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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years ago

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only fools rush in / part eight: of flowers and freeing words

TW: sexual innuendo (thanks, Remus), mention of hospital visit, mentions of cancer/chronic illness, VERY vague mentions of domestic abuse, vague mentions of sex, cursing, anxiety attack

chapter summary: Patton reflects on his relationship with Remus, his friendship with Logan, and just... everything.

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Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Patton wasn’t sure if he believed in fate. Sure, his mom would read him fairytales as a kid and he hoped that someday, he would find where he was meant to be. But he had worked hard to get where he was, taking care of his mom when she got sick, helping to run the flower shop all throughout high school and helping when he could now that he was in college. Everyone he had dated in the past always felt… like a background character, or one of those characters in video games that you only really deal with for one quest and then you don’t see them ever again. A part of his journey, yes, but not someone to join him on the rest of his journey.

And then he met Remus. Remus, who was so unlike anyone he had ever dated, who looked at Patton like he held all of the stars in his hands, who held him so gently after their moments of intimacy that Patton almost felt like a porcelain doll, so fragile, so ready to break in the hands of the person who he loved so dearly, as long as Remus was happy.

It had all happened so quickly; from the moment they met, Patton was in it. Their first date was unlike any other he had ever had, because they both broke down their walls. And as they grew to know each other more, as they progressed physically and emotionally, Patton wanted more and more to believe that Remus was the one he was made for. That, perhaps, Patton Hart, in his mother’s womb all those years ago, was being crafted just so that he could be held tenderly by Remus Creative.

He didn’t want to lose that. He couldn’t bear the thought of it falling apart; perhaps that was why he reacted so negatively to what Roman did during the power outage. For the first time in his life, Patton had something that he was terrified to lose other than his mother, Logan, and the flower shop. And even though Roman was one of his best friends, maybe especially so, he couldn’t bear the idea that the theater major would get in the way of what was, in Patton’s mind, meant to be.

It haunted his every thought, though. When he curled in Remus’ arms, the fresh afterglow settling above both of them, when he sat in his child development classes, when he cut the stems off of the flowers in the shop, it was all he could think of: Roman’s letter. And now he felt guilty for holding this grudge over him, but he didn’t know how to resolve things; until he realized that opening night of the musical was coming up.

“Hi, Mama,” Patton said, stepping into the flower shop, Remus in tow. “How are you today?” She swept him up into his arms, pressing kisses into his hair and on his cheeks.

“Much better now that you’re here, darling.” Her eyes fluttered over to Remus, who smiled, holding his hand out, but she pushed it aside and brought him into the hug as well. “Remus, you look very nice.” Remus glanced down at his outfit; he was wearing his dark green suit and had his hair brought back into a bun; it was the opening night of the play and they were making a quick stop before going to see it.

“Thank you, Ms. Hart.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek before stepping away to look at some roses, allowing time for Patton to explain what he needed.

“Yellow roses, Mama. For friendship,” he said thoughtfully, glancing at the vase he had dropped off with her the other day. “The usual fillers are good, though.” He fidgeted with the ends of his pink skirt a little bit. He had also dressed nicely; it was almost like he and Remus had decided to cosplay as Elphaba and Glinda. Patton wore white pumps, a white shirt with a sparkly bow tie was tucked into the skirt, and some sparkly tights. Remus had nearly dragged him into the bedroom when they met up at the apartment earlier. That would have to wait until later, though, because Patton didn’t want to miss a single moment of the musical.

Patton cheered louder than anyone for Roman, even louder than Remus (which… seemed impossible, but he managed to do it). The only person who rivaled his deafening cries was Janus, who beamed with joy and proudness whenever Virgil was on stage. And even Logan had to brush a few tears from his eyes at the end of the musical, when the entire audience stood and cheered as soon as Roman stepped out into the curtain call.

After the curtain call ended, Janus, Logan, Remus, and Patton stood expectantly where they knew Virgil and Roman would be coming out. Janus held the bouquet for Virgil, and Patton had the one for Roman. They stood there for a while, watching as families and friends greeted the actors and then left, and soon it was quiet.

“Where are they?” Patton asked hesitantly, and he shared a worried look with Janus. “Do you think Virgil had another anxiety attack?”

“They’re probably just fucking,” Remus muttered, his hands snaking around Patton’s waist, leaning down to press his lips to his earlobe. “Exactly what I’ll be doing to you later tonight, little flower.”

“Re!” Patton flushed hard, batting away Remus with his free hand. Janus smirked, a low chuckle escaping as he watched the encounter with the two. “You keep making moves like that and you’ll get nothing but a door in your face tonight.” Patton was teasing, of course, but Remus stepped back, a hand clapping on Logan’s shoulder as the two discussed a project they had in a mutual class.

Finally, Roman and Virgil stepped out of the green room, their hands intertwined. They were both cleaned of their makeup and costumes, and it occurred to them all that since the two were dressed in intricate costumes and makeup for the tin man and the scarecrow that it would take them a little bit longer to finish cleaning up. Janus moved first, scooping Virgil into a big hug, murmuring how proud he was and complimenting his work. Patton stepped up to Roman hesitantly, holding out the bouquet of flowers.

“You did amazing, Ro,” he said quietly, smiling up at his friend, whose eyes brimmed with tears. Roman took the vase with flowers, then set them on an empty table before hugging Patton tightly, sobbing into the smaller man’s shoulder. “Hey, shh, it’s alright. We’re okay, Ro.” As the two hugged tightly, he felt a pat on his shoulder, and glanced to see Logan, smiling brightly, but shaking his head, as if to say ‘you idiots, I love you.’

“Get in here, nerd,” Roman muttered before pulling the smartest of the three into their hug. Patton didn’t know how long the three stood there for, but when they pulled away, Janus was still hugging Virgil tight. Remus gave Roman a brief hug.

“Proud of you, bro. Though I still say the medieval play in high school was your best,” the mustached twin said, and a look of realization crossed Roman’s features.

“You… saw that play?” he asked, and Remus nodded, confused. “Mom and Dad said you didn’t want to go.”

“I sat in the back corner, but I was so proud of you, Bro-man.” Remus smirked at the nickname he had used in the past for his brother, and Roman laughed, pulling his twin in for another hug. “You did awesome tonight.” Patton apparently had snapped a photo of the pair hugging with his polaroid camera, and thus entered the struggle over who would get to put it on the fridge.

Janus won that fight.

Patton sat alone at one of the tables in the schoolyard, his brown paper bag full of goodies that his mom made sure to include. It was scary, starting in a new school halfway through the year, and all of the other kids made fun of the flowers he brought in for his new teacher. Then they made fun of him for wearing a pink sweater, for his big round glasses, and for having long hair that his mom had put into a bun for him that morning before he got on the bus.

So, there he was, second grade, sitting all alone. He didn’t mind, because he knew that when he got home, he’d see his mom, and they’d be safe.

“What are you doing?” A voice said from beside him. He looked up to see a boy with square glasses, neatly combed hair, a polo shirt, and a tie. Patton remembered him as the boy who answered all of the questions during the science part of their class. “This is my table.”

“O-Oh… I’m sorry. I just… didn’t have anywhere else to sit.” Patton looked down, trying to hold in his tears. He didn’t want to be known as the kid who cried on his first day at the school, and his mom always knew when he’d been crying. “I’m s-so sorry…” The other boy sighed, sliding into the seat across from him and setting a book down.

“It’s fine, just stay quiet so I can read, okay Patton Hart?” he asked, and Patton looked up at him through teary eyes.

“Y-You know my name?” His voice was shaky, and he slid his glasses up to sit in his hair so he could wipe his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. The other boy nodded.

“You’re the new kid. You have a frog backpack and a notebook with a kitten on it,” the boy said matter-of-factly. “A little bit frivolous, but if it’s what you enjoy, then there is no harm there.”

“Fribolous?” Patton asked, giggling. “You use a lot of big words.” The other boy sighed again, adjusting his glasses.

“Yes. Frivolous. F-R-I-V-O-L-O-U-S. It’s something that does not have any serious purpose or value,” he explained, and Patton nodded, face deep in thought.

“You know that underwater sea animal, porpoise?”

“I am aware of them, yes. Why do you ask?” he asked, and Patton giggled, having thought of the perfect pun.

“So… if I put a porpoise with serious guy glasses and a tie on my notebook… would it stop being fribolous?” He giggled all the way through his joke, and the other boy groaned.

“That was… awful. Why did you do that?”

“I thought it would be funny,” Patton said, sinking down a little. “D-Do you not like jokes?” He thought about his father, who never made any jokes around him. Who glared at Patton whenever the jokes came out of the small boy.

“I do not think that they lead to important discussions, is all,” he explained, and Patton nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich. Then realization struck.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh. I’m Logan Crofters.”

As the weeks passed, Patton stayed sitting at Logan’s table, dishing out puns whenever necessary but mostly asking Logan about different kinds of science-related things. He liked the way that Logan explained things; he made a lot more sense than their teacher, sometimes.

“Am I bothering you?” Patton asked one day. He had slid over his grapes to Logan, who was munching on them between reading paragraphs from a book about frogs.

“What?”

“Am I annoying?”

“No, Patton. you’re not annoying.” Logan seemed a bit exasperated with the question, but he answered it anyway.

“Are we friends?” Patton’s eyes were focused on Logan, it had been so long since he had a friend that wasn’t his mom or one of his many stuffed animals.

“Oh. Um… I don’t know. I’ve never had a friend before.” Logan’s response was curt, and Patton’s jaw dropped.

“What!?” He jumped up from where he was sitting, then ran over to sit next to Logan. “Can I be your best friend, then??”

“Um. Sure?”

“Yay!” He wrapped his arms around Logan tightly.

Logan ran into the waiting room of the hospital, finding Patton sitting on a chair, his head in his hands. He approached him quickly, a hand instinctively going to his best friend’s back. “I got here as soon as I could, is she okay?”

“She collapsed, Lo. I just… She went into the back to rinse off the new roses, and when I went to check on her… she was on the ground.” Patton leaned into Logan’s shoulder, tears staining the polo shirt he was wearing. “The doctors say... it might have come back, but they’re running tests.”

“She’s in good hands, Pat. I’m going to text my parents and let them know that I’ll be here with you until she goes home, okay? And then I can be there for you.” Logan’s phone was in his hand, and he sent a quick text.

“Tell me something logical, please,” Patton whispered once the two were seated together, hands twisted together, Patton’s head on Logan’s shoulder.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and just got a nod in return. “Well… logically speaking, a bee should not be physically able to fly–”

“Lo!” Patton was giggling, his grip tightening on Logan’s hand. “You know me so well. Thank you.”

The morning after opening night of the musical, Patton entered the apartment, yawning. He didn’t get much sleep thanks to Remus, and he was hoping to take a nap before delving into studying for his final exams. When he entered the apartment, he found Logan sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of him.

“Hey, Lo. No Janus?” he asked, glancing around. Logan shook his head.

“He went home a while ago. Roman and Virgil are still in bed, though,” he explained, stretching his arms up. “Did you have a good time with Remus last night?” Patton’s face reddened at the question, and he nodded. “Does Hannah like him?”

It still caught Patton off guard whenever Logan referred to his mom by her first name, but they had been friends for almost fifteen years, so of course it made sense. Logan could call her mom, too, if he wanted to. He was there whenever Patton needed him, whenever she had a doctor’s appointment that Patton couldn’t drive her to because someone needed to look after the store.

Patton wondered why Logan did all of this. Sometimes he thought back to that time when he asked him if they were friends, all the way back when they were first getting to know each other. And Patton, little Patton, just… proclaimed them as best friends. Did he shoehorn Logan into their friendship so that he could never branch out?

No, that couldn’t be true, because Logan joined debate and chess and academic decathlon in high school, but still spent all of his free time with Patton. And even once Roman and Janus and now Virgil and Remus entered their lives, he still regarded Patton as one of his best friends.

“Hey, you look like you’re having some troubling thoughts, Patton. Want to talk about them?” Logan’s voice was pulling him back into the present, and he nodded, sitting on one of the stools. He was quiet for a bit, though, and Logan kept writing some notes down until Patton finally started talking again.

“Are you just my best friend out of convenience? Because I claimed you so early on and never really had any other friends? Do you just… stay my friend out of pity?” Patton was looking down until he felt Logan’s hand on his back, and then a laugh came from the usually stoic man.

“Patton, you’re my best friend because everyone else is annoying. If I didn’t want to be your friend I wouldn’t be, you’re a lot to deal with but I’ve been dealing with you for fifteen years and I plan on dealing with you for many more.” Logan’s voice was serious, and Patton could tell that he meant what he was saying. He leaned into Logan, wrapping his arms around his best friend.

“Thanks, Lo. Love ya.”

“Love you too, Pat.”

Patton’s arm burned, but in a good way. Underneath the plastic he could see the vibrant colors of his very first tattoo, his mother’s favorite flower and a bee sitting on its petals, to remind him of Logan. He didn’t tell anyone that he was getting it, not even Logan, so when he got home to find Logan sitting at the kitchen table doing homework while talking to his mom, he was surprised.

“Lo? What are you doing here?” he asked, putting his arm behind his back so neither of them could see. He kissed his mother on the cheek before sitting on one of the chairs beside them.

“I came by to study but Hannah said that you went out for something,” Logan explained, pushing his glasses up further on his nose.

“What did you do, baby?” his mother asked, glancing at him carefully. He was still hiding his arm, but he smiled and brought it out, settling it on the table.

“I uh, I got a tattoo, Mama,” Patton said hesitantly. She looked at it carefully, smiling a little bit. “A sunflower. Your favorite.” Logan eyed the tattoo as well, nodding in understanding. “To celebrate you beating the cancer again.”

“Patton, will you take me to get a tattoo?” Logan’s voice was there suddenly, and the two Harts looked at him with surprised expressions.

“Lo, you… want a tattoo?”

“I want to get a constellation tattooed on my shoulder. The one that was in the sky on the day we became best friends.”

Patton leaned into Remus’ side, the taller man’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. They were at the cafe, the others having gone home long ago to study or sleep, but the couple stayed long after, chatting with Remy whenever he brought them over refills on their drinks or small pastries. Remus’ grip got a little tighter around Patton each time he shone his signature bright smile at the barista, earning a soft thigh squeeze from the smaller man and a kiss on the cheek. Maybe that was why he did it; not because he was worried about Patton flirting, but because his boyfriend always comforted him with those delicate touches and sweet kisses.

The bell above the door to the cafe rang gently as a few men stepped in. Remus glanced out of the corner of his eye at them, and he thought his heart would stop. “Shit,” he muttered, looking down, earning a confused squeak from Patton. “Shit, we need to go. Right now.” Patton glanced over at the group of men, all dressed in leather, covered in tattoos and piercings, evil smirks on their faces as they noticed Remus.

“Do you know them?” Patton asked softly, and Remus buried his face into the other’s shoulder, a small note of truth escaping his mouth. “Are they…?” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Patton wasn’t a fool; he could tell by Remus’ body language and the way he tensed up that this was the group of boys he had spent time with in high school. “I’ll go pay our tab, will you be okay?” Remus said nothing but gripped onto Patton tighter, shaking his head.

“Remus Creative,” one of the voices said, dark and gritty, and Remus cringed, looking up at him. Him. “Looks like you found yourself a precious pansy, hm?”

“Fuck off,” his voice was weak, trembling, and the memories of those eyes tore through him.

“Aw, don’t worry, kitten, he’ll tire of you soon enough and you won’t have to deal with his voices and crude comments,” another one said, and Patton considered lunging at him, but held back, because Remus was trembling beside him.

“Everything alright, babes?” Remy was there, thank god, and Patton smiled sweetly at him, taking his debit card out of his pocket.

“Can we pay off our tab, please, Remy? We have to get going,” Patton said, his eyes flickering from the barista to the men, and a wave of understanding seemed to cross Remy’s face, who nodded and took the card, going back to the counter speedily.

“Running away again, Remus?” That voice asked again, and the mustached man shuddered, unable to look away from the grimace on his face. “You were always so good at that.” Patton’s frown deepened, and he glared at the man. “Aw, are you going to try to defend him, little kitten? Trying to be so cool with those floral tattoos–”

“I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF!” Remus was standing, his fists clenched, glaring at the men. Patton scrambled to his feet, a hand gripping the back of Remus’ jacket. Remy reappeared, handing the debit card to Patton, placing himself between Remus and the group of men.

“Alright, boys. Get out. You’re not welcome here if you’re going to torment some of my best customers.” His voice was firm, and they all glanced at the ‘Manager’ title on his name tag. “I don’t want to have to call the authorities. Get. Out.” The group scrambled out the door, the bell clanging almost annoying to the three, and Patton’s arms were around Remus.

“Hey, you okay, babe?” he asked, feeling his taller boyfriend shaking, his head low. “Shh, it’s okay, everything is okay, we’re okay.”

“Are you babes gonna be okay?” Remy asked, still standing there, arms crossed as he watched the group of men outside in deep discussion.

“Thank you, Remy,” Remus finally spoke, his voice still low. “If you hadn’t stepped in… I might have done something I’d regret.” Remy smiled, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, no one messes with my babes like that,” he said before going back to behind the counter. Patton’s lips were against Remus’ cheek, grounding him.

“Let’s go, Re.”

Remus woke up, feeling Patton’s arms around him loosely. The smaller man was snoring softly, and Remus smiled, carding his fingers through the fading pink hair. When they got back to his bedroom last night, he needed to be grounded, and Patton was there, being gentle and soft, his hands and lips all over his body until Remus felt relaxed enough to fall asleep.

Patton groaned a bit in his sleep, stretching his arms and legs, his eyes fluttering open to meet Remus’. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice heavy with sleepiness. “Morning, little flower,” Remus said, leaning down to press a stinky-mouthed kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Thank you for last night.”

“Oh. Of course, honey. Anything for you,” he said quietly, but Remus could tell something was on his mind. “What did they mean by… you tiring of me, or running away?”

“Before you… I never really had a… committed partner. I’d run at the first hint that things were getting serious, when they said those words, I ran,” Remus explained, looking down. “But… that’s not going to happen with you, Patton. You mean so much to me, you’re… everything to me.”

“Everything?” Patton asked, a smile appearing on his face, his lips pressing to Remus’ cheek and then his neck.

“Patton,” he started, his heartbeat speeding up, and he wondered if the other could hear it because soft blue eyes met his green ones. “I love you.” Patton blinked, absorbing the knowledge, and then his arms were around Remus’ neck, their lips pressing together joyously.

“I love you too, Remus.”

Remus smiled into the kiss. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Patton was there, he was with him, and everything was good. And if things came up, they’d work through them together. They were a team, and they always would be. He kept repeating those words between kisses, the weight from his mouth lifted, and he wished he could have said those words to Patton weeks ago, because it felt so right to say them.

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teaser for part nine: and the dark one is soft for the sunshine one

Roman wanted to object, but he knew that Virgil would just remind him of their nights practicing for the auditions, their super early mornings running lines, the way Roman was always there to watch Virgil’s scenes. Virgil was there too, always supporting, always smiling, even when his anxiety got the best of him, even when it was hard to focus.

part nine will be (hopefully) posted on Sunday, September 6 at 12PM PDT

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part nine | part ten

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taglist

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@are-you-even--real

@lallyphant

@deceits-left-glove

@aricana8

@pixelated-pineapple

@starstruck-xavier

@thiel

@sophiexteresa

@cemmy

@toadink2005

@eeveeeclair246

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@pansexualpuppet

@morgan-leaf

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austinpanda · 4 years ago

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Dad Letter 112220

22 November, 2020

Dear Dad--

What is it about today’s date? Took me a second; 11/22 is the Kennedy assassination. On that happy note, hello and happy Sunday, and day 19 of the 2020 general election! It was 22 degrees this morning and everything was covered with frost. Our Christmas tree is up, and little Horta is attempting to get every ornament off the tree so she can kill it and get spit all over it.

Things here are going pretty well. I have finished my screenplay for The Legend of Hell House. I’m pleased with the way it turned out. I’m pretty sure I’d pay money to see it in a theater once. What I’m doing now is retyping the whole damn thing into proper script format using scriptwriting software. After that, I force Stacy and Zach to read it, and then I start shopping it around for representation by an agent. In the meantime, I’m working on my other project, a sort-of documentary about that plane crash in Sioux City, Iowa that I’m always talking about. I’m hoping that someone will at least agree to represent me as a screenwriter by the time my money runs out and I have to start looking for actual work. Wouldn’t it be something if I could be paid to write?

Since this plane crash has been on my mind, and I’m writing about it, and watching documentaries about it, and reading books about it, I wanted to tell you one more interesting thing about what happened in this accident. This was one of the little details that originally got the hook into me with this story. I learned a new word, I learned some new science, and I learned another way in which this whole thing sucked for the people on the airplane.

What happened was, at 37,000 feet, the plane lost its #2 engine. That’s the engine on the tail. There’s engine #1 on the left wing, #2 in the tail, and #3 on the right wing. Because of the way they “lost” the engine, they also lost all their hydraulic fluid. The DC-10 needs that fluid to fly, period. Otherwise they can’t steer. Also the plane kept trying to roll over on its right side, which put them at risk of inverting, and then falling so fast the wings would come off. But after the flight crew figured out how to keep them right side up, the plane began to go up, and down, and up, and down, up, down, up, down, like a sine wave. If a given passenger made it this far without soiling himself in terror, he now had motion sickness to deal with, because the plane had become a rollercoaster.

Up, down, up, down. Here’s the excellent word I learned: phugoid. (Pronounced just like it looks, few-goid. Avoid the phugoid!) The plane was flying in a phugoid. That’s when the plane goes up, and down, up and down. It’s interesting because you might think, “An airplane can’t go up and down, up and down, all by itself, that’s just crazypants.” Well, yes it can! It’s not an uncommon thing for planes to do when the pilot loses control of the flight surfaces. Here’s why it happens.

The airplane is humming along at, say, 250 knots. It’s configured, or “trimmed” for 250 knots; it’s in harmony at 250 knots. Based on the way the plane is configured, it WANTS to fly at its trim speed; it wants to go 250 knots. But then you lose that #2 engine, and suddenly you’ve lost one third of your thrust, so you start to slow down. Soon you’re at 230 knots, 210 knots. This is when “the magic of physics” intervenes, and it pushes the nose of the plane down. The plane wants to fly at 250 knots, it’s going too slow, so it starts going downhill to pick up speed. Does this all by itself.

So the plane starts going faster. Soon it’s back to 230, then 240, 250, hooray! Problem solved! Except, no, it’s still going downhill. It overshoots, and now it’s going 270 knots, 290 knots. The plane says to itself, “Going too fast, I want to get back to 250,” so the magic of physics intervenes again, and it pushes the nose of the airplane up. Now it’s going uphill, and the speed is decreasing. It reaches 250 again--hooray! Problem solved! Except, no, it’s going uphill now, and it overshoots. Now it’s down to 230, 210...the nose drops, it goes downhill to pick up speed and the process repeats. It’s also called “porpoising,” as in dolphins.

So that’s what the pilot and co-pilot were dealing with. They had no hydraulics, which meant no ability to steer. The plane kept wanting to roll over to the right. They began the phugoid oscillations. The last, perhaps most important thing to know about the phugoid is this: The plane doesn’t return to the same altitude each time. Each time they complete another cycle, down, then up, they lose about 1,500 feet of altitude.

Okay, that’s enough about my silly plane crash. If you ever saw the movie Fearless, with Jeff Bridges, it’s about a man and a woman (unknown to each other at the time) who both survive an accident just like this one. Perhaps not surprisingly, the crash begins to have some impact on their day-to-day, and they have psychological issues to work through. Good movie! Depressing as fuck. Also, oh my God, I’m still talking about the plane crash.

In completely non-plane-crash-related news, can you believe Thanksgiving is almost upon us? I’m unhappy about them deciding not to have a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade this year, although I can certainly understand it. Tuning in to that parade, watching for five minutes, and then turning the sound all the way down because I can’t stand how damn adorable all the commentary is, is one of my favorite holiday traditions. I enjoy not watching it just as much as I enjoy not watching the Tournament of Roses Parade.

But we’re planning on a good Thanksgiving. We have a couple of friends who have been as extra-cautious and hypervigilant about not getting Covid as we have, so we’re going to eat some food with them, and then I don’t know when we’re going to see them again. The coronavirus shit is getting so bad, even out here in the deep space of Maine, that we may have to lock down again, and stop seeing anyone except the folks we see at the grocery store.

Almost forgot to tell you, I visited the endocrinologist this past Thursday. I don’t remember his name, so I’m just calling him Dr. Gonad in the privacy of my own thoughts. I wish I had more news to provide after having visited him, but the visit didn’t “move the ball” very far, because he has one set of testosterone numbers from the last blood work, and now he needs a second set of fasting blood work testosterone numbers before he can take any action. He did confirm that my testosterone was low, which I knew, and that I wasn’t growing boobs as a result, which is nothing but great, as far as I’m concerned. Boobs are lovely on other people, but I prefer my natural boobless state.

I hope you have a good Thanksgiving. I’ll try to do something different over the next seven days, so I have something other than airplane accidents to talk about. Either way, you’re both in my thoughts, especially now during the holidays. All my love to you both!

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psychopersonified · 5 years ago

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Can your AI do this?

Post Are we ever going to talk about this? and Where was the wooing? (AO3)

Highly recommended to read the series first to get emotionally invested in their story arc. This short piece will feel a lot more satisfying once you know their backstory. But you can still read this as a stand alone.

Q-Branch gets a pet (for science! purposes). Bond tests a new vehicle, and Q gets thoroughly... well you know 😉.

Tags: *Ahem* Fun-times content (be responsible), newly established relationship, humour, fluff with feeling, banter.

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SIS Building - Q-Branch

The little bug eyed bright yellow creature stares up at him from inside its glass terrarium. From that angle, it looks like its smiling up at them.

Q closes the cover after replacing the water dish, “We’re studying its movements and ability to adhere to surfaces. With all the sensitives around drone use and anti-drone capabilities these days, we’re thinking a robot that is a little more discrete would be more effective. Something small, quiet, that won’t trigger existing alarm systems and a much longer battery life. Potentially it might not even need to enter the premises, it could make its way up the side walls and observe from outside.“

“You’re just using that as an excuse to keep something cute.“ The creature raises itself on all fours, head head high, staring at Bond curiously.

“Well I’m not denying it’s good for morale as well.” Q waves his fingers at the creature and it responds by licking an eye with a pink tongue.

“Not mine. I’ve seen your little machine learning side project. You’re working on replacing me with an AI, and a robot gecko. So much for job security.”

“Oh don’t worry. Not until we can fit a miniaturised poison dart gun to the robot, we’ll still need you around.”

“Thanks,” Bond huffs, mildly put out. “So is there anything I can do for you at the moment? Or have you called me here just to insult me?”

Q isn’t fooled, he knew Bond was looking for any excuse to cut short his meeting with M and 009. Agent 007 has a low tolerance threshold for bureaucratic meetings; once past the hour mark, his attention span wanes significantly and he becomes disruptive.

Q smiles at him, “Believe it or not, I’ve actually called you here for legitimate reasons. This way please 007.”

——

London River Thames

They’re standing on the dock under the SIS building. Bobbing in the water attached to a boat is what can only be described as a watercraft bearing an uncanny resemblance to a dolphin.

“It’s a modified Seabreacher; we’ve enhanced its submersible capabilities up to 15 ft and of course added a light weapons system. We’ve also given it an electric motor for low speed stealth mode.”

Bond turns him, expression hopeful. Q has to quickly clarify, “Before you get excited, it’s not assigned to you. But I do need a test pilot today.”

Bond exhales; a put upon sigh. As if he wasn’t internally itching to get into the machine. Q waits for him to change into something more comfortable. When Bond returns, he is in a black turtleneck that showcases the muscles of his upper body to great effect. His holster worn over it and he has driving gloves on. He looks every bit the rouge he’s accused of being.

Q nearly looses his tablet stylus to the Thames when it drops out of his distracted hand and rolls perilously close to a gap between the planks of the dock. He saves it by stepping on it quickly.

They tow the Seabreacher a short distance upriver, somewhere between Battersea Bridge and Chelsea Bridge where river traffic is a little less busy. Bond has an excellent time testing out the craft, quickly getting the hang of barrel rolls, executing spin stops and 90 degree surface breaches and finally, porpoising through the water mimicking the movements of real dolphins. The stealth submersible mode works excellent too, but the Thames has disappointingly poor visibility so there’s not much to see. However it gives them a chance to try the newly installed underwater sonar navigation system. Pity they didn’t get to test the weapons system - the London City Council and the London Port Authority wasn’t too keen on allowing that.

All this acrobatic splashing about draws a crowd among the park visitors on both sides of the river and from the few boathouses docked on the northside of the bank. When the test ends, Bond pulls the craft up along side the waiting boat. He exits the cockpit to a smattering of appreciative applause from a passing tour boat - Americans on holiday likely. Native Londoners are unlikely to be this emotive. Bond smirks and gives them a curt wave.

He’s in such a good mood that once he’s jumped on board the tow boat, he stalks over to Q who had just finished tethering the craft, cups one side of his face with a gloved hand and pecks him quickly on the corner of the mouth in front of everyone.

“Can your AI do that?”

“You’re impossible,” Q lightly shoves him away. Mindful that they are still on the clock.

“And you love challenges.”

“Not impossible ones.”

“Says the man who is trying to replace me with a gecko.”

“You know what, I probably could program an autonomous mode into the thing. For starters, it’ll be far less infuriating.”

“I wasn’t talking about the craft...,” Bond reaches for Q again, this time swiping a thumb over the corner of his mouth where the agent just kissed.

“Get a room!… Sirs.” Nish yells at them from the helm of the tow boat. He’s still peeved that he lost money on the bet about them getting together.

——

Quartermaster’s Residence - Sexy times

Bond’s good mood extends all the way to the evening when they get home. Dinner was abysmally quick because a randy agent wouldn’t let Q sit down to eat; pressed up against him from behind, groping and palming him between the legs as he rushed through his food standing at the kitchen counter.

A quick shower later and they‘ve exiled the cats and seconded themselves in the bedroom.

“Talk to me about the Seabreacher again,” Bond instructs as he lowers a well prepared Q into his lap. The entry is tight but smooth. The heat of Q’s waiting body intoxicating.

Q savours the breach, the feeling of invading fullness as Bond pushes in. “Hmm... turns you on does it?“ Q wraps his arms around Bond’s neck and kisses him playfully before sucking on his bottom lip and nipping up the line of Bond’s jaw to give the agent’s earlobe a playful bite.

“How many horsepowers?” Bond rumbles, squeezing a fleshy cheek in retaliation and to prompt him along.

“300 from the twin supercharged intercooled ICE alone…,” Q breathes into his ear, “…another 50 from the electric motor... Ah!” Q grinds down to meet his upward thrust.

-Fuck YESSss-. He didn’t think it possible, but Bond feels himself stiffen further. He snakes a hand from behind, into Q’s hair and tugs his head back. “Weapons?” He mouths against the delicate column of Q’s pale exposed neck, latching on and sucking with every intention to bruise.

“Ngghhh!… Dorsal mounted assault rifle. Ah!... Two rounds of compact mini underwater torpedos.. Ooh... with blast force that could sink a yacht—“ the next thrust sends Q wailing “—Jaaaames!” Feeding right into his ego.

Bond kisses Q deeply. -God how he loves this man-, “Manoeuvrerbility?”

“Jet nozzle trust vectoring— *gasp*…full tail articulation… *gasp* …giving the pilot complete control to execute high speed 360 degree barrel rolls—“ Bond changes angle suddenly, “Fuck! James!” Q’s grip around the agent’s shoulders tightens to brace himself against it. The things this man does to him! The sudden intensity of sensation as Bond hits the right spot brings tears to his eyes.

“Mmm… What else can it do?” Bond demands, pulling Q downwards even as his hips snap up - growling with the force it.

It takes a few seconds for Q to recollect his thoughts, gritting his teeth, eyes squeezing shut. “High speed, 90 degree underwater to surface breaches… Oh God!… Submarine mode up to 15ft dept …*gasp* …electric powered stealth mode up to five…*gasp* …five nautical miles—,” Q buries his face in the crook of Bond’s neck moaning, “… Bullet proof cabin pod.”

Q is panting hard now, fingernails biting into the muscles of Bond’s back, riding through the staccato rhythm the best he can. “James, please. I can’t think anymore…” he begs.

Bond tips them over onto the bed so he’s on top and continues their practiced rhythm. Alternating between deep and shallow thrusts. With most of Q’s weight now supported by the bed, Bond can put all of his strength into his hip movements.

The intensity has Q gasping his name at every inward shove, which just fuels Bond’s possessive fire. It turns into a blaze - spurring him on; harder, deeper. Q’s previously restrained cries turn into outright wails and Bond has to muffle them with deep consuming kisses lest they scare the cats or the neighbours call the police on them.

Soon, the friction between their bodies along with the sweet repetitive drag of Bond’s unyielding girth and length inside him, angled just right, has Q whimpering for release; for mercy. His entire body is shaking -Too much!- “Please James!… Please… I need…. I need…,” Bond swallows every word of his plea with greedy possessive kisses, all the while not missing a stroke.

When Bond finally responds, his voice is low, gravelly and teasing, “Yes love, what do you need?” The gentleness of his tone a direct contrast to the unrelenting strength of his thrusts. The bastard knows exactly what he needs!

Frustrated, Q bites down on a thickly muscled shoulder, but that serves only to stoke Bond’s cruelty. His pumping slows, turning into deep powerful grinds. The pleasure is agonisingly drawn out, the sustained feeling of fullness, arguably more torturous.

“Oh God! Jaa—mees please!… I can’t… Ah!…” Q sobs in desperation, his body strung so tight, clawing for release, wanting, needing.

“Sshhh…” Bond soothes, strong hands caressing the length of Q’s body but his hips do not relent. Then comes more deep claiming kisses - stealing the very breath from him before Bond finally reaches down between them, grabs a firm but gentle hold of him and starts stroking, from root to tip, milking him exactly as he likes it.

Q moans brokenly. Body shuddering. One more deep angled thrust and a slow swipe of a calloused thumb over his leaking tip and Q arches his back in absolute unconditional surrender.

Pleasure rips trough his body, muscles tightening and spasming with his release - clamping down hard around the fullness still inside him for long seconds before slowly going lax. His brain shuts down into safe mode.

When he first comes to, he’s vaguely aware that James is still thrusting into him, face buried in his neck. With a final stuttering push he too tips over the edge, rooting deeply and coming in long spurts. The loud rapturous moan that escapes him is one of unreserved release. Never has Q heard him this vocal on missions, the sounds of pleasure usually only coming from his marks - 007 is himself usually silent, a few grunts and he’s done.

James collapses on top of him, their chest rising and falling in synchronised rhythm. Once they’ve finally caught their breaths, they’re kissing again, slow languid kisses of pure affection. James is still on top, propped up on his elbows, Q’s head cradled in his hands, his heavy warm weight a secure blanket. Q has never felt this completely possessed yet this utterly worshipped at the same time than when he is with James.

With a final noisy kiss, Bond reaches for the towel he’d set aside the bed earlier. Q’s brain finishes rebooting while Bond gently disengages and cleans up the mess between them.

The first coherent thought that comes to Q’s mind is, “You know, I think there might still be space to fit an auxiliary air supply unit to extend the submersible range.”

Bond pauses his clean up ministrations to kiss him again, “Careful love, keep saying those things and you just might instigate a second round.”

Q grins cheekily up at him, “Oh you like that do you? Wait till I tell you about the car we’re planning for you... Ah! James!!”

The next day Q has to wear a hideous brown and grey stripped turtleneck to work and explain to Ops why MI6 received a notification that a police patrol unit was dispatched to his residence at 12:30am that morning.

——FIN——

If anyone would like to name the gecko, I’m open to suggestions.

Notes: If you liked this story, there’s more on the blog or AO3. Please like, reblog, comment etc. Enjoy!

#00Q #00q fanfiction #00q fic #q #quartermaster

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badbackgroundscience · 5 years ago

Text

Science of “The Seven”

I watched Amazon’s The Boys this week. So instead of the usual 60′s Marvel fare, here’s some tangential science relating to the superpowers featured in the show:

1. Homelander can’t see through zinc.

This is obviously a play on Superman not being able to see through lead, but the switch brings up some problems with the physics involved. X-rays - light with wavelengths ranging between 0.01 and 10 nm* - can’t travel through a lump of lead because lead is super dense. It’s nearly the heaviest non-radioactive element, with (usually) 208 protons+neutrons and 82 electrons. And its atoms pack very closely together.**

Combining that density with the fact that lead atoms are also very good at attenuating x-ray light (meaning the amount of x-ray photons that can penetrate a certain thickness of lead drops exponentially as that thickness increases), it makes sense that Superman’s x-ray vision’s weakness is lead.

But zinc is a smaller atom (usually 64 protons+neutrons and 30 electrons) and its atoms don’t pack as tightly; it’s about 1.5 times less dense than lead. It’s X-ray attenuation is generally lower, but not too different, from lead (compare this graph vs this one). Together, this makes it easier for x-rays to penetrate zinc than lead.

So why can’t Homelander see through zinc, but (supposedly) see through lead? It could be that the x-rays he emits correspond to a wavelength that zinc absorbs more than lead does. Annoyingly, the absorption spectra I can find all seem to be dealing with zinc compounds (e.g. ZnO, ZnS) instead of pure zinc metal. So I can’t tell you exactly what wavelength that would need to be.

Sorry.***

2. The Deep has torso gills

Fish are ectotherms, meaning their body temperature is regulated by their environment. Mammals - including cetaceans (i.e. whales, porpoises, and dolphins) - are endotherms. We generate our own body heat. Kevin presumably does, too.

This means that a man needs more oxygen than a man-sized fish does. About 15 times the oxygen, in fact. It’s the gills’ job to extract oxygen from water and pump it into the fish’s bloodstream; bigger fish have bigger gills, but a 75-kg man needs gills 15 times the size of a 75-kg fish’s. Not necessarily in length, but in collection area. And that’s assuming you’re not doing any physical activity that ups your oxygen requirements.

But on top of that, oxygen is far less abundant in water than it is in air - about 20 times less for the same volume. If an average human needs a quart**** of oxygen per minute, their gills would need to strain 51 gallons of water every minute to meet that requirement.

Combining these two factors, designer and material scientist-dabbler Jun Kamei is developing a set of artificial gills, and claims the final device will have a surface area of 32 square meters (344 square feet).

The human lung surface area is somewhere around 75 square meter range, so if you’ve got gills that can pack as efficiently as lungs do, you probably could fit them into your abdomen. Maybe not Chase Crawford’s abdomen, but a stockier human’s abdomen.

The real problem here is that Kevin’s doing himself no favors by covering the gills up while he’s underwater. Water rushing through the gills is the whole point, and you’ve just made it 1000% harder.

3. A-Train (and Popclaw) booms and bu(r)sts

According to the race announcer that one episode, A-Train can reach speeds over 1000 miles per hour. Assuming that’s true and not a horrible exaggeration, as soon as he passes the speed of sound (767 mph at sea level), A-Train would create sonic booms. Not a single boom. Constant booms for as long as he’s going fast enough. You (as a single individual) only hear one, but that’s only because you’re not moving.

We never see him do this, so we must conclude he’s not a complete idiot and only goes this fast when he’s far away from people and architecture. (If I read the screen right, he only clocks in at 371 in his race.)

As for the secret girlfriend he murdered, there are several species of amphibians that can stick their own bones out through their skin to use as weapons. For example, species of frog within the genus Astylosternus, and Trichobatrachus robustus (aka the hairy frog). The Spanish ribbed newt can push its ribs out through its torso; when threatened, its skin also secrets poison, turning its bones into poisonous barbs.*****

4. Translucent isn’t see-through. He’s see-around.

As the man explains to Jimmy the late night host (No, not that Jimmy the late night host...the other Jimmy the late night host), his skin can convert at will to a “carbon metamaterial” that bends light around it.

We don’t know if there are other elements involved besides carbon, but if there aren’t, the real-world comparison is graphene -- an atom-thick layer of carbon atoms bonded to each other forming a honeycomb pattern.

Given its thickness, it’s translucent itself. [Side note: yes, “translucent” doesn’t mean invisible. However, some dictionaries (e.g. Merriam Webster and the OED) include alternative definitions identical to "transparent"...which goes against everything I ever learned. But either way, he actually is translucent when he isn’t “translucent”. Because human skin is translucent, assuming there isn’t too much melanin in it.]

A 2D sheet of graphene has a breaking strength of 42 Pa (0.0061 psi). That number seems super small, but it's actually reflecting the strongest material we know of. You'd need 4,300 pounds balanced on a pencil (pointy end on the graphene) to break through that atom-thick sheet.

Alternatively, if I did my back-of-the-envelope math right, you’d need a 50 gram .50-cal bullet traveling at ~770,000 mph (and coming to a stop in ~1 millisecond). Now, the human epidermis averages ~1mm thick. That's 3 million layers of graphene.

However, if you manage to put a crack into your graphene, it becomes brittle on par with a ceramic.`*

As for being able to electrocute Translucent because carbon is “highly conductive”, graphene is indeed so; however, other carbon compounds aren't (e.g. diamonds). It all depends on the positioning of electrons within the solid (moving electrons = flowing charge). Since we don’t know what Translucent’s metamaterial is, we’ll have to take the show at its word.

Though here’s some bonus info: metamaterials are all synthetic. Which would mean that Translucent had this skin installed somehow. Or, it’s a very subtle dig at Compound V being used to create superheroes that only I caught.

The one thing that the season left bugging me about Translucent was his eyeballs. Somehow those are see-through.

5. Starlight pushes it real good

Our newest member of the Seven can use concentrated light to knock baddies off their feet, as well as throw them several meters back. This is an exaggerated form of reality. Light can actually push stuff.

Photons do exert a teeny tiny amount of pressure on whatever they hit. It’s called radiation pressure. The amount is sufficient for something like a solar sail (The above image is LightSail 2), but not wiping the floor with a criminal.

According to (more) envelope math, Starlight would need to emit ~30 PetaWatts to deliver a good boxer-level punch to a baddie standing ~2 meters away. That's the equivalent amount of energy released by 7.2 million tons of TNT exploding, in 1 second.

Also, given the color of the light she emits, she’s probably emitting a spectrum identical to our Sun, meaning she’s emitting a ton of light that normally gets blocked by our atmosphere, including x-rays and ultraviolet radiation.

She’s definitely given someone a melanoma at some point during her life. Or at least a very bad sunburn.

Bonus: Ice Princess shatters wangs

Final back-of-the-envelope math, calculating how fast that guy's (presumably erect) penis would freeze being enveloped by an ice vagina at -346 °F (-210 °C). A combination of calculating the heat lost per second via conduction, and the amount of energy lost as body-temp water cools and converts to ice.

Came out to 0.1 seconds.

Faster than I expected...

_______________________________________________________________________

* Visible light is ~400-700 nm

** There are several (nonradioactive) metals more dense than lead, but more rare/expensive, like gold and iridium.

*** Also, brass can be up to 45% zinc. Does that mean Homelander can only sort of see through brass?

**** Get out of here with your imperial units, self...

***** Fun fact: it can regenerate lost limbs, heart tissue, brain cells, and its spinal cord

`* Butt cracks don’t count.

_______________________________________________________________________

Image credits:

Zinc - CC BY 3.0

gills By Chris 73, CC BY-SA 3.0

frog claws from Barej et al 2010

sonic boom By I, Melamed katz, CC BY-SA 3.0

graphene By U.S. Army Materiel Command, CC BY 2.0

lightsail 2 By Josh Spradling / The Planetary Society CC BY-SA 3.0

ice by Ian Mackenzie CC BY 2.0

#tv #the boys #chemistry #marine biology #physics #animals

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porkchop-ao3 · 7 years ago

Text

A Girl's Best Friend: Part 2/3

Rick had been working in his garage today, in his makeshift workshop slash science lab, and had allowed me to hang around at his home while he worked. I'd taken to reading in his little library on days like this, a room packed with books from a range of decades; from the settling of dust I could tell which books he read the most, and so I had been working my way along the bottom shelf of the bookcase closest to a comfortable bean bag chair in the corner. Most of them were non-fiction science books and encyclopedias. I never read through the whole book, of course, but I'd flick through until I found a page that interested me. I'd read about dolphins, whales and porpoises, and learned the differences between them, I'd read a chapter about cactus plants and found out the most common mistakes first time plant-owners made when keeping them, I'd learned about the milky way and all of the planets in it. I treated the days where I was free to roam Rick's house as opportunities to learn; even if I struggled to retain most of the information I read in his books.

Today, however, I noticed a new book on the shelf. When I picked it up I noticed the spine had few creases, telling me that it was almost brand new and Rick and not long started reading it. When I turned it over to see the cover, I was surprised to read the title; "The Crystal Bible: A Definitive Guide to Crystals". The cover was filled with images of gemstones, some I recognised and some I did not; Carnelian, Smoky Quartz, Blue Lace Agate, Amethyst and Tiger's Eye to name a few. It surprised me since Rick had told me that he was skeptical of the healing properties of gemstones, however it made sense that he would want to learn about the topic anyway. Rick was always picking up new information, he was a treasure trove of facts and knowledge; I felt as though I could ask him about anything and he would know at least a little bit about the topic. Speaking about gemstones to me must have inspired him, and I smiled at this, especially when I saw little adhesive page markers poking out from between the pages here and there. I couldn't resist flicking through to the pages he had purposefully singled out as being of interest to him.

The first marker brought me to a page about Agate, and so I read about it. A stone that facilitates self acceptance, Agate is said to build self-confidence and alleviate negativity and bitterness of the heart. It promotes love, and when placed on the heart it should relieve emotional unease that prevents one from accepting love from others.

I glanced up at nothing after reading the information set in front of me, thinking, wondering about Rick's interest in this particular stone. I didn't dwell on it for long, quickly turning to the next marked out page.

I was led to Andradite Garnet. A stone to inspire courage, stamina and strength; it's good for relationships in that it alleviates feelings of isolation and alienation. It is also said to bring into your relationships what is needed for its growth, and attracts intimate encounters.

Then there was Apatite, which encourages motivation, creativity, intellect and knowledge, helping in any endeavor for truth and the collective good. It also helps individuals with openness, restoring energy and bringing out characteristics of extrovertism. It's a stone for social ease, and passion without guilt.

The next one was Hematite. A strong stone that imparts confidence in those around it. It boosts self-esteem, reliability, focus and willpower and encourages letting go of self-imposed limitations. It allows for growth and expansion of the self. It is also said to help with problem solving, concentration and enhancing memory.

The final marker brought me to Rose Quartz. This was a stone that I was already familiar with, but reading the page was a joy anyway because I'd always thought Rose Quartz was a wonderful stone, and its supposed properties beautiful. It opens up the heart so that you can be receptive of receiving love, and encourages self acceptance, feelings of self worth and love for oneself. In relationships it's said to restore and maintain trust and harmony, it's a calming, purifying and reassuring stone that is effective in attracting love into one's life. It's meaning is focused especially around unconditional love and infinite peace.

It made me smile that this page had a marker especially. I didn't know why Rick had chosen these pages, perhaps they held meanings that were important to him, relevant in some way to his own life. In a way, I could understand. The reoccurring mentions of self esteem, confidence and accepting love struck me the most. Did Rick really struggle with allowing love into his life? It's true that he took some convincing when I first told him about my feelings for him. And his self esteem had always been on the low side, I tried as hard as I could to make him believe that he was a great man, worthy of the best things in life, though years of being put down by his alternate selves had certainly took a toll. His confidence, too, came in peaks and troughs, though there were undoubtedly more troughs. Even simply kissing had been a struggle for him at first, so nervous and concerned about messing up or doing something I wouldn't like. There wasn't much he could do that would displease me, I'd told him, perhaps only holding me at arm's length out of fear. I wanted him, his true self, and everything that came with it, his inexperience was something I found endearing, something to be cherished. Unfortunately he did not see it that way.

I closed the book and sighed, slotting it back into its place on the shelf before rising to my feet and leaving. Reading those pages and gaining such an insight into Rick's mind had left me feeling needy and in want of some affection. Giving or receiving, I'd take either, I just wanted to be close to him. So I made my way downstairs and through his house. Rick's home was like a TARDIS in that it looked fairly small or average sized from the outside, but the inside held so many rooms and nooks and crannies to hide away and seek refuge in. Little rooms with seating areas, chess tables and desks with evidence of art and crafts; paint spillages and sawdust from wood work. More evidence lined the walls, paintings he'd done himself, shelves holding little wooden figurines crudely whittled yet bursting with charm. It was a house full of character, it was certainly lived in and felt like a home. Perhaps just as much as my actual home.

I stopped outside the door that joined the garage to the house, and knocked. There was an eruption of sound, clattering and scraping, before Rick's voice could be heard, beckoning me inside. I entered, catching the tail end of his rushed tidy-up session. He needn't bother tidy for me, he was working and I could be one of the messiest workers myself. But I appreciated the gesture all the same. He turned in his chair, looking at me curiously, a little smile on his face. My own smile burst from me, wide and unbridled, the moment I set eyes on him. He had a way of doing that to me.

“H-hello, (y/n), I'm sorry, you must be getting bored out there all on your own. Th-that's rude of me, let me just finish tidying up and I will be all yours.” He told me apologetically, and I kept on walking towards him, not stopping until my knees butted up to his and I could lean down and wrap my arms around him in a tight embrace. He made a surprised sound, jolting underneath me, but soon his arms were encircling my waist. “Wh-wh-what's this for?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I was just missing you.” I admitted, turning my head and burying my face in his neck, inhaling the scent of lavender on his skin. “I was reading some of your books again, I noticed you got a new one.” I whispered, straightening up but keeping my hands locked together behind his neck. Rick's hands didn't know where to settle for a while, but they stopped fidgeting when they found my hips.

“Ohh, yes…” he said sheepishly, chuckling as his ears turned red. “I was in-interested after our conversation the other day. I saw that at the bookstore in the spirituality section and got curious. I-I-I figured I would have a read through then give the book to you when I was done. Since I know it is more suited to your interests than mine…” he admitted.

“That's very sweet of you to consider me. Thank you.” I said, bending down to kiss the top of his head. “Are you enjoying it?” I asked.

“Yes, in fact I am. Th-there’s a lot of information in it, including where each stone can be found and how rare it is. The parts about wh-what the crystals are supposed to do is also quite fascinating, even for a man of science s-such as myself. There were a few pages that really resonated with me.” He said, frowning slightly and looking down, distractedly gazing but not really looking at my stomach.

“You did?” I prompted.

“Yes. I-I-I certainly do understand now why people collect crystals for their spiritual properties, the idea that your problems c-can be solved by keeping a rock in your pocket is no doubt appealing. Whether it would actually do anything is something we could argue day and night about, but for sure, the idea is nice.” He mused thoughtfully.

“And that's exactly my attitude.” I nodded. “Whether it works or not, what do we have to lose? Either way, being surrounded by such beautiful objects will no doubt have some positive effect. I know that admiring gemstones always lifts my spirits.” I said, and Rick looked up at me with a warm smile.

“Would you like to see mine, now?” He asked, and excitement bubbled up in me and I gasped like a small child after being told they're going to the park.

“Yes, please!” I burst, and Rick chuckled, gently moving me backwards so he could stand up.

“Th-then come with me, angel.” He said softly, then proceeded to lead me back into his house and over to a door by the stairs.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #doofus rick x reader #rick j19zeta7 #fanfiction #crystals

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missfinefeather · 7 years ago

Photo

ACK! WHY DOES THE ART STYLE KEEP RADICALLY CHANGING?!?!

CA: magic is NOT REAL CA: wwhatevver youre doin its not real its somethin else outright entirely

Fantastic xD Of course this is what he’s talking to her about!

CA: youre not usin magic just DEAL WW IT TT: Fine. You win. TT: These are science wands. I am a charlatan.

Rose is just NOT going to play their game, because why the hell would she? She doesn’t care!

CA: i think you wwear the role pretty wwell wwhich is somethin i can appreciate CA: theres a lot of showwmanship thats put in to comin off as a diabolical sort TT: Thanks for the insinuation that I'm making an effort to project myself as a cartoon villain. What a compliment!

See, THIS IS WHAT I MISS! No EVER talks to Rose, but her conversations with trolls are simply riots! I needed this SO BAD! :DDD

TT: Nobility? What are you talking about? CA: wwell arent you TT: No. What gave you that idea? CA: the wway you

...she doesn’t have gills so... I don’t know why he thought that... Does her close come off as royal?

CA: must of been fuckin brutal raisin up a commonblood wwhen you knew you wwere better than evverybody and its probably got you all messed up inside but maybe theres hope for you CA: see i got a lot a experience bein nobility so ill let you knoww if you got a shot in hell at cuttin it pinkscarf

My god, this is where we are going...

Wait, so the Seer he was talking about, he was talking about Rose? Is he seriously trying to Kissemis with Rose? You might want to explain to her what that is...

CA: fakemage pinkscarf howw does that sound TT: You're a complete idiot. CA: see this is good i think this could be a good thing TT: What?

Oh my fucking god, he’s seriously trying to get her into blackrom relationship! :O

I’m so sorry, Rose...

CA: killed a fuckin fuck ton of marine life accidental CA: doin thats all i evver done practically the ocean wwas my killin cauldron TT: Accidentally? TT: Or on porpoise? CA: hahahahaha see youre good wwith fish puns too i got so many a those you havve no idea

Wow, Rose is really good at rolling with the punches! She’s frikkin’ bustin out the puns! I’d Blackrom ship it if Rose wasn’t completely oblivious of what’s going on.

CA: i mean i dont mean to strike you as too forwwardsuch but are you seein wwhere im goin wwith this TT: Oh, right. Alien romance, I forgot. TT: Pass.

Oh... okay, I guess Kanaya covered that. Welp, rejection! Probably a wise choice, this guy’s kind of an ass.

TT: You want to learn magic? CA: yes teach me your secrets wwitch TT: Sure. Let's begin. TT: Consider this your first lesson in showmanship.

She’s going to troll the hell out of him.

Maybe this is how his computer blows up.

#hs day 53 #Missfinefeather Liveblogs #Missfinefeather reads Homestuck #homestuck #liveblog #homestuck liveblog #homestuck act 5 #act 5

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nikxation · 7 years ago

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29, stan twins?

Joke’s on you Anon, I was already planning on a Part 2!!!

Also, thanks to @fordanoia for this little gem… Your hilarious idea made a short cameo…

Part 2 of this

“I feel like I should be concernedthat half of my face feels tingly when I touch it,” Ford says casually, gentlypoking at his own cheek with his one working hand.

“That’ll probably go away in anhour or so,” Stan says. Ford glances over at him and sees that his brother isstill whittling at that same piece of driftwood he’s been working on for thepast few days. It’s coming along nicely, starting to finally take on somedefining shape. Ford’s betting it will be a porpoise.

“I know that,” Ford says, turninghis head back to stare at the ceiling and letting his left-hand fall back ontothe bunk next to him. “It still feels strange.”

“Get used to it,” Stan says. “I just got enough feeling back in my handfor the damn thing to be useable, and with how many of those needles I found inyou, I guarantee you won’t be able to sit-up on your own, let alone walk, forat least another few hours. Pretty soon, allof you is gonna feel like that.”

Ford groans, throwing hisworking-arm across his eyes, the pins-and-needles sensation of thenerve-endings in his face waking up almost uncomfortable in a very bizarre way.

“Oh, quit being so dramatic, Sixer.You’re the one that got yourself into this mess,” Stan says. “I’m already notthrilled about the fact that I told youthis would happen, and yet I was still the one that had to figure out howto haul your heavy ass back into the cabin before we both got heat stroke outthere.”

“But you figured it out! You got mein here in one piece!” Even if I have nomeaningful recollection of the event save for all your grunting and cursing andthe vaguest sense of vertigo-induced nausea.

“Yeah, you’re not gonna be sayingthat in a few hours when you start getting feeling back and find you have somenew bruises that weren’t there before.” Ford frowns.

Certain, odd places on his bodyhave started coming back little by little, namely the parts that got hit byvery few if any of the creature’s quills. His left arm had been his onlyappendage the creature seemed to miss altogether, which had explained why ithad been the only thing he could feel and partially move back on the deck. Thenext thing he got back was his face, a fact that he was extremely thankful forbecause he was getting tired of trying to communicate to Stanley by tapping hisfingers in Morse code and having to wait for him to write it down and translateit by hand. Also, not drooling all over himself was a nice benefit of beingable to control his own mouth again. Besides that, he could already start tofeel parts of his feet starting to come back, along with one patch of skin onhis hip and another on his chest. Everything else is just weight, a numbed voidwhere he knows his body is and yet isn’t, a mass of his tissues and hisorgans and his muscles that simplywon’t listen or talk to him right now.

Asif that’s not familiar in its owneerie way.

He dismisses that line of thinking,not wanting to entertain that thought for longer than necessary.

The boredom wrapped up in hiscurrent predicament comes and goes in waves, completely dependent on how muchStan feels like entertaining him. Before he got limited feeling back in hishand, his brother was more prone to idly talk to him, something he was gratefulfor considering he still hadn’t been able to speak himself at that point. Fordknows a lot of it was more than likely stress-driven, his brother just needingto fill the air to stop himself from dwelling on what had transpired and howmuch worse it could have been. But once Ford started to get minimal movementand feeling back, Stan pulled back a bit, likely mildly upset with Ford for thewhole incident and a bit more willing to express that annoyance now that heknew his brother was going to get better. Ford doesn’t blame him and knows thathe probably deserved it.

It took a bit of needling, but heeventually got his brother talking again, albeit Stan makes sure to remind himof his mistake as often as possible, as if his inability to twitch a toe isn’treminder enough.

He groans again, purposely louderthis time, the skin of his face still prickling.

“It’s not too late to say I told yaso, right?” Stan says.

“Considering you’ve already said iteighteen times now?”

“All I’m saying is that you’resupposed to be the genius here,” Stan says, his tone light and just a little mocking.“So, if I called this from the beginning—”

“For the record, you had no idea this would be the exact result.”

“Does that make me psychic,” Stancontinues, unimpeded by Ford’s interjection, “or just smarter than you?” Fordmoves his arm off his eyes, turning his head to look at his brother. He’slooking up at the ceiling, mimicking being deep in thought, as if consideringthe intricacies of the universe itself. Ford rolls his eyes, a soft smileplaying at his lips.

“Considering the options, I wouldhave to choose the more logical of the two and assume you developed somepre-cognitive abilities,” he says. Stan breaks his feigned contemplation toshoot Ford a deadpan look, which only serves to make Ford grin. “I mean, youbasically walked right into that one, Lee.”

“Wise guy,” Stan mutters, goingback to his whittling for only a moment before his expression shifts, hisentire face lighting up before settling into a smirk that he levels at Ford. “So,if I’m the smarter twin now, does that mean I automatically get, like, thirteenPhDs?”

“That is not at all how it works, and you know it,” Fordsnorts.

“Oh, come on. You said you got yourfirst one, what, like, three years ahead of schedule? I could probably figureit out. How hard could college be?”

“I’ll have you know I workedextremely long hours and spent years studying and researching to get everysingle one of those doctorates,” Ford says.

“Wasn’t one of them some honoraryPhD in Creative Writing or something?”

“It still counts,” Ford saysquickly, “even if the committee completely misunderstood the purpose of thatresearch paper. I mean, who sorts a piece comparing deep-sea anomalies and lakeanomalies and their evolutionary divergence over extended periods of time intothe fiction pile?”

“Any sane human being?”

“They’re all uninformed,” he huffs,attempting to cross his arms over his chest only to remember that his right armis still a useless lump. He mentally debates what to do with his left arm nowhovering over his chest before he gives up and lets it thump hollowly on his ribcage. “Insulting my life’s work… Callingit mere fiction…” he mumbles. Stan is looking at him with one eyebrow raised, asmug quirk to his lips. Call him stubborn, but Ford doesn’t like the look andthe implied victory in it. “I still can’t believe you couldn’t manage to get asingle viable sample from the creature.” That does the trick, the smirk nowreplaced with a semi-annoyed frown.

“Sorry. I was too busy trying tofigure out if my brother was dying toworry about chasing down a swimming pile of goo to get you a sample.” Stan deadpans. “I’ll make sureto leave you dying on the deck next time.”

“Please, Stanley,” Ford rolls hiseyes. “Obviously, I’m fine. And even saving one of the quills would have—”

“I already told you,” Stan interruptshim, accusingly pointing the carved driftwood in his direction. “Those thingsturned into mush after a few minutes of sitting on the deck. That couldn’t behelped.”

“Yes, because their protein-basedmolecular structure denatured after prolonged exposure to the sun’s light andheat,” Ford says. “If you’d thought about it enough to run a few of them insideand put them in the cryo-fridge before that happened, then it would have been anon-issue.”

“You know, if you had your way,”Stan says, turning his attention back to the carving in his hands, “you’d stillbe out there drooling on the deck and I’d be in the water with a snorkelhunting for that thing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Stanley,” hesnorts. “The water is much too deep to dive with only a snorkel. You’d need thescuba gear if there was even remotely a chance of you finding it.”

“You know, I sometimes have areally hard time telling when you’re joking or not.”

“I never joke about science,” Fordsays, his tone deathly serious as he steels his façade into a perfectly rigidexpression. “She is the only one in this world who truly understands me.”

“God, you’re such a weirdo.”

“Coming from the man who I caughtfeeding crackers to his belly button a few weeks back.”

“Well at least I’m not the oneabout to go flirt with a beaker.”

“Hey! That only happened once incollege.”

“Oh my God. You’re serious? Howhave I not heard about this?”

“We all have our more embarrassingmoments, Stanley,” Ford says. “Mine came in the form of a bit too much alcoholand Fiddleford betting that I had no idea how to talk to women.”

“And that led to you flirting witha beaker?”

“As I said. A bit too much alcohol.”

“God, I shoulda gotten you drunkmore often in high school.”

“I really don’t think that would have turned out well for either ofus.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stan laughs. “Seeingyou hitting on a microscope woulda made Pa’s scolding worth it.”

“The light microscopes that theschool bought junior year certainly had nice contrast and decent magnificationlenses.”

“On second thought, please stop.”

“I’m sure I could have come up withsomething good.”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh! How about—”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Are you a compound optical microscopewith interference-based imaging techniques?”

“Sixer, I swear I will throw youoverboard!”

“Because you light up my world.”

“And now I’m going to go hurlmyself into the ocean,” Stan says, standing up and walking out of the cabin,slamming the door behind him with flourish. Ford laughs.

“Worth it.”

#stan twins #stanford pines #stan pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanficiton #hope you enjoyed!#only one request left to do now #pinesbrosfallswrites #mythomagically-delicious #asks for nikki #anonymous #my writing

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phantoms-lair · 7 years ago

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Wormhole AU -Alternate Selves Part 2

A note before the chapter begins, as it’s somewhat relevant. I’m going with beneath their armor the Paladins wear their regular clothes, with the exception of Lance and Keith’s jackets. I ended up going with this as a matter of saving time, as Hunk and Pidge’s armor shows how adaptable it is to size change. If there’s an emergency alert, it’s far more feasible to simply pull on the armor and helmet (shedding a jacket first is Lance and Keith’s case) then to get completely changed.

Part 1 Here

“Righty-O,” Coran began typing away at a control and the water spiraled down from the ceiling, making a pool. “Easy as a tarker hunting down a wasek.”

“Man, we didn’t even seen that control last time we were here.” Lance complained, then glanced at Keith when there was no response. He frowned as he saw Keith had replaced his helmet and was hunched in on himself. His line of sight was broken though, as Shiro continued to carry him to the actual water. “This is messed up,” he muttered.

“No argument here,” Shiro agreed. He leaned down to put Lance in the water, then suddenly stiffened.

“Shiro? You okay?”

Shiro shook his head. “I just think I hit my surreal limit, that’s all. Aliens and space battles are one thing. Magical transformations are a bit much.”

“I think you’re going to have to raise your limit,” Lance said dryly as he slid out of Shiro’s grip and into the water. He had been worried about not being able to swim with his new body, but once he was in the water the tail moved almost without his input while fins he hadn’t realized were on his waist spread and began treading water. “Huh, okay?” He took off his helmet and Allura let out a little squeak.

“You’ve got Altea ears,” Pidge pointed out, while Hunk made a wuffly grumble sound that probably meant the same.

“Seriously?” Lance ran his hand over the long ears. “Why would a fish even need ears?”

“Well, marine mammals like porpoises use echolocation as a navigational tool. There’s also been studies about how sound affects other sealife, like sharks.” Pidge pointed out.

Allura couldn’t tear her eyes away from the ears. It made him looks so close to an Altean it hurt. Even more so knowing he and the others were Alteans earlier today. And she knew that this was unfair to Lance, not to mention Keith or Hunk.

Coran was next to her, and she could practically feel him trying to comfort her, despite himself going through the same loss as she had. “Do we have any idea how to reverse this?”

“Not right now. And how fast I can depends on whether the Castle or the Lions were able to record data from the timeloop in the wormhole. If so, I can analyze what caused the transformations then and reverse it. If not...” Her hands automatically went to push up her glasses, forgetting she was wearing a helmet. “I have no idea how long it’s going to take. I’ll basically be inventing a new branch of science.”

“You need to make fixing this a priority. And yes that means above searching for your family.” Pidge’s eyes narrowed and Shiro cut her off before the anger he knew was about to come. “We can’t help them if we’re dead. We just attacked Zarkon at his central command. He’s going to come looking for us. If we can’t change back quickly, anyone with a new body is going to have to completely relearn how to pilot their Lion in response to new limbs or learning their own strength and reflexes.”

To emphasize the point Hunk sat on his haunches and waved his paws around.

“Zarkon’s going to do his best to not give us that chance. The only thing we have going for us is he doesn’t know about our current difficulties. And we need to keep him from learning until it’s not a problem anymore.”

Pidge still glared at him, but seemed to concede the point. “I’m going to head back to Green and see what I have. It’s shouldn’t take me too long to know if I have data or not.”

“I’ll do the same for the Castle,” Allura added quickly, hurrying out before even before Pidge could.

“Well, glad to see she’s committed to this.” Pidge turned her attention to Lance, Keith, and Hunk. “You guys need to get used to those bodies though, in case we need to fight before I’m ready.”

Hunk made a grumbly whine.

“She’s got a point,” Keith said. “We should head to the training deck.”

Hunk made another grumble noise, but this time pointed to Lance.

Shiro sighed “Hunk’s right,” at least if he interpreting the gesture correctly. “Lance needs to stay here, in the water.”

“Like I’d be able to run drills, without legs,” The Blue Paladin scoffed. “Though Shiro, are you sure you don’t need to lay down? You’re still not looking too well.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shiro tried to wave it off. “Like I said, just a bit drained.”

“You should go lay down,” Keith insisted. “We all need to be at our best if something happens. If you’re that tired a nap would be the best thing you can do. Don’t worry, I’m sure Hunk and I can get our blood flowing just fine.”

“Well if you put it that way,” Shiro agreed, even as Hunk gulped at the thought of being Keith’s sparring partner. “I guess a quick nap wouldn’t hurt. You guys sure you’ll be okay?”

“A Galra fighting a bear, what could go wrong?” Lance snarked, earning him some looks.

“I’ll make sure the healing pods are in working order,” Coran volunteered.

Lance kept the smarmy grin up until everyone else had left, then let it fade. “All right tail, let’s see what you can actually do.”

Allura’s eyes flipped up when she noticed someone entering the bridge, but went back to what she was doing when she saw it was Coran. “I can find no records of anything since the time loop started. Could you check the Rift Exit Positioning Monitor to see if there’s anything there?”

He sighed, “Princess you have to stop this.”

“I can’t stop, Coran. Not when there might be something -”

“You need to stop blaming yourself. Wishing doesn’t make things happen, especially not crazy insane things like this. If anyone’s to blame, it’s the witch that blasted the wormhole.”

“Except she never would have had the chance if it wasn’t for me! I was the one who insisted I help infiltrate the hidden Galra Hub. I was the one who pushed to further infiltrate the docked ship when the Paladins wanted to return to safety. Then I was the one to be captured when things went poorly, prompting a rescue mission that put the whole team at risk, brought the Black Lion back within Zarkon’s sight, and ended with this wormhole fiasco. I wanted to prove myself as a member of the team so badly that I put everyone else in this terrible position.”

“No one ever doubted you were a member of the team, and a valuable one at that. “

“Which makes what I did even more inexcusable. Oh, there has to be something here, Coran.” She ran her fingers over the console, eyes scanning the symbols that streamed down.

“I’ll check the Rift Exit Position Monitor,” Coran volunteered softly. He had to think of something to help Allura, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be a simple fix.

Keith grabbed his bayard, it taking the familiar sword form. That was somewhat comforting at least. “What about you, is your bayard still working?”

Hunk tried to pick up his only to fumble it as his paws couldn’t wrap around the grip.

“Okay, um, that’s not working. Maybe we can try some hand to hand? You know, if Lance was here he’d say something about fighting bear handed.”

Hunk gave him a look, but he wasn’t sure if it was for the pun, or bringing up that Lance wasn’t there. Still the grizzly bear stood on his haunches and tried his best to take a fighting stance. Hunk made his best attempt to strike at Keith, but the Red Paladin grabbed the extended limb and smoothly flipped Hunk over his shoulder before he realized what he was doing.

Did I just flip a bear? Sure it was really Hunk, but physically he was still a bear, and a large one at that. There’s no way he should be strong enough to lift Hunk much less flip him.

“You fight like a Galra,” Zarkon’s words echoed in Keith’s mind. “Sorry, I guess I really don’t know what this body is capable of.”

Hunk shrugged on the ground, then his eyes brightened and he patted his stomach.

“You want food?” Keith asked incredulously. “We’re supposed to be figuring these bodies out.”

Hunk gestured to his mouth with one paw, open and closing it.

“Talking?” Keith guessed. Hunk gestured for him to keep going. “Speaking? Words? Communication?”

Hunk rapidly tapped his nose at the last one.

“I guess getting better at communication would be important.” Keith allowed. He picked up Hunk’s Bayard for him. “But we do need to get used to these bodies. I mean, best case scenario, we’re changed back before you’re done with food. -And you’re already gone aren’t you?”

By the time Keith had caught up to Hunk in the kitchen, several food items and bits of equipment were set out. “Okay, but how are you going to cook? If you can’t hold your bayard how will you hold a knife?”

Hunk grinned and pointed to Keith.

“Me? You want me to cook?” Keith asked skeptically.

Hunk nodded, standing up again and patting the counter.

“Okay?” Keith walked over and picked up a knife and a vegetable. He began to cut when a loud Grolf stopped him.

Hunk was suddenly looming over him and delicately adjusted how he was holding the knife as well as his grip on the vegetable. Hunk then pantomimed a cutting motion.

Maybe this really was a communications exercise. “Like this then?” An approving grolf met his ears and Keith began to cook.

Before long the best food Keith had ever made was spread out in front of them. Sure it wasn’t Hunk’s usual quality, but it was light years above the quick meals he had made for himself in the desert.

Hunk had certainly enjoyed his share. Now though, he was digging through the cabinet and pulled a tray out. He then pointed at the leftover food, the tray, then began to pantomime swimming.

He wanted to go swimming with food? Oh- “You want to bring this to Lance?”

Hunk nodded emphatically.

Keith was a little hesitant, he and Lance typically got on like gas and an open flame. But it wasn’t realistic for Hunk to carry a tray of food that far. And it wasn’t like Lance could come and get food for himself.

That was a sobering thought. It really brought home Shiro’s point of how much trouble they were in if Zarkon caught them now.

It was kind of interesting how the tail and fins worked together. When he was trying to swim quickly, or over any length of distance the tail was the main powerhouse with the waist fins acting as rudders. It was kind of cool that he could use his knowledge of piloting to figure out how to adjust the waist fins to create sharp turning radiuses or other maneuvers.

If he was just using moving forward slightly or staying in one spot, the waist fins became the main point of propulsion or treading water while the tail didn’t do much. The first few times he went underwater he’d held his breath out of habit, only to realize the air never went stale in his lungs, though there was a cool feeling on each side of his throat.

Eventually he’d shrugged off the armor and used the face sheild of the helmet as a mirror. Three small lines were stretched across each side of his neck, which, when touched revealed themselves to be gill slits. He was expecting it, heck the whole point of looking was because he thought they were there, but it was still creepy.

The shirt he had been wearing under the armor was still there, albeit soaked through as soon as he removed the armor. The pants and underwear were gone though. Besides the translucent waist fins, which looked pretty fragile outside the armor, his legs had become a thick muscular tail covered in hard blue scales. They were almost like a layer of armor in and of themselves.

He was examining the tail fin itself when he heard the pool door open. “Knock first!” he yelped. “I’m not wearing any pants.”

“Your bottom half is a fish,” Keith pointed out.

“Well Hunk’s whole body is a bear and he’s still got clothes,” Lance pointed out.

Hunk shrugged. He tried to pull his helmet off, but couldn’t get a good grip with his paws.

“Here big guy, let me help.” Lance pulled himself out of the water and grabbed the yellow helmet. It took a little finagling so it didn't hit his muzzle and it easily came off. “Huh, I would have thought you’d still have your headband.”

“Why?” Keith asked. “He’s a bear?”

“Yeah, but I still had my shirt. It was just my pants that were missing. Most human clothes wouldn’t fit on a bear, but I thought the headband would be there.”

Hunk looked thoughtful, then started pawing at his armor.

“I don’t know, Bud. I don’t think you’d have anything if you don’t have your headband.” Lance pointed out, even as he helped Hunk with the armor. It was as he was pulling off the arm that Keith gasped.

Coming out of the suit was a familiar human arm. Hunk twisted and flexed it easily, then looked confused, which looked downright odd on a bear’s face.

Keith and Lance shared a look, then practically ripped the rest of the armor off him. Underneath it was normal Hunk. Same clothes, same body, completely normal.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh I can talk! Guys, that was so weird, we were in a time loop and we like bonded to the Castle, then I was bear and Lance was a fish and Keith was a Galra. And holy crap Keith you’re strong. I can’t believe you made that bear joke, even if it was a stand-in for Lance. Can I get my Bayard back? But seriously, you’re going to cut off your finger if you don’t work on your knife technique. And maybe go a bit heavier on the seasoning. Also, Lance, that tail looks so cool, and I’m human again! So maybe all we needed to do was take off our armor.”

“Armor’s already off.” Lance pointed out as Keith returned the bayard. “Still a fish.”

“True. What about Keith?”

“Me? Wha? But it didn’t work for Lance?”

“It’s still worth a shot.” Lance shrugged. “Besides, what are you hiding? We’ve all seen a Galra before.”

Keith only seemed to dig his heels in further, to which Lance gave him an annoyed look, his ears lying horizontal to his eyes. “Look, we’ve all seen Hunk as a bear, and you’re seeing me in all my finny glory. You’ve literally got nothing we haven’t seen before.”

“And maybe it’ll work, it’s worth a shot.” Hunk shrugged. “I mean, it did work for me.”

“Fine.” Hunk was right. If there was even a small chance this would work, he had to take it. His resolve was definitely tested when he took off the helmet and Hunk squeed.

“Oh my gosh, you’re the fluffy eared type of Galra.” Hunk gushed. “I mean, it’s hard to appreciate how adorable they are cause they always try to kill us and that, you know, puts the adorableness factor in negatives. But you’re totally not evil so it’s still adorable. Can I touch your ears?”

“No, you can not touch my ears.” Keith hissed. “Why are you so okay with this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Hunk seemed baffled. “Because I’m a freaking Galra!”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re switching sides. It’s just a magical transformation, like when we were all girls. Or had tentacle hair.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Lance shuddered. “The fishtail is weird enough, I do not want to think about what happened in the wormhole.”

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance as he continued to remove the armor. Like with Lance, though, nothing changed. Keith just stared at the floor, studiously not looking at his friends or at any part of himself.

“Okay, that didn’t work, so why did it work for me?”

“Maybe it wasn’t you that got changed.” Lance suggested. “Maybe it was your armor, like Pidge?”

“Maybe, there does seem to be something in it.” Hunk pulled something furry out of it.

Lance perked up, “I think I’ve figured it out. Hunk, put the fur on.”

“But I’m not really cold.”

“Testing a theory. Just pull it on.”

“Okay, so like thi-grolf?”

“What the hell Lance, we just got him back!” Keith snapped as bear-Hunk patted himself down.

“Keep your fur on, I’ve got this.” Lance waved him off. “Hunk, just take the skin off.”

The bear shot him a ‘what are you, nuts?’ look.

“Think of it like a jacket or something. Trust me.”

Hunk looked skeptical, but tried what Lance suggested. He shuffled a bit, and then the fur fell off leaving normal Hunk again. “Okay, why did that work?”

“It’s a bearskin.” Lance said excitedly.

“I know I had bearskin,” Hunk rolled his eyes, “but that doesn’t explain the changing.”

“Actually, I think I’m following Lance.” Keith shook his head as though he was having trouble with what he said. “I came across a few stories growing up from Native Americans about people who had magical bearskins that let them turn into bears. I think that’s what’s happened to you.”

“Oh, okay magical bear skin is kinda cool. I can get behind that.” Hunk tied the arms of the bearskin around his neck like a cape. “We should probably let everyone know I can hold things again.”

“Pidge would probably be upset if we ‘withheld data’,” Lance agreed.

The corridor was full with fear as the prisoners of various race were herded towards the arena to fight Myzax. The Galran Sentry stood, offering the sword to a terrified Matt.

Shiro couldn’t let him go to his death into the arena. He rushed forward and grabbed the sword, slashinng it at Matt, hitting him in the knee.

“This is my fight!” Shiro shouted, jumping on Matt. “I want blood!”

The sentry tried to pull him away, but he pulled free, grabbing Matt and exposing his neck. Even hearing Matt’s screaming didn’t stop him as he plunged his fangs into his throat

“We’ve got some good news!”

Shiro started awake at the sound of Lance’s voice.

“This better be good,” Pidge grumbled over the communicator.

“I am no longer a bear!” Hunk announced proudly.

“You turned back?” Shiro and Pidge asked in unison.

“Not exactly. Turns out Hunk is basically a bear-selkie.” Lance explained.

“Of course you figured it out from seal mermaids and not the actual legends.” Keith muttered.

“At least I figured it out,” Lance countered.

“This is not the time to argue. This is good, since it means Hunk’s back to active duty. Any more good news guys?”

“Still a fish,” Lance answered nonchalantly.

“I’m a lot stronger,” Keith added. “I’d like to stick with working with drones and Gladiator bot until I have a handle on how much.”

“Good idea, the least thing we need is an accident. What about you, Pidge?”

“No such luck. As far as the hardware on the Lions is concerned, the time loop didn’t happen. I’ve been trying to go through our memories with Green and see things from her perspective, but so far it’s not giving me anything new.”

“I won’t interrupt your research then.” Bonding with a Lion took a lot on concentration.

“If you have any other hard data, please do. In fact, after this I’d like to try that looking into the head hole exercise so I can see all the different perspectives.”

“Maybe we should ask our Lions like you’re doing!” Hunk suggested.

“More data is always good.” Pidge agreed happily.

“We’ll catch up to you soon then,” Shiro promised, before cutting of the communication. He sighed, leaning back in his bed, running his tongue worriedly over his new fangs. They needed to fix this and soon. The hunger was only getting stronger.

#Voltron #Wormhole AU #Alternate Selves AU #Fanfic

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invincigirl · 8 years ago

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Brainfood from a Paleo-Nerd.

“HEEEEEEEEY BROTHERS!! Devon here, sit down, I’m gonna teach you shit that you probably don’t want. Do you want it? No? I don’ care, get yer’ notepads and pencils, and let’s be learned stuff!” Okay, so this is a rant on a very well-known and popular hominid (that isn’t an Australopithecus named “Lucy”, of all surprises to mention). It’s about “Homo Neanderthalensis, or “The Neanderthal Man”. A quick rundown, they were originally discovered as fragmentary remains in the Neander Valley in Europe, where they got their name. There are spots in Eastern Asia that hold fossils of this very hominid species, too. They were intelligent hunters, they crafted tools to aide them in their hunt for mammoth, woolly rhino, and to fend off saber-toothed cats... and I’m not talking about Smilodon, those kitties were in North and South America. Neanderthals donned arguably the first jewelry, as well! They have, by now, mastered fire, used paint from iron-rich dirt, and they hunt in groups. No, we can conclude that they did not invent the wheel, leave that for Homo Sapiens to discover in 3,500 BC after Neanderthals were long gone.

Now, my rant begins with this: THEY ARE VERY MISREPRESENTED IN ARCHAEOLOGY!

Why do I say this? Well, there are many theories suggesting what they could have looked like... but we ended up giving them human-like traits. Yeah, I get that they’re hominids, but they weren’t human.

They are represented as having thin hair on their bodies, huge nose, receded chin, prominent eyebrow ridges, and short foreheads with hair on it. Yeah, do I need to say more...? They are even shown with tribal tattoos and clothing, to rub salt in the wound... big red flag! Here’s a few reasons why it’s wrong:

1) This is not based on sound Archaeological evidence to support it, only loose theories. We get that hominids were losing their body hair as they evolved to become humans, but... are we forgetting something HUGELY important? Humans and Neanderthals evolved in completely different areas, just so you know... and let’s not forget another fact: It was the Quaternary Period in Earth’s history, so from the Pliocene to the Late Pleistocene. Fun Fact: The Pleistocene Epoch had the Last Glacial Ice Age. Europe was hit by the harsh, cold wasteland then! Africa was just dandy, it had many fruits, veggies, and animals to hunt and eat! What did Europe have? 5 edible plants, with had such little to no dietary value, that they were not worth harvesting... oh, and they had Mammoths, Woolly Rhinos, and other high risk animals to stab and beat to death... they even ate their own brethren if the situation was dire!

2) Anthropomorphism: Giving human-like traits to other species of animal. We as Homo Sapiens, understand our anatomy, but would we really give that to a Gibbon, Gorilla, Golden Lion Tamarin, or Chimpanzee? NO. I brought up primates because, whether you chose to accept it or not, Homo Sapiens are identified, by science, as primates. We are highly specialized apes capable of unique feats... but in the long run, we’re more closely related to a chimpanzee than a porpoise. So, let’s erase this anthropomorphized hominid for a minute and evaluate what the skeletons show!

To dissect the structure of this unique specimen, we’ll start with the head, which to a human, it’s like comparing day and night... The jaw is thicker and more robust than the latter, the eyes are bigger, the brain case is ovular, the nasal is bigger, and the skull is, all around, heavier and solid looking. Wait... Big eyes... that’s something our anthropomorphic representation is SEVERELY lacking! If Ben Affleck had to play an accurate model of a Neanderthal, his eyes would be higher up, and lots bigger! Oh, yeah, and the nose, forgot about that... let’s be Franc, and say that Cartilage doesn’t fossilize well, and we have other primate analogues to look at... chimps and Gorillas have similarly shaped skulls, so let’s go with them as an example. The protruding face can be explained by what they had to eat.

How bout Dat Bod, eh? Very thick and robust, looks like it was made to carry serious weight in muscle! Just look at how thicc dem thighs are! Let’s also note that their rib cages are wider, their spines shorter, and they have larger fingers and toe bones. They are a bit shorter than us, but they are more stocky, and sturdier built.

So, let’s see where we can fit biology in all of this from the top to down: Large, forward facing eyes, in a predatory situation, could mean a few things, great night vision, or (if the brain proves it), great visual acuity. The body is very muscular, with large fingers and toes to help keep themselves warm. Now, how about those INVISIBLE details, like the ears! The Woolly Mammoth had small ears to keep their body temperature, so a Neanderthal’s ears wouldn’t be so big, either, nor would they protrude if that were the case. The Nose is iffy, since there was no cartilage preserved, but it was large to warm the air they breathed in. The hair, because of the cold Glacial Ice Age that was happening then, would be long and thick all over the place, of course not on their palms and soles.

So now, we’re on the home stretch! We’ll now discuss one big, controversial thing: EVOLUTION. Charles Darwin looked at birds from different parts of an island, and figured out their niche. He also theorized that an animal’s environment affects their appearance. Would you see a buck naked human in the middle of Antarctica? NO... so don’t make it like that. Humans evolved in the warmer African region, where their faces are shorter because of the omnivorous diet of fruit and meat, and almost hairless body to cool themselves down... Neanderthals were in this sub-arctic wasteland that was Ice Age Europe with a whole body of fur, large eyes for seeing in the dark, and stockier bodies to keep their body temperature level.

So we’ve concluded that they should look more like this:

Much more primate/ape-like, but still showing their hominid nature best suited for the cold! They still did everything that science and Archaeology discovered them to have done, even the possibility of speech, there is no changing that. However, the caveman look is outdated and unrealistic and should be saved for Jurassic World 4.

((I’ll give credit where it is due. The images are not mine, and I did not conduct the research. Info was supplied here, and I found images on Google for this educational purpose.))

#ic #archaeology #neanderthal

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mrhotmaster · 4 years ago

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How Technology Encourages Wildlife From Porpoise Detectors To 'Hawkeyes'

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