understand this or not, Dana,” the spokeswoman spells out, “but we’re all going to end up like Betsy."

“We’re all dying,” Penny confirms, “because of what they do to us.”

It’s especially heartbreaking because this scene confirms two things:

Scully is the only MUFON woman to be abducted once-- confirming that she wasn’t an intended target, only collateral decided upon on Sleepless because her expertise; and only returned alive because of CSM’s intervention. Meaning she, unlike the MUFON women, was intended to die in captivity. It’s a testament to her knowledge and skill that Scully was such a threat to the Consortium so early on: still green; and barely on the field before being yanked off of it.

The MUFON women never realized their chips were the cures to their cancers. Each woman still had their chips intact-- only Scully’s had been damaged due to Pendrell’s tampering-- and could, probably, have had them reinserted. But would they have done so? Would these women have wanted their chips reinserted, allowing nefarious abductive forces to easily find and recapture them for test after test after test? Regardless, they were never given the opportunity to choose.

When Scully reunites with Mulder, she’s both stunned by her experience and stunned that Mulder isn't curious about her discoveries (at first):

“Why is the door locked?"

“I’ve got something to show you.”

“Do you have any idea where I’ve been?”

“Allentown.”

“I went to go see those MUFON members to find out about that woman-- Betsy Hagopian?”

Now intrigued: “What’d you find?”

“I found out that she’s dying.” Scully looks down-- an instinctive response when facing information that is personally implicative, “along with a lot of other women who claim to be dying, too. All of them who say they have these implanted in them,” she adds, handing over one of their chips to Mulder.

When Scully adds, “It’s the same thing that I had removed from my own neck,” Mulder’s head immediately snaps up, worried; and he quickly asks, “But you’re fine, aren’t you, Scully?”

“Am I?” she parries, seeking as much assurance from him as he is from her. “I don’t know, Mulder. They, they said that they know me, that they’ve seen me before.”

It’s a trigger response Scully has when lacking security, latching onto Mulder or “other fathers” or illusory footholds when science offers little clear-cut answers for her-- i.e. Beyond the Sea, Fresh Bones, Never Again, all things, etc. Scully largely expunges all outward traces of this behavior from Season 4 onward, thinking she must become what her mother calls “the strong one” in the face of Mulder’s fragility post Herrenvolk, The Field Where I Died, Paper Hearts, and Memento Mori.

“They know things about me, about my disappearance,” she rambles, watching Mulder scrupulously zero in on the chip in hand.

This interaction also shows a parallel aspect of Mulder’s: when Scully faces a personal crisis-- her panic over glowing bugs, her fears, her cancer, her daughter’s illness-- he puts up a front of strength, grounding her focus with logical, provable facts, even if (and when) he suspects the worst.

“That is disturbing,” he quietly agrees. “But I don’t think you should freak out until we find out what this is.”

Scully is hindered from a clearer admittance when the phone rings; and the conversation takes a turn away from the MUFON trip.

As Mulder fills in Scully on his findings about Dr. Ishimaru’s ghastly experiments, she recognizes one of the men in the faxed photo; but is dissuaded (“I don’t think so, not unless you’ve been in Japan in the last fifty years”-- which she was, in 1966. Post here.) Four of the doctors in the photo were recently murdered; but Scully isn’t yet ready to draw ties between their and the Nazis' experiments to alien-human hybrids; and neither have connected the dots between these inhuman experiments and her recent disappearance.

When she begins to discredit his theory, Mulder cuts in reproachfully-- “Scully, after all you’ve seen”-- before softening-- “after all you’ve told me you’ve seen, tunnel filled with medical files, the beings moving past you, the implant in your neck-- why do you refuse to believe?”

At Mulder’s question, Scully looks down to hide her fear, continuing the pattern of avoidance begun in Beyond the Sea and The Blessing Way. “Believing’s the easy part, Mulder,” she insists. “I just need more than you-- I need proof.” Proof allows her something to cling to when the foundations of her beliefs are shaken. Scully eventually comes to term with that realization, shifting away from strict reliance on proof as learns to trust her instincts (all things.)

“You think that belief is easy?” he retorts, a window into his naturally cynical, pessimistic view of life. That cynicism is eventually addressed in Amor Fati, and fully (or mostly) resolved in Closure.

Scully can’t rebut his statement; and with nothing else to say, she sighs and hangs her head.

“Well, we have proof,” Mulder reassures, switching topics to comfortable ground and revealing his ace: a picture of a secret government train car. When asked where he got it, he discloses “From someone like you who wants proof.” Weighing the cost of his next words, he decides to mildly confront her once more. “Who’s also willing to believe.”

Scully remains silent, both aware she’s not ready to take that next step.

Scully takes the chip to Pendrell, who raves about its sophistication and other scary technological advancements (and coming off a tad creepy.) The full weight of the government using computer chips to possibly monitor their test subjects appalls Scully, spurring her to take a more active role in the current investigation.

Back in the office, she reviews the video Mulder bought, realizing her recollection of Ishimaru stems from her abduction.

After Mulder jumps on the train car, Scully is contacted by a Syndicate shadow man (for the second time) and reiterates the (half) truth sold to her: government experiments, yes; but not alien government experiments. “It all makes sense, Mulder-- Ishimaru Zama, he was using the secret railroad to conduct his tests across the country….”

The conclusion of the Nisei and 731 mini arc is the deepening of Scully’s denial. Without Melissa there to push her, and with Mulder (who is supposed to fill-in for her sister, post here) focused on the bigger mystery, her abduction trauma is shoved aside and minimized.

As we will learn in Piper Maru and Apocrypha, Scully has yet to make peace with her sister’s loss; and those open wounds spur her burning desire for revenge-- becoming more and more apparent the more turmoil is piled on her plate.

STEERING THE SHIP OF MEMORIES

Scully’s childhood is the backbone for these two episodes, from the first conversation with A.D. Skinner to her reminiscence on the base with her father’s friend.

Skinner calls Scully into his office, informing her that the investigation into Melissa Scully’s death has bellied up. Stung and indignant, she confronts the FBI’s obvious oversight and his placatory platitudes.

“It’s strange,” she bites, furious tears in her eyes, “Men can blow up buildings; and they can be nowhere near the crime scene but we can piece together the evidence and convict them beyond a doubt. Our labs here can recreate out of the most microscopic detail the motivation and circumstance to almost any murder-- right down to a killer’s attitude towards his mother and if he was a bedwetter. But in the case of a woman-- my sister-- who was gunned down in cold blood in a well-lit apartment building by a shooter who left the weapon at the crime scene, we can’t even put together enough to keep anybody interested.”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with interest,” Skinner begins.

“If I may say so, Sir,” she cuts in, unwavering, “it has everything to do with interest. Just not yours. And not mine.”

When Mulder asks after Scully’s mood, she deflects his concerns back to their newest case, later impressing him by recognizing a submerged North American P 51 Mustang aircraft. She explains: “It’s the shape of the canopy. I watched my father and brothers build World War II model planes as a kid.”

As we know, little Dana Scully was a tomboy; but it’s interesting to learn which activities she did and didn’t think were worth her time-- the Dana who shot air guns but didn’t play baseball, who memorized plane models but didn’t build them; and who learned Latin in college and always loved The Exorcist.

While pursuing a new lead, Scully momentarily relives a happy memory with her and Melissa playing on a familiar military base sidewalk.

Young Dana is triumphantly swung around by an exuberant young Melissa, both overjoyed by her unbroken hopscotch; and modern Scully’s smile slips back and forth between the somber present and nostalgic past as she slowly drives on.

Meeting up with her father’s old colleague, she introduces herself with a delighted, self-conscious smile. “I’m Dana Scully-- I used to live three doors down. My father was Captain William Scully. I, I went to school with your son.”

The past is a haven for Scully, even now (for now): a place to become at home and centered in. Her father died suddenly, with words unsaid; her sister died tragically, with justice delayed; but still they bring a smile to her face in reminiscence. But more than that, Scully beams with pride at meeting a man so like her father in age and familiarity-- her Starbuck nature bobs to the surface, putting her best foot forward in her efforts to please.

“I’m sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be,” Commander Johanson says, a mirror of Teena Mulder’s pretend amnesia (post here.) At first, he assumes-- or pretends to assume-- Scully is asking after his son; but when questioned about his past with the Piper Maru, he again pleads forgetfulness.

“Say hello to your father for me,” the Commander suggests as they shake hands goodbye.

“I wish I could,” Scully remarks, her smile dropping a shade and (again) looking down out of discomfort. “He’s passed away.” In response to his “I’m… very sorry,” she gives a tight-lipped smile and walks away without comment-- fleeing the moment (again) as quickly as possible.

An interesting thing happens next: Commander Johanson changes his mind, having his visitor’s car pulled over so he can quietly fill her in on the coverup courtesy of CSM, Bill Mulder, and other Consortium men. Captain Scully’s death hit him hard: it connects him to Scully, the fact that they have both lost a loved one to the dead; and it itches and itches at Johanson, driving him from the house and after his friend’s daughter for atonement and peace.

Scully, when commanded to pull over by Johanson, immediately obeys, surprised but not suspicious. Loyalty to her father and his associates runs deep, even after three years, a murder, and a Conspiracy.

“I can’t give your regards to my son, Scully,” Joe wobbles, addressing her by name not only for the first time but also as an equal. “He was killed in a training accident.”

It’s here that Johanson passes on a statement that rings true as it sinks and settles into Scully’s mind: “We bury our dead alive, don’t we? We hear them everyday-- they talk to us, they haunt us, they beg us for meaning. Conscience. It’s just the voices of the dead, trying to save us....”

He tells her his tragic, paid-off history, concluding with: “Whatever killed them, I was allowed to live: to raise a family, to grow old. None of us ever got an explanation why.”

Skinner is shot and Scully rushes to his side, bouncing from Mulder’s room to his while advocating for his interests. When he admits the shooting might be a coverup to permanently halt Melissa’s murder investigation, Scully flares up: “You’re saying that they closed down my sister’s case not because of lack of evidence but because they didn’t want us to catch the killer.”

In the last twenty-four hours, Scully’s trust in her country’s higher ups has eroded so rapidly she now concludes, rightfully, that Melissa is disposable collateral in their latest coverup.

Ignoring Skinner’s warning, she presses for more details, fuming over Krycek’s involvement.

“Listen to me,” Skinner warns, “anger is not a luxury you can afford right now. If you’re angry, you’re gonna make a mistake-- and these people will take advantage of that. …Scully, if you can’t keep your head, it’s all right to step away.”

“That’s exactly what they want.” Scully’s anger is fueling her thirst for vengeance, driving her to more dangerous potentialities.

After returning on Mulder's hunch, she finds Skinner mid-relocation to another hospital; and quickly hops on the ambulance in time to counteract another attempt, intercepting the gunmen and forcing him to give her answers at gunpoint.

“Are you Luis Cardinale! Are you the man that shot my sister! You shot my sister! TELL ME!” she screams over his pleas, weapon drawn with lethal intent. Her motions are erratic, aggressive, and unhinged, tears building as her voice climbs higher and higher.

Cardinale bargains for his life and Scully wavers, hunched over her prey while an inner voice screams shoot him, shoot him repeatedly in her head. She is so unstable, so unsure, that she looks like her younger, greener self watching the fabric of her world fall apart in Luther Lee Boggs’s cell (post here.) But the cops appear, yelling at them both before she can decide; and, with one final struggle, she lowers the weapon in anguish and retrieves her FBI badge.

Luis is toted away in handcuffs, leaving Scully alone with the equal horror of her loss of control and opportunity.

She calls Mulder, confessing his instincts had been right and relating that they’d caught Melissa’s killer; but immediately cuts off his potential sympathy by turning his attention back to the mission.

In the end, it’s all in vain: Scully and Mulder lose the salvaged UFO and Krycek, nullifying future leads for the case. Grateful to at least have Luis behind bars, she visits Melissa’s grave with flowers, taking a moment to commune in the language of the dead: with her conscience, in silence.

Mulder arrives with a bouquet of his own; and she bites her lip, moved by his gesture and frustrated with her surfacing emotions. Pulling herself together, Scully smoothly stands, accepting his consideration and shoulder touch with a genuine though fleeting smile.

“I was just thinking about what a man said to me. That the… that the dead speak to us from beyond the grave. That that’s what conscience is.”

“It’s interesting. I never thought of it that way,” Mulder considers.

“You know, I thought-- when we found him, this man that killed Melissa-- that, that when we brought him to justice, I would feel kind of closure. But the truth is, no court, no punishment is ever enough,” Scully confesses-- a follow-through to her Paper Clip closing line: “I’ve seen the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers.”

And Scully is denied even that, having to listen to another victim of these men in power admit that justice was derailed, that Luis Cardinale was murdered in his cell before he could face trial. To Mulder, the end of Cardinale’s existence is a form of justice; but to Scully, it is a cruel circumvention of the system she believes in and fights for.

“I think the dead are speaking to us, Mulder. Demanding justice. Maybe that man was right-- maybe we bury the dead alive.”

Mulder considers this, too; and is silent.

In this episode, the darkness infesting Scully’s life stained backwards to her childhood: her brother and father building WWII planes that were sunk by the Consortium, her father’s friend a bought-and-paid-for Syndicate witness, her hopscotching sister murdered by a hired gun. Those incidents may not have directly touched the Scullys’ lives as they were then, but the innocence she was able to escape to is no longer afforded to her without darker shadows crying out from the corners.

HERE BE MONSTERS

Wetwired is the last straw.

During her investigation into malevolent mass hysteria, Scully thoroughly watches each and every infected tape she and Mulder recover from the crime scene. Slowly, it eats away at her security, eroding the last shred of credibility the infested, corrupted system had to offer her: the valor of moral individuals. And the last moral individual she could trust-- the man in the trenches with her, who lost and fought and continues to fight for a brighter day-- was Mulder.

Hallucinating Mulder feeding intel to CSM, she spends the next morning, afternoon, and evening harboring heightening paranoia against her partner; and finally snaps when he ignores her command to stay away, shooting at him through the door of her ruined motel room and running away.

Mulder calls Maggie after the sun is up and the investigation is already in full swing, having probably put it off until the last second in hopes of recovering Scully first. Maggie, still in bed at 6:01 AM, picks up the phone the phone, giving us an opportunity to scope out the family pictures displayed on her bedroom table.

An interesting revelation: Melissa’s photo is placed most prominently, perhaps to honor her death; then Dana’s; then her and a mystery baby… which leaves one of her children off of the table.

My guess? Charlie is missing, as he is likely absent from his mother’s life at this point. If this is true, Maggie seems to use her photos as an indication of her children’s interest in her life, not as a showcase of her favorites.

How can we prove this?

Melissa is dead; but while her eldest daughter was alive, Maggie was constantly rubbed the wrong way by her insistent, unmoderated proclamations at the tensest moments (posts here and here.) Yet, her picture takes center-stage.

Bill Scully is often the Scully child most likely to cater to her whims or speak in a language she understands (to be explored in Seasons 4 and 5.) Yet, his picture is placed at the back. We know he is often at sea during this period, pointing to infrequent contact between himself and his mother; and probably even less contact than that, because he would more likely call his wife Tara instead.

Scully’s picture is of second “importance” on the table, despite Maggie’s reliance on and openness with her daughter (acting as her comforter in the following scene and calling her “the strong one” in Memento Mori.) There is often a loving side she reserves for her baby girl, sensing that Dana needs it more than Bill does, or Melissa did.

Which leaves Charlie. Scully doesn’t mention him after Roland-- except for a slight mention in Piper Maru-- until Home (stating she babysat her nephew for the weekend.) Very little is known about Charlie other than the brief glimpse we see of him in Beyond the Sea (post here) and One Breath (post here); and it’s Maggie’s fond flashback of him we are privy to in the latter episode. So, what’s Charlie’s deal? Is he estranged by his own choice; or does Maggie keep him at arm’s length, only remembering him in childhood when he fit her expectations?

From what we know of Maggie Scully thus far, it seems unlikely she would cut a child off for a personal decision they made-- in fact, her actions prove the opposite (i.e. reconciling Dana to Captain Scully in Beyond the Sea, putting up with Melissa’s New Age speeches, trusting a Navajo medicine man to watch over her dying daughter, and celebrating the anti-Church conceptions of both Bill’s and Dana’s sons.) It seems out-of-character for her to isolate the youngest Scully from her affection, no matter his choices.

Or an alternate theory presents itself: the baby is an old picture of Maggie's only grandson-- the nephew Scully babysits in Home. That would mean only one of the two boys flanking Charlie in Beyond the Sea is biologically his... which makes an interesting other implication about his possibly older wife and her own son. Theories, theories.

“Mrs. Scully? Hi, it’s Fox Mulder.”

Maggie immediately knows something’s wrong, her voice dropping an octave. “What is it, what’s the matter?”

“I was hoping that you’d heard from Dana,” Mulder responds. It would seem Mulder calls Scully “Dana” to Maggie, either for Mrs. Scully's comfort's sake or because he and she communicate so rarely he's yet to fully define his and Scully's partnership.

“No, something happened?”

“I’m not exactly sure there’s… there’s some confusion here.” Mulder hunches slightly, pursing his lips and looking down ashamedly-- a posture he's exhibited on a larger scale to his father (post here.) At Maggie’s “What do you mean ‘missing’?”, he stumbles over his words-- “Well, she ran off last night-- screws up his face, and beats at his thigh, anticipating a disappointed or angry reaction-- “We, we’re looking for her as best we can, but we are a little concerned.”

Skinner arrives, and Mulder knows it’s time to go. “Look, Mrs. Scully, I hate to do this to you, but I’ve got to hang up on you right now.”

“Fox, would you please just tell me what’s going on?” Maggie asks, respect and civility barely keeping her from demanding an immediate reply.

“Hang by the phone, I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” he answers, disconnecting the call immediately after.

It’s only after hours of frantic search and heartache that it dawns on him where Scully might have gone.

Where does Dana Scully run to feel safe whenever her life spirals out of control? Home.

Sure enough, Maggie opens her door strung out: jumpy and tense, unwilling to let Mulder in.

“Is she here?” he asks, hopeful.

“Uh, no,” she refutes.

“You haven’t been answering your phone,” Mulder prods, not unconvinced but still suspicious.

It’s Maggie’s exit-- “Well, I’ll call you when I hear from her, okay?”-- that gives her away, too smooth and too quick to slam the door in his face with a daughter missing for the second time.

“I need to see her,” he insists in desperation; and when she still refuses, Mulder ignores her pleas and barges through, halting only when met with the barrel of Scully’s gun.

Maggie isn’t afraid, only scared for him: getting into his face as he carefully pushes past, then shutting the door behind him to prevent someone else from walking in.

“Dana, put down the gun!” Maggie shouts, only drawing Scully’s attention momentarily from Mulder.

“I’m here to help you, Scully,” Mulder announces quietly.

“I told you, Mom-- he’s here to kill me,” she warns, quivering and shifting her stance for a surer shot.

“I’m on your side, you know that,” he replies.

“Put the gun down, Dana,” Maggie repeats, more calmly.

Scully’s eyes, wide and panicked, lessen only slightly when they glance toward her mother, growing wilder when Mulder tries to advance. She warns him back while cocking the trigger.

Maggie, sensing Dana has reached the end of her rope, backs him up: “Dana, he’s telling you the truth.”

“It’s not the truth, Mom,” Scully wobbles, betrayed. “He’s lied to me from the beginning. He never trusted me” Despite Mulder’s heartfelt, “Scully, you’re the only one I trust,” she rebukes, “You’re in on it. You’re one of them.”

Pausing, she gears up for her most wrenching accusations: “You’re one of the ones that abducted me. You put that thing in my neck! You shot my sister!”

“That’s not true, Dana,” Maggie repeats.

“It is,” Scully insists, voice weakening in heartbreak.

Maggie steps forward in spite of her daughter's escalating cries, beginning her attempts to talk Dana down.

“You trust me, don’t you? You know that I would never hurt you. That I would never let anybody hurt you.”

Scully begins to sweat, wavering between fear for her life and belief in her mother.

“That’s why you came here, isn’t it? You’re safe here. Put the gun down, Dana.”

Scully slowly points it up and away, but doesn't relinquish it even as she collapses, sobbing, in her Maggie's arms.

Later, Mulder joins both happy ladies in recovery, sticking up his arms in comedic effect for their (vague) amusement.

Mrs. Scully, sensing they need space to reestablish their equilibrium, soon after leaves the room.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

And in expected Starbuck fashion, her first response is: “Ashamed.” He waits, letting her fill in the silence at her speed. “I was so sure, Mulder. I saw things, and I heard things. It was just like the world was turned upside down. Everybody was out to get me.”

“Now you know how I feel most of the time,” he jokes-- a balm of understanding.

She smiles, continuing her train of thought with less discouragement. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I’m not surprised,” he nods, leaning forward to summarize his theory on paranoid mind control: “...a virtual reality of their own worst nightmares.”

“Like me thinking you were going to kill me.”

The knowledge that any action of his holds that much weight in Scully’s life is a fearful realization in itself; and Mulder tries to ward off the power of it (and the last twenty-four hours) by leaning on his shaking, folded hands.

“I was so far gone, Mulder, I thought that you had gone to the other side.”

Sinking further into his posture, he asks, “What do you mean?”

“That Cancer Man-- the man that smokes all those cigarettes-- I was sure I saw the two of you sitting in your car in the motel parking lot. You were reporting to him. You handed him a video tape.”

And while Mulder runs off to check out that lead, we conclude where we began: the video paus de deux, a rectangular reel that bookends the beginning and end of Scully’s media madness.

CONCLUSION

Scully concludes her erosion arc with Mulder's steadfast loyalty, the one stable variable in her insane, topsy-turvy world. The past may be lost, the present may be shifting, and the future may be uncertain; but Mulder is her assurance.

Season 4 then shifts that upends that assurance by turning dependable into dependent.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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hoffmansnightmare · 5 months ago

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Keep Away From the Edge

Chapter 4

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Emmy Hodges

Trauma, hint of torture, hint of depression. Nothing too crazy in this one boys.

You can read part one here, part two here, and part 3 here

You can also read it here! Keep Away From The Edge

"You two are persistent." Emmy closed the door to her car, staring at the redhead and her cameraman. They were the only two left on her lawn, and they had been the only ones left for some time. The rest had given up, moved on to other stories. But not these two. They were still there every evening. The two of them at least seemed to give up on trying her in the morning. Emmy could finally leave for work in peace.

"We just really want to talk to you." The woman said, her eyes lighting up. This was the first time Emmy had actually spoken to them.

"Aren't there other, more interesting stories?" Emmy asked, pulling her house key out.

"We focus on the Jigsaw cases. And you're the latest survivor." She said, daring to take a step closer.

Emmy huffed. She wasn't the only one though. "What about that other guy that just went missing? Henry something?"

"He's still missing." The camera guy finally spoke up, lowering his equipment from his shoulder. "So he's a dead end."

"Look, we're not big time or anything. We have a website and a series of videos we post. It would mean everything to us if you just spoke to us briefly." The redhead explained, clasping her hands in front of her.

Emmy looked her up and down. The woman really did look desperate. And they had always been nicer than the other reporters. "Who are you guys?"

"I'm Nancy Howard." The redhead, Nancy, said, then pointed to her companion. "And this is Curtis."

Curtis gave Emmy a polite nod. He kept the camera lowered at his side.

Was she actually considering this? It looked like she was. It was possible that actually talking about her ordeal, saying it out loud, would be like getting it off of her chest. Maybe it would help her come to terms with what had happened to her. Or she should probably get a therapist.

This was more convenient. And cheaper. "Alright." Emmy said, unlocking her front door. "I'll talk to you for a bit."

Nancy looked like she could have screamed with delight, her smile was so wide Emmy thought it must hurt. "Perfect! We won't overstay our welcome, we promise!"

"Hhhmm." Emmy hummed. She led them inside and gestured to her living room. "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll make some coffee."

Emmy brought out a tray with 3 mugs, cream and sugar included, which she set down on the coffee table. Hopefully this coffee tasted better than what she had brewed when Detective Hoffman had visited. She hadn’t missed his wince at the taste, even if he was too polite to say anything. She felt more clear headed with each day. Sometimes it was still hard, she'd be sunk back into the memory of being trapped, and work was still stressful, but she didn’t feel as lost anymore.

“So what are you wanting from me?” Emmy asked, taking one of the mugs and sitting on the recliner, across from the pair on the couch.

“Well, just…anything you’d be willing to tell us really.” Nancy said. “There are so few jigsaw survivors. Right now you are one of…” Nancy leaned over to Curtis to confer with him. “Three?” She still didn’t sound sure. “Amanda Young is the only one to come forward, and the other is unnamed.”

“I can do my best, I suppose.” Emmy said, her voice letting out her weariness.

“Do you mind if we record this?” Nancy asked. It was very polite of her, as Emmy just assumed that they would, or else why bother with the camera?

“Go ahead.”

Curtis set up the camera on a tripod, angling it so that it got both Emmy and Nancy in the shot. He stayed behind the camera, and gave a thumbs up once it was recording.

“I am here, in the home of Jigsaw survivor, Emmory Hodges, who has graciously let us in to ask her about her harrowing experience escaping the infamous killer’s test.” Nancy spoke clearly and confidently, facing the camera. Emmy found herself surprised the other woman wasn’t a professional news anchor.

Nancy turned to Emmy then, smiling at her. Emmy tried to smile back, but could feel it twitching around the corners. “When you’re ready, if you could tell us what happened. What it was like?” Her face grew serious as she asked and she picked up a notebook and pen out of her purse. She was poised, waiting patiently for Emmy to start.

Emmy glanced up at the camera, then back to Nancy quickly. She just had to get the words out. She want to be a writer, perhaps this would be good story telling practice.

"As each day passes I remember less and less of what happened to me." Emmy said, looking down into her mug of coffee. She didn't know how to explain it. The first night at the hospital she was sure she would remember each sharp detail, but now all she could recall was how dark the room was around her, the only light being the grimy yellow lamps that illuminated the cage. She could recall the bars of the maze, but not the shape of it she had mapped out in her head while she crawled. "The first memory is pain. I ached and stung all over, and when I tried to get away from it, it only made it worse." She took a sip, really to just collect her thoughts.

"When I realized what was happening, I knew I just had to get through it. His traps are winnable, as long as you follow the rules. Panic is your worst enemy, so I didn't let myself feel it." Emmy described how she got herself out of there, how her only hope was to keep crawling around that metal maze. "The relief was so great, when I collapsed outside of that door. I know I will never feel such euphoria again. To be faced with death head on, only to meet it, and then conquer it." She shook her head. "There will be nothing like it."

Nancy leaned forward. She'd been writing furiously, even though they were filming. Now she asked; "They say he does this to test people's will to live. Do you feel like it has made you want to live more than you did before?"

Emmy shrugged her shoulders. "Honestly, having felt such great relief, only to be returned to my life just as it was before. It almost feels worse in a way. But I never wanted to die. Of course I wanted, and still want to live." She took another sip of her coffee. "I just wish I could find the vibrancy for life that he apparently wants me to feel. It's just hard sometimes."

Nancy was back to scribbling, nodding along with Emmy's words. “And how have you been coping with what happened? I imagine it must be difficult.”

Emmy nodded. “It is. It felt strange to have to just get on with my life. Going back to work felt absurd. Something like this feels like it changes the world around you, but it really doesn't.” Emmy shrugged. “But continuing to live is what helps. Dwelling on it doesn't do me any good.” Did she really believe that? Emmy didn’t think so. Continuing to live felt strange, almost wrong, at least the way she was living. Just going on about her life as if it didn’t happen.

But she didn’t know how to live like it did happen. She had no idea how to be the woman that survived a Jigsaw test, so she just said what sounded right.

Nancy smiled at her. It was genuine, not a show for the camera, and Emmy smiled back at her. “Well Emmy, you're very strong for having gone through something so terrible, and gone back to living your life. I hope you find meaning in all of this.” Nancy reached forward and put her hand over one of Emmy's.

“Thank you.” Was all she could say in return.

Leaning back Nancy made a cut motion with her hand. Curtis fiddled with the camera, then came to rejoin them on the sofa. The three of them finished their coffees, making idle chit chat, then Nancy slapped her knees and stood up.

“We won't keep you any longer.” She said, putting her notepad back into her bag. “Thank you so much for this, Ms. Hodges. We should have your interview up on our website within the next few days if you want to see it.”

Emmy smiled politely, but doubted she would. It was hard enough sitting there and recounting what had happened to her. “Happy to help.”

When they were gone she closed the door with a sigh, feeling suddenly boneless and exhausted.

The next morning her phone rang. Emmy stared at it for several minutes, not recognizing the caller ID. Who the hell was calling her? When she finally answered an unfamiliar female voice was on the other end.

“Ms. Hodges?”

“Uh…yes?”

“Ms. Hodges, I'm Detective Kerry. I was hoping we could get you into the station to ask you a few questions. Just to check in with you.”

“Detective Kerry? I thought Detective Hoffman was taking care of my case?” Emmy asked, her brows furrowing up in confusion.

“Oh, well we're actually a task force who specialize on the Jigsaw cases.”

“Well…can it wait until this Saturday? I can't take time off of work right now.”

“Saturday would be just fine!” She sounded excited now. “Do you need a ride in?”

“No, I can drive myself.” Emmy said, jotting down a reminder.

“Great! I'll see you this Saturday.” And the detective hung up.

Emmy frowned at her phone for a moment, then dialed Hoffman's number.

“Hoffman.” Her heart leapt at the sound of his voice, making her swallow. Embarrassing.

“Detective Kerry called me.” Emmy said, not even bothering to introduce herself.

There was a clearly frustrated noise on the other end of the line, something like a growl. “Dammit. I knew I shouldn't have let her out of my sight this morning.”

“She wants to ask me questions, but I'm not sure I'll be any help. I don't remember anything new.” Emmy wondered where the detective was if not at the precinct. Surely he didn't answer phone calls at crime scenes.

“I know…just answer her questions as best you can and you'll be out of there in no time. When are you going in?”

“This Saturday.”

“I’ll make sure I’m there.”

Emmy wasn’t sure why that suddenly reassured her. Maybe it was just because Mark already knew her story and what she had to say.

“You haven’t come by again.” Emmy found herself saying. It just slipped out of its own volition. As soon as the words were out she wished she could suck them back in.

It was quiet on the other end of the line for so long Emmy considered hanging up and pretending this never happened. Hoffman would be weirded out and avoid her and she could go about her business.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow night.” He whispered this for some reason. It was odd, but Emmy was flushed with relief.

“Okay.”

Mark hung up the phone, trying to think of an excuse to give John for walking away so briskly. A partial truth was probably the best policy, so when he made his way to the old man’s cluttered desk he said; “Sorry, Kerry called Emmory and Emmory called to let me know.”

John looked up from the schematics he had been sketching at. The two of them were alone for once. John had sent Amanda on some errand, probably to check on some potential subject. John had been preparing one of his old properties, a run down old house. “She’s keeping you informed?”

Mark shrugged, sitting across from John. “I think she was just confused. I had been the only detective she’s spoken with so far.”

John nodded and Mark was relieved that it had been believable enough. The older man went back to the schematic he had been working on. “You haven't said much about her. You're still checking up on her?”

Mark's entire body stiffened. “Yes, there isn't anything to report. She goes about her business. Work then home.” That was true, but Mark left out that it was like she was a ghost, floating between her daily routines as if she had died in that test, yet hadn't realized it. She didn't go anywhere during the weekend. Her car never left the driveway. She did any shopping after work. On the nights she was late Mark made sure to check the bar. She was never there. The test seemed to have shocked her into sobriety, but where was that spark of life John was always going on about? She was on autopilot, A spirit reliving their days.

The silence was tense. Mark could practically feel that John had more he wanted to ask, but was examining Mark's reaction to talking about it. It set Mark on edge, his back stiff, movements robotic as he fiddled with the blades that were set in the openings of a glass box.

“I think I would like to speak with her.” John said it casually, almost flippantly. As if it couldn't have severe consequences to them or Emmory if it didn't go well.

Mark opened his mouth, his mind racing to find some excuse, some reason she wasn't ready to meet him. He was saved from this when the elevator started grinding down. Amanda had returned. John's eyes moved from Mark to directly behind him so that he could watch Amanda descend.

She emerged from the cage of the elevator, a large box in her arms. It was deposited in a pile of similar boxes. When Mark was able to get a clear look at Amanda's face he saw that it was streaked with tear tracks that she wasn't able to swipe away when her arms laden with the box. As soon as she saw him looking she was quick to clear them from her face. Mark's eyes flicked to John to see what the older man might be thinking of the sight.

Concern deepened the lines around his mouth and his eyes followed Amanda's movements closely. “Is that the last of it?” He asked, his voice gentle.

Amanda kicked the box she had just set down, causing the sound of delicate glass tinkling to erupt. “I hope so, there has To be thousands of syringes here. If it isn't enough we'll have to fill that pit with something else.”

A snarky comment bubbled up the back of Hoffman's throat. Amanda was staring him down as if she expected it. However it was in Mark's best interest not to rock the boat, so he just turned back to his own project.

John wouldn't let him be silent for long. “How about your fellow detective? How is Matthews doing?”

Mark scoffed, not wanting to show any relief at the change of subject Amanda had brought with her. “He's skulking about, drinking more than ever, chain smoking. His son keeps getting into more and more trouble. Eric is trying to keep his head down and himself behind the desk, with Internal Affairs breathing down his neck he can't do much else.”

John wheeled himself over, the wheelchair he was sitting in creaking. Amanda took the opportunity to escape to her makeshift room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. John either didn't notice or pretended not to as he inspected Mark's handy work, pushing at one of the blades fitted into the glass box. “Perfect. We're almost ready for our next game to begin. I think we need to put a little more strain on detective Matthews.” He reached across the desk to grab a file he'd prepared and handed it to Hoffman.

“This is a friend of his. I'm sure you're familiar with him.”

Mark opened the file to see that it was a man named Michael. Mark was indeed familiar with him. He wasn't sure of Michael's last name, as Eric was closer with him, But he knew he was an informant that Eric used to work with quite a bit. Along with Michael's profile there were also schematics.

“A venus fly trap?” Mark asked, one of his brows raising.

“I thought it was rather clever.” John had a small, very satisfied smirk on his face.

Mark huffed and closed the folder. “Sure.”

Emmy quickly regretted inviting Hoffman over. She had no idea what to do with him. She thought briefly about making him dinner, but the image of the detective sitting at her kitchen island eating her sub par cooking made her want to laugh herself off of a bridge. She was being dramatic, but she had no idea how to entertain guests. She had thought about getting a six pack of beer, had even gone to the closest store, but as soon as her fingers had brushed one of the bottles she was flooded with the sound of the glass shards crunching beneath her knees. Sharp edges cut deep into her skin. The urge to drink was not stronger than the sickening memory. She'd whipped her hand away so quickly she'd nearly wacked some poor guy in the face.

Now she was pacing around her living room fretting. Should she put on some music? She usually had the TV playing for some background noise, but maybe that would be too disruptive.

She had the remote in her hand to turn it off, trying to think of what music to listen to, when her time was up and the dreaded knock was at her door. Shit she'd lost track of time. “Hold on!” She called, tossing the remote down into the couch. She took in a deep breath, tugging at her shirt nervously.

Feeling like she had herself together she went to open the door. Hoffman stood there, a patient smile on his face.

Emmy’s heart was so far up her throat she could barely get out a meek; “Hello, Detective.” and she stepped to the side to let him in.

“Why don’t you call me Mark.” Hoffman said as he stepped into her home. “No need to be so formal.”

Emmy had quickly forgotten how deep his voice was until this very moment. Was that what had her chest buzzing? Or was it the nerves? “Okay, would you like something to drink? Water, coffee, tea?” She took his jacket from him after he shrugged it off and hung it on her coat rack, then gestured for him to make himself comfortable on the couch.

“Tea would be nice.” Hoffman said, doing just as Emmy had directed him to, sitting down on the couch and turning his attention to the TV. Commercials were running at the moment.

Emmy sang the ch-ch-ch-chia along with the television as she walked into the kitchen. By now she could probably recite the entire thing from memory. “You want lemon? Honey?”

“Both. You ever have one of these things?”

Emmy turned around to glance at the commercial. The horrid Scooby Chia Pet grew plant hair before her eyes. “Ah, no. They always seemed so gimmicky to me…and a little creepy.” She squinted at the TV, then turned back to her kettle. “What about you?”

“Nah, don’t have much of a green thumb. Tried to keep plants before, but never had any success.”

A memory came to her then, an infomercial with an older woman gasping about white sponges that you could paint with. Emmy had begged and begged her mother for them. She had never been artistically inclined before, but the woman's enthusiasm and joy at the simple techniques was infectious. Emmy simply had to experience that for herself. For Christmas one year her mother had finally relented and gotten them for her. Emmy had proceeded to fill up sketchbook after sketchbook. Little paintings were strewn all over the house. Emmy had painted with them until every sponge was a muddy brown color, not a speck of white to be seen, and the colors ran together, no longer vibrant. She had tried to beg her mom for more, but this time she had been firm, and Emmy was forced to move onto something new.

“I was a sucker for those rainbow sponges.”

“Really?”

Emmy didn't turn to look at him, maybe a little nervous for what she would see in his face. “Yeah. I used them until they were useless.”

Placing the kettle onto a tray along with a couple of mugs and plenty of honey and lemon Emmy made her way back into the living room just in time for Wheel of Fortune to start. She poured them each a cup, letting Hoffman add to his as he liked.

Hoffman leaned forward to spoon honey into his mug. “Oh, so you're a writer and an artist?” His smile at her was loose and lopsided. It was such an easy expression on him, one he used many times.

She had to turn her face away from him. Looking directly into his face was suddenly too much. Thankfully the Wheel of Fortune theme drew Hoffman’s attention from her and back to the tv.

“You any good at this game?” He asked, easing back into her couch as if it were the one in his own living room. Emmy felt herself relaxing back as well. She didn't know what it was about that moment, why she had been so on edge, and she wasn't exactly sure what it was she had been feeling. Her face was uncomfortably warm.

“I'm not sure…I think so? It's kind of easy once they start buying all the vowels.”

Hoffman smiled at her. It was softer this time and made Emmy's shoulders relax. “Let's see who guesses first then. I bet you're better than you think.”

Emmy nodded, wondering if she would ever get over the way his voice sounded. It reverberated down to her core and bounced around the cavity of her chest. She felt like a freak for fixating on it, but she couldn't help it. She'd never heard anything like it before. Not in person anyway.

The first puzzle was up and the category was On The Map. Emmy let out an embarrassed giggle. “Uh oh. I was never very good at geography.”

“Sounds like this one is mine then.” Hoffman said with a grin. His arm was relaxed along the back of the couch. If Emmy just leaned over she'd be right against his side.

Emmy swallowed, keeping her eyes on the tv. It was only a two word phrase, but sometimes those were harder for her. The first contestant spun the wheel and guessed T then immediately bought a vowel; O. The T went to the end of the first word and there were three O's. Emmy huffed. She was totally lost. “Maybe the first word is port?”

“Hmmmm. I think it's Fort Novosel.” Mark said, taking a sip of his tea.

Mark turned out to be right. The contestants went through nearly all of the consonants until someone finally guessed V.

“You are good at this.” Emmy smiled. She'd get the next one.

And she did. The next category was characters. A contestant guessed T again and bought U. Another guessed R then H and Emmy blurted out “King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.”

Mark slapped his thigh And laughed when a contestant solved it not long after. “So you were being modest earlier!

Emmy's heart beat hard in her chest and her face grew warm with pleasure at the praise. “I got lucky that time.” She said, hoping he didn't notice the color in her cheeks.

They ended Up being tied by the end of the show, both being stumped by the bonus puzzle at the end. Once it was over Emmy turned off the tv. Hoffman set down his empty cup, rolling his neck and shoulders with a yawn.

“Suppose I should get out of your hair.” He said. He moved to get up on his feet and Emmy stood with him.

“I really appreciate you coming.” It was out of her before she could think about it. Hoffman kept his face neutral except for a small smile. “It's just…it feels weird being around anyone else.” She left out that she only had one friend anyway. Didn't need to embarrass herself further.

Hoffman got his jacket off of her coat rack and shrugged himself into it. “It's a bit unorthodox, but you survivors are so rare.” He turned to her. There was a smile on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was a strange look, like he had something on his mind that he didn't want to say out loud. “Making sure you're handling everything just seems right. It's unfortunate you don't have more of a support system but-” his eyes darkened and he looked lost within himself for a moment before continuing. “Jigsaw seems to choose them that way.”

Emmy wrapped her arms around herself. “I guess people who have them don't need to go through that.”

That dark look was still in his eyes when he replied. “You would think.”

“Yeah.” She whispered, looking down at the floor. “You would.”

They stood there for a few more moments, mulling that over, the Hoffman shifted and Emmy looked up, rubbing Her upper arms and forcing a smile onto her face. “Sorry. I shouldn't keep you any longer.”

His face lightened, “I’d been meaning to ask.” He gestured toward Emmy’s bookshelf. “Could I borrow the first Misery book?”

Emmy turned to look at her collection, then back at the detective with raised eyebrows. “You want to read a bodice ripper romance?”

“I’d like to give it a try. You like it so much, it must be good.”

Emmy’s cheeks grew warm at that, even though she got the impression he was just saying that and didn’t actually mean it. He had to know they were trashy fun books, nothing to take seriously. Still she went over to her bookshelf to pull out Misery. Hoffman smiled as she handed it to him “Take good care of it.” She warned.

“Of course.” He said. A glint flashed through his eyes. “Next time I come over we can talk about it.”

A giggle wanted out of Emmy’s throat, but she swallowed it down, forcing it back into her chest. It felt foolish, childish even. She wasn’t some teen in highschool, not to mention it felt out of place in someone who had gone through what she had. Looking at him, feeling what she was feeling as he looked back, had her out of sorts, misplaced, as if she wasn’t meant to be there. It was wrong somehow, to feel anything.

“I’d like that.” Was what she could manage.

Hoffman looked her face over like he was trying to read her. Could he see through her? Did he hear what was going through her head? When Emmy looked back at him all she could see was his face, his blue eyes, dark hair carefully combed, a smile on his full lips that was nowhere close to crinkling the corner of his eyes. She would not begin to guess at what he could be thinking, and she didn’t want to.

Mark cracked that book as soon as he got home, laying across his couch and the tv on low in the background. It was junk food alright, nothing to be thought about, just enjoyed. Mark could tell that Paul Sheldon had known what he was doing when he’d written this. It was written to make money, not say something. Mark would have to try some of the man’s other books, see what he could really do. He wondered which one Emmory might recommend, which one she’d pull from her bookshelf and hand to him. He’d have to ask her when he saw her again. Or after he finished the Misery series. As trashy as it was he was still turning the pages.

#mark hoffman #saw 2004 #sawposting #saw franchise #saw x #mark hoffman x oc #saw movies #keep away from the edge

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freedompanda · 4 days ago

Text

For my American Friends

I feel now is a good time to spread this news. Much like how the internet came together to help share information with the Ukrainians for resisting Russia, I’m here delivering help of a similar nature to those that could be impacted by this latest election in the US. There are ways to communicate relatively securely, outside of Big Brother's social media. I bring this up so that we can minimize the amount of gatherable information that could be used to hurt you, or others you know, in the coming years as changes are made. I'm not going to tell you how or why to use them, I'm just going to provide you with the information.

WhatsApp – While not my personal favorite, since Facebook/Meta is the parent company, WhatsApp is free, globally popular, and widely-used, featuring the ability to lock chats with passwords, disappearing messages, photos and videos that are deleted after being opened, profile photo privacy, the ability to lock the app itself so that only your biometrics can unlock it, encrypted backups, the ability to set custom permissions for who can see you online or when you last used the app, and of course End-to-End Encryption for all conversations EXCEPT those with business accounts. WhatsApp is a good option for those who are not really technically savvy, but still value privacy – if one trusts Facebook/Meta to adequately protect their privacy. It does require a phone number to sign up, however.

Signal - Signal is an end-to-end encrypted messaging software. meaning that the contents of your conversation is secure. The protocol they use (which they created) is seen as the best known protocol for asynchronous messaging by cybersecurity researchers. It's so good that it has been implemented in WhatsApp and in Messenger's secret chats. This app has even been mentioned in the Right-wing author Jack Carr's Political Thriller about a Navy SEAL named James Reece, as being a preferred method of secure communication on the civilian side for operators. (Jack Carr is a former US Navy SEAL.) It's run by a Non-Profit organization called Signal Foundation, and it's mission is to "protect free expression and enable secure global communication through open source privacy technology." It allows secure messaging, voice calls, and video calls. The only downside is that app links to your phone number, so while your conversations and content are secure, who you are talking to is not. Signal is available on Windows, Mac, Andriod, Linus, and iOS.

Session - Session is an end-to-end encrypted messenger that minimises sensitive metadata, designed and built for people who want absolute privacy and freedom from any form of surveillance. Session is an open-source, public-key-based secure messaging application which uses a set of decentralized storage servers and an onion routing protocol to send end-to-end encrypted messages with minimal exposure of user metadata. This means no phone numbers, no metadata for digital footprints, and censorship resistance. It features group chats, the ability to send documents, files, and images securely, and has added voice messages, though these can be spotty. It’s slow, but effective, and be downloaded on Android, F-Droid, iPhone, Mac, Windows, and Linux.

Briar - If you have an Android phone, Briar is another option you have. It features a decentralized network (it’s peer-to-peer encrypted, rather than relying on a central server), meaning messages are synced directly between user devices. It also means that even if the internet is down, it can sync via Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, or even memory cards, meaning information can continue to flow even during a crisis. In the event the internet is functioning, it can sync via the Tor network, protecting users and their relationships from surveillance. Other features: - Screenshots and screen recording are disabled by default - Each user’s contact list is encrypted and stored on her own device. - Briar’s end-to-end encryption prevents keyword filtering, and because of its decentralized design there are no servers to block. - Every user who subscribes to a forum keeps a copy of its content, so there’s no single point where a post can be deleted. - Briar’s forums have no central server to attack, and every subscriber has access to the content even if they’re offline. - Doesn’t require any user data like name and phone number. The downside is that it is text-only and limited to Android Devices, but they do offer Briar Mailbox to deliver messages securely to those who are online at different times. Briar’s goal is “to enable people in any country to create safe spaces where they can debate any topic, plan events, and organize social movements”

Protonmail - A free end-to-end encrypted AND zero-access encryption email service based out of Switzerland, you can safely email with peace of mind that your content is secure. Unlike Google, Outlook, Yahoo, and others, Proton's zero-access encryption means they can't even view the contents of your emails or attachments. As a Swiss-owned company they are not allowed to share information with foreign law enforcement under criminal penalty and they are politically neutral, meaning they won't be pressured by foreign governments. Furthermore, Switzerland has a constitutional right to privacy and strict data protection laws. Unlike companies in other countries, Proton cannot be compelled by foreign or Swiss authorities to engage in bulk surveillance.

Additional Information, from Proton’s Website: Switzerland has strong legal protections for individual rights, and in fact the Swiss Federal Constitution(new window) explicitly establishes a constitutional right to privacy. (In the US, this right is merely implied.) Specifically, Article 13 safeguards privacy in personal or family life and within one’s home, and the Swiss Civil Code(new window) translates this right into statutory law in Article 28.

In the US and EU, authorities can issue gag orders to prevent an individual from knowing they are being investigated or under surveillance. While this type of order also exists in Switzerland, the prosecutors have an obligation to notify the target of surveillance, and the target has an opportunity to appeal in court. In Switzerland, there are no such things as national security letters(new window), and all surveillance requests must go through the courts. Warrantless surveillance, like that practiced in the US where the FBI conducts 3.4 million searches per year(new window) with little oversight, is illegal and not permitted in Switzerland.

Switzerland also benefits from a unique legal provision with Article 271 of the Swiss Criminal Code(new window), which forbids any Swiss company from assisting foreign law enforcement, under threat of criminal penalty. While Switzerland is party to certain international legal assistance agreements, all requests under such agreements must hold up under Swiss law, which has much stricter privacy provisions. All foreign requests are assessed by the Swiss government, which generally does not assist requests from countries with poor rule of law or lack an independent judiciary.

Swiss law has several more unique points. First, it preserves end-to-end encryption, and unlike in the US, UK, or EU, there is no legislation that has been introduced or considered to limit the right to encryption. Second, Swiss law protects no-logs VPN(new window) meaning that Proton VPN does not have logging obligations. While numerous VPNs claim no-logs, these claims generally do not stand up legally because in most jurisdictions, governments can request that the VPN in question starts logging. So the VPN is only no-logs until the government asks. However, in Switzerland, the law does not allow the government to compel Proton VPN to start logging.

We’ve also fought to ensure that Switzerland remains a legal jurisdiction that respects and protects privacy.

Nearly every country in the world has laws governing lawful interception of electronic communications for law enforcement purposes. In Switzerland, these regulations are set out in the Swiss Federal Act on the Surveillance of Post and Telecommunications (SPTA), which was last revised on March 18, 2018. In May 2020, we challenged a decision of the Swiss government over what we believed was an improper attempt to use telecommunications laws to undermine privacy.

In October 2021, The Swiss Federal Administrative Court ultimately agreed with us and ruled that email companies cannot be considered telecommunication providers. This means Proton isn’t required to follow any of the SPTA’s mandatory data retention rules, nor are we bound by a full obligation to identify Proton Mail users. Moreover, as a Swiss company, Proton Mail cannot be compelled to engage in bulk surveillance on behalf of US or Swiss intelligence agencies. (Links can be found at: proton.me/blog/switzerland)

#american politics #kamala harris #transgender #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #antifascist #anti trump #freedom #information #resistance

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uptoolateart · 6 months ago

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What We're Made Of - Chs 5 & 6

PREVIEW:

Chloe sat on her sofa, staring into the middle distance, as she’d done ever since Leo had left for work and she’d dropped Izabel off at school.

It was hard to say how much time had passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. At some indeterminate point, her mind had drifted right out of her body, floating disconnected in a nightmare space. Against her will, the last twenty-four hours replayed in her head, images whipping through without connection.

Leo – her husband – a man she surely didn’t deserve – coming home yesterday with wild tales of inexplicable child abductions in Europe. The look he’d given her when she’d snapped at him to stop – like he’d just remembered she was more fragile than she wanted anyone to know.

Scrolling through the news on her phone, about a million things she wished she could surgically remove from her memory banks. Things that were only possible with magic.

Video footage of Cat Noir – of Adrien Agreste – being torn apart by some beast dredged up from the pits of Hell. Ladybug – Marinette Agreste – racing over to her husband’s remains and sobbing like her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

Adrien’s messages, begging Chloe for information that might help them find their son after he was taken by Lila.

Ignoring Adrien’s messages, while the guilt gnawed at every nerve in her body – the knowledge thick in her mind that she was responsible for everything that had happened.

Felix Fathom’s announcement that he was a sentibeing, for god’s sake.

And then….

She squeezed her eyes shut, the final memory somehow more painful than all the others. But even behind the darkness of her lids, she still saw Adrien’s latest message, read so many times that his words were branded in her mind.

And when she opened her eyes and allowed her gaze to land on the phone held in her shaking hand – when she steeled herself to unlock the screen – there was the message again, just like before. Not some figment of her imagination but real.

Read at Ao3

#ml fic #ml fanfic #ml au #chloe bourgeois #married chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois redemption #married adrinette #miraculous fanworks #miraculous ladybug

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richincolor · 1 year ago

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New Releases

A bunch of fun books out this week. What will you be reading?

You’re Not Supposed to Die Tonight by Kalynn Bayron Bloomsbury YA

This heart-pounding slasher by New York Times bestselling author Kalynn Bayron is perfect for fans of Fear Street.

Charity Curtis has the summer job of her dreams, playing the “final girl” at Camp Mirror Lake. Guests pay to be scared in this full-contact terror game, as Charity and her summer crew recreate scenes from a classic slasher film, Curse of Camp Mirror Lake. The more realistic the fear, the better for business.

But the last weekend of the season, Charity’s co-workers begin disappearing. And when one ends up dead, Charity’s role as the final girl suddenly becomes all too real. If Charity and her girlfriend Bezi hope to survive the night, they’ll need figure out what this killer is after. Is there is more to the story of Mirror Lake and its dangerous past than Charity ever suspected?

Family Style: Memories of an American from Vietnam by Thien Pham First Second

A moving young adult graphic memoir about a Vietnamese immigrant boy’s search for belonging in America, perfect for fans of American Born Chinese and The Best We Could Do !

Thien’s first memory isn’t a sight or a sound. It’s the sweetness of watermelon and the saltiness of fish. It’s the taste of the foods he ate while adrift at sea as his family fled Vietnam.

After the Pham family arrives at a refugee camp in Thailand, they struggle to survive. Things don’t get much easier once they resettle in California. And through each chapter of their lives, food takes on a new meaning. Strawberries come to signify struggle as Thien’s mom and dad look for work. Potato chips are an indulgence that bring Thien so much joy that they become a necessity.

Behind every cut of steak and inside every croissant lies a story. And for Thien Pham, that story is about a search– for belonging, for happiness, for the American dream.

This Town is on Fire by Pamela N. Harris Quill Tree Books

From the critically acclaimed author of When You Look Like Us comes a page-turning YA contemporary novel about what happens when the latest “Becky” on the internet is your best friend. A lot is up in the air in Naomi Henry’s her spot as a varsity cheer flier, her classmates’ reaction to the debut of her natural hair, and her crush on the guy who’s always been like a brother to her. With so much uncertainty, she feels lucky to have a best friend like Kylie to keep her grounded. After all, they’re practically sisters—Naomi’s mom took care of Kylie and her twin brother for years. But then a video of Kylie calling the cops on two Black teens in a shopping store parking lot goes viral. Naomi is shaken, and her town is reeling from the publicity. While Naomi tries to reckon with Kylie, the other Black students in their high school are questioning their friendship, and her former friends are wondering where this new “woke” Naomi came from. Although Naomi wants to stand by her best friend, she now can’t help but see everything in a different light. As tensions in her town escalate, Naomi finds herself engaging in protests that are on the cusp of being illegal. And then a bomb explodes, and someone is found dead. Will Naomi be caught in the center of the blast?

And Break Pretty Things (Sacred Bone #1) by Lena Jeong HarperCollins

Inspired by Korean history and myths, the first book in the Sacred Bone series is a rich and evocative high-stakes fantasy that is perfect for fans of Gallant and Six Crimson Cranes.

Mirae was meant to save her queendom, but the ceremony before her coronation ends in terror and death, unlocking a strange new power within her and foretelling the return of a monster even the gods fear. Amid the chaos, Mirae’s beloved older brother is taken—threatening the peninsula’s already tenuous truce.

Desperate to save her brother and defeat this ancient enemy before the queendom is beset by war, Mirae sets out on a journey with an unlikely group of companions while her unpredictable magic gives her terrifying visions of a future she must stop at any cost.

An Echo in the City by K.X. Song Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Sixteen-year-old Phoenix knows her parents have invested thousands of dollars to help her leave Hong Kong and get an elite Ivy League education. They think America means big status, big dreams, and big bank accounts. But Phoenix doesn’t want big; she just wants home. The trouble is, she doesn’t know where that is… until the Hong Kong protest movement unfolds, and she learns the city she’s come to love is in danger of disappearing.

Seventeen-year-old Kai sees himself as an artist, not a filial son, and certainly not a cop. But when his mother dies, he’s forced to leave Shanghai to reunite with his estranged father, a respected police officer, who’s already enrolled him in the Hong Kong police academy. Kai wants to hate his job, but instead, he finds himself craving his father’s approval. And when he accidentally swaps phones with Phoenix and discovers she’s part of a protest network, he finds a way to earn it: by infiltrating the group and reporting their plans back to the police.

As Kai and Phoenix join the struggle for the future of Hong Kong, a spark forms between them, pulling them together even as their two worlds try to force them apart. But when their relationship is built on secrets and deception, will they still love the person left behind when the lies fall away?

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks

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this-has-returned · 2 years ago

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Dwarf Fortress x Deep Rock Galactic - Part 5

“I want to fight!” Urist protested.

Ulla scratched the back of her neck. “I dunno, lad... You’ve only watched the corporate training videos. It’s a helluva lot more intense once you’re in the tunnels, you know...”

“I’ve seen combat before,” Urist explained. “I’ve spilled blood! I’ve fought goblin hordes! I’ve even helped to take down a great beast ten times my own size, and there were only six other dwarves there with me! We only suffered three casualties!”

“Can you fire a gun?” Thorn asked as they approached. “Machine-carved jadiz, launched to lethal speeds with a nitra-magnite powder mix, ignited with a flint primer. Do you know how to aim and fire such a thing out of a gun, with the ability to kill?”

“The only part I understood was ‘flint’...” Urist admitted.

“For the love of...” muttered Thorn.

“I don’t understand the problem!” Urist spat. “Just give me a fine spear, and I’ll send those glyphids running back to their nests in no time!”

“A spear??” exclaimed Thorn, wide-eyed. “You expect us to hand your sorry arse over to the glyphid hordes with a bloody spear?!”

“Why not?” asked Donner, emerging from medical, freshly-showered and stark-naked. He walked over to one of the wardrobe dispensers to fetch a new outfit.

“’Why not’??” Ulla replied. “Donner, the lad wants to handle *modern* problems with *stone-age* solutions!!”

“Hold on,” the driller said, holding up a hand. “Technically, the spears that Urist has trained with would be been made of steel, at least; he’s mentioned steel before, so his people must have been at that level of technology, or higher.”

Urist nodded, confirming Donner’s assumptions. Ulla rolled her eyes.

“Right,” Thorn said, exasperated. “So what’s the latest thing you know, newbie? Spear? Bow and arrow? Crossbow? Musket? Revolver? Do you know what a clip or magazine is??”

“Well,” stammered Urist, “we had arch—”

“Also,” Donner interrupted, still naked, “he has the muscle memory and combat training of a speardwarf. He claims to have slain great beasts, with help. I say let him have a few rounds of glyphids, with a spear in hand. See what happens. Have someone with a gun nearby, just in case. Rock and Stone, and all that.”

Urist had hope in his eyes, and looked to Thorn and Ulla, like a child asking for approval.

Ulla wanted no part of this, and made a gesture to brush away the conversation as she walked back to the Abyss Bar.

Thorn mulled it over for a few seconds, though. “Feck it all. Sure. Let’s give the crazy bastard a spear, and I’ll join him on his first drop.”

“Wait, truly??” Urist said, filing with excitement. “This isn’t you pissing about, right??”

“Yes, I’m quite serious,” Thorn confirmed. “I’ll buy you ten rounds at the bar, if you manage to do a full drop without my guns. Hell, I’ll buy you five, if you kill any glyphid larger than a swarmer all by yourself, so long as you make it back to the space rig with minimal injury, regardless of how many shots I fire. It’s a deal.”

They and the newcomer shook hands on it. Urist was beside himself with eagerness, while Thorn was deadpan as usual.

“This is a reckless and irresponsible decision, gunner,” said Klaus’s voice over the intercom. “I’m not unlocking that drop pod, just so you can feed some hopeless traveler to the bugs. It would be an egregious waste of resources, for one thing.”

“Yeah,” Ulla added angrily, shouting from the bar. “Also, it would be bad, Thorn. You would feel bad. Sending new people on suicide missions is bad, you understand??”

Thorn crossed their arms. “Obviously we go with a hazard 1 drop. Donner said the Salt Pits should be clear, right? Besides, good ol’ Klaus had no fucking problems whatsoever sending me into a wave of bugs on my first training drop. Alone. You remember that, Klaus?”

The space rig was silent for a moment before Klaus responded: “Well, you lived, didn’t you? I told you that I had faith in your ability.”

“Sure,” said Thorn, “after you said your goodbyes, and killed the comm link. You only backpedaled after seismic calmed down, because everything else was dead, except me.”

Silence, again. Reiner emerged from his capsule room, and jogged over to his locker to retrieve something.

“Ugh, fine,” said Klaus. “There’s a spot in the Salt Pits that practically rates a zero on the hazard scale. If you go now, it should stay that way when you land. Next spike in bug activity is predicted to occur in 45 minutes. It’s a simple morkite run, in what could be the most boring cave system in all of Hoxxes.”

The scout eagerly came up to Urist with a metal spear in hand. “Take this, before you go! This baby is modified from a standard-issue pickaxe, but the spearhead is an authentic one that my great-great-great-grandmother used, way back in an old mountainhome! Real, original, dwarven steel!”

Urist couldn’t believe it. The entire spear was made of metal, and finely-crafted.

“It’s a family hierloom,” Reiner continued, “but it would mean a lot to me if someone like you would slay a glyphid with it. I think my ancestors would have loved to see it in action again, especially in traditionally-trained hands. I’m too used to guns and pickaxes, so it’s been collecting dust this whole time.”

“It’s perfect!” Urist said with awe, gently accepting the spear. He started with some careful movements, testing inertia, before moving up to full-force swings, causing the scout and gunner to take a few steps back. “It’s absolutely wonderful; you have my deepest thanks, Reiner! Truly! Rock and Stone!”

Check out the infopage!

#dwarf fortress #deep rock galactic #strike the earth #rock and stone

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kennedyxneills · 2 years ago

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KENNEDY O’NEILL’S PHONE - task #001

THE BASICS:

Brand of Phone - iphone

Color - soft pink

Case - kennedy will change out her cases every few months, once they start to get a little wear in tear (as the ones she gets aren’t that high quality, moreso cute). her latest is this case. and she has this popsocket.

Locked or Unlocked? - kennedy uses facial recognition but also has a pin set up as well.

Wallpaper - this cute little pattern

Lockscreen - a photo of her and vivi at echo beach from the summer

USAGE:

Time - she can be upwards of five hours. her weekdays start with a solid 30 minutes waking up, scrolling through either tiktok or instagram; on weekends that can stretch onto 2 hours or longer if she lets it. and while she doesn’t use her phone camera much for pictures, when the impromptu inspiration hits, she will spend excess time to get the right shot and will play photographer for a party or just a girl’s night out.

Web Tabs - there is a grouping of many many tabs from etsy with items, specifically jewelry she wants. amazon is constantly open with at least one thing or two. there’s a tab up on the location of her next photography session closer to center Salem.

Google - ‘how long does leftover sushi stay good for?’

Voicemail - there’s some old medical ones saved mostly because she only half understands what they say and wants to save them just in case it’s important.

Photos - it may be a spicy picture she may or may not have sent someone in order to tempt them into coming over...

SOCIAL MEDIA:

@ - kennedyxo

Instagram - see above.

Snapchat - she has it and uses it mostly when talking to guys...

Tinder/Bumble/Hinge/Grindr/Etc. - she has deleted and undeleted tinder, bumble, and hinge several times. currently she has them all deleted.

Spotify - some of her top played songs: wreckage by zachary staines; walkin’ after midnight by patsy cline, vienna by billy joel; craigslist personals by wrenn; want you like that by charlotte sands; beth by kiss; fmrn by lilyisthatyou; sour reimagined by stef; babe, can i call? by the hunna; lifts by lia marie johnson; i don’t like you by grace vanderwaal; black on black by greyson chance

Tiktok - she does not post videos but watches quite a bit. she’s on the messy side of tiktok hearing about people’s drama, fashion tiktok with thrift hauls, and a good amount of thirst traps with the latest niche being hockey players.

Facebook - she has it but rarely posts, mostly saving it for the memories.

ft. @vivihayes @enzohuang @aylinxyilmazx @selintemel

#nightrest:task001 #phone #task

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govindhtech · 5 months ago

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How will AI Smartphones store and secure Micron data?

What is AI Smartphone AI Smartphones have made mobile technology attractive this year. Due to her voracious curiosity and tech addiction, he lines up for the latest smartphone introduction every year. His friends may joke that he switches phones more often than her single malt tastes, but this annual routine lets Him witness technology’s quick growth. Each unboxing reveals what’s new in hardware and software, especially as smartphones become more and wiser. Smartphones with generative AI improve customer experience tremendously.

This passion goes beyond enjoying the latest gadgets it’s about seeing how intelligent operating systems are changing Micron mobile device interactions. Generational AI moves from data centres to Micron smartphones, turning them into hubs of personalised technology and AI-driven companions that change mobile user interaction.

This revolution is driven by Micron Technology. Generative AI’s massive data demands are met by Micron’s breakthrough memory and storage devices, making the future a reality. We need these technical advances as smartphones become active personal companions that are intimately incorporated into people daily lives. Micron can only image how such advice improves their experiences.

One must grasp the complex relationship between large language models (LLMs) like Llama 2, Google Gemini, and ChatGPT and their powerful hardware to fully appreciate these technologies. Micron’s breakthrough technologies satisfy the tremendous memory and speed needs of billion-parameter AI models. Modern customers will expect their gadgets to enable complex AI features, hence high-capacity, efficient memory systems are essential.

The interaction between Micron and their devices will shift dramatically as this new era begins. AI Smartphones will become intimate companions, completely integrated into Micron daily lives, providing insightful recommendations and enhancing their experiences in ways Micron cannot yet envision. This blog discusses how generative AI is transforming smartphone technology and giving users a seamless, intuitive, and highly personalised digital experience.

Generative AI unlocks the best smartphone companion experience AI Features in Smartphones

Smartphones are getting science fiction-like features from generative AI. Generative AI uses algorithms and models to generate text, graphics, and predictions from large data sets. Smartphones are becoming consumer, production, and personal assistance tools thanks to this transformational technology.

Generative AI can generate real-time content based on user inputs. Users may order digital artwork or tweak images and videos using AI-powered apps that go beyond filters and editing tools. Real-time language translation, which now includes voice and video calls, is another important skill. A seamless communication experience with almost no language barrier reduces the worldwide divide in personal and professional connections.

Additionally, generative AI analyses user behaviour, preferences, and previous interactions to improve personalised recommendations. AI Smartphones can predict needs and suggest solutions for daily activities and difficult decisions using this data-driven approach. It can also let users navigate interactive instructional information at their own pace and style, personalising the learning experience like never before.

Generative AI-powered features demand powerful processing and memory and storage. Processing on the device ensures responsiveness and data privacy. As these technologies mature, they will improve user interaction, making smartphones a personalised digital companion that learns and grows with users.

How AI is humanising mobile AI-enabled smartphones will blur the border between digital and physical realities, enabling new interactive and immersive experiences that are hard to envision. Generative AI has great potential to revolutionise daily life and increase Micron capabilities.

Integrated XR and spatial computing with AI is a promising future. Future smartphones may use XR to display digital content in real time. Imagine pointing your smartphone to a restaurant and getting meal recommendations personalised to your taste and dietary preferences or seeing how a piece of furniture might appear in your home, configured to your space and colour scheme, instantly.

Health monitoring can also be transformed. AI Smartphones could measure health parameters and anticipate health risks before they happen. These devices could use advanced sensors and AI-driven analytics to monitor voice tone, breathing patterns, and eye movements to warn of health risks like heart disease or diabetic changes, coordinating with medical professionals to provide timely interventions.

AI could also make smartphones highly secure by using biometric data like facial recognition, retinal scans, and behavioural patterns to make device and app access highly personal and secure. This might eliminate passwords and other weak security methods.

AI assistants will likely become fully interactive and capable of complex communication and decision-making. This companion might manage schedules, suggest material, perform menial activities, and provide psychological support, learning from encounters to improve effectiveness and personalization. As generative AI capabilities increase, devices will be able to construct and mimic complex virtual worlds, allowing users to interact with virtual spaces for entertainment, education, and social interaction in new ways.

How does it affect AI Smartphones memory and storage? A phone needs what to use AI apps? Generative AI becomes a key mobile ecosystem innovation driver as it grows. High capacity and bandwidth memory and storage are needed to support flagship phones’ advanced sensors, cameras, and form factors. Data is captured and saved on the device, computed, and processed on the edge (not in the cloud) to provide important and predictive insights.

AI-enabled cellphones will improve features and change how Micron perceives and interacts with its environment. This future will improve human capacities and experiences, making life more convenient, connected, and healthy not just technologically. These complicated advances require continuing AI technology advancement and major hardware improvements like Micron’s to provide these unimagined features.

How Micron’s solutions maximise AI smartphones and super companions Micron UFS 4.0 and LPDDR5X DRAM Image Credit to Micron Micron’s UFS 4.0 and LPDDR5X DRAM technology are shaping AI smartphones capabilities. These developments are essential for on-device AI applications’ increasingly complicated needs, stretching smartphones’ limits.

For AI-driven applications’ rapid processing rates, Micron’s UFS 4.0 storage technology sets new norms. Its sequential read and write speeds are 4300 and 4000 MBps, respectively, double the performance of UFS 3.1. Increased data capacity enables AI applications to handle massive datasets faster, lowering latency and improving device responsiveness. Micron’s UFS 4.0’s 9×13 millimetre footprint allows for thinner, more attractive smartphone designs without sacrificing performance. The storage solution offers revolutionary features like One-button Refresh, automating data defragmentation for long-term device performance, providing like-new performance even after extended use.

Micron’s LPDDR5X DRAM delivers up to 9600 megabits per second (Mbps) to match AI’s high computational demands. AI applications that need fast access to big amounts of data need this performance boost and high-density packing to improve memory capacity in the same form factor. It offers 13% Gain, quicker Peak Bandwidth, and up to 27% power reduction with daily use.

Micron provides the foundation for real-time AI processing on the edge, improving smartphones’ computing and storage capabilities and enabling new AI functionalities. This strategic focus on high-performance and efficient memory and storage solutions positions Micron as a key enabler in the rapidly evolving landscape of AI mobile technology, enabling smartphones that can perform complex AI tasks directly on the device without cloud processing.

AI smartphones ethics AI smartphones are changing Micron lives, therefore it’s important to evaluate their ethical implications. Micron must traverse AI technology’s intricacies to stick to its beliefs like a moral compass. Privacy and data security are top priorities. How will AI Smartphones store and secure Micron data? Preventing data breaches and cyberattacks requires transparency and responsibility. Data usage and sharing must be disclosed to users, and AI decision-making must be free of bias and discrimination. AI procedures require transparency and explainability. Users should know how AI makes decisions to make informed choices. AI smartphones must balance user autonomy and AI-driven actions, which create rights and morality issues.

AI Smartphone AI smartphones environmental impact is unavoidable. Sustainable manufacturing, electronic waste reduction, and energy efficiency are essential to lessen their environmental impact. Finally, human-AI partnership must improve human dignity and well-being without replacing them. Micron may maximise AI smartphones potential while upholding its beliefs by acknowledging these ethical issues. Ethical consciousness will guide us through new ground and guarantee AI technology serves humanity.

AI devices and a new age Imagine a crisp Wednesday morning in the near future. Instead of a loud alarm, your AI-enhanced smartphone gently wakes you up after analysing your sleep patterns. As you stir, your phone starts your coffee maker, chooses a healthy meal based on your weekly health goals, and displays your optimised route to work, avoiding a traffic snarl it forecasted from historical data and real-time sensors.

Your phone examines your schedule as you eat, prioritises tasks by urgency and productivity, and seamlessly merges business and personal obligations. It reminds you of your daughter’s evening recital and to leave work early. It even recommends a present for her performance tonight that you may buy on your way home based on your past purchases and her hobbies.

This scenario is nearly a reality owing to firms like Micron. Micron is turning smartphones into personal assistants that manage digital activities and improve human experiences by expanding AI capabilities with UFS 4.0 and LPDDR5X DRAM.

AI in Smartphones These innovations reflect Micron’s mission to “enrich life for all”. Smartphones with AI on the edge think, react, forecast, and adapt to Micron requirements more personally. This new generation of smartphones promises to improve Micron productivity and leisure by keeping seamlessly connected to loved ones and passions while managing the challenges of Micron daily life.

As Micron adapts to these changes, let’s consider the impact of having a device that collaborates, advises, and supports every Micron decision. Micron’s dedication to pushing the limits of what’s possible makes the future about deeper, more meaningful interactions with the world. How will you change your daily life with this power? Limitless possibilities await your imagination.

Read more on Govindhtech.com

#Microndata #micron #ai #AISmartphones #Smartphones #LPDDR5XDRAM #llm #chatgpt #technology #technews #news

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20timeskirby · 11 months ago

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Side stories? What is that? Well, indeed, I decided to write complementary side stories of 20 Times Kirby! (or Twenty Times Kirby if you want to be specific)

If you are wondering why I decided to do that, that actually has to do with the rewrite version of Midnight Madness. So, before you read my explanation, read that first for it to make sense. Also, I will end up spoiling some things about the original 20 Times Kirby to properly explain, so yeah, don't say I didn't warn you.

So, as I started to rewrite Midnight Madness, I wondered what the heck to do with Marx's whole video. I mean, that whole thing was extremely OP. He has a machine that can turn ANYONE's memories into videos?! That is just way too powerful. He could stalk anyone with that! On top of all that, I had introduced later in the story not only Keeby's memory powers, but also a machine that Dedoo had that allowed Luz to make photos of her memories. If Dedoo had really made a machine that could turn everyone's memories into videos, why did Luz opt to use pictures instead, considering her whole story was miles wilder than Marx's? And Dedoo would have a machine that is way more powerful than Keeby's own powers? Things just... weren't adding up.

So, with all that in mind, I decided to simply remove the video completely, and instead have Marx tell the story to Anny. However, he just telling her like that wouldn't convince her at all. The whole reason the original version had Marx show Anny a video was because the story was really crazy and she wouldn't believe it otherwise. So, I basically went back to the original problem of that story: how would Anny believe Marx?

Long story short, I decided two things: one, introduce the machine that can make photos of memories here, to also make it less random whenever it's used for Luz at the end of the comic; two, make Anny actually unlock her memories as Marx tells the story, which also ties to a concept I introduced later in the story which is exactly like that.

What that caused to the rest of the story I won't detail here, but you may be wondering how that ties to the side stories. Well, the thing is, once I decided Marx would tell the story to Anny, and not show a neat video that could just show magically everything I wanted to tell readers, this meant that Marx couldn't tell the whole story. He could only tell what he saw and was told. Moreover, due to it being Marx telling something inside a story, this meant a lot of fluff of the original was cut.

In a way, this was a good thing, after all this made Midnight Madness be more to the point, and removed a bunch of unnecessary details that were instead quickly mentioned by Marx. But, writing that inside the story, I realized the limitations of a character telling a story within a story. Not only that, but I also was sad that some things that I wanted to rewrite were cut, in particular the whole thing with Kirby before Marx arrived.

Thinking of all that, one day I decided to experiment writing the story told by Marx in Midnight Madness from Kirby's perspective instead, as a separate thing. It started so well that I felt inspired to start two more, one story narrated by Panee, and another by Lindroganti. Realizing that there were many stories or events told/mentioned in 20TK that could be expanded, I decided to officially start a complementary project of writing stories in first person, narrated by various different characters, in a way to enrich my story if people want more.

To be clear, the plan is to make these stories extras. As in, if someone doesn't read the side stories, they can still completely understand the story of 20TK and won't be missing out crucial details. But if someone wants more, I am giving them more.

Right now, my plan is to release that story from Kirby's perspective in the coming months (aiming for February ideally, the latest being March), as that ties with Midnight Madness. I will write them in parallel with the rewrites of regular 20TK chapters, so don't worry. They will be posted in AO3 like the others, under a new series. As for them on Wordpress I'm currently unsure, since I want to keep them separate. I am debating maybe making a Wordpress site just for them, but unsure.

#twenty times kirby #behind the scenes

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autumn-sweet-fae · 3 years ago

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YO CAN I GET A RECAP ON THE SUBMAS WANTED AU? IM VERY CONFUSED AND INTERESTED HERE WHATS GOING ON LOL

Ok, I ended up having to rewrite this like three times because I didn’t want to make it too long. I tried to keep it as compact as I could, if you have any questions I’d be happy to expand on it.

(please note that I’m still plotting this story out and haven’t had much time to work on it so there’s still allot of gaps I’m trying to fill.)

ALRIGHT HERE WE GO

Akari discovers a second Arc-phone while shiny hunting in the Icelands. On this phone she only finds half finished notes on Snorunt and what looks to be a video log. Specifically, this Zorua/Zoroark video. She recognize the person’s voice and realizes the phone must have been Ingo’s. He must have arrive here just like she did if he had this phone, but then must have lost whatever memories he had of that arrival in the Zoroark attack.

She takes the phone back to him, and as she explains it/shows him the video Ingo has that weird experience of watching a memory he can’t recall. Then! Both phones suddenly react to being held by the correct person and a new feature is unlocked. A PC storage feature! They can now store pokemon into each phone. They also get notified of a new mission, ‘capture x number of each Hisui pokemon’, and next to the little reward notification it reads ‘return home’.

So they do that, then say a heartfelt goodbye to every one. Arezu, notably, gives Akari one last hair styling for free. On a whim Akari chooses the tied back style in white so to match with her lil Zorua.

Meanwhile, the events of my earlier post play out when Ingo goes to say goodbye to lady Sneaseler. Ending with the noble choosing to go with him to the future along with her basket full of her latest clutch of eggs.

They then arrive in modern Sinnoh! Where they, through shenanigans I’m still figuring out, are accused of stealing their Hisui pokemon from the new fancy totally not evil pokemon research lab. And the fact that Akari introduced herself to a cop as a member of the Galaxy Team, hoping that could make her seem credible in this time, is not helping their image either.

So Ingo and Akari are labeled as wanted suspects in the theft of multiple highly endangered pokemon. What images they could get of them from security footage and shaky phone pictures are spread across the news. Due to the new hair and poor pictures, Akari is not recognized as Dawn, however Ingo is immediately recognized due to his old uniform and the internet blows up with theories.

Poor Emmet learns of his brothers sudden return and criminal acts all at once when cornered by reporters outside the subway station. Elesa saved him and they are contacted by the police to ask what he knows. He knows nothing and asks them what they know and they tell him they can’t divulge that information during an ongoing investigation. Emmet and Elesa both go ‘fuck that’ and book tickets to Sinnoh.

Due to the lack of info on Akari, her light hair, and her closeness to Ingo, people start theorizing for a hot minute that she’s Ingo’s secret criminal daughter who pulled him into a life of crime! That excitement eventually dies down until it’s reported that she referred to Ingo as ‘Uncle Ingo’ and the internet is set ablaze again. This time with theories that she’s Emmets secret crime daughter who he abandoned so his brother left to join her in her life of crime!

Everything after is still wibbly wobbly, though I now have the idea of when Ingo and Emmet first reunite. I also definitely want to include team galactic as well because Drama. I plan to sit down and write a proper timeline out soon, but haven’t had the chance. You folks have been so kind, giving me ideas and helping me expand my own, I’m really glad so many are interested!

#submas #Ingo #Akari #emmet #Sneasler #submas wanted au #pokemon #pokemon legends arceus

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iguana-eyanna · 3 years ago

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Inside of Your Light

Pairing: Jeff Wittek x Plus Size Model! Reader

Summary: The vlog squad threw you a special surprise for your birthday, including a big present that may change your life.

a/n: songfic What Have I Done by Dermont Kennedy

You woke up around 7 o'clock in the morning when your phone rang. You groggily grab it and see that your boyfriend, Jeff, started to facetime you. "Hello?" you whispered as your eyes tried to pry open.

"Happy Birthday, baby girl." Jeff said brightly, making you blush.

"Aww, thank you, Jeff. But why did you call me so early in the morning?" You joked as you started to sit up on your mattress. "Sorry, I'm at the gym at the hotel and I thought you'd be awake right now." Jeff replied sheepishly. Jeff got offered a brand deal in New York so he wasn't able to celebrate your special day in LA.

"It's ok, I was meaning to get dolled up a bit before Carley and Erin pick me up to get our nails done." You started to yawn as it made Jeff's heart melt a bit. "You're so cute when you wake up." he said, admiring how the sun hits the back of your head.

You smirk back at the screen as you playfully roll your eyes. “And to everyone else in the world, I’m Frankenstein coming back from the dead.” Jeff laughed harder as he smiled at you. “I gotta go and wrap my reps. Just wanted to wish my best girl an amazing day.” You blow him an air kiss as he winked back. “Love you, babes.” You said as you got out of bed. “Love you more,” Jeff said before he hung up the call.

You take a deep breath and thought how lucky you were to be with a guy like Jeff. You and Jeff joined the vlog squad around the same time a few years back. You were a plus-size model for a few companies like Fashion Nova and Pretty Little Thing. Once you started off your YouTube channel, Carley saw your videos and dmed you on Instagram to hang out sometime. You met up at a lunch with the group and she introduced you to everyone, but somehow caught Jeff’s eye.

The whole time, you and Jeff started to hit it off. Then with a lot of flirting and calling each other late at night, you both decided to make it official. Jeff thought you would turn him away due to his past, but you truly accepted him for his journey, even if it wasn’t pretty. Now you were going strong for about three years, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After you’ve gotten ready, Erin texted you that they were outside. You head out and enter their car as they began filming. “Hey, guys! We just picked up our queen, happy birthday!” You smile brightly as you buckle in the back. “Thank you guys!” you said. Carly turns back to you and gives you your favorite Starbucks drink and a cake pop. “Thought you could use a little sugary treat to start the day.” You make a small pout from the gesture, thanking her again.

On your way to the nail salon, you guys start talking about David’s latest antics as well as a fancy restaurant that just opened that you really wanted to try. The girls make a face at the camera but you didn’t make of it as you arrived at your appointment. Carly switches off the camera as you all started heading out of the car.

Once you were all done, you all started to fan over the amazing job of your nail artists (which you all generously tipped) and decided to go out for lunch. “Are we still clubbing tonight?” Carly asked as she sipped her Seltzer. You nod yes as you finished a bite of your appetizer. “Yep, I’m so excited to wear this cocktail dress Jeff gave me before he left. I just wished he was here to celebrate.” You said, fumbling with the end of a napkin in front of you.

The girls give you a sympathetic look, knowing how much you’ve been missing him the past couple of days. Even after they changed the subject, all you could think of was Jeff. But after a good meal and a little site seeing, you started to feel a bit better. The girls dropped you home so you could relax before clubbing the night away.

Right when it hit evening, you began getting ready as you curled your hair and did your makeup just right. You slipped on the dress Jeff gave you that adored every curve on your figure, silently thanking your boyfriend for his taste in fashion.

You suddenly hear a knock at the door, thinking it's one of the girls. You unlock the door and open it to reveal no other than your very well-dressed boyfriend. "Jeff! You're back!" You screamed as you gave him a crushing hug, later kissing him. "Hey, doll." Jeff whispered as you took his breath away, taking out a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"What are you doing back home?" You asked, still dazed that's actually at your doorstep. "C'mon, did you really think I was going to miss my best girl's big day?" He questioned with a twinkle in his eye. You roll your eyes and hug him again, truly blessed to have such an amazing boyfriend.

"I'm here to pick you up to your destination, shall we?" He offers his hand that you gladly took it. He helps you in his car as you both drove off to the main road with his hand on your upper thigh. You notice that he doesn't take the road to the club. "Babe, I think you missed a turn." you told Jeff who was smirking even more at your cluelessness. "Don't worry dolI, I know where I'm going." he takes a hold of your hand and kisses your knuckle as you blush harder.

He then parks in a parking lot and goes out of the car to open your door. Before you could actually take in your surroundings, Jeff shielded your view. "Hey! Jeff seriously, where are we?" you lightly scolded him. "You gotta trust me now, okay?" you agreed as you grumbled under your breath. With a few more steps, you start to enter a doorway that was decorated with...

streamers?

Jeff takes his hands off and you see all of your friends surrounding you. "Happy Birthday!" they all screamed out loud. You smile from ear to ear as Jeff wrapped his arms around your waist. Utterly shocked, you did your best to express your happiness but you were beyond speechless.

You suddenly realized that the place you were in was the restaurant you've desperately wanted to try and you turn around to Jeff who was beaming at your joy. "All for you, baby girl." his husky voice told you as you hugged him, pecking his face with kisses. Then, all of your friends ushered you both in to dine and dance. You saw how the entire restaurant had accents of rose gold decorations, as well as your friends wearing the same color palette.

Although this surprise was really touching, something was bothering you. Usually, they would throw parties like these for David, so why would they celebrate something big for you?

Later on, you all ate the most mouth-watering food as well as dancing to your favorite songs. Once they take out the birthday cake, you lose sight of Jeff. You ask Carly where he is but she brushed it off, saying that he's probably getting you a drink. As you started to dish out the cake, David stood up and clinked a knife to a glass.

"Hey everyone! If I could get your attention please." David shouted as the whole party calmed down. "There is a special surprise waiting outside on the back patio for our birthday girl, so could our celebrant please wear a blindfold?" Everyone started to cheer except for you. "I swear David if it's a wild animal..." you warned him but it was too late. One of the guys used a long fabric to cover your eyes, guiding you outside.

They take off the blindfold to reveal your boyfriend standing in front of you. You don't understand what's going on until you see a flower arch in the back of him, with a message illuminating "Marry Me." You gasp lightly as you cover your mouth with your eyes starting to water.

Jeff takes your shaking hands into his, ready to start his speech. “I wasn't really in New York for a brand deal, I was picking up your birthday gift.”

He then lowers himself on one knee, taking out a small pastel pink box to reveal a beautiful gold band decorated with transcendent diamonds. Both of you start to cry, but Jeff is literally a mess as he tries to finish his words.

“Before I met you, I thought I’d be better off alone. Now, my soul has been torn and reborn, started breathing for the very first in my life. As I’m standing in front of you, I wanna get it right for once.

Oh, believe me when I say I've been knocked out and beat but this feeling is fleeting. Even this morning, I've been thinking 'bout the way you smile golden…I want to move inside of your light.

I never thought I needed saving, I was right where I should be Good God, I know it's dangerous, but it's you that I need I'm in love this time. So, do you wanna be mine forever?”

You uncover your mouth and shake your head.

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes." you said. The waterworks literally overcame both of you as he slid the ring around your finger, getting up to kiss your lips. Your friends cheer as they close up to you, firing confetti cannons into the air. You look up to Jeff as you wiped away his happy tears away from his face.

No words were exchanged, but you could tell through his eyes that he was forever grateful for you to be a part of his life. You both kiss again, ending the night with great friends and memories that will forever last in the video Joe has been recording for Jeff's channel (which trended 14 million on YouTube for a whole month).

You were the light in his life and he will bask in it for eternity.

#jeff wittek #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek fluff #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x y/n #vlog squad #david dobrik #carly and erin #youtube #vlog squad imagine #jeff wittek fanfic #vlog squad fanfic

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whimsicalworldofme · 2 years ago

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Saving Grace: Chapter Seven

Grace heads into the city to spend a Saturday working on her latest project for Stark Industries, since Pepper's out of town, and Tony & Steve are away on Avengers business. And then aliens start dropping out of the sky.

(This is during the events of the Battle of New York)

Content Warnings: Mentions of violence & death.

The Tower was pretty empty when Grace arrived, a latte from a nearby shop in hand. There had been some business Fury called on the Avengers to deal with, so both Tony and Steve were out of town, as far as she knew. News coverage and internet videos were going absolutely wild over two things; the first was that Captain America was alive and actively saving the world again. The second, was that some lunatic with a golden horned helmet, claiming to be a god, Loki of all things, had killed a man at a charity gala somewhere in Germany and terrorized the crowd outside, that is until Steve and Tony had shown up.

Gabe, one of the regular security guards, gave her a little salute as she pressed onward to the elevators. Since the bulk of the building was used for Stark Industries, the main areas elevators only went up to the eightieth floor for employees but Tony had JARVIS programmed into every inch of the building, so if Tony, Pepper, or Grace requested, they could get up to their family’s private levels from any elevator in the building. Grace hit the button for the fifteenth floor and took another sip of her latte.

“Good morning, Dr. Turner,” JARVIS greeted her, since Tony had trained the program to recognize her when in the building.

“Morning, JARVIS,” she replied, still thinking it absolutely wild that she belonged to a family that essentially had an AI butler running their house. “Hey Tony isn’t back by any chance, is he?”

“I’m afraid Mr. Stark has not been in the building for several days,” JARVIS told her. “I can contact him if you like.”

“No, no,” Grace shook her head. “He’s busy, I don’t want to interrupt him. Just…you would tell me if he was in danger, right?” She thought about the mad man in Germany. He didn’t seem all that dangerous, but she still worried. He is my dad after all. And he’s just a guy in a metal suit.

“In the event of an emergency, I am programmed to notify you, Dr. Turner,” the AI stated.

“All right, thanks, JARVIS.”

Grace polished off the last of her latte as the elevator dinged and she stepped into the reception area of the medical robotics lab. While most employees had security badges to gain access to secure areas in Stark Industries, JARVIS kept tabs on her and unlocked doors for her as she needed. There were a few other employees there already, but since it was a Saturday, it was mostly empty. Grace made her way to the station she’d been working at for the last few weeks and took a seat on her usual stool, examining the various components for the prototype her team was working on for their stabilizing braces. Grace wanted to spend the day running a few more tests on materials, but before she could get into it, her phone began to ring.

“Tony, is everything ok?” She greeted her father as his face appeared on her screen, and it became evident that he was video calling from inside the helmet of his Iron Man suit.

“Gracie, you’re at the office,” his brow furrowed with concern.

He wouldn’t be calling while doing Avengers stuff if there wasn’t something wrong, her stomach knotted.

“Tony, what’s going on?” She felt her mouth go dry, her heartrate picking up much faster than could be credited to the caffeine she’d just consumed.

“Uh…” he hesitated. “There might be a Norse god hellbent on world domination headed your way, in fact I’m ninety percent sure of it. We’re on our way, but you need to get yourself and anyone else in the building somewhere safe.”

“Shit,” Grace popped up from her seat, knocking the stool over. “Ok,” she felt her heart slamming against her chest. “Tony?” She paused for a moment, committing her father’s face to memory, terrified it might be the last time she spoke to him. “Try to stay safe.”

“I will,” he nodded. “I’ll find you when this is all over.”

With a nod, Grace watched as her father’s face disappeared from the screen.

“This is not how I saw my Saturday going,” she muttered to herself.

“Grace is everything ok?”

Jennifer came over to check on her when a strange rumbling shook the whole building. Running to the nearest window, Grace looked out and up, only to see what appeared to be a wormhole opening in the sky directly above Stark Tower. Alien monsters on flying vehicles dropped rapidly from it towards an unsuspecting New York city.

“Dr. Turner, there are intruders in the penthouse,” JARVIS’s voice came alive in the room.

“What the hell is that?!” Jennifer shrieked as she caught sight of the aliens zipping by the building.

“Get away from the windows,” Grace pulled her back and retreated towards the center of the building. “JARVIS shut down access to the stairs and elevators on floors eighty and above. And restrict access to employees only on all other floors.”

“Right away Dr. Turner,” the AI complied.

“Are we under attack? Is this Independence Day?” Jennifer’s eyes kept darting around to every wall of windows in the area, her whole body trembling.

“Jennifer, you need to listen to me,” Grace took both of her friends’ hands in hers and gave them a squeeze, trying to draw her back in, ground her. Their eyes met and Grace wondered if her own pupils were so wide, if her fear was that evident. Soon a group of other employees had gathered around, about six of them.

“What’s happening?” One asked.

“Do we call the police?” Another gulped.

“We should make a break for the subway. If the trains are still running, we can get out,” someone else suggested.

“Everyone, listen to me,” she drew herself up authoritatively, knowing someone had to take charge. “I’m having JARVIS lock down the building. The best thing we can do right now is find a safe place to sit tight, so grab something that you can easily beat the shit out of someone with,” Grace instructed, catching sight of some metal poles and crowbars nearby. It was a robotics lab after all. Plucking up a steel rod for herself she hefted it in her palm. “JARVIS are the intruders still contained to the penthouse?”

“Yes Dr. Turner.”

“All right, everyone, get to the elevators and go straight to sub-basement five,” she ordered. “JARVIS, I want an alert sent to the phone of every employee who swiped into the office today. Tell them to go to sub-basement five immediately.”

“Of course, Dr. Turner.”

“The old weapons testing facility?” Someone questioned.

“It’s a bunker,” Grace stated. “We don’t have time to argue. Go!”

She herded them through the doors and out to the elevators. Since the Tower was powered by an arc reactor, independent from the grid, she knew the power would stay on and get them down safely. Time was of the essence but only so many people could use the elevators at a time, so once all the employees on that floor were in the elevator, she darted for the stairwell. As she went, she heard the sound of glass shattering.

“JARVIS?” she called out again.

“There are breaches on multiple floors Dr. Turner,” JARVIS stated. “All level fifteen and above.”

“Are there any employees on those floors today?”

“There are currently thirteen employees above level twenty, but they are all in the stairwells or on the elevators.”

“Good,” Grace felt the tightness in her chest ease only slightly. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and used voice command to call Gabe’s cell phone at the front desk. “Pick up, pick up,” she muttered as she continued to run down the stairs.

“Dr. Turner this isn’t a good time,” Gabe answered.

“Gabe, as safely as you can, bring any civilians that might be running by into the building and get them to sub-basement five.”

“I’m already ahead of you, Dr. Turner. Don’t worry about me. You get everyone else and yourself down safe,” he insisted. “Get in here, in here,” he hollered obviously to some people on the street running for cover.

The line clicked dead and Grace blinked, trying not to cry in the panicked fear that he’d been killed, rather than having just hung up. As she made her way down the stairs, she heard the hurried, pounding footfalls of others trickle into the stairwell, moving with urgency, every footfall echoing against the concrete walls and steps. But more than the footfalls, she heard the crying, the repetitive exclamations of “oh my god, oh my god” and strings of expletives. Someone burst into the stairwell, screaming just as she was about to hit the ninth-floor landing and one of the alien things was right on their trail.

“Oh, fuck no!” Without hesitating, Grace swung the metal bar in her hand, smashing the alien right in the face and sending it stumbling back. She kept swinging, bashing it in the head, not giving it a chance to react before the next blows connected.

“Fuck,” whack. “Off,” thunk. “You,” crack. “Alien,” squish. “Fuck.” Squish again.

Her chest heaved with panting breaths by the time the thing finally crumbled to the floor. She gave it one last good whack to make sure it was dead.

“Jesus,” a man in a lab coat jumped slightly as he stepped onto the landing, seeing the dead creature and Grace, splattered in alien matter and blood.

“Keep going,” Grace instructed, pulling in ragged breaths. “Just keep going.”

He didn’t bother arguing as there were thunks on the door beside her and strange noises, which she figured were probably the aliens trying to get into the stairwell.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes Dr. Turner?” The calmness in the British voice brought her a tiny sliver of comfort.

“Please tell me all my employees are either in the stairwells or the bunker?”

There was a momentary pause and Grace figured he was probably running a tally and calculating.

“There are currently six other employees in the stairwells and the other thirty-three who came into the office are currently in sub-basement five, as well as fifteen civilians.”

“Ok, good.” Grace jumped back when she heard a more violent thud against the door which left it rattling a little. “C’mon Grace, this is not how you die. Not today.”

She caught her breath and kept running down the stairs descending as quickly as she could. The turns left her dizzy, since the stairs were essentially a spiral, just with right angles. She yanked the door to sub-basement five so hard that it slammed against the wall, sending an echoing rattle through the now empty stairwell. She saw a few other people popping out from the other stairwells, running for the heavy, multilayered steel door that cut off the actual weapons testing site from the landing.

“All employees are now on sub-basement level five, Dr. Turner,” JARVIS told her.

“Good,” Grace nodded to the last person to bolt through a stairwell door. The heavy metal bunker doors began to slide slowly open, just enough to allow them through, with Grace going last, still clutching her metal bar so tightly her knuckles hurt.

Inside was a massive, though sparse space that hadn’t been used much since Stark Industries moved away from weapons manufacturing a few years prior. The employees and people off the street were all huddled together, most of them holding improvised weapons. Some of the women had their pepper spray keychains in hand, fingers on the trigger and ready.

“Is anyone injured?” Grace called out as the heavy door finally shut behind her.

Everyone shook their heads no, and she let out a sigh of relief. Glancing around, she took stock of their surroundings. Right in the immediate lobby of the area, there were bathrooms and a row of four vending machines, two for snacks, two for drinks, all fully stocked.

Well at least we have provisions enough for a little while and bathrooms, so there’s water and facilities. Hopefully we won’t be down here too long though.

“How long do you think we’ll be down here?” Someone asked.

“Did you see those things?” Someone else chimed in. “There was an army of them. Falling out of the sky. I don’t think we’re getting out of here alive.”

“Let’s not jump to the worst possible conclusion just yet,” Grace tried to quiet the spreading wave of panicked murmurs. “My dad is coming with a team to fix this.”

“A team?” A woman in a labcoat crossed her arms and let out a scoffing laugh. “A team of what? What could stop that?”

“Superheroes. They’re called the Avengers.” Grace knew it sounded ridiculous and her confidence in saying it wavered. “I know it sounds crazy,” she heard more than a few incredulous laughs, “but I believe in them. So, we’re going to sit tight down here,” she found her confidence again. “In the meantime,” she went over to the vending machines and used her pipe to break the glass on each of them, knocking the entire panels out. “Have a snack, but uh, watch your step.” She kicked some of the glass shards under the machines before reaching in and grabbing herself a packet of Reese’s cups. “I recommend we find whatever outlets we can and charge our phones if anyone thought to bring a charger. Other than that, let’s find some stuff to distract ourselves.”

Reluctantly, people began to shift, queuing up to get snacks, a few made their way to the restroom. There was a conference room with chairs and a few people moved in there to sit and eat. Someone who, in their panic, had grabbed their work laptop and charger set it up on a chair and began watching a movie, which drew a crowd, all of whom sat or laid on the floor. Another woman pulled a new card game called Cards Against Humanity from her purse and soon a large circle was setup of people playing. As far down as they were, and with all the protective layering around the bunker, they couldn’t hear anything going on outside, which Grace was glad for. Soon, the furtive glances at the door were fewer and further between. A few people actually fell asleep, their adrenaline rush wearing off and leaving them to crash.

Grace couldn’t relax, choosing instead to pace back and forth by the door, metal pipe still in hand. The candy she’d grabbed, she slid into her back pocket, telling herself she would eat later. Time passed slowly and fifteen minutes felt like an hour. Soon her stomach began to grumble, so she slipped into the bathroom to wash her hands. It wasn’t until she saw her reflection in the mirror that she realized how much viscera was left on her from the alien she’d killed, making her stomach turn. She shuddered and suppressed the nausea as she cupped water in her hands and began washing her face and arms.

Oh god, there’s stuff in my hair even, she gagged, forcing herself to step away from the mirror. Just don’t think about it Grace. Don’t think about it. She began pulling paper towels out of the dispenser and wiped down her hair, trying to toss the used ones in the trash without looking at them. When she finally felt like she’d gotten most of it out, she washed her hands again, refusing to look in the mirror, then stepped out of the bathroom, struggling to take deep breaths. Pulling the chocolate out of her pocket, she went back to the door and ate while she carried on pacing, her metal pole tucked under one arm. She lost all track of time, not willing to look at her phone.

Then there were voices outside the door. Human voices, not panicked or begging to be let in, but calm and authoritative voices. The heavy door began to groan open, making her leap back.

“Grace!” Steve’s bright blue eyes locked on her from a crack in the door. His face was bloodied, covered in grime, and dripping with sweat. “Thank god.”

“Gracie?” Tony’s voice echoed in question, relief and joy evident in his tone.

He appeared beside Steve, dressed in his Iron Man suit still, which had terrifying gashes and dents in it. His brown eyes went a little watery when he saw her but then he twitched, almost like his face had short circuited and he turned to Steve with a questioning glare.

“Grace?” He directed it as a question to Steve, who blanched slightly, realizing the mistake he’d made. Steve flashed her an apologetic look, but she was too tired to care. “Grace.” Tony sounded disappointed as he looked back to his daughter, having clearly put together that Steve was the mysterious client she’d been living with for the last year.

“Is it over?” Jennifer came up to the door.

Casting a glance over her shoulder, Grace saw people getting up from their seats, staring at the group of people now stood at the open door. Iron Man, they were used to, but Captain America, with his red, white, and blue getup, Natasha in her tactical gear, and some enormous long-haired blonde wearing a long red cape were all new and odd.

“It’s over,” Natasha confirmed. “The city is secure, the trains are running. We’ll escort you all to the nearest station. Is anyone injured?”

“No, we’re all fine,” Grace found her voice and Nat nodded in approval.

As the employees hurried to get out, Tony stepped off to the side and scooped Grace up in a hug, lifting her off the ground, the metal of his Iron Man suit warm against her body. She didn’t care though, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. Steve caught her gaze as he ushered the last person out of the room. With a deep breath and a nod to her, he stepped out of sight.

“I’m so glad you’re ok, Dad,” Grace started to cry.

“Oh, you know your old man, I’m hard to get rid of,” Tony tried to laugh it off, but his usual level of humor wasn’t entirely there. “Hey,” he perked up a little. “You called me dad.”

“Yeah,” Grace sniffed as he put her back on her feet. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t just do it to distract me from you not telling me you’ve been shacking up with the Capsicle did you?”

“Dad!” She couldn’t help the shocked laugh that came out of her. “No! Oh my god,” she shook her head. “He’s my client. Nothing more.”

“Mhmm,” Tony turned to throw more dirty looks at Steve, but at that point it was just the two of them left in the room. “And here I was just starting to consider liking the guy.”

“Dad,” Grace put her hands on either side of his face, turning it back to her. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re ok.”

“I love you too, Gracie,” he smiled brightly. “But you look and smell terrible,” he stated in his trademark humorous deadpan. “Let’s get you upstairs so you can shower.”

Chapter Six

Masterlist

Chapter Eight

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letstrywrittingourfeelings · 3 years ago

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Hello, this is my first attempt at a fanfic. I'm not sure if anyone will ever read but I wanted a space to try my hand at writing all the ideas that are always in my head. Anyone who does read, I hope you enjoy!

Y/N had a good life. She had a good job as an art teacher, a good house with everything she needs, and a good husband who adores her. She had no reason to complain, everything was good. Good, that was the word that haunted her. Throughout her whole life, she had no other word to describe it as but good. So when her mind wandered to what a great life could be like she felt selfish. Why is she longing for more when she had a good enough life that she is living now. She loved her job, she loved her house, she loved her -

“HEY, LADY THE GREEN LIGHT MEANS GO!”

Y/N was broken from her thoughts by the car behind her honking. “Sorry,” she said with a sympathetic wave as she continued her journey to work.

It was early, earlier than usual for her. But she wanted, no needed, some alone time. Whenever she needed to take an extra breath on her own she liked to paint. It helped her mind wander without having to try. So why is she going into school to paint in her classroom instead of the art room she had in her own home? Well, that was another source of guilt altogether. Whenever she painted, her husband Erik liked to either watch or read or even try painting next to her. And while it was cute at first she definitely got over it quick. So now she shamefully sneaks out of bed two hours early so she can have a slice of peace and quiet before work starts. Before the sun has even risen at that.

Y/N pulls into her assigned parking spot and grabs her favorite latte, which she also decided to splurge on this morning, and heads into the building. It’s funny, she never thought she would appreciate an empty building as much as she did. That is one thing she is able to say she is proud of herself for. One thing her and her therapist have worked so hard on. Over the past year, she has taken stock of the small things in life that she appreciates. She loves painting, she loves her honey cinnamon lattes, she loves her weekly kickboxing classes, walks in the woods, dogs, and comics (which Erik always teased her for). She didn’t care though. She loved reading the latest issue of DC or Marvel and if she wasn’t reading comics she was watching the movies. Her latest obsession being Suicide Squad and Black Widow.

Black Widow was actually going to be the inspiration for the new painting she would start today. Another reason she wanted to paint at work rather than explain to her husband why she is now painting another women that she also couldnt shut up about. Y/N was a little embarrassed to admit but she had watched the movie three times in the theater. She chalked it up to being inspired by the strong female leads and wanted to support Scarlett Johansen’s lawsuit. And while that was all true, she also couldn’t deny the fact that she had an insanely huge crush on both female leads. She smiles to herself as she unlocks her classroom while thinking about the last “cooking with Flo” video where she made homemade Taziki.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Y/N wasn’t ashamed of her bisexuality but when she came to terms with it last year she did not see a point in coming out to Erik. Or at least, she didnt think she had. After the car accident two years ago and her major memory loss of anything that happened prior to that she couldnt remember what was and wasnt known to everyone, even her husband. So she simply chose to keep certain things to herself. It was just easier that way sometimes.

Making the journey around her classroom to pick up what she will need to begin. She picks up her smock, a fresh canvas, and the paints she will need. The last thing she needs to begin is her painting playlist. One that she has spent over a year handcrafting that she only listened to when she painted. And with that Y/N allows herself to get lost. She mixes colors, smudges areas with a rag, even at one point flicking paint to make a splatter on the canvas. She steps back to take a long look at what she has created so far while biting the end of her paintbrush, a habit she has never been able to kick. As she decided she needs more red paint she walks over to the paint cabinet while singing under her breath to the song that is currently on.

“Good ol’ boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye Singin’ This’ll be the day that I die”

As the song fades out Y/N hears her classroom door open and shut behind her. Assuming it’s the teacher across the hall, who also gets to school early, she doesn’t bother to turn around.

“Good morning Ms. sleepyhead. I was wondering when you were going to show up” Y/N says as she spins around.

Only instead of being met by the familiar face of her colleague she is greeted by someone else. One that she recognized instantly but didn’t actually believe was standing in front of you, looking at her so intently and, from where Y/N was standing, looked like she was holding her breath.

Standing in Y/N’s doorway was the one and only Florence Pugh. Not only was it Florence Pugh it was Florence Pugh dressed in her Yelena Belova costume.

“Oh. MY. GOD!!!” Y/N finally allowed herself to speak and willed her feet to move across the room to her. “Y-you’re Florence Pugh, you’re THE Florance Pugh! I cant bel- how, why are yo- OH MY GOD! I am such a huge fan!” Y/N couldn’t form straight sentences and didn’t know what to do with her hands. She found it in her to reach her hand out to shake Florence’s hand and introduce herself.

“Hi it’s so nice to meet you im-”

“Y/N” Florence finished Y/N’s sentence while shaking her hand.

“You know my name? That is awesome sauce!” She cringes at the fact that she just used the words awesome sauce in front of her celebrity crush. “What I meant to say is h-how do you know my name? Why are you here? Is there something going on at the school that I don’t know about? I swear they never tell me anything. The last assembly they had a taco truck and I didn’t find out until it was too-”

Florence cut her off by gently placing her fingertips on the babbling girl’s mouth while bringing her other hand to rest on her shoulder. Y/N gulped at the sudden contact. The black widow-clade women couldn’t help but smile at how cute your rambling was. Just like she remembered.

“Y/N I need you to listen to me. I am not here for a school assembly and what I am about to tell you” she pauses and releases a heavy sigh whie dropping her hand from Y/N’s mouth. “You aren’t going to believe me.”

‘Wow she is really committing to this bit, she is even talking in Yelena’s Russian accent’ Y/N thought to herself.

Y/N who is still star-struck, giddy, and if she is being honest, completely infatuated by this women’s beauty was speechless.The proximity wasnt helping either, she was close enough to see every freckle on Flo’s face, close enough to smell her sweet perfume, and definitely close enough to see what appeared to be longing in her eyes. Y/N was probably just imagining that last part though. Since no words in the english dictionary were coming to her at the moment she just nodded for her to continue.

The woman went to open her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She was lost momentarily in Y/N’s eyes and couldn’t help a tear from slipping out. Not knowing what to say next she surged forward to hug the teacher in front of her. She hugged her with every ounce of emotion she had in her and Y/N, who still had no idea what was going on, happily reciprocated. When they finally pulled apart the superhero could not bring herself to let go of Y/N’s arms.

“What am I not going to believe? I will say I am a pretty open-minded girl so you’d be surprised. I also love the Yelena accent by the way.”

With that, she let go of the girl and scoffed a bit while taking a look at the room they were in. She smiled at the sense of familiarity it brought her. The fairy lights, the cinnamon-scented candle, the playlist. It was all too much to keep her from letting more tears fall.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Do you need help? If I’m being honest I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or not.” Y/N says with a chuckle.

“You can kind of say that,” the blonde says with a warm smile while whipping away her tears. She finally lands on the painting that Y/N had just been working on. It was a messy abstract but the woman was able to tell right away it was a portrait of her. She smiled and looked over at the artist. “This is beautiful.”

Y/N who was now a bit embarrassed about her obsession being found out by the very girl it was about looking down to hide the red her face was surely turning.

“Y/N will you sit with me a moment?” She says as she pulls out a chair from a nearby desk and sits. Gesturing to the chair next to her for Y/N to join her.

Y/N who embarrassingly would do anything this woman says at the moment sits next to her. “Did Erik set this up?” She asks as she takes a seat.

“What?” the widow responds.

“I know Erik always teased me for nerding out over all these superhero movies but I never thought he would go to such lengths to do all of this for me.”

The blonde looks into Y/N’s eyes searching for the right words to say next. “Y/N what is stopping you from believing that I am the real Yelena Belova?”

Y/N thought that was an odd question but she answered anyway “well because I’ve seen your movies and I’ve watched your interviews and your cooking videos. You are Florance Pugh, right? Otherwise, you are an insanely talented cosplayer! I might be a little removed from reality but I do know what is real and what is fake” Y/N pauses and studies the girl in front of her. “As much as I wish certain things were real and others were actually fake” she adds at the end.

“What do you mean by that?” she questions.

“Well I’ve always wished there was more to life. More to this universe that I live in. I wish I could live in a fairytale or in the world of the movies like Harry Potter, or the comics. And I wish the thought of this life, the one I am in now was one I questioned was real or fake.” Y/N had no idea what came over her to share that much with, in reality, a complete stranger. She had only ever shared that with her therapist. She watched as the woman opposite of her thought about what to say next.

“That reality that you long to be in…” She paused momentarily before continuing on. “It’s real. It’s real and it’s one that you belong in. And the one you belong in is the one with me.” Yelena paused to judge what Y/N was thinking. She was expecting for her to laugh in her face or make some indication that what she was saying was bullshit. But when she found no evidence of that she continued on. “Y/N everything you see in movies and in books and comics...that’s all real. It isn’t real here because we are in the wrong universe but there is a multitude of timelines where all of that is real.” Yelena still not seeing any signs of rejection grabs Y/N’s hands and continues on. “You lived in the universe where the avengers exist and you were one of them. You fought side by side with all of them. You were Natasha’s best friend, you were like a sister to Peter, you were like a daughter to steve and you were my fia-” She stops herself from going too far. “You and I were close.” She looks deep into Y/N’s eyes begging her to believe what she is saying. “You dont belong here” She finishes.

Y/N who can’t help but feel emotional with all of this tries to hide it with humor like she normally does. “Tell me about it” she laughs and gets up to hide the fact that she might actually start crying. She can’t allow herself to play along with this anymore because when the reality of the situation hits then she will be on another downward spiral. One that she has worked with her therapist from happening in a long time.

Yelena doesn’t move, she doesn’t even look in Y/N’s direction. “You had an accident two years ago!” This stops Y/N in her tracks. Yelena looks up at her until Y/N finally turns around to look her in the eyes. “How did yo-” Yelena cuts her off and stands to walk towards her. “It was actually 2 years, 3 months, and 20 days ago.” Y/N is glued in her spot, not knowing why she is bringing this up, she goes to speak but the blonde cuts her off. “You got in a car accident that completely wiped your memory of anything that happened before that right?”

“I- I mean ye-” Y/N stumbled over her words.

“What if I told you that you were in another universe, another timeline up until that moment?” The blonde was now face to face with the teacher again.

Y/N now beyond the point of being able to control her emotions was starting to feel very overwhelmed. “Look, Ms.Pugh, I don’t know what Erik paid you to do but I think this is going too-”

Yelena grabs hold of either side of Y/N’s arms “Dont you understand Y/N? I’m, not Florance Pugh, your husband didn’t set any of this up, I am the real Yelena Belova and you are a hero named Mocking Bird. Your home is in Ohio with me!”

Y/N tries to speak “m-my home is isn’t, its he-here I-” She couldn’t get another syllable out before she was on the ground trying to control her breathing. She brought her knees to her chest and squeezes her eyes shut.

Yelena, kicking herself for coming on too strong, kneels in front of her. “Hey bugs I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come on that strong just breath okay,” she says as calmly as she can. Y/N still with her eyes shut nods frantically trying to calm her breathing. “Look at me Y/N” she says and tentativily places her hand on top of Y/N’s. With that, Y/N slowly opens her eyes and is once again staring into those beautiful brown eyes. Still breathing heavy Yelena offers a soft smile and raises her other hand and in the air in between them. “Touch each finger to mine Liybimaya” Without even questioning it, Y/N shakily raises her hand and begins to touch each fingertip to Yelena’s, one at a time. Once she finished all five fingers Yelena moved her hand to the left. “And again”. Y/N did it again feeling her breath begin to even out. “One more time,” She said as she moved her hand again. She does as she was told and completed one last round of finger taps, her breathing now back to normal.

“H- how did you do that?”

“You used to blackout from panic attacks. You are usually good with controlling it yourself but we came up with that system after Natasha told us how she used to calm Bruce down. You have come a long way, I’m proud of you.” She spoke slowly with a smile. The two of them sat there in silence just staring into each other’s eyes. Y/N was the first to break the silence with a joke.

“I don’t remember seeing a Mocking Bird hero in any of my comics you know. Are you sure I’m not some sad knockoff of the Hunger Games?” She said with a smile. Yelena chuckled and sat beside her on the floor, backs against a row of cabnites. “No, when you came into this timeline they wiped the image of you from our timeline completely.” Yelena turns her head to look at the girl. “You sacrifice yourself to save me you know. That’s why you are here.” Y/N turns to look at Yelena. There is something deep down inside her that believes that she knows this woman in a different way than an actress on the big screen. She takes a long moment studying this girl’s face and when she opened her mouth to say something she is interrupted by the door swinging open. They both turn their attention to the new person now in the room. One that Y/N also recognizes immediately.

“Loki?” Y/N exclaims as she stumbles to her feet.

“Hello love it’s wonderful to see you again. I am going to go ahead and skip the formalities. Yelena it’s time.”

Yelena gets up and walks toward Loki “I told you to give me 15 minutes!” she says in a whispered yell. Y/N, who at this point is off the floor and slowly walking toward the pair trying her best to listen.

“Yes, and I gave you 20. Consider it a gift that I will be awaiting reciprocation for. Yelena, you know this has gone too far and we must go.”

Yelena looks between Loki and Y/N with desperation in her eyes. Until she finally says what she already knows is a bad idea but she goes with it anyways.

“Come with me Y/N,” She says hurriedly walking towards her.

“WHAT?” Loki and Y/N say at the same time.

“Just come with me back to our timeline, YOUR timeline. Give me a week to try and bring your memory back. If you want to leave at any time I will bring you back here. I searched for too long to find you just to let you go again.” At this point, Yelena has hold of Y/N’s hands again and is pleading for her to give her a chance.

“Yelena this timeline would be messed up you know this cant-”

Yelena cuts off Loki “Loki you and I both know the timeline is already fucked! If she chooses to stay in our timeline we will prune this one and it will be like nothing ever happened.” She said over her shoulder, not daring to let go of Y/N’s hands just yet.

“But it won’t and you know it!”

Yelena sighs, tearing her eyes away from Y/N’s she reluctantly drops her hands and walks over to Loki and whispers so Y/N cant hear. “Loki, please. I lost Natasha and now I….she is the only family I have left. I will handle the fallout of this I promise. Please at least give us a chance.” Loki sighs and looks over to Y/N. “Fine but you have a week, if she doesn’t remember by then she comes back here.”

“Woah Woah Woah” Y/N finally interjects. “Are you guys forgetting about the fact that I still dont know if I believe any of this? I mean for all I know-” She is cut off by the sight of Loki making fireworks appear in his hand out of nowhere. Once he sees you are left speechless he stops and smirks at you. “You two have five minutes to figure this out.” With that, he opens his tempad and a large glowing rectangle appears in front of him that Y/N cant see the other side of. “Five minutes” he warns before stepping through and disappearing.

Yelena looks back to Y/N who is now standing there with her mouth wide open. “What do you say?” Y/N looks between Yelena and the portal a few times before looking down at their hands that Yelana has connected once again. Its weird, Y/N was never big into holding hands but her’s and Yelana’s were like missing puzzle pieces. “Why should I believe you?” she says in a voice laced with desperation. “Give me a reason to trust you.” She says to Yelena.

Yelena looks at your hands and smiles then looks up into her eyes. “Good enough is never good enough to describe your life.” She squeezes your hands and walks back into the portal. She is almost all the way through before she turns back to look at Y/N and reach out her hand. A last silent plead to give her a chance. Y/N takes a moment to look back at her classroom, at the photo of Erik on her desk, at her simple, good life. Without a second thought, she takes a deep breath and walks through the portal, hand in hand with Yelana.

#reader pov #yelena x y/n #yelena belova #female reader #wlw #first fanfic #the avengers #marvel universe #black widow #yelana belova and reader #yelena x reader

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