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arrantsnowdrop · 4 years ago

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To be a Jedi - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Request: “anakin/female!reader getting together fic that involves reader crying because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance and feeling worthless and anakin comforting her and calming her down and then accidentally confessing to her?”

Tags: @lothloriien

Warnings: self-deprecation, insecurities, etc. (~2,500 words)

~~~~~

Being a Jedi really sucked sometimes.

Not all the time. In fact, you normally enjoyed the fast-paced, demanding lifestyle you led. Even as a youngling you had taken pride in the ritual and responsibility of being a Jedi, and now, as a Padawan on the verge of facing the Jedi trials, you were more confident than ever that the Force had led you down the right path.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t have bad days every once in a while.

Your Master had been called away on some highly classified mission in the Naboo system, so you’d been spending the week at the Jedi Temple working on some independent research and participating in training sessions with the other senior Padawans. Unfortunately, they were focusing on lightsaber combat this week - something you were definitely not as skilled at considering your specialization in negotiation and communications.

It wasn’t that you were unathletic - you were training to be a Jedi for crying out loud - but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about how much you were struggling with the training exercises, especially when your assigned training partner was none other than Anakin Skywalker.

It was just past midday - you’d been training for hours already and still had a few to go. The sun was blaring down on the courtyard where you and the other Padawans were sparring under Obi-Wan’s supervision.

You panted heavily, eyeing Anakin as the two of you circled each other slowly. There was no question as to which one of you would launch the next parry - Anakin had taken the offensive right out of the gate - so all you could do was try to catch your breath and prepare yourself for his next attack.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and some of his hair sticking to his face. His eyes were following your every move, tracking you like you were some kind of prey.

You hated this.

Suddenly, Anakin lunged forward, blue lightsaber whirring loudly as he swung it towards you. You groaned, lifting your own lightsaber up at the last possible moment to deflect him.

“Such a slow reaction time,” Anakin teased, grinning as he stepped back to give himself a wider range of motion.

“I thought it would take you longer to catch your breath,” you replied, voice strained as you blocked another one of his strikes.

You’d been friends with Anakin since Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan years ago, offering to help him as he played “catch up” with the rest of you. The fact he’d become such a strong Force-user despite starting so late was something you deeply respected him for, though you were perfectly content simply watching him display these skills.

Being on the receiving end of a lightsaber attack from Anakin Skywalker was not something you would consider enjoyable. You’d spent the whole morning dodging and jumping and somehow still losing every match.

You flinched as Anakin’s lightsaber hit your torso, the sting of the “training mode” setting hurting far less than the sting of your own pride.

“Seven to one,” Obi-Wan called from where he was watching. You groaned, rubbing your temples with your free hand and turning your lightsaber off.

“Hey, you were definitely doing better than time,” Anakin said reassuringly, sensing your frustration. “Improvement is all Obi-Wan is looking for.”

“Improvement doesn’t take away from the fact I’ve lost seven matches today,” you seethed, bending down to re-tie the laces of your boots.

“Perhaps if you worked out a bit more you wouldn’t lose so often,” one of the other Padawans jested. Your head snapped up, face flushing as you sent them a pointed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked curtly, watching them look between you and Anakin uncomfortably.

“It’s just-”

They didn’t get a chance to finish, letting out a small shriek as they dodged a rock flying through the air. You turned around to look at Anakin, his slightly raised hand indicating who’d been responsible for the rock. At least he was using his Force capabilities in your favor now.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reigniting your lightsaber, glancing at the clock above where Obi-Wan was sitting. All you wanted was for training to be over so you could retreat to your room.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Anakin said, a somewhat angry look on his face as he took a fighting stance across from you. “You’re perfectly capable of wielding a lightsaber, and you’d definitely beat them if you’d been paired up.”

“Hopefully,” you corrected him, “hopefully I’d beat them.”

“Definitely,” Anakin insisted, you rolling your eyes as you lifted your lightsaber in front of you.

----

What sucked about getting older was how little you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin. Your Master was responsible for conducting multiple research projects for the Jedi Council off-world, and Obi-Wan and Anakin hardly ever stayed on Coruscant for longer than a few days, so it was unlikely that you’d find yourselves in the same place for a decent amount of time anymore.

Normally, you would’ve used this week as a great opportunity to catch up with one of your oldest friends. This damn lightsaber training was getting in the way.

It had been yet another long day of sweating the equivalent of your own bodyweight and paling in comparison to Anakin’s abilities. Obi-Wan had focused on lightsaber combat in precarious and compromising situations, with one of which resulting in you falling off a two story rock wall.

As you stood in front of the mirror in your room you couldn’t overlook the spattering of bruises covering your torso and arms, all varying hues of blue and purple culminating from the last few days. You sighed, grateful you were getting the extra training you so clearly needed and nervous about what that meant. Imagine you’d been confronted by some Sith fanatic in the last few weeks - who knows how long you would’ve lasted?

Perhaps you were overthinking. You did have an extremely over-skilled training partner who made most other Jedi look incompetent with a lightsaber.

That being said, you still couldn’t shake what that other Padawan had said about you yesterday. Had you really become unathletic? You didn’t think you’d ever really neglected your daily training exercises, but perhaps those weren’t enough.

You sat down on the edge of your bed slowly, shoulder slumped. Maybe you weren’t as capable as you thought. The bruises all over you and lack of any actual visible muscle certainly pointed towards that.

----

The next morning, you skipped breakfast, giving Obi-Wan some offhanded explanation as to why you’d be missing training and heading for the library. You weren’t really skipping for no reason, your Master had given you a list of different research topics for you to look up in the Jedi Archives. Did you really need the extra time to get this done? No, but it still gave you a good excuse to avoid the feeling of physical incapability that accompanied your training sessions.

Plus, you didn’t want to slow the entire group down. Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered yesterday when Obi-Wan made you repeat some dumb exercise on a floating raft over and over again, even though everyone else had already done it to his satisfaction. It was humiliating.

At least here in the library, surrounded by stacks of holograms and books, you were in your element. Here you didn’t have to move fast or chop anyone’s limb off out of self-defense.

It was sometime in the late afternoon when Anakin stormed into the library, loud footsteps immediately shushed by a swarm of librarians. You couldn’t help but grin softly, eyes meeting his as he marched over to you much more quietly.

“Even the great Anakin Skywalker is no match for an angry librarian,” you teased, him scoffing as he plopped down in a chair next to you.

“And where were you today?” Anakin asked, a strange intensity behind his question. You gulped, gesturing to the pile of transcripts and notes in front of you.

“I was right here,” you replied meekly.

“Since this morning?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. You nodded.

“What the heck, Y/N,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Obi-Wan assigned me a different partner. Do you know how irritating every other Padawan is to train with?”

“No, I’ve only ever trained with you,” you said bluntly.

“Exactly!” Anakin responded a little too loudly, earning him a dramatic shush from the circulation desk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is that I’ve only ever trained with you, too, so everyone else doesn’t live up to my expectations.”

“What expectations?” you asked quizzically, flipping one of your notebooks closed.

“Working hard but still having a good time,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You never sacrifice good banter for anything, I value that.”

“Ah, I’m glad to know you only value me as a training partner for my humor,” you retorted dryly, gathering all your belongings into a pile and standing up. Anakin’s brows furrowed as he looked up at you, a confused look painted across his face.

“Hey, what?” he asked, standing up with you. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just makes sense that you only enjoy my conversation, not anything actually training-related.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, completely dumbfounded as you started walking away.

“See you tomorrow, Anakin,” you replied, refusing to shed any more tears until you reached your room.

----

The next morning you were too unmotivated to let Obi-Wan know you weren’t coming, deciding instead to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. Well, you were reading, but what did that really matter to a Jedi? You were supposed to be able to do backflips through the air and take on five enemies at once, and yet here you were wrapped in two blankets feeling like absolute shit. Some Jedi you were.

You held your breath as someone began knocking furiously on the door, hoping desperately they would think you weren’t home.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” Anakin called. You groaned, turning around and smashing your face into the pillow.

“Y/N!” he called again.

“Don’t come in!” you shouted back, voice muffled through the pillow.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t-”

You never got the chance to finish, bolting upright in bed as the door flew open, Anakin stalking in. You rolled your eyes, just thankful he had kept the door on its hinges.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing as you recoiled slightly at his harsh words.

“What do you mean?” you replied quietly, his face softening as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I meant what’s wrong, not what’s wrong with you,” Anakin corrected, taking your hand in his own.

“Nothing’s wr-”

“Don’t give me that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even try, I know you better than anyone Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You kept quiet, focusing on the way his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“You’ve been acting off since we started training together, is it something I did?” he tried again, genuinely concerned. You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“No, Anakin, you didn’t do anything,” you replied truthfully, looking at him. “You’re perfect, I promise you did nothing wrong.” He gave you a small smile, looking down to where he was still holding your hand. He didn’t let go, only gripped you a little tighter, urging you to continue. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to tell him.

“Do you remember when that Padawan told me I needed to exercise more?” you asked finally. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew it,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he tried (and failed) to conceal his budding anger. “I knew it.”

“Anakin it’s ok,” you said, reaching out and rubbing his forearm, his gaze following your hand. “I mean, they were right, if I-”

“No,” Anakin said. “No, they weren’t right. They have no idea how strong you are, how capable-”

“Anakin I’ve struggled this entire week,” you blurted, eyes stinging and face heating up. “I pale in comparison to you, and the other Padawans, at least physically. I thought whatever training I’d been doing had been enough but clearly it wasn’t, so they’re right. I need to exercise more, I need to train more, I’m incapable of defending myself with a lightsaber and I don’t even look like a proper Jedi.” You thrust your bruised arms out towards him. “Look at these, you don’t have them, no one else does. I’m the only one who struggles with every exercise and test.”

You realized you’d begun to cry, tears rolling down your face and breaths shallow.

“Y/N,” Anakin murmured, hurt in his eyes as he took your arms gingerly in his hands. “Y/N, no.”

Your eyes widened as Anakin bent over, slowly pressing his mouth to each bruise on your forearms. You gulped, feeling a little dizzy as Anakin glanced up at you. “You’re an amazing Jedi,” he started, sitting back up straight and pulling you closer to him. You tried to pull away, not wanting to stain his robes with your tears, but he held you firmly. “You’re already stronger than half the people in that group, I’ll have Obi-Wan reassign you so you can kick someone’s ass and everyone will realize it.”

“Anakin-”

He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours.

“There’s more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, anyways,” he continued. “You’re the only person our age in this whole temple that can negotiate with warlords and thieves and murderers and still come back unscathed with five new friends.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he insisted softly, you shifting in his arms to gaze up at him.

You were surprised by how nervous he looked, as if he didn’t know how you’d react to what he’d just said, what he’d just implied. You just smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you mumbled against his face, grinning as you felt him smile.

Suddenly he pushed himself up, forcing you down onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. You shrieked, bursting into a fit of giggles as he began nestling himself in your hair.

“Shouldn’t you still be at training?” you asked, a wide smile on your face.

“I was sent here by Obi-Wan to fetch you,” he replied smugly.

“So shouldn’t we both be getting back then?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with a cocky smile on his face.

“I never told him when I’d be coming back.”

You decided you could afford to skip training another day - Anakin probably needed the rest anyways - and pulled his face down to meet your own.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #star wars fanfiction

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delimeful · 4 years ago

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(dont) take this the wrong way (5)

warnings: injury, blood mentions, past psychological&emotional&physical abuse, ptsd, sickness

Virgil woke up, which was only unsurprising for the few moments it took him to 1. realize that his head was pounding and 2. remember the two very large reasons why.

His eyes flew open, and he found himself half-submerged in a shallow pool of cool water, surrounded by flat ledges of dry rock. The sound of ocean waves lapping against the cliffside echoed around the cavern, which was dimly lit by overhead cracks in the ceiling.

In one of these beams of paltry light, Logan was slumped over on his side, glasses askew. Virgil’s relief at seeing him was instantly overshadowed by terror at what could have happened to the human after Virgil had gone and gotten his skull knocked against rock.

His headache worsened, and he lifted a hand to press against the sore spot, pausing when he found more of those stiff bandage strips wrapped around his head.

The soft sloshing of water seemed to be enough to startle Logan into wakefulness, and the human brightened slightly at the sight of him. “Virgil. It’s good to see you awake. Are you feeling any pain or nausea?”

“What happened?” Virgil replied in lieu of the real answer, which was ‘everything hurts’. “Where are we, I thought we were dead for sure—!”

“Take a few deep breaths,” Logan advised, shuffling closer to the pool and offering a hand. Virgil took it gratefully. “We’re not currently in any danger. I believe we’re at the home of the seal-hybrid mer, if—“

“We’re what?!” Virgil’s voice dropped to a horrified double pitch, his grip on Logan’s hand instantly turning crushing.

“Ow,” Logan said in a pointed monotone. Virgil eased up before his claws could turn the human’s palm into bloody ribbons. “Let me finish, please. I’ve managed to work out a rudimentary method of communication, and as far as I know, we’re not currently at risk.”

“From the giant mer-eating monsters that literally kidnapped us, you mean?”

“Yes, that was the potential risk I was referring to.” Logan pulled Virgil further upright, reaching out with his free hand. “More importantly, you’ve been out for some time. Will you allow me to take a look at your injury?”

Virgil shuffled a little closer, allowing the hand to make contact with him. He had traversed currents of all temperatures, but in chilled still waters like this, Logan’s warmth was more than welcome. “I dunno how that’s more important than our inevitable, rapidly-approaching deaths, but sure, fine. Knock yourself out.”

“I will not? You are already dealing with a likely concussion, I see no reason to double that number.” Logan squinted at him like he was concerned that the head wound had taken a worse toll than he’d thought.

“No, it’s-- it’s just an expression. Don’t actually pass out, or I’ll freak out.”

“Ah,” Logan acknowledged, his hand twitching like he wanted to grab something before returning to carefully peeling the bandages away. “My apologies. Colloquialisms are not my strong suit.”

Virgil blinked back at him, because five syllable words were a little much even when he wasn’t concussed. “No worries?”

Logan continued to gently probe the back of his head. A sharp pang made him jerk away with a muted hiss, his vision blurring with pain as the sharp motion only agitated all his other cuts. He waved off Logan’s apology before it was fully formed. “S’fine. What’s the damage?”

“The bleeding has stopped, which is a good sign. It’s swelled significantly, but the cool water is hopefully helping reduce that as well. The best course of action now is for you to rest and recover in a dark, quiet place, ideally for at least two full days.”

“Yeah, but that’s not happening unless we get away first,” Virgil shot back, irritably twitching his fins down as Logan rewrapped the injury. The human let out a slow breath.

“Virgil. I believe the situation isn’t as dire as you think.” He settled back on his heels, back stiff as he spoke. “Our captors have shown no signs of aggression or hunger, even with the significant bleeding from your head wound. It’s possible--”

“It’s not possible!” Virgil cut him off, scowling fiercely. “That doesn’t mean anything. They’re playing some kind of sick game the way they always do, and if you let them trick you, you’re going to lose!”

Logan looked back at him inquisitively, still not getting it. “What evidence are you basing this off of? I was under the impression that you’ve spent only marginally more time in their company than me. Have they attempted to trick you in the past?”

“Yes, no, I mean--,” Virgil groaned, pulling at his bangs. “They don’t have to say it. That’s just how giants like them operate. We’re smaller, they can do what they want to us, we don’t get a say in it. You escape or you die.”

“Yet, we’ve been in their admittedly less-than-ideal care for over 24 hours, and they haven’t hurt us or made any indications they intend to hurt us.” Logan gestured expansively, his hand a bit wobbly. “That’s a rather long time to pretend, and for what purpose? If it was what they desired, we have been easy targets for a meal from the moment they relocated us.”

A rather long time to pretend. Virgil swallowed down a hysterical laugh, feeling dizzy. If a day of false niceties was all it took to buy his trust, he’d have never gotten away from his first encounter with a giant mer. “You’re— you’re human. You don’t know anything about this.”

Logan frowned. “I may be human, but that does not make me an idiot. Even with a language barrier, body language and expression are invaluable tools for communication, and I’ve been doing very little but observe them while you were unconscious. Virgil, if you just tried talking to them—“

“No!” he snapped, curling in even as his fins flared wide and threatening. He wouldn’t do this again, wouldn’t be subjected to the world’s most torturous game of catch and release, wouldn’t be lured back into too-tight hands by false promises and meaningless apologies. He couldn’t do that again.

Measured, rhythmic tapping on the back of his hand slowly brought him back to the present, cool air and Logan’s steady voice by his side. His throat was closed-up-too-tight, his gills too far out of the water to switch lungs— but the rhythm was counted out over and over, breathe in, hold, and out.

“There you go,” Logan said as Virgil took in another long, shuddering drag of air. “Well done.”

The air smelled like iron. He realized that somewhere in the past few minutes, he’d dug his claws into the soft sides of the human’s hand, drawing blood. He pulled away as though he’d been burned.

Logan didn’t even twitch, still searching his gaze intently. “Are you with me?”

Virgil nodded stiffly. “Yeah, I— fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t realize— but I should have.” A deep, resolved breath. “It’s okay. I’ll find you a way out that doesn’t involve interacting with them.” Logan’s gaze went distant and hazy with thought, and Virgil hesitantly drew closer, pulling a bandage free to wrap around his bleeding hand.

… He was really warm. Clammy, too, and he’d been sitting in a cold, wet cave for hours, hadn’t he? Had been completely drenched for even longer.

“You’re sick,” Virgil said, and Logan took a moment too long to refocus on him. How had it taken him so long to notice? “That’s why you need me to talk to them. You need to get home.”

“My illness is no more severe than your injuries,” he deflected, adjusting his glasses clumsily. “Right now, the priority is getting you away from triggering circumstances. If my suspicions are correct, I will be fine regardless.”

Right. His suspicions, based on his willingness to trust his own abductors. He’d trusted Virgil, too, back in those tunnels. He’d known that he might be abandoned and he’d freed Virgil anyways, taken his hand anyways. Gotten hurt for his trouble.

He’d get hurt worse if Virgil left him here.

“... Yeah,” Virgil said, tucking the edge of the bandage in carefully. “But you should sleep for now. We both should. You said they haven’t done anything yet, right?”

“Yes, but…,” Logan’s brow was furrowed slightly, as though he knew something was off, but wasn’t quite sure what. “I mean, you do need rest. If… If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Virgil replied, curling against the edge of the pool and pillowing his head on his arms to hide their shaking. “Get some sleep, Specs.”

—

It was early morning when Patton woke to the splash of something small dropping into the water from his air room.

The room wasn’t overly large, being designed only for occasional use when he needed some extra oxygen in his system. It was also quite a few caves up above his sleeping den, but with two delicate little guests staying over, his senses were on high alert. He disentangled from Roman, who had been clinging to him for extra warmth, waking the shark mer in the process.

“Mwha’huh?” he asked groggily, and Patton chuckled at the way one side of his hair had been pressed into a tangled bundle.

“I think they may be awake!” he reported quietly, and Roman perked right up. They had originally hovered in the room over the two of them, only leaving after the human-- busy tending to the tiny mer’s wounds-- had gotten too fed up and used charades to shoo them away, leaving them with nothing to do but sit around and think about how badly they’d messed up. As such, they were both more than eager to start fixing things.

Upon popping up into the air room, however, they found only the human, lying completely still apart from the slow rise and fall of his chest. Deep in sleep, with an empty pool at his side.

Roman and Patton exchanged a panicked look, and ducked back underwater to search through his home and see where, exactly, the injured mer had gone.

It didn’t take long to spot him. The mer had practically every fin and frill puffed out, even the ones that were still injured. The threat display as eye-catching as they got.

He was hovering in the opening of a vent crevice, one that helped circulate seawater through the caves. It was small enough that if he vanished through it, they wouldn’t be able to stop him or see where he was headed. He knew it, too, staring them down with sharp defiance rather than absolute terror.

“Don’t move,” he said, as though they hadn’t both frozen at the sight of him. “I’m going to-- to make a deal with you.”

“A deal?” Roman asked, and received a sharp, wild-eyed glare for his troubles.

“Yeah, a deal. The other one is sick,” a slight jerk of the head toward the air room, “so he won’t last long here. Probably already too far gone to even play a single game.”

Patton was torn between concern (the human was sick?) and confusion. Game?

“But I’m fine. I’ve had much worse than this.” The mer drifted back slightly, closer to the crevice. “If I leave now, you’ll never find me, and then Lo-- the human will die, and you won’t have anything to play with.”

A creeping sense of dread overcame Patton. He still didn’t know what was going on, but it was sounding more and more like something was seriously wrong here.

“So, a deal. You take the human back to where you found him, and I’ll stay-- I’ll stay here,” his voice cracked painfully, but he ignored it, staring at them with a desperate sort of intensity. “With you. I won’t try to get away or anything. I-- I swear.”

“Get away?” Roman asked, his voice going high with the same sort of horror that currently swamping Patton. The mer ducked back at the sound, gaze flitting between them, some of that terror returning.

“I will! I’ll leave, if you-- you can either have one or none, that’s the deal, I’m not kidding. I’m not!” His fins flared wider, blood beginning to leak from some of them. “He’s human anyways, he can barely even swim, you don’t want him--”

“Kiddo,” Patton cut in urgently, raising his hands peacefully and trying not to wince when the mer flinched, “if he’s sick, of course we’ll take him back to where he can get help. No deals necessary, okay?”

The little guy didn’t look reassured at all. “I want to watch. I have to see you put him back, where other humans will find him, or else the deal’s off.”

He didn't believe them. Patton exchanged a helpless look with Roman, who finally nodded.

“Of course,” the shark mer said, “You are more than welcome to accompany us back to the mainland where Patton found him, provided that you’re not exacerbating your injuries.”

The mer hissed at him, a tiny, reedy sound. “And whose fault is that?”

“Irresponsible human fishing vessels?” Roman tried, and then wilted under both Patton and the mer’s looks when the joke fell flat. He cleared his throat. “It is, of course, mine. I wanted to apologize for the way I manhandled you before. Regardless of my intentions, it was unbefitting behavior, and it hurt you. I am truly sorry.”

He bowed with a little flourish, moving slower than normal. The mer stared at his bowed head apprehensively, and then covered the look up with a distrustful scowl.

“If you’re sorry, get Logan out of this place before he gets any worse,” he finally replied, and Patton nodded and went to retrieve the human-- Logan, presumably.

Glancing over his shoulder as he left, he could see the way the tiny mer’s fins had settled just slightly, not quite as frantically overextended as before.

It was a start.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #mermaid au #my writing #dont take this the wrong way #dtttww #writing #g/t #virgil sweetie what the fuck #- logan next chapter

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kai-writes-fan-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

In Hiding Part 6

Author’s Announcement: Hey guys! I really appreciate all of the recent feedback and the patience. My life has been pretty hectic these last few weeks, so as a reward for your patience, this is the longest part yet, and I’m really proud of it! I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. Doctors scare me so sorry if the “medical” part of the story is shitty.

Word count: 2567

Warnings: mentions of blood, bodily harm, non-consensual medical treatment, reader is StRaNgLeD, tiny OCD routine, slight language, non-descriptive violence, and grammatical/spelling errors.

The Avengers were everything you hated. They were destructive, they took whatever they wanted without a thought about anyone else, and they loved behind a façade. You’d seen who The Avengers truly were; they were menacing, inhumane, and lacked empathy. They could’ve just left you alone; you weren’t hurting anyone. You may have been doing some illegal things, but they were minor offenses! You’d never killed, and you were against terrorism of any kind. You just wanted to go home, wanted to be left alone. Your freedom had been stripped away after you’d made your final decision. You wouldn’t fight with The Avengers; you’d do everything in your power to get away from them.

You looked up from the floor of your cell, into the eyes of Steve and Bucky, and you could tell they knew what was coming next. You were stronger than them; you could easily overpower them. They’d seen it earlier when you grabbed their wrists, and every second you sat in that godforsaken cell, you became more immune to the effect of the material blocking your powers around you.

You intimidated them, and you knew it. You knew that your time in this compound was running out, and soon you’d be free. Free. Free. Free. Free. You repeated the phrase in your head five times to lock it in.

You felt that you were ready to share your decision. “I’d never fight for you people, never. Never. Never! NEVER! NEVER!! You people are killers; you take everything for yourselves! You’ve destroyed cities, taken the lives of so many innocents. How can you live with yourselves?” You yelled. Your eyes had begun glowing, and your hair was lifted off of your head as your volume increased. “How?!” You questioned, your eyes shining brighter.

Steve and Bucky were backing into corners of your room, staring down at you. A blue aura began to form around you, illuminating the room in a vibrate blue. Your crossed legs began to levitate off of the ground, and a strong wind began to sweep through the room in a circular motion.

You didn’t want to fight, this trick took all of your energy, and the two super soldiers were helpless, so you decided this would be the perfect time to escape.

As soon as you turned to the wall farthest from the room, which you hoped would lead outside, a particularly strong wave of fatigue hit you. The wind and your aura began to dim, but Steve and Bucky knew not to lunge at you yet.

A string of mumbled curses fell from your mouth, and you let your feet descend onto the ground. This might conserve your energy so you could put more into escaping this wretched complex.

Being back on the ground and looking less powerful, Steve decided to go for it. He jumped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you into him; you could only wiggle your hands.

Lifting you off the ground, he tried to make it so you couldn’t use your feet as any leverage.

“Fucking dick!” You yelled, thrashing in his arms.

“Language!” He yelled.

You’d had enough of his bullshit and began thrashing more. His grip only tightened, but you were still stronger. There was a vent located right above you, so you flew out of his arms.

You tucked your legs into your chest after he tried to reach out for them and stretched your arms, reaching for the vent. You swiftly pulled it off its hinges and forced yourself into the circulation system.

The tunnels weren’t dissimilar to a maze, you tried to go in one direction, but after 20 or so corners, you have turned around. The alarms blaring throughout the compound, warning everyone of your escape, were bringing about an awful migraine, and you were becoming more and more fatigued by the minute. You wouldn’t stop, though.

You had heard a few voices in the tunnels with you, as well as footsteps. You made sure to avoid them, and after 10 minutes of wandering through the ventilation, you found an air vent to the outside. You pushed hard, and with the last bit of strength you had left, the vent became dislodged. You tumbled out and plummeted about two stories before hiding the ground with a painful ‘thud.’

You crumpled into a ball on the grass, and you felt blood trickle down your forehead. You could also no longer feel your right foot, meaning it was broken. Everything hurt, but your ribs were also a very obviously damaged part of your body. Every time you moved, you felt a shooting pain.

You slowly sat up and wiped the blood from your face, and the amount of blood on your hand was startling. You looked around other parts of your body to assess the damage and found that your knees and elbows were also bloodied, as well as a few scrapes here and there. You lifter up your blue scrubs to get a better look at your side, where a wide purple and blue patch was starting to form. Hesitantly, you placed two fingers on your side, looking for anything broken. The shooting pain was the response, and you pulled your hand away. It was most likely broken, as was your right ankle. It was also a swelling purple and blue mess, and the pain was begging to hit.

You let your eyes fall away from your body to look at your surroundings. You were greeted by vast green forest on all sides, and behind you stood The Avengers compound. It loomed over you, and you could still hear the alarms blaring from the inside. You struggled to get up, and, to no avail, did you.

So, you lay on the ground, your tribulation had failed, and you were doomed once more. You tucked yourself into a ball and cried.

‘How could you be so weak?’ You thought to yourself. ‘How could you let people like the Avengers-like HYDRA-control you like this?’

It would be best if you found somewhere to hide, and quickly. You wouldn’t let The Avengers control you anymore. You couldn't.

You pushed yourself up, so you were on your hands and knees, but you were weak, and I’m so much agony. You kept pressing on, though. You crawled your way to the forest and let yourself fall behind a tree. You must’ve hit a tripwire or a perimeter alert, as a new set of sirens went off and an automated voice yelled your location. You cursed, but you couldn’t go on much longer. With your injuries and your temporary inability to shift, you had to surrender.

—————Avenger POV—————

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yelled through the team's comms. “Kid’s headed East, and it looks like she’s stopped behind a set of trees. I can see her on cams.”

“Who should we send out there? You saw what she did to Steve and Bucky.” Implored Natasha.

“She looks pretty tired. We could probably take her if we needed to, but I don’t think a fight is in store.” Bucky advised.

“How about we all just go out there?” Steve added sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. Good idea, capsicle.” Tony agreed. “Everyone grab your things and meet me in the common room; we’ll all go out and surround her. Bucky, Steve, you go from the East. Natasha and Clint, you guys, take the North. Strange got here a few hours ago, so he and I will take the West. Loki, you’re just going to ignore me, so Thor, go with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. And Bruce? You stay inside; we don’t want a code green, big guy.”

‘Okay’s and ‘mhm’s sounded through the Comms, and three minutes later, everyone was gathered in the common room, looking at one another surreptitiously, not knowing what would greet them on the other side of the doors. They didn’t know whether or not you’d be putting up a fight, but they were about to find out.

“We’re all here? Let’s go then.” Tony commanded. His suit's helmet fell over his face, and he strode forward, everyone else in close pursuit.

—————Your POV—————

You were weaving in and out of consciousness, and you still lay crumpled on the ground in your ball. You felt weak, and you couldn’t think straight. The world was a spinning vortex, and you almost thought you heard voices and feet. You opened your eyes and were met with the face of Tony once more.

SNAP! SNAP! In your face again, but with metal fingers instead of flesh. Tony likes snapping, it seems. You, however, did not. You attempted to growl to ward him off, but you couldn’t produce any kind of sound.

You turned your head slightly to face the rest of the team. They towered over you, weapons drawn and aimed at your face. Typically, you wouldn’t fear them, but in your fragile state, they were pretty threatening.

This wasn't very pleasant. You, one of the most powerful enhanced humans ever, were lying on the ground, bloodied and broken, at the will of The Avengers. They stared down at you, pity written all over their faces. Pity, not a feeling you wanted to be affiliated with.

Two metal arms reached out and wrapped around you, hoisting you up. A sudden rush of adrenaline caused your limbs to begin thrashing about, and the pain from your ankle and ribs subsided. Your sudden movement caused the metal arms encasing your body to pull you closer to the body they attached to. You felt the metal chest and put two and two together. You were in the mostly impenetrable arms of the Iron Man.

Tony picked you up carefully and began walking back into the compound, and the team followed suit. You tried to summon the adrenaline once more, but it didn’t want to come.

Feeling completely vulnerable, you decided to surrender. Yes, it was the cowards’ way out, but did you have another option? Your body was giving up on you, you couldn’t use your powers, and your opponents happened to be the killers of Thanos, another very powerful being.

There was no hope, so you just closed your eyes and allowed the sleep that had been creeping up on you to take over. Your vision faded into black, and the last thing you remembered was the mechanical hum of the Iron Man's suit.

——————————

You awoke to quiet chatter, and a beeping machine you could only assume was a pulse monitor.

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your senses were flooded with a bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol.

You looked up from your supine position to find yourself strapped to a table once more, but stronger and additional restraints were added this time. You still felt weak, and your side and ankle were aching, as well as your head.

An IV was embedded in your forearm, and as your eyes traveled the length of the tube up to the bag supplying it, you found it contained a thick blue substance. It must’ve been combating your powers because you couldn’t shift.

You took in your surroundings and found various members of The Avengers watching you. Creepy.

“Welcome back to the land of the living (Y/N).” Chuckled Tony, “You gave us quite a scare.”

The rest of the team went silent, and Bruce, dressed in a white lab coat, whipped around to face you and ran to your bedside. He whipped out a flashlight and shoved it in your face, his fingers following to hold your eye open while the flashlight shined in.

“Pupils are dilating, so no concussion.” He hummed, moving to your other eye.

He moved to pull a stethoscope from his neck and pressed the bell to your chest. You bit your tongue to stop from yelling out when the cold metal touched your bare skin. You must’ve bitten it when you fell because you sensed a metallic taste in your mouth. Bruce was in spitting distance, so you let the blood and saliva pool in your mouth, and you prepared to launch it towards him.

As soon as he lifted his head, you released your spit bomb. Bruce recoiled and began incessantly wiping his face with gloved hands. A hand flew around your neck, preventing you from spitting again.

Blood dribbled down your chin, and you looked up to the face the hand belonged to. It happened to be the winter soldier, and you grinned up at him, blood coating your teeth. He stared you down, and you did the same. The rest of the team just stood by, wearing “What The Fuck Just Happened” expressions.

Bucky finally released your neck, and Banner walked back over, blood-free and with duct tape.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Tony mocked from behind Bruce as he and Bucky taped your mouth shut.

You tried to shake him off, but your movements were no use. Barnes had a firm grip on your head that prevented you from thrashing about, and Bruce was wrapping your face.

‘Duct tape is the best they can do?’ You thought to yourself. ‘Do they know that duct tape loses its stick when wet?’

You laughed to yourself, and Bruce and Bucky ceased their actions and looked up at you, as did the rest of the team.

“What’re you laughing about?” Bucky snarled.

You only shook your head and rolled your eyes. If they didn’t know, why tell them?

Banner ripped the tape and stepped back. Bucky released your head, and you stared up at the ceiling, hoping they’d all leave.

“The rest of you can go. Bucky, you stay here. I need help controlling her.”

“You got it, Banner.”

The rest of the team reluctantly left, leaving you, Bucky, and Bruce. You looked over to them and stared them down with undeniable murderous intent.

“So, uh, what’re we doing next?” Bucky turned to Bruce, who was still staring you down.

Bruce snapped out of his trance and looked over to Bucky. “She’s still got some injuries from her fall; I need to check those out. Do you have any medical training?”

Bucky nodded. “A little bit, from when I served. Just basic stuff.”

“We can work with that.” Bruce crossed his arms and walked in the direction of your injured ankle.

You tried to get away, but the power suppressors and restraints prevented you from doing anything, so you just wriggled around uselessly.

Banner pressed two fingers to your swollen and bruised ankle, and you bit your tongue to stifle a muffled scream. He moved his fingers to another part of your ankle, and you hit your head against the table to suppress another outcry.

“Bucky, can you grab some Ace bandage? I think the Talus is fractured. We’ll need an X-Ray to make sure, but I doubt she’ll cooperate.”

“I can make her, or we could try sedation.” Bucky offered.

Bruce seemed to rather like that idea, as his brows raised, and he procured a metal syringe.

Forcing it into your arm, you let out a muffled, yet surprised yelp. Immediately after the syringe was removed from your arm, your world began to darken, and you became dizzy.

You tried and failed to resist, but your body gave in, and the last thing you saw was Bucky and Bruce watching you.

To be continued…

Taglist: @oldtrashbin @fleurlovesbucky @hopefuloperaangelnerd @sevenmorningstars @dev-loves-siri @cinematicfanatic123 @sweetpeaflower01 @kinny-away @mangobangi @cumulonimbus34 @oakiedokie @coollemonsaresour @screechingshepherddeputygoth @trinity-1002107 @padmoonyfeorge @laurenced1l @vaaalexandra @big-galaxy-chaos @thoughtsdrought-blog @the-nonsenseblog @inlovewithjohnmulaney

@play-morezeppelin @hi-i-1 @ohashley101 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @marvelfansworld

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years ago

Text

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER TWO: FRIENDSHIP

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x Reader Word Count: 2839 Rating: T - racism, references to the plot of Bad Samaritan, mild language A/N: I’m trying to balance covering a lot of time so that this doesn’t end up 20 chapters of the same thing and I never get to canon events and also getting some good, specific moments in, so hopefully this works...

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Time passed. You found yourself settling into a surprisingly easy friendship with Derek, though not one without it’s frustrations, and certainly not one that looked like friendship at all from the outside looking in. On more than one occasion, Sean had poked fun at each of you, though never in front of the other so they were aware, calling you out for flirting and playing hard to get.

You hated him for being right and refused to admit that it was what you were doing. Your stupid schoolgirl crush on your cousin’s best friend wasn’t something you wanted to acknowledge.

Nino’s had been abuzz for weeks with the news that the restaurant had been booked out for a re-election campaign event for the mayor of Portland, and now that the night had arrived, excitement had turned to panic. Nino had fretted constantly about every detail, from the amount of food and wine available to their arrangements on the plates. He had forgone setting up a buffet table for the cocktail and hor d'oeuvres hour in favor of what he thought was the much more high-end system of servers circulating with trays. And now two of the servers had, at the last minute, called in sick.

“There are not enough people!” Nino was exclaiming. “But I cannot set out a table now! We would have to rearrange the whole room!”

You had only just arrived, stepping into the chaos from the street like passing through an invisible barrier. One that at least part of you wanted to turn around and cross back over again.

“You need servers more than valets tonight, why not ask those two boys to help?” one of the kitchen staff suggested.

“That’s really not how their contract works,” you muttered, even though you knew it didn’t really matter in the end.

Nino looked thoughtful and turned to you. “Do you think they’d do it?”

Sean and Derek weren’t even there yet, and wouldn’t be until almost opening, so it would be a gamble, unless Nino could get them to pick up the phone. Plus they didn’t have appropriate service uniforms to your knowledge. Which meant that Nino had to either change everyone’s outfits or hope he had spares somewhere in the restaurant. Not to mention, there was no guarantee they’d even be willing, and since they were hired as valets (technically Nino’s had an account with their business, but since it was the only one so far and they didn’t really seem to be actively searching for more, he may as well have hired them directly), they weren’t obligated to do anything other than park and retrieve cars.

You sighed. The only problem with working with family was that you were expected to be able to know Sean’s thoughts on things, as if you were some kind of mind reader or expert.

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “But they both have a lot of respect for you, so it can’t hurt to ask.”

That was a lie. It could hurt. Saying no would make things awkward, saying yes would cost them a night of tips and...extracurriculars which you chose to actively not acknowledge. But the latter was probably best, since pulling their usual tricks on the mayor, his donors, and his powerful friends would be asking to get caught and spend the rest of their lives in prison.

“Great!” Nino hurried off to the phone as if you had said they would help without a doubt.

“Where is your tie?” Nino asked, gesturing, appalled, at Derek’s bare collar. “I told them to find you a tie. You’re not dressed properly. I can’t let you be seen like that!”

The whole staff was gathered around in the lobby for some sort of pep-talk/debrief and assignments before the doors opened for the big event. Nino was checking every detail like a hawk, jittery with nerves. The kitchen guys were anxious, not sure why they’d been dragged from their stations to the front of house, acting like a crowd of kids that got called to the principal’s office. Everyone else was casual, mostly gossiping over who they thought would be there, hoping for a political scandal to break before their eyes.

Derek held up a length of black silk. “You got any of them clip-on kind? I’ve never worn one before, so I don’t know what I’m doin.”

Nino sputtered. You rolled your eyes, stepping up beside him.

“I’ll take care of this, Nino,” you offered, gesturing at Derek’s entire self, and he had the nerve to look offended.

He nodded, turning away in a hurry, radiating nervous energy, looking for the next crisis. Finding none, he started in on his speech about how tonight was the most important night in the restaurant’s history, how he was proud to have such a dedicated staff. Then he dismissed everyone, listing off assignments as they scattered. You half listened, turning to deal with the problem of Derek’s tie.

“Hey, thanks,” Derek said quietly, offering you a half smile.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you answered. “Nino’s a better boss than most are ever lucky enough to have. It’d be a damn shame for him to drop of an aneurysm because you don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“Sure,” he chuckled. “Well I guess that means I’m in your hands.”

You smirked at the idea, ignoring Sean’s waggled eyebrow out of your peripheral. Derek noticed, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“You’ve seriously never worn a tie before?” you asked, taking the garment from him.

“No. Why would I? I don’t exactly get invited to the kind of places you need one.”

“Right…” you sighed, stepping closer, throwing the material over your shoulder to free your hands. “Step one is fully close your dress shirt.”

Your fingers darted nimbly, closing the tiny white buttons, ghosting over his throat and making him swallow nervously.

You continued to describe each step as you took it, looping the tie around his neck, trying to teach him what to do. But he couldn’t focus on your words, not with you standing so close that he could feel the heat radiating between your bodies.

“And voila. Tie tied. And if someone really wanted to, you have an easy way of killing you around your neck for fashion,” you joked, brushing the fabric smooth. Your hand lingered against his chest for a moment, for reasons you couldn’t explain, before you stepped back.

Silence hung in the air.

“So I’m all set then?” he asked finally, blinking as if coming out of a daze.

“You’ve got to button your vest too, but I assume you can figure that one out for yourself.”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled, beaming at you. “I’ll give it a try.”

You laughed along with him, trying not to think about how handsome he looked, dressed up like this. Not that he wasn’t handsome all the time, even in baggy jeans and a hoodie, but the formal black and white uniform suited him. You frowned, annoyed with yourself for letting your thoughts stray down that path.

He finished buttoning the garment and spread his arms, gesturing to himself. “How do I look? Pretty good right?”

“Not bad,” you said with a smirk and an effort to keep your voice casual. “Someone nicer might even say you clean up good.”

Suddenly his arm was around your shoulders and he leaned in to your side with a charming smirk of his own.

“Maybe they would, but you know I’ll take a ‘not bad’ from you over that any day,” he said with a laugh.

Before you could respond, he sauntered off, leaving you to glare and gape at his retreating back.

Derek couldn’t help himself. He was supposed to be walking around the room with this tray of shrimp puffs - or whatever rich people food Nino had assigned him, he was pretty sure it was shrimp puffs - and offering them to the guests. Instead, he was just standing in one spot, tray held out absently and teetering every time someone brushed past him, watching Y/N. She wove effortlessly through the clusters of men in pressed suits and women in silk dresses that rustled when they moved, smiling easily at them as she offered them champagne or wine. Even from a distance he could see the sparkle in her eye that made each person she spoke to feel like they were special, and as a result scored her numerous ones and fives left behind on her tray when they picked up a glass. His fingers itched to brush aside the piece of her hair that escaped its updo and danced across her temple, tucking it back into place behind her ear.

He felt a quick flash of guilt as he traced the shape of her body in her uniform, the black vest hugging every line and curve. He shouldn’t be staring, he thought. After all, she was Sean’s cousin and Sean was his best friend. And she was a friend, these days; you don't ogle your friends. But damn if she wasn’t hot, if he didn’t want her. His mind wandered, and he was just starting to imagine what her lips on his might feel like, what she might taste like - she had smelled like apple pie earlier when she was standing so close to him, when he’d been too chicken to make a move while he had the chance, and part of him hoped kissing her would taste like it too - when fingers, covered in too many rings and jingling from the stack of bracelets on the attached wrist, snapped in front of his face, startling him and dragging him back to reality.

“Are you even listening to me?” the woman demanded before raising her voice and slowing her words, over-enunciating each syllable. “I said I want your vegetarian option.”

“Uh. All I got are these shrimp things,” said lamely. “But my buddy Sean is around here with some mushrooms, I think. With like spinach stuff inside?”

She huffed, glaring and waiting and not saying anything.

“I'm sorry. I'm not—”

“Very intelligent. I can tell. I want you to bring me a plate with vegetarian appetizers. That means no meat. Nothing that was alive. And I want a selection, not just dumping all the same thing in a pile.”

As her voice got louder and her words even slower, it started drawing stares from the rest of the guests. He bristled at her tone, feeling his neck get hot as embarrassment and anger mingled. He knew why she was speaking to him like that. She wasn't the first.

He took a slow, deep breath. Getting angry would just play into her hand and make things worse. Before he could say anything, like maybe some remark about how plants used to be alive too, they just never had faces, Y/N appeared at his elbow.

“Derek! There you are, I've been looking everywhere,” she exclaimed.

He raised an eyebrow, silently asking what she was up to, and tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in his stomach at the idea she’d been looking for him.

“Nino said there was a problem, with the...thing and unless we want the guests to just be eating tiny hors d'oeuvres all night, you have to go talk the chef down from quitting over it.”

“What?” his face scrunched in confusion as he turned to Y/N.

She rolled her eyes (he kind of loved how often she did that) and plucked the tray out of his hand smoothly, fingers brushing briefly against his, sparking under his skin like a hotwiring a car.

“The thing. In the kitchen,” she said pointedly, like it meant anything. Then she turned to the woman, the largest, fakest smile he had ever seen on her face.

“Right...I’ll uh...get right on that…” he said helplessly.

“Sorry about that ma’am,” she lied to the woman, voice sickly sweet as she led the woman off. “He’s a culinary genius, but Nino likes to shake things up and keep the staff on their toes.”

“Oh,” the woman said, seeming surprised by the shift. “I just assumed...because he was one of them.”

“One of who?” Y/N asked, feigning confusion now though he could see that her eyes were hard and ice cold. Her smile took on a knife-sharp edge and he found himself grateful that it wasn’t being turned on him.

“Well. You know…”

“I’m sure I don’t. Because I can only think of one thing you might be trying to say. And I know you wouldn’t be so blatantly racist,” her voice got just a little louder, pitched toward the people around them, not the woman she was talking to, “at an important event like this. Would you?”

Derek chuckled and tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants, making his way to the kitchen. It might have been a fake reason, but he figured he may as well take the few minutes break it gave him anyway.

“Hey,” you said, dropping into a chair next to Derek, finally catching a short rest while the guests transitioned from one part of the evening to the next and found their seats for speeches and dinner. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah,” he said quickly, pretending that he had just been zoned out in order to cover for the fact that he was staring, again. “Just exhausted. Is this what it’s like for you every day?”

You chuckled. “It’s not usually quite this intense when we just have a few tables each to focus on. I think serving tables in a bit will be a better idea of that. But I meant about...you know...earlier.”

He made a face of confusion.

“The hag with the cheap perfume and the stupid attitude?” you offered.

“Oh that,” he shrugged. “I’m used to it. She was pretty tame, compared to some.”

“You know that’s the opposite of reassuring right? And not really an answer to the question.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” you agreed reluctantly. “Probably for the best. She’s probably a senator or their wife or something, and something tells me bitchslapping a public figure is a negative on the Character and Fitness review.”

You scratched the back of your head in a(n adorably) sheepish gesture.

“The what?”

“The thing where I spend all this time on a degree, and in the end it all comes down to one insane bullshit test and a review of my personal history. And a bunch of stuffy old men, and women these days, decide if I’m an acceptable fit for the esteemed legal profession.”

“Legal...I didn’t know you were trying to be a lawyer?!”

“Duh,” you rolled your eyes and dropped your voice. “Why do you think I keep telling you and Sean not to get caught yet. I’m useless to you for another year, at least.”

“You didn’t have to step in like that,” he said after a long pause. “I could have handled it.”

“I didn’t think you couldn’t.”

“Then why’d you get involved?”

“Just because you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should have to,” you shrugged. “I could tell you were uncomfortable. I thought I could help.”

You let your thoughts race. Had you done something wrong in trying to divert the conversation and give him an out? Did you accidentally make things worse? Was there something else you should have done instead?

“I’m not mad,” he said reassuringly, noticing the nearly panicked expression that danced across your face. “I just don’t usually get people doing that for me.”

“Well, what else are friends for?”

There was the at word again, he thought. The thing he didn’t want to destroy, but that stood unnavigable between you. He didn’t know what he was doing. This was new territory for him. It didn’t help that the line was blurry. What was real flirting and what was joking? Sometimes you made him feel more confident than ever, and then seconds later you left him drowning, insecure and flustered. Maybe this was the moment to ask, you had left the door cracked open just enough for an opportunity.

Sean caught his attention, waving him over. He realized with a start that they hadn’t talked all night, for the first time in a long time. The door clicked shut, another chance lost.

He turned to say something, and you waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said with a wink and a smile that made his heart flip. “I’m not interested in monopolizing your time. Besides, if I start now, I can probably pop in a quick 10 minute nap before we have to start running the first course.”

He watched you settle further, crossing your arms over your chest and close your eyes, either to continue the joke or to actually do what you said and shook his head fondly, before sauntering off to join Sean on the other side of the room.

#is this self-indulgence/projection? absolutely #but you know what #in reality all that is just window dressing #it's about the yearning #because this fic is going to be a slllllooooooow burn #Derek Sandoval x Reader #Bad Samaritan fic #Idiot (Affectionate)#overuse of italics probably #also possibly the worst title I've come up with to date

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bibliophilicwitch · 4 years ago

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Okay this is going to be a pretty big update related to work. And it’s gonna be pretty big because I haven’t been writing my rambling posts lately because I’ve been too busy at work when I normally would’ve gotten my feelings written down. idk how many are interested in this these days, but I know I’ve had followers that found my work updates interesting.

As you may remember I worked as a supervisor at a fabric store for many years and was worked into the ground with a horrible pittance for my effort. That company folded and I worked at Target for just over a year at the front end to utilize my management skills, but I realized that I had basically learned everything I could in such retail settings and I wasn’t happy. So I left and ended up working for Shopko pharmacy... for about a year until they also folded.

So the last two years I have been working at a Kroger pharmacy. I will be blunt - I am not a fan of Kroger though the reasons why are not specific to just Kroger but are evident in most retail pharmacy chains (and corporate customer service in general).

When we started administering COVID vaccines it was... rough. It wasn’t quite as horrible as the first few months after opening the new pharmacy because now we have learned a lot and know how to do most of what we’re doing and overall our patients are not abusing us as they had early on. But we are running around 26 vaccines over the course of two hours and not processing and dispensing medications during that time so we then spend the rest of the day frantically attempting to catch up while all of our patients that had to wait until we resumed daily services flooded us at once. We were short a tech for nearly three months and she has just returned and I already noticed the difference this past week. This means that now we are not spread thin with no extra coverage but instead no longer have to pick up tons of extra hours on top of having no extra coverage to help catch up from the vaccine clinic.

A few weeks ago I stayed over five hours after my shift, two of which during closed hours, and even two techs working literally all day including after closing with the pharmacist and getting caught up on several projects wasn’t enough because by noon the next day we were already sinking. It was at that point that I determined I was done. It didn’t matter how much we tried, we couldn’t get ahead and this meant that every day it felt like we were terrible techs unable to do our jobs competently.

I didn’t have any deadlines or programs at the library the following Monday so I decided to use my first vacation day in over a year for a three-day weekend only to be asked if I could come in Monday evening at the pharmacy because it was such a shit show. I decided not to go in because we are very limited on what we can do after 5 anyways but I felt so damn guilty about it so a few days later I started job hunting with the goal of looking for something that will use the different skillsets I have developed at the library hopefully I can find a part-time job running a local business’s social media though that isn’t very likely in the small community I live in. All I know is that I am Done with pharmacy.

Meanwhile about ten years ago I started working at the circulation desk at my local library and found I was truly passionate about libraryship as a career. I’ve wanted to work in technical services processing books full-time for years, but technology and the changes of how libraries run means this is not a likely option unless I am at a much larger library. Around five years ago I kinda fell into the program and volunteer coordinator position and while I have had to manage many challenges and work to improve myself to meet those challenges it has been a good experience. Unfortunately it is only a 20hr position and after years of telling my director I would like more hours and I could bring so much more to the position if I had those hours, she kept hesitating to explore that.

This past year my old director retired and we hired a new director. This director has experience at libraries that had dedicated positions for building and managing an online presence and reaching communities in a variety of ways, so when she heard the ideas and suggestions I made throughout the pandemic while we were offering services virtually and determining that we had a HORRIBLE online presence it became an interest to her to possibly utilize my skillset to build that online presence. She tasked me with working on social media plans only to realize I was overburdened with programming at 20 hours and unable to put time into social media so she stepped that back.

The need to build our online presence hasn’t gone away though as Youth Services posts all their virtual programs via Facebook Live and has been sharing many other posts and Adult Services has stepped up their game as well meaning posting conflicts have started to be an issue since everyone has basically just been posting whatever they want with little to no consistency or branding. So my director tasked me with herding cats even though there has been no recognition of my role as a leader leading to me not wanting to overstep.

I asked my director in my bi-monthly meeting about a desire for more hours as well as a better understanding of my role in the future of our library. My city fucked up their budget a year or two ago and with COVID our hours and positions are actually on a freeze so I cannot get more hours though my director does have the goal of getting more hours to a few positions including mine. We are joining our local system this year which may mean we do not need our technical services positions so if any of them leave those hours could be allocated elsewhere. I just have no idea when these hours could become available. But this conversation did lead to giving all of programming to Adult Services and having my job become marketing and volunteer coordinator instead of program and volunteer coordinator.

My only concern is that this change may mean my position doesn’t need more hours later down the road? And that is literally all I want: a full-time position at my current library (since I am settled into this community) so I can work one damn job and have benefits. (My teeth have been a mess for years and yesterday I ate a nut wrong and was in so much pain I left one job early and called in sick to the other.)

Over the past couple of years Youth Services has started tasking each of their staff with planning and running their own programs and our goal is to do something similar with Adult Services. The biggest issue with that is that my current programs may not really play to any of Adult Services strengths, so some of my programs may be dissolved later this year.

I suspect Garden Guru which we market and host but is planned and presented by Master Gardener Volunteers will continue as it is fantastic series with minimal work on our end. We will probably end up changing around book club a fair bit which is fine as it has always been in a state of flux as I worked to figure out how to make it work well. Paint & Sip hasn’t been run in over a year due to the pandemic but will likely continue in some form. Make & Mingle has been monthly kits which is EXTREMELY time consuming and will likely be changed a fair bit when taken over by Adult Services at least during the transition and probably afterwards as they plan for its future.

Paint & Sip’s popularity has been my biggest frustration over the years but it and Make & Mingle have also been the most gratifying for me as I have always gotten the most positive feedback during and after those programs from participants. Also my office is basically a craft storage space and I am going to miss being known for the crafts.

I need to write up a new job description. I need to write out my programming planning and organization for Adult Services as a guide as they take over. I need to continue moving the Google Drive folders from my personal Google to the library’s new Gmail so that Adult Services will have control over them. I need to make sure these programs are all planned out enough to make sure transition is relatively smooth (Adult Services staff will either shadow my programs a few times or I will shadow with them as they take over and I figure I will work with the staff picking up different programs for transition plans).

So yeah... a fuck ton has been going on the last several months both overwhelming and exciting.

#text #personal #general related #work related #:pharmacy #:library #this is why i am always too busy to post my usual little updates

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biotic-boshtet · 3 years ago

Text

Aftermath - Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Start at the Beginning

Doubt (and Duct Tape)

“Norah Jean!”

“I’m so sorry, Jeff.”

The comm dies and the pod launches. The fireball blooms in slow motion.

She’s spinning.

Spinning.

Suffocating.

Norah Jean snaps awake. The first thing her eyes land on are the multitude of stars through the skylight. They used to be so beautiful. Now she can’t even breathe, staring up at them. Can’t tear her eyes away from the cold, emotionless lights. She’s vaguely aware of her corona flickering in and out, rising and falling with her shallow breaths. The comforter is tangled around her legs. She focuses on what she can feel. Her hands are balled up in the sheets, clenching so hard her knuckles hurt. Her body is drenched in sweat, soaking her t-shirt and shorts. The air circulating through the cabin is frigid, cooling her sticky skin.

She can almost take a normal breath.

The soft whir of the fan pointed at her bed breaks through her thoughts. Norah Jean takes a breath, listening to the subtle hum of the drive core, then the sound of the empty fish tank. She can smell the air freshener on the desk, apple cinnamon, it smells like home. She shifts slightly, and the smell of her shampoo wafts up from the pillow.

Her mouth tastes like blood. She must have bitten her cheek before she woke up.

Norah Jean can finally look away from the stars, can a deep breath. She sits up and puts her feet on the cold floor, holding her head in her hands. She won’t be getting back to sleep tonight. This marks the sixth night in a row she’s had that nightmare. She learned on night three that falling back asleep only brings more of them.

She gets up and walks to the desk. Half a dozen reports sit stacked next to the computer. The clock reads 0200. With a sigh she sits down and picks the first pad off the stack. They won’t read themselves.

Her cabin is cold, just the way she likes it, and Kaidan is wrapped up completely in her comforter on the bed. She climbs onto the mattress and peels away the edge of the blanket to shimmy under and cuddle close to him. He stirs when her cold hands touch his warm skin, rolling over to face her.

“Hey, Sugar. Didn’t think you’d show.” He presses a kiss to her nose.

“Didn’t think I’d show? This is my cabin.”

“I missed you so much.”

“What? Kaidan, I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Two years is a long time, Norah Jean.”

“I haven’t left, I’ve been here the whole time!”

“No, you haven’t. You died. None of this is real, Sugar.”

“No. Let’s just go to sleep, this is just a nightmare, everything will be okay when we get up.”

“Norah Jean, you need to open your eyes. It’s time to wake up.”

She blinks and they aren’t in her cabin anymore. Alarms wail all around her and Kaidan faces her, fully suited up.

“Joker’s still in the cockpit, he won’t abandon ship. I’m not leaving either!”

Alarms give way to the silence of space as the Normandy crumbles around her. In seconds, nothing but stars surround her.

She can’t breathe.

With a start, Norah jean sits up in her desk chair. Her datapads are scattered across the desktop, and the clock reads 0430. She leans back and rubs her face, covered in lines from the datapad she fell asleep on. She gets up and heads for the gym in the cargo bay.

After a few hours of deliberation, looking between the roll of duct tape, the folded bedsheet, and the skylight, she keys the comm frequency for the main battery.

“Hey, Garrus, are you busy right now?”

“Well, I was in the middle of some calibrations, but I’ve been looking for an excuse to run a full system diagnostic. Please tell me you need my services for two hours or so.”

“I do need your help with something, I don’t think it’ll take me two hours though. Meet me up in my cabin?”

“On my way.”

Several minutes later, the door chimes as Garrus walks through. He makes the Turian approximation of a whistle as he looks around.

“Damn, Shepard, you’re living like a queen up here. What’s a guy like me gotta do to get a view like this?”

“Oh? I’ll trade you. I’d sleep better in the down in the guts of the ship anyway.”

“You’re not sleeping?” His mandibles twitch and he looks long and hard at her face, as if only now seeing the dark circles under her eyes.

“Only a little bit. Not nearly enough. But that’s why I called you up here actually, because I have a plan.” She turns to grab the folded sheet and roll of duct tape from the bed. “We’re covering the skylight.”

“’We’?”

“Yes. As you can see,” Norah Jean stands on the bed and reaches one arm up. Even on her toes, she doesn’t come anywhere close to touching the ceiling. “I can’t reach it myself, and this bed is attached very firmly to the floor. So, I need you to give me a boost.”

“A… boost?”

“Yes, Garrus, stand on the bed and pick me up so I can reach the ceiling.”

“Okay. And if I drop you?”

“Are you already planning to?” She laughs at the way his mandibles twitch.

“No! I just don’t want you stabbing me because I accidentally dropped you!”

“Garrus, where would I be hiding a knife? My hair isn’t long enough to do that anymore. Even if you do drop me, I’ll land on the bed, its fine. If you’re that worried about dropping me, I can just sit on your shoulders.”

“I like that, that sounds more secure.”

“Okay then let’s do it, lemme climb on.” Garrus climbs onto the bed and kneels down, so she can climb onto his shoulders.

“So, what is it humans say about duct tape? That it fixes everything?” He slowly stands to his full height, wobbling a bit between the squishy mattress and the marine on his shoulders.

“200 plus years and it hasn’t failed us yet. Even in space, there’s use for it.”

“Maybe Ceruberus should’ve used a bit of it on you, might’ve sped the process up.”

“I’m not gonna give that the dignity of a response.” She lays the sheet over she arm and tears off a strip of tape.

It takes them almost thirty minutes to securely fix the sheet to the skylight. The first corner she’d taped up peeled off once two sides were plastered to the steel. Then as they finished the final corner, the second corner sagged down. By the time everything is secure they’ve gone through a roll and a half of tape, and Garrus is lying on the bed with his eyes closed.

“Tell me when the room stops spinning okay?”

“Here, this’ll fix it.” Norah Jean tears off a square of duct tape and sticks it to Garrus’ armor.

He lifts his head and opens one eye to look at his new silver patch. “It really does fix everything.”

Norah Jean sits on her too-soft bed and stares at her armor on its rack. She’s put herself through countless armor drills, just like the Academy’s, but still, she can’t get her time under three minutes. Major Mabbit would have her ass.

She walks over to the rack and starts the timer.

Two minutes and fifty-six seconds. Progress. Hopefully she won’t need to suddenly get ready to drop anytime soon. She takes her time pulling the armor off, inspecting the slowly growing collection of scratches and dents. Ghosts her fingers over the dent on her chestplate from one of Garrus’ concussive rounds. On one of her greaves, a gouge from an impromptu sparring session with Jack out in the field. A square of silver duct tape right in the middle of her left pauldron. The signs of a stranger’s armor slowly becoming hers.

The door to the cockpit slides open, and Joker glances over his shoulder to see Norah Jean come in. She scuffs a foot on the floor before sighing and sitting down, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Uh-oh, you’ve got that look that means you’re thinking about one specific thing too much. Spill it.”

“I’m still me, right? I’m still the person you grew up with? Your old high school sweetheart?”

Joker sighs, turning his chair to face where she’s sitting on the floor. “Norah Jean, why-“

“Just. Answer the question. Please.”

“It’s a complicated question, so you’re getting a complicated answer, just a warning. Yes, and no. Of course, you’re not the same person you were in high school. You’re not even the same person you were when you graduated from the Academy and left Arcturus. But that’s normal, hell, even encouraged. You came away from Akuze like a ghost, you’d been through hell and back, but you were still you. People don’t just walk away from trauma without changing, Norah Jean that’s just not how that works. It’s unfair to expect yourself to be the exact same person you were when you saved the Citadel. You got spaced for fuck’s sake, and you remember it? That changes people. So yeah, you’ve changed, but everyone changed when the Normandy went down, whether they want to admit it or not.”

“That’s not what-“

“If you’re asking me if I think you’re some Cerberus controlled zombie, the answer is hell no, absolutely not. If Cerberus had a chip in your brain, I don’t think I’d be able to beat you at Scrabble.”

Norah Jean snorts and rolls her eyes. “Wow, that’s the metric you’re going by? I didn’t realize the bar was so low.”

“It’s more of a combination of things.”

“Do you ever wonder about how life would be if we’d stayed together after the Academy?”

“Telling you “No.” would be lying and I try not to lie to you, you’ve got a weird knack for figuring that shit out.”

“Because you have a shitty poker face, Jeff.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I try not to dwell on it, it was 10 years ago. I can guaran-god-damn-tee that if we were still together in ’83 I wouldn’t have been piloting the Normandy because there’s no way Anderson would’ve passed up having you as his XO. Do I regret breaking up with you? No, not really, because without worrying about the regs, you got to chase down what you wanted from your career, and I got to pilot this sweet, sweet ship. Yeah, at first it sucked because you needed space and that space meant we didn’t so much as message each other for 2 years, but it was worth it. And plus, I like our friendship better this way, we’ve got a good thing going here. Now grab the Scrabble set, get your ass in your chair, and we’ll see how many games I win this time.”

“You spend all this time building me up just to break me down again, I see how it is.”

“I’ve gotta keep you in check somehow, Norah Jean.”

#mass effect fic #garrus vakarian #jeff joker moreau #norah jean shepard #this is my near miss shakarian chapter dedicated to how many times ive gone through the reach and flexibility convo to almost romance garrus #aftermath #mandi writes

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ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 4 years ago

Note

(pt. 1) it seems ennea 1/8/cp6s can mistype as one another quite often. it also seems that there is an overwhelming amount of bs circulating around these types. especially 8s. you know more than i do, so i figured that i'd ask for your input. thanks in advance if you choose to read all this. basically, which one would you say is most fitting for myself? i'm extremely stubborn and willful. tbh, those two are simultaneously some of my best AND worst traits.

(pt. 2) i've gotten better at unclenching as i've aged though, so on the whole i think they're positive forces in my life at this point. when i was a kid i had some anger issues, but i worked on them and by the time i reached adulthood the issues had been dealt with. i still feel anger (of course lol), possibly a bit more often than others, but i dont really blow up. using that energy to instead try to fix the problem causing anger ASAP is better in literally every way so i do that instead.

(pt. 3) that last part about the anger actually is one of my tripping points, most descriptions of 8s ive read show them as being very explosive. some of them to the point where it sounds kind of cartoonish- which makes me doubt how accurate their descriptions of 8s are. but moving on, i'm very independent and have been from a young age. being reliant on other people is like sandpaper on my soul, i have trust issues tbh (that im working on with a professional)

(pt. 4) one of my more 1-ish traits (i think??) is that i tend to be pretty focused on the morality of my actions, with apparently enough intensity that other people point it out when describing me. i'm VERY concerned with justice. it's difficult for me to be a bystander. seeing people attacking others who cant defend themselves is infuriating on a deep level. i'll stand down if the victim asks, since they know their lives better than me, and offer other forms of support instead.

(pt. 5) related to that, i have very high emotional empathy while also having low cognitive empathy (both due to the same neurodivergence) which i think drives me towards compassion. despite the fact that i, in general, feel things with the intensity of a bonfire pushing the limits of what can be controlled, i apparently dont often show it externally. other people (w/ the exception of close friends) almost universally describe me as aloof. which probably ties into the trust issues tbh.

(pt. 6) close friends have told me that, before they got to knew me, that they were intimidated by me and thought that i didnt like them. other people seem to feel the same, but dont say so very often. with the people that were stubborn/caring enough to actually get to know me, it takes a LONG time for me to start opening up to them. but once we get to that point, pretty much the only thing that'd break off the friendship is them doing something morally reprehensible, violating my boundaries...

(pt. 7) or them ending the friendship themselves. a stumbling block in some of my relationships is that i can get into power struggles, sometimes over things that arent really that important in hindsight. i dont want to be anyones subordinate, i need equality in all my personal relationships if they're going to exist at all. i tend to take on the role of the Dad Friend in my friend groups; ive been told by them that they kind of see me as a source of strength that they can draw from/rely on

(pt. 8) ... its something that i like about myself. im also very blunt when communicating for better or worse. people come to me for honest, direct feedback and input, but it has made me some enemies in the past. when i was less mature it made me kind of abrasive tbh, though i learned to play nice well enough that its been literal years since i heard that specific complaint. also this is apparently relevant to the type question so tl;dr yeah, bad childhood. hopefully this is enough info for you

-------

Hi anon,

Thanks for your patience! My guess is cp6, but I’m not positive. I should also add, as always, that I do believe that neurodivergent people can be typed but because I do not (and should not) have all the details of people’s conditions nor can I judge what is due to those conditions and what is inherent to personality (not to mention whether that condition is something you consider inherent to your personality) it can be much more difficult for me to type.

While the way we act in inboxes isn’t the same necessarily as how we act in real life, “thanks in advance if you choose to read this” is not really an 8 statement to me and none of the writing style here stands out as 8: it’s far too conciliatory. 8s can be polite/cordial, but in my experience there tends to be a certain forcefulness or at least expectation. A healthy 8 is more likely to assume they will be read.

Similarly, you indicate that expressing that anger directly is something you’ve moved away from. 8s don’t - they learn perhaps to express it more respectfully (it is true that constant explosive anger is extremely unhealthy and that a lot of 8 descriptions are really hyperbolic) but healthy 8s don’t feel bad about being angry and find value in that expression, in addition to fixing the problem.

With that said I don’t get the sense you feel bad about angry outbursts necessarily, which is pretty common in 1s, and the morality seems outward focused: this doesn’t feel like a fear of “what if I am corrupt” but rather a more 6-like focus of defense and fighting for a belief.

You do mention extreme loyalty to those you are close to, and the wariness of a cp6 but the inherent 6 need for support systems - and willingness to be a pillar within that support system speaks to that.

The one thing that does still speak to 8 is the need for equality, and so I would look into what that ultimate fear is: is it a fear of being dominated or controlled in general (8), or is it a mistrust of those who have been in control over you and who did not provide you with the beneficial guidance and support they should have (6)?

#enneagram #Anonymous

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brieannakeogh · 5 years ago

Text

Bernie Sanders

Yes this is the man I’ll vote for. It’s the man I’ll tell everyone in my family to vote for. Most of them are republicans but I don’t think I’ll have to argue about it. I’ll be able to convince them with a very realistic, easy statement. Health care for free.

Both of my parents died from cancer. They both were diagnosed at 50 years old. My father survived for 2 years, and worked for the state before then for years. He had over 6 months of sick days, which was a miracle since he wouldn’t be put on disability for 6 months by the government. The medical bills and pills, chemo, etc. that they put him on, ate away at his 401k, all of savings, literally everything they had saved for retirement. Luckily my mom was able to care for him. The company she worked for was a very successful local business. The owners worked with her, and had her work at odd hours from home. Paid for the computer and all the things that needed to be changed on their software so it can be released via the internet instead of just closed circulation. They were the only reason we didn’t go bankrupt.

I still removed myself from college since I knew they wouldn’t be able to pay for it. I started working side jobs and taking over all the payments they were helping me with. I was 19 when his first seizure happened and 21 when he died. After he passed my boyfriend and I moved in with my mother, instead of living in the home we were paying mortgage on. My mom at least found a renter for us, who only would go late sometimes.

All of us were living paycheck to paycheck, but my mom still had her own 401k from her company. So she could still retire on her own. Then the system crashed. Stocks went down, the housing market went down. We could never sell our house because we could never make the amount we owed. Mom was worried about the 401k being good for her own retirement. I told her “don’t worry, you’ll still work for 10-15 years and stocks will go back up.” That is happening, but she got cancer a few years after dad died.

She turned 50 as well and was diagnosed a few months after my boyfriend turned into husband. I couldn’t work so all the bills were paid by my husband’s paycheck and the amazing company she worked for. They still sent her a check every 2 weeks like normal. They took her and paid for sick trips so she could travel to places she wanted to be. They took her to a lawyer to fill out an appropriate death will. I’m very grateful to them.

She ended up dying in 6 months. Everything she had, had to be sold. All the lower stocks, all her investments. Everything that went down. I had no job, very little money and the renter for the house I personally owned stopped paying their bill. My small inheritance was running out paying a mortgage, normal bills and having to buy a car so I could get a job. It only took a little while to go back to nothing. Owning the 1994 single wide trailer that my parents bought that year.

Another big chunk was taken when we sold the house we were paying mortgage on still. Losing money instead of gaining it. We should have rented when we moved in together originally.

Now it’s 10 years later and I have cancer too. Of course mine started earlier than theirs. I had already planned to up my life insurance to a large amount when I turned 49, but it started early.

My insurance is the AHCA Blue Cross, which is ok but I have to have bronze to be able to pay for it. They said I would survive for 6-8 years and I’m sure my bills for hospitals will go up in flames. I can’t retire early, I can’t take vacations, I can’t quit my job. I’ll be here until I feel the effects of when I’m going to die. It’s the same as my dad had, but I’m a little lower stage. When I die my husband will be poor, jobless and I already heard he’s moving north. He wants more cold weather. I made sure he could afford it by doubling my life insurance policy. Hopefully the hospital doesn’t eat it away.

We’re drowning again for the third time in my life and my family knows health care should be free. Those republicans will vote as liberal as possible so that this doesn’t happen to anyone else in the USA.

This is me. I know I write fiction all the time, but this is my soul. I know there are many lies and the fact he’s an old white dude can come out as negative, but please please go out to vote if you are young and you live in USA. Hell, you should vote in your own country too. Seems like we don’t think that our vote does anything, but when there is enough we can take over.

#bernie sanders #2020 vote #bernie2020 #medicare for all

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silvensei · 5 years ago

Text

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 4 (2k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev | next >

- - - - - - - - - -

“And you’re sure Markus will be okay with…y’know, all this? Like it won’t freak him out if I just walk up to him as not you?”

“He is a leader for a reason: he’s reasonable.”

“Mm. Good reason.”

“Just explain it to him from the beginning. Offer to share the day’s memories if that’ll be easier—oh!” Connor shifted in the driver’s seat to fully face his partner and held up a hand. “Not a memory transfer! That’s a different process altogether. That’s what we did to switch. Markus technically is part of the same prototype series as me, so it might prompt for a complete memory transfer—don’t do that one!”

“I got it, Mom: Don’t accidentally kill myself.” Hank shut the door, leaning his forearms on the open window. “As for you, just lay low. You can tell Jeffrey that you’re you if you want, he’s probably heard worse from me before, but maybe don’t let it get out into the whole precinct. Not only would CyberLife get snippy about their secret plans leaking too much, but can you imagine the hell Gavin would raise? Christ.”

Connor paused. “I’m not sure if I can, but I’m sure he would be troublesome.”

Hank laughed. He had heard Connor laugh before, on very rare occasions, but he didn’t think it ever sounded this relaxed and easy. It really gave his rough voice an amicable quality. “Swing back here when you’re done? Or call if it’s more than an hour?”

“Can do, Lieutenant.”

He stepped away from the car as Connor shifted out of park. “Careful with the wheels,” he called before starting down the driveway toward the Manfred house.

In the corner of his vision, the external temperature reading increased to 67.7°F (19.8°C). Focusing on the readout expanded the widget: RH 58.1%, Precip. 12%, Wind 3 mph NW, Sunset 8:52 PM, Moon Phase—

He looked away. It was still there—being a heads-up display and all—but the gesture dismissed the weather. Who could possibly need that much information. No one. It’s been bombarding him from all sides with random facts and figures and updates ever since he woke up like this a couple hours ago (2 hr 32 m 57 s). No wonder Connor was such a know-it-all: his programming forced him to be. Hank slowed his stroll. What was Connor going through right now, free of his encyclopedia of trivia for the first time in his life? Hopefully not lost and unsure and uninformed. God, he hoped not.

He shook his head, quite literally to get his damn android brain to stop calculating the chances that his best friend was having an identity crisis or existential crisis or any number of other crises. Instead he thought about how his shoulders didn’t ache when he did that. His knees didn’t have that familiar creaking he’d grown so accustomed to, either. In fact, besides the pressure on the soles of his feet to keep him grounded and the near-imperceptible brush of fabric and sunlight against his skin, he didn’t feel much of anything. Thinking about his current body only brought up biocomponent specs and functionality reports (100% - Fully functional).

“Fucking-A…,” Hank muttered, noting once again he didn’t sound like himself. Being stuck in an android could be likened to sensory deprivation and informational oversaturation at the same time. If he dwelled on it too long, it’d drive him insane.

Something pinged him as he approached the door, and the door clicked open. “Welcome, RK800.”

Hank stepped into the foyer, marveling at its grandeur. It was a veritable mansion when compared with his single-story shack. It probably was a mansion. He wondered if Sumo would like living here, with the marble and the high ceilings. Maybe in the summer. The stone would keep him nice and cool. Air probably circulated well in here, too. Although the zebra rug didn’t look terribly comfortable

The double doors across from him slid open. Strolling in in an asymmetrical tee and jeans, Markus slipped a paint brush into the pocket of the smock tied at his waist. “Connor!” he called with a grin, wiping off some paint from his hands. “I thought you’d never take up my offer to stop on by!”

Hank returned the grin. He’d have to pass that comment on to Connor. “Hey, Markus.”

The android caught him in a brief hug before stepping back. “So what’s up? Care for a painting lesson?”

“Thanks, but not right now. Just have some…neat info we thought you would enjoy.”

“Oh, really?” He crossed his arms. “‘We’ as in you and the lieutenant? Isn’t sharing DPD intel kind of illegal?”

“Not exactly. I mean, yeah, but it’s not DPD.” Hank took a breath (UNNECESSARY; temperature nominal) and rocked on his feet. “We got an email from CyberLife this morning about some quack idea to define sentience. They wanted to see what would happen if they threw souls around, human and android alike.”

Markus scoffed. “Sounds a bit pompous. What makes them think they can even do that?”

Hank cocked his head and held open his arms. “They already have.”

Markus raised an eyebrow. He shifted his weight, looking the other over. “Connor…?” he asked slowly.

“Not at the moment. Hank Anderson.”

A half smile completed the look of surprise. “A human in an android body? And Connor is…?”

“Heading to the precinct. They called me in for something and he’s, well, me for the day.”

“Huh. You’re right, this is interesting. Temporary?”

“Yeah—here, Connor suggested I just…show you his memory—our memory—of today.”

“Sure, yeah.” Markus held out his hand. At Hank’s hesitation, he finally let out the chuckle he was holding back. “If you can figure out how to do it, that is?”

“Great, another snarky robot on my hands,” Hank grumbled, grabbing his hand. Markus caught another laugh and shifted his grip to his forearm instead. Their skin shied away from their touch, and the connection pinged his system. [RK200 #684 842 971] connected.

File copy requested: [Visuals; Audio] {-04:00:00.0}:{00:00.0}

Accept Deny

The notification took up his vision in an instant. It didn’t say anything about a memory transfer like Connor warned, so he figured it would do. Just thinking about accepting the prompt completed the request, and the past four hours from his chassis’ perspective played back at breakneck speed. From Connor petting Sumo and reading a book exactly four hours ago to Hank’s latest quip, it all sped by, too fast to comprehend and yet with every detail intact and evident. He reeled, flinging his arm back.

He blinked rapidly. The only sign of the event was the text (Copy complete) fading from his vision. Markus, on the other hand, dropped his hand to his hip, unfazed. “Mimicking a nexus connection by adjusting and enhancing the brain’s natural electric field to induce a complete data transfer,” he mused. “That is genius! It doesn’t prove anything spiritual, that’ll require much more philosophical debate into the depth and scope of AI, but it certainly doesn’t disprove anything either.”

“How can you understand all that so fast?” Hank asked candidly.

Markus smiled. “Years of practice.” He untied his smock and beckoned him towards the door. “Why don’t we continue this in the den?”

The doors slid open into an absolutely spacious sitting room. As if the zebra pelt on the foyer floor wasn’t excessively extravagant enough, the first thing Hank saw was a giraffe in the corner, probably real, definitely stuffed. (Analysis: TAXIDERMY, est 16yr) He had to stop from rolling his eyes at its ostentatiousness. “Ritzy place ya got here,” he commented, hoping Connor’s voice defaulted to conversationally neutral.

“Yes. Carl doesn’t particularly like it either.” Damn. “However, the media seems to dote on and worry about an elderly millionaire more when they live a modest, humble life than when they look the part.” He gestured to one of the couches in the center of the room. “Please.”

“Y’know, based on news reports and the whole ‘led a revolution’ thing, you’re not exactly what I expected.” The couches were bright cherry red, fitting the theme of the room. He sank into the one closer to the door.

Markus sat across from him, crossing his legs. “Even celebrities need days off,” he pointed out. “I used to be a caretaker. That doesn’t define me anymore, and Carl has a new full-time caretaker anyway, but I still like to come check on him when I can. Get free painting tips while I’m here. But enough about me.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I’m dying to know what your day’s been like.”

“Playing shrink now? What about, just…general exposition?”

“Anything! This is unprecedented!” His eyes shone. Connor was 100% correct that Markus would be ecstatic. “All of our efforts these past months have been towards helping mankind understand androids as people, and now here you are, literally seeing things from our point of view! Walk a mile in the other’s shoes, as the proverb goes.”

“Okay….” Hank drummed his hands on his legs. His first instinct was to think back through the day, but the thought triggered another rapid memory replay. He stopped it and groaned. “It’s fuckin’ fast,” he said. “There’s a shit ton of information even without the router in my head. With it, it’s like I’m every computer at once.”

“That’s an interesting interpretation of it. Maybe a bit of an overstatement.”

He scoffed. “This android brain has involuntarily subjected me to more math in the last three hours than I have had to do in the last thirty years. Like, I don’t need a speedometer at all times, or news updates from Ghana, or access to all the fuckin’ bad memes of my youth. It’s excessive! Maybe not to you,” he added, holding out a hand, “but you’ve grown up with it…figuratively speaking.”

“That’s true.” Markus propped his chin in his palm. “I guess I’d be able to relate more to Connor’s side. I wonder how he likes being disconnected from the network.”

“Yeah, I wonder, too….” Hank pursed his lips. “The kid seemed really shaken up as soon as the whole ‘identity’ question came into play. Seemed like he’s been thinking about it for a while, so I figured…a break from the norm might do him some good. Hell, if I’m getting so overwhelmed by android stuff, maybe he’s finally got some underwhelming peace and quiet.”

“Perhaps. I can ask him later, though; you’re here right now. How about…colors? Does the world look any different? Any sharper, mayhap?”

“Bud, this place would look like a Crayola box to anyone.” Hank took a moment to look around, ignoring the scrolling list of crayon names in his periphery. Sure, it was bright and sharp, but he was fifty-three. If he stole literally anyone’s glasses, it’d improve his vision. “Yeah, I guess it’s all in shiny 4K. Look, Markus, I’m not really a conversationalist; words never were my strong point, so I’m not sure how well I can convey this, ah…ongoing out-of-body experience.”

Markus held up his hands in surrender. “Perfectly alright, Lieutenant. With only a few hours of android life, there’s no sense sitting around talking for all of it. Why not look to some action instead?”

“Action? What’s that mean?”

He stood up with a smile. “Have you ever seen The Matrix, Mr. Anderson?”

“Snuck into a theater to see it opening week.” He pushed himself up in suit. His balance had to correct itself when he was on his feet earlier than expected, being lighter, stronger, and without a whisper of joint pain. “And yes, my friends called me that for months after. Why?”

“Well, we could always spar with some newfound kung fu, but painting has always been more my style.”

“What the fuck are you—” He stopped, remembering the scene he was referencing. His computer brain also conveniently played it back for him, too. Thanks, CyberLife. “I can just download painting? Like that?” He snapped.

“The technical skills, yes; the creativity and style, though, you’d still have to practice yourself.” He picked up his smock and held it out. “How about that lesson?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. He had never pictured himself as a painter. Or an artist of any kind. Or an android. He shrugged. “Ah, what the hell. You’re on, Picasso.”

[next >]

#Detroit Become Human #DBH #Hank Anderson #Markus #DBH fanfiction #body swap #my writing #generic tags this time nothing really to add #time is bleeding together and losing meaning in this quarantime

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gracesneddon · 5 years ago

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Moving in the Right Circles: a few thoughts.

Hello, hi, good afternoon (or a very early good morning if you’re reading from home, I hope O Week is treating you well and you’re remembering to rehydrate). Last night, I went to the first in a series of seminars hosted by the Edinburgh Political Union and Common Weal at a cute little student bar down in the Old Town. Common Weal is a policy “think and do tank” based in Glasgow. Their Policy Head, Craig Dalzell, took us through the Resources and Trade chapter of their fully-costed Green New Deal for Scotland. I recently finished reading Novacene and have finally come to grips with the Gaia Theory... I think. In light of all this new info that I’m processing, and news that Bezos is injecting $10bn into the climate effort, I wanted to share a few thoughts...

A Circular Economy

Common Weal’s Green New Deal is so low-bullshit it’s made me run circles around my own brain trying to come up with a joke about lowering methane emissions (to no avail). It reads that “...waste is really just a way of describing failures in resource use” in reference to the current linear economic model.

Met this dude in Sligachan!

The linear model can be described as such: procure resource ---> use it between 0 and 2 times ---> dispose of resource ---> repeat for infinite economic growth.The goal of a circular economy is to keep goods in circulation at the highest value possible. To do so, we need to considering redesigning, reusing, repairing and remanufacturing goods before we recycle them. If we could do that, we wouldn’t have to procure as many resources in the first place, nor waste as much in the end. Craig put recycling to the test last night too, discussing whether down-cycling (i.e. putting your Amazon cardboard box in the correct bin) should even be considered a success (it shouldn’t IMO). Side-cycling and up-cycling are still crucial to a circular economy, though.

***Cue thirst trap that also shows off thrifted jeans***

Ooh, and I found out that Edinburgh has tool libraries, which gives me the means to cause devastation in a public space as I make and fix things, as per my 2020 goal to learn more practical skills, but with less waste!

Not the tool library, but close enough...making fingerboards in Granda’s shed over Christmas.

Debating in Circles

When we talk about the climate action effort, we often split society into those who see the need for climate action and those who choose to oppose it. Last night’s discussion highlighted another important group: climate delayers.

What is a climate delayer?

Those who acknowledge climate emergency but declare that they/we as a society are doing enough

Those who acknowledge climate change but oppose declaration of an emergency

Those who acknowledge climate change and/or emergency on a public level but benefit heavily from/contribute heavily to the industries that continue to emit fossil fuels

Those who acknowledge the climate emergency but propose only lofty goals with no substantive plan to achieve them

Any other person whose behaviours slow down the climate action effort without necessarily denying its validity.

It’s interesting to consider that, perhaps even more so than deniers, the behaviours of climate delayers work to preserve the status quo by focussing on how hard it might be to structure a society in a way that places less stress on the earth’s systems. They may also choose to support weaker policy reactions to emerging climate science.

I know what you’re thinking. Of course, anybody (sane) would tell you that they’d rather do nothing than do something that might take effort. Even if a proposed policy has noble goals such as emissions reduction, people won’t give up their time to act unless it has a realistic plan behind it. The cool thing about Common Weal’s GND is that it’s actually costed, it’s clear (even to somebody without a science or economics background like me) and it actually feels like something that might work... No wonder major parties are starting to jump at it.

There will always be a threat from climate delayers though. Especially when they are people with excessive power or influence. I guess this is the source of worry that some are harbouring when it comes to the enormous amount of money Jeff Bezos (Amazon CEO, tax escape artist, richest person in the world) has committed to set up his Earth Fund this week.

Attempting to Square the Circle

A Guardian article I digested with my morning coffee collates the opinions of a few leading scientists on how he could best spend this money. Some of these included setting up opposition to oil and gas lobby in the US, forest protection, indigenous land rights and practice programs, supporting emerging tech, carbon pricing research and implementation and solutions with no financial market e.g. removing carbon dioxide from the air, restoring and re-wilding habitats or research into how we can overcome the sociopolitical obstacles to achieving low-emissions (and hopefully zero-emissions) societies.

Inverleith House, Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh.

A quick survey of people in my Twitter bubble, including nell, didn’t give me a lot of hope. We, for good reason, are quick to distrust billionaires who run unfathomably large corporations that underpay and overwork employees, don’t pay taxes and do contribute heavily to waste and carbon emissions. You can’t really fault Bezos’ critics for being pessimistic when it comes to this donation. Billionaires donating billions of dollars cannot be expected to completely set aside their self-interest.

We can’t ignore the fact that $10bn (US) could fucking change the movement. Bezos said on Instagram that the money will be given out as grants, so theoretically he could contribute to all of the efforts mentioned above. We exist in a web of systems that is reaching a tipping point: one that could easily set off a bunch more, even ones yet unconsidered. Without cooperation on a large-scale, we mightn’t be able to prevent the worst from happening. This money could allow this type of collaborative effort.

Unfortunately, I have to live in reality. It’s probable that this money won’t be used to disrupt the balance of power in the US that has always tipped in the favour of fossil fuels industries. It is unlikely to be invested into solutions that won’t reap significant financial return.

Waters of Leith, Stockbridge.

Whilst it is vitally important that this investment doesn’t work to delay climate action by preserving the status quo, it’s a real possibility.

My guess is that it will be invested into new tech that obviously has the potential to make people excited about responding to climate change but that Cornell refers to as “putting a bandaid on a an open fire”. It could delay real action, as funding for new ideas might outweigh support for the solutions that are ready right now. I only hope that stakeholders consider that we are running out of time for research and pilot studies and shit needs to start changing now.

To sum up and get on with the chores I see stacking up around me: a $10bn investment into the climate movement can’t be a wholly good or wholly bad thing. Activists, Amazon Employees for Climate Justice and other organisations have already convinced the richest man in the world to pledge 7% of his net worth to the planet, so maybe we can help to keep him accountable for the way he spends it too!?

That’ll do for now,

GS xx

P.S. buttons are still falling off, but I really am making slow progress with learning to sew! I will post some photos when there’s anything exciting to photograph.

#climate change #economics #blog #amazon #Jeff bezos #climate action #James lovelock #novacene #gaia #common weal #Green New Deal #notes #thoughts

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drferox · 6 years ago

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@bubblyskootch said to @ask-drferox: Hello DrFerox, hope your day is good! I’m wondering if you might be able to discuss Feline Lung-Digit Syndrome? My cat has been diagnosed with a primary lung tumour and this syndrome (he is currently under the care of our rDVM and and an internal medicine specialist). I’m not looking for advice, hopefully just an understandable explanation for why is it so common that lung tumours in cats metastasize to the digits? It doesn’t seem like a thing that commonly happens in other species? Thank you!

It doesn’t even happen commonly in cats - primary lung tumors are rare enough and then they either provide very obvious symptoms (the chest is full of Bad) or very cryptic symptoms, and this is one of them.

Just, why has nature apparently decided lung-digit syndrome would be a thing?

It’s a malignant lung tumor, which for some reason, may have no other symptoms other than sending secondary tumors to lodge in the toes when it’s first noticed. The first symptom presented by lung cancer might not be a cough, it might be lameness.

That’s just not fair.

I (luckily?) haven’t seen one myself in practice, but nor have I had a primary lung tumor case in a cat. But it is fascinating.

My understanding is that there is a similar syndrome that can happen in humans, where lung tumors spread to nail beds. So cats are likely not alone in this quirk (for once). But primary lung tumors are rare in general, except in humans who engage in smoking toxins for funsies.

Cancers spread in ways that are fairly predictable depending upon their type. Spread can occur locally, which is just growing bigger and invading or damaging adjacent tissue, or it can occur distantly, where new islands of cancer arise in different locations in the body, and this is what we call metastasis.

For a tumor to metastasize, it needs a couple of cells to break off from the primary mass and drift off either down the lymphatics or blood stream, and then get stuck in a new vascular bed. The more tiny blood vessels, and the more twists and turns in that vascular bed, the more likely it is to get stuck.

This is why most cancers spread to the lungs - it’s the first large vascular bed encountered once something enters the veins, and it’s where the lymphatics drain to.

But if we are starting in the lungs, the next stop is the heart, and then the rest of the body to choose from.

It’s hard, but not impossible, to get something stuck in the heart or aorta, and this is a well known syndrome also known in cats with lung cancer: aortic thromboembolism. And that’s a catastrophe.

But if we have the more likely small clumps of tumor cells, that can go anywhere in the body, why is it the end of the digits they seem to like? These tumors are perfectly capable of spreading to other tissues, including liver and bone, so why are the digits over-represented?

My theory is that once they’re out of the lungs and in the systemic circulation, the digits are a type of dead end. Arterial blood flow out of the heart is fairly linear, but then you reach the end of the limbs where the blood vessels narrow and suddenly do a u-turn within the vascular bed, and more things just get stuck.

It’s not particularly my field of interest or something I’ve spent a heap of extra time researching though, just things I remember from Uni (which is an embarrassingly long time ago now) so you should of course take that internal medicine specialist’s words over mine.

#veterinarian #vetblr #lung digit syndrome #cat #feline medicine #cancer

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danwhobrowses · 5 years ago

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Tinfoil Discussions - Pokémon anime: Alola, Galar and the Fate of Ash Ketchum

So here’s a new tinfoil discussion, one of a different franchise. The One Piece Wano content got a whopping zero attention but who cares? I’d like to discuss this, especially given the uncertain nature of the upcoming series. I must warn you, there are spoilers in this, deep level spoilers. I’m not just talking about the events of Episode 138 recently released in Japan, I also want to discuss the nature of Episode 140′s title. If you wanna know about that stuff, Bulbapedia is a good shout.

The Stuff We Know Last week on the aftermath of Episode 137, Pokémon teased a new anime series, alluding to the fact that all regions would be visited in some manner. Leaving it at that, many things have circulated, the main question is: Is this the end of Ash Ketchum’s story? After all, Ash is on the precipice of winning the Manalo Conference, Alola’s first Pokémon League, all that’s left is to defeat Gladion - who has put off the search for his lost father to fight in the league but more on that later. The final title of the Sun and Moon series has not been announced, all we know is that by Episode 140, Guzzlord will hop dimensions onto this world. The Potential End of Ash Ash Ketchum has been the main protagonist for the anime for over 2 decades, I was a boy watching him, Misty and Brock travel Kanto. On every (official) region however, Ash has fallen short of the Pokémon League, sometimes poorly, sometimes impressively. Many people thought last season in Kalos would be his time, and many of those people were angry when he didn’t, so Alola can be seen as retribution - second attempt and all. Should he win the league, the question is what then? Winning the league should enable Ash to fight the Elite Four, but it may be considered a stopping point since it means that Ash has no true reason to continue resetting. So is Pokémon planning on closing time on Ash Ketchum? The movies have not followed his anime journey anymore and there is so much you can do. Personally, this is a worrisome thought but - because there’s always a but - I don’t think this is the route they should or will go. The Outcome of the Manalo Conference The Manalo Conference is the name of the Alola League, and it’s expected to end next week. Frankly, I have felt that this conference was a sham, a true vanity project from Professor Kukui. Now I’m not saying that Kukui is a bad guy, he’s just a bit vainglorious; he made a Pokémon League - having failed to defeat Lance in the Indigo League at least in the games - based off the architecture of a Pokémon School where he has like 6 students that learn nothing and have an underground X-Men facility, he lets just about anyone enter it regardless of the Island Challenge and what does the winner get? To fight his Masked Luchador alter-ego. The man puts himself on a high pedestal, but worse than that this league is tailor made for Ash to win. His only major opposition is the finalist Gladion - who has no reason to fight the ‘Royal Mask’. We also could’ve buffed some of the side character teams with Oranguru for Mallow, Drampa for Mallow or Lana, Dewpider for Lana, Clefable for Lillie, even Bewear for TR, but we didn’t, never really giving any of Ash’s companions a chance at making an impact. Narratively Ash is the only person who should win the league, since Kiawe and Hau had not enough attention to be considered viable and Guzma was the generic ‘bad guy who underestimates Ash’ who Ash always beats. The league also doesn’t feel like the right setting, since Ash doesn’t even have a full team and the final is not a full battle. Lillie, who is great but not a battler, made it further than Kahili - in the games an Elite 4 Member. That is the extra silliness we get on top of Ash’s ‘strategies’ (which involve Pikachu’s Electroweb not working like Electroweb and Rowlet’s Featherdance not working like Featherdance) and the fact that Gladion can use Items mid-battle to grant Silvally unfair advantages. But despite my opinions, the conference can still go either way. Because really, Ash doesn’t need the league to fight Kukui, the last time he fought ‘Royal Mask’ was on a beach, and Gladion doesn’t need the league to find his father, but we are reaching a point where a winner seems to be close to decided. Currently, despite both being 1-1, Ash is on the front foot, he’s only lost his most inexperienced Pokémon and it was to Gladion’s Pikachu-equivalent, he knows that Gladion has got Lycanroc for last and his Pikachu still stands against Zoroark, but this is not our first rodeo, we fully expect the finale to be Lycanroc vs Lycanroc, so who comes out on top? Option 1 is Ash, obviously, Lycanroc hasn’t beaten Gladion’s Lycanroc so it can be due, Ash goes one better than Kalos and wins undoubtedly the easiest League he’s ever signed up for in front of his mother. Option 2 is Gladion, like Alain’s Charizard against Ash-Greninja, Gladion’s Lycanroc maintains a perfect record against Ash’s, being the more experienced battler and Ash loses his easiest league in front of his mother but saves his crowning achievement for a proper challenge and liberates Ash to continue challenging gyms and resetting per region. Before the episode title for 140 was announced, these seemed to be our only options, until Option 3 Option 3: Guzzlord Guzzlord appeared in a random 2-parter to market Zeraora, but it seems to be coming back around. Guzzlord secretly seems to be the key to some character resolution, primarily the status of Gladion and Lillie’s father Mohn - who has been missing since falling through an Ultra Wormhole. Guzzlord can also be key to sparing Ash the restriction that comes with the League Victory but also prevents the disappointment of Ash losing. If Guzzlord intervenes the final outcome of the battle, then there is no winner. Ash didn’t lose but he didn’t win, and he carries momentum to get a victory with his magic changing z-crystal to best Guzzlord with his friends once and for all, and it allows Ash to still do the bi-annual reset. Guzzlord’s appearance also can lead to Magearna, Bewear and Team Rocket’s Mech being utilized, loose threads that will hopefully surface (though I’m stumped as to the status of Shaymin, why can’t Mallow just keep it?). Out of the three options this does feel like the better one, because Ash hasn’t earned his league victory yet. Why hasn’t Ash earned the League Being a Pokémon archivarius, I can cast my mind back to past leagues. Indigo was hard, the rules were stupid and we were basically robbed of a rival battle thanks to Charizard’s Laziness, the Silver Conference saw Ash be edged out by Harrison and his Blaziken to promote Hoenn, Ever Grande saw Ash lose to eventual winner Tyson in a tough Pikachu/Meowth fight, Lily of the Valley had Ash bested again by the eventual winner, the OP Legendary user Tobias, the Vertress Conference stepped back and had Ash lose to clumsy, forgetful Cameron thanks to a Lucario evolution and Lumiose had Ash overachieve by losing to the seemingly unstoppable Alain. Out of all of those leagues, the best arguably for me would have to be Sinnoh - the second longest league with 7 episodes to reach the semi finals, Manalo being 10 and all previous being 6 - because every battle Ash had to fight for it; Nando, Conway, Paul (considered one of the best Pokémon battles) and Tobias, he used the full power of his arsenal to do it, which sold that Ash was giving it his all, we got to see Pokémon old and new shine from it, and full battles for at least half of Ash’s battles. The thing that also makes it stand out to me is that there’s no excuse; Ash doesn’t have a fancy one of a kind form like Ash-Greninja or Dusk Lycanroc, he doesn’t have a Legendary Pokémon like Meltan/Melmetal and he doesn’t apply a tactic that shouldn’t work or the same motion of Pikachu quick attack everything and then iron tail - like I know there’s only 4 moves but he always starts with Quick Attack and it drives me insane! It’s stuff that’s inspired rather than convenient so all that Ash is left with is his mettle. Comparing that journey to this one, where Ash beat Faba in less than 4 moves in a 1v1, 2-Hitted Hau’s Decidueye while absorbing a nonsense amount of damage and a fakeout loss to beat Hau, and bested Guzma by really lucking out on Golisopod’s Emergency Exit, it doesn’t feel right now does it? Ash’s League Victory should be a triumph that pushes the extent of Ash’s team, strategy and connection to his Pokémon, against true challenges where either one has a chance at besting him, that is why all the Post-Sinnoh conferences have not been ‘it’; Sawyer, Trip, Guzma and Hau were never really given the threat that they could beat Ash, in fact Sawyer only beat Ash once and it was excusable by him having Ash-Greninja dysfunction. Compiling all of this into account, it should be clear that even if Ash does win this league, it is not what it’s meant to be. The Galar Series Question So Galar is still going to be a thing, we just don’t know how. What is this new series after all? It could just be a side series, it could be a means of bringing older companions to Galar or it may even follow Ash in Galar and some other characters who’ll entwine with him a la Alain and Mairin. Possibilities are endless until the answer is concrete, but in this person’s opinion I still believe Ash would embark in Galar. Would not miss the chance to Dynamax Pikachu for love nor money, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they heavily divert from the game’s plot like they have for Alola. Galar seems to revolve its gym system in a similar manner to Football (or Soccer if you’re overseas and well, wrong), it’s heavily televised like a League, which means that if they go this route Ash would be thrown into a heavy limelight, which can be restrictive, so I kinda expect that to be toned down, I will also expect TR to return with Bewear (or maybe a Nurse Joy kinda deal with another Bewear) and Marnie to probably be a companion. So of course, that answers my closing statement Are we closing the Book on Ash Ketchum Stupidity and failures aside, Ash is undoubtedly an anime icon, and I would find TPCi and TV Tokyo foolish to give that up, especially when other franchises have brought back the OG Digidestined for TRI and Goku & Friends for Dragon Ball Super, Ash has mileage but perhaps not in the same routine past series have followed. Each new setting is a new adventure and even small things can influence a unique dynamic - like even making Ash 11. People may need to think outside of the box, pick the qualities of what has passed, but that’s a good thing! Change is scary yes but that doesn’t mean you drop something entirely, Pokémon have enough IP that they can make Non-Ash series too, if they want to they can expand their market that way, just don’t give up on Ash Ketchum. This is not how his story should end, it would insult the character and the storytellers of the past to do so. But I wouldn’t worry too much about this happening, the best we can do is sit down, enjoy the show, and bide my sweet time until I get hired by them hope that sense prevails over a quick ‘shocking headline’. So that’s my piece, if you have opinions don’t be shy, but also be respectful, this is only stuff I’m feeling at present, by the passage of time new information may alter opinion.

#pokemon #pokeani #sumo anime #ash ketchum #gladion #pikachu

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finding-jericho-blog · 6 years ago

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Empathy (Part Four)

characters: Josh (dbh) x human fem!reader, and a Traci (dbh)

warning(s): Graphic description of injury?

word count: 2,390

A/N: Oof this one was a doozy to write, hope you guys enjoy!

Part Three

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was so muted that you feared that the Traci wouldn’t hear it; her dark eyes searched yours for what felt like an eternity, and you felt particularly vulnerable as she did so, as though she may see things there she might not like. You averted your gaze, your voice trembling. “I.. I can’t do it.” You didn’t need to be looking at her to know that she was frustrated with your reluctance, and when it really came down to it, you weren’t sure you could blame her. But from the moment she’d been created, she had only ever known pain and suffering, and you just… you didn’t want her life to end without her knowing at least some happiness or decency. Could you really bring yourself to be the person to ensure that she never has a chance to find any joy or freedom? “You are a human who understands our struggle, or aren’t you?” There was a distinct edge to her erratic voice that hadn’t been there before, and the bite of her tone caused your eyes to dart up to meet hers in alarm. Her expression, which was contorted into a sharp grimace, seemed to soften significantly as she observed you. After a moment of silence, the female android strained to sit up, her lips curling into a soft, almost endearing smile. “You’re not a bad person,” she uttered, shifting her weight to rest her head against your shoulder; although you were a little uncertain, your put an arm around her shoulders to keep her steady against you. “if you were, you wouldn’t care whether I lived or died, or whether that was by your hand or not.” Closing her eyes, the Traci seemed to.. almost sigh in relief, seeming to take great comfort in the gentle embrace you had gifted her; no one had ever touched her so kindly. “Putting me out of my misery won’t make you a bad person, either. I just want to go. I want to finally rest. Knowing that there are humans out there who feel for androids like us is enough for me.”

Hot tears obscured your vision as she spoke, unable to fully, truly understand the emotion behind her request, but equally as unable to deny her. If this was what she truly wanted, what right did you have to just leave her here like this? It would make you no better than the people who had dumped her here to begin with, wouldn’t it? Swallowing thickly, you gently lowered her to rest once more against the blue tarp with great care, brushing your fingers through her scarlet hair and tucking a lock of it behind her ear with a strained smile. “Alright,” you choked out through clenched teeth. “okay.. if.. if that’s what you really want..?” “It is.” she solemnly assured you, not a shred of doubt lingering in her static laced tone; she only observed you serenely as you leaned over her, trying your damnedest to pluck up the courage to do this. “Who is it for?” The Traci suddenly asked softly, finally shifted her gaze upwards towards the sky. Your own attention drifted towards her placid countenance. “.. His name is Josh. His central thirium conduit was ruptured, I’m trying to save him.” “You’d better hurry.” she whispered with sudden urgency, and you knew she was right. With no small amount of hesitation, one of your trembling hands maneuvered down into the open cavity of her chest, and you easily identified the bio-component Josh so desperately needed as your fingers clasped around it. This wasn’t set in stone; you could still change your mind, you could still.. no. Deep down, you knew you had to do this; your hand moved almost on its own accord, jerking the bio-component upwards with little warning. The tubes popped off its side as it was disconnected from her thirium pump, and you were left watching an alarmingly small amount of thirium pour out from the sudden opening. Although you felt horrified by what you had done, the Traci was smiling; it was the most peaceful smile you think you’d ever seen, and you knew you would never forget it. “Thank you.” she whispered as the last of her thirium drained out of her system, the red glow of her other bio-components fading. Her mild expression abruptly shifted then. Instead of the genuinely tranquil smile that she’d had just prior, her visage was now a sharp, pleasantly neutral smile. The smile she’d been created with. It didn’t suit her. A thick sob threatened to escape past your lips, but you swallowed it down as you stood to your feet, fingers lamely clutching the conduit. There would be time to think about what you’d done later; for now, you needed to ensure that what you’d done hadn’t been done in vain. Your feet carried you backwards a few steps before you turned swiftly, making a beeline for where you’d entered, though.. there was one small… obstacle. The steep incline was undoubtedly going to be a challenge that you hadn’t taken into account, and peering up its side, you could see why none of the androids seemed to be able to escape. If you had trouble escaping with all your limbs intact, you could imagine that it was impossible for those androids whose arms, legs, and even half of their torsos were gone. Never one to give up that easily though, you shoved the newly acquired bio-component into your coat’s pocket and dug your hands into the thick dirt, hauling yourself upwards with a grunt of effort. You slipped a few times, the dirt crumbling beneath your grasp, but you finally emerged victorious; your victory was short lived, however. You threw yourself towards Josh’s all too still frame, dropping down onto your knees at his side, but your growing panic was immediately quelled when he inclined his head a fraction to meet your gaze. There was an unmistakable expression of concern as he examined you, noting the moisture that still glistened across your rosy cheeks, but he didn’t have a chance to ask why; you pulled the bio-component out of your coat’s pocket and held it up for him to see, your eyes darting hopefully between his own and the damaged conduit in his chest. He tilted his head back in unspoken relief, letting his eyes slip shut, though only momentarily; there was no time to be wasted. “Alright,” Josh started, his voice a bit more strained than it had been initially. “this isn’t going to be very simple, you’re going to be working against the clock. You’re going to have to remove my thirium pump regulator before you start, it’s the circular bio-component in the center there; taking it out will stop the flow of thirium so it doesn’t immediately all bleed out. You’ll only have about two minutes until I shut down, so.. no pressure, but…” “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” you scarcely breathed, grimacing down at his thirium pump regulator at the mere thought. There really wasn’t much of a choice, though; either way, you were getting this bio-component inside of him, no matter what you had to do. “I.. okay. I’ve got this. It’s fine. I can do this.” “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Josh asked, his tone a little more playful than you would have typically anticipated, given the dire circumstances. When his attempt to lighten the mood did very little to calm the rapid beating of your heart, the PJ500’s brows furrowed just a fraction, and he reached out, resting his palm over your free hand. This finally drew your attention back to him, and he held your gaze as his thumb brushed across your knuckles. “[Y/N].. you can do this. I trust you.” Your eyes searched his for what only felt like an eternity, only finding the utmost sincerity in his dark, gentle eyes; once more, you found yourself hoping his trust wasn’t misplaced. After a moment, you nodded, breathing in a slow, deep breath as he removed his hand from yours. Attention shifting to his thirium pump regulator, you ever so gingerly clasped your fingers around the circumference of it, and, releasing the deep breath you’d held, you gently yanked it out, met with an audible grunt from Josh. With quite a bit more urgency, you set the cylinder component aside as gently as you could before plunging your hands back into his chest. Your fingers greedily tugged at the damaged central thirium conduit, wrenching it out of his chest, and you were more than a little shocked when a handful of thirium was splattered across you from the action. Thankfully, it seemed that it was just thirium that had happened to be inside the component when the circulation had been shut off, and he wasn’t bleeding out. Tossing the useless bio-component aside, you exchanged it for the one in your lap; you slipped it into his chest and settled it into its proper place, and you were pleased to find that it fit perfectly, like a puzzle piece. The hoses that were to connect to it, however, were a completely different story. Your fingers and the hoses themselves were slick with thirium and you found that you were having a hard time fastening them to their proper places. Each time you almost had one, the hose slipped out of your grasp, and it wasn’t helping that panic was beginning to set in, causing your hands to tremble. You were vaguely aware of Josh uttering your name as a plea to hurry, his voice significantly more robotic like, which only reminded you of the Traci this bio-component had belonged to. All the blood seemed to drain from your face as you frantically struggled to attach the hoses, but there was a tiny glimmer of hope when you finally managed to connect one. Fierce determination coursed through you as you worked to connect the second, and then the third. As you struggled with the fourth and final one, you felt Josh’s fingers weakly brush across your knee, which seemed to give you that last ounce of resolve you needed; the last hose was fastened, and you immediately snatched the thirium pump regular up, plunging it into the empty slot in his chest. Josh was too still. Dread washed over you as you maneuvered to lean over him, your cobalt stained hands instinctively moving to rest on either side of his face as your eyes darted across his features wildly. “Josh?” Had you done something wrong? Had you not gotten his thirium pump regulator back into his chest on time? “Josh!” you repeated more urgently; the LED on his temple circled red before shifting into a gold, and finally, his eyes fluttered rapidly before focusing on yours. “I’m okay,” he finally responded, and much to your relief, his gentle voice no longer sounded like the Traci’s had. You felt his hands rest over your trembling ones, which went a long way to soothe your shot nerves, more than you were willing to admit. “I’m alright, you did it!” “Jesus..” You breathed out, collapsing onto the ground beside him. “Please tell me I don’t have to do that with every bio-component!” “You don’t.” Josh assured you with a soft chuckle, and you responded with a breathless laugh of your own, allowing your eyes to rest, if only for a little while. “Thank god.” There was a silence, then, as the both of you seemingly recovered from the high-stress situation. This whole thing had proven to be one of the most arduous circumstances that you had ever managed to get yourself into, but despite that, you knew it had been the right thing to do, to aid him. Taking someone’s life to do so, however… you weren’t certain where that fell in terms of morality. It didn’t feel good, you at least knew that much. When you opened your eyes and turned to peer at Josh, you felt a little embarrassed to find that he had already been looking at you; he was sitting up now, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he studied you diligently, and you found yourself wondering what he must be thinking. Feeling flustered to be stared at so intently, you sat up as well and peered down at your dyed fingertips as though they were suddenly extremely fascinating. “You don’t have to do anything, you know?” Josh suddenly uttered, easily drawing your gaze back to his. “I mean– with any bio-component. You’ve already done so much [Y/N], I can take it from here.” It was clear to Josh that all of this had been very taxing on you; the signs of exhaustion were creeping in on your gentle features and he really didn’t want you pushing yourself for his sake. Even with his leg shattered, as long as he wasn’t under the constant threat of bleeding out, he was certain that he could repair himself, at least good enough for the time being. He should have known, though, that you would refuse to just leave him as he was; he was beginning to realize that you were as persistent as you were altruistic. “I said that I was going to help you, Josh.” you said with a frown, as if what he’d said had been the most preposterous thing you’d ever heard. “I’m going to see this through, even if we’re here all night.” Besides, if you left now, you knew you would spend the rest of your life wondering whatever happened to him, wishing you had stayed and helped him. The corners of Josh’s lips turned upwards into a fond smile; as much as he hated to admit it, he was.. kind of glad. Although he was worried about you pushing yourself too hard, he… didn’t really want to be alone, as selfish as it was. He knew the two of you would eventually have to part ways sooner or later, but for now, the company was a welcomed distraction from the realization that he was a deviant; he had nowhere to go, and if anyone aside from you found out, they would surely destroy him. It was terrifying.

But for now, he would find comfort in your warmth and your genuine kindness.

Taglist;

@akemiikeda, @deviantramblings, @deviantsupporter, @connorshero, @shadows-echoes, @treehousemagicblog

#detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh #dbh josh #josh #josh detroit become human #josh x reader #x reader #reader imagine #reader insert #detroit: become human josh

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saltpepperbeard · 7 years ago

Text

**REWRITE** These Words are a Lie ~A Joshifer Fanfiction~ Chapter Two

A/N: Holy moly does it feel weird to write that title again. But hello everyone! This may seem a bit odd, but trust me, this has been a long time coming. I was super hyped when I published chapter two back in 2015. Over the years however, the chapter has gotten uglier and uglier to me, the characterization/motivation just BEGGING to be fixed. And of course very recently, my writing motivation has returned home from war lol. So naturally, I FINALLY decided to rewrite this chapter as a fun little exercise!

I have to say that I’m much happier with how it turned out. It ended up longer than the original of course; no surprise there lol. But I’m really glad I did this, and I had so much fun diving back into the TWAAL universe again! (And yes the banner got a glow up too lol)

Disclaimer: This chapter contains strong language and explicit sexual content.

The original/old chapter two can be found here [x]

All chapters can be found here [x]

And without further adooooo....

After a plethora of love-soaked reveries and heated dreams, I awake with a start. It takes me a moment to come to terms with where I am, come to terms with reality. The second I do, I’m met with a lifting relief and a crushing sadness.

The clock on the night stand reads 3 AM, and I’m still in my Berlin hotel room, Josh asleep in bed beside me. I’m so happy he’s here. His presence alone takes a giant weight off my shoulders. His presence alone hoists me away from all the bullshit I’ve dealt with for the past few weeks. It reminds me that life is hopefully headed in a simpler, happier direction, one where my ex isn’t constricting me.

Losing Nick however, and having Josh to fill the holes, unfortunately has problems of its own. Looking at him as my best friend, Josh does wonders with making me feel better. He always knows how to make me smile, always knows what to say, and always makes me feel like I’m home. I suppose he’s a little too good at making me feel better, because even to this day, he still surpasses the “best friend” title in my heart.

After everything we’ve been through, after all the twists and turns our lives have taken, I still long for him like nothing else.

The thought is amazing, but so incredibly frustrating.

I’m away from Nick, sure. But I wish I could undo even more. I wish I could go back to our first break up and never look back from then on. I wish I could go back to Hawaii and fully commit to who I’ve deeply loved after all this time.

But I can’t. The damage has been done. And now I’m stuck here in limbo.

A long sigh slips from my nose as I eye Josh in the darkness. Even though he’s turned away from me, he looks absolutely conked out, his body sagging heavily into the mattress. My expression shifts to a sad ghost of a smile as I continue to stare, the dreams picking back up even in my wakeful state.

What would it be like if Josh was lying in bed beside me not as my friend, but as my partner...

What would it be like if Josh and I had spent the night peppering each other with kisses instead of platonic hugs...

What would it be like if Josh and I had fallen deep into each other and fucked the night away...

I sit up a bit more with alarm, almost feeling ashamed of myself for having such a thought cross my brain.

God, I’m such a mess. My emotions and composure are really such a mess.

Any sane woman wouldn’t jump from guy to guy like this. Although, perhaps I never fully “jumped” from the start. Nick and I definitely weren’t in love weeks ago, months ago. Anything we did wasn’t even remotely genuine. What I’m thinking about Josh however...

I bite my lip and decide that a bit of fresh air might do me good. I definitely need to clear my head.

As carefully and quietly as I can manage, I roll out of bed and head out onto the balcony. The cool night air is instantly refreshing, and I greedily inhale deep lungfuls as I attempt to calm myself down. I focus on anything and everything that can distract me from thinking about the man still asleep in my bed. The Berlin traffic down below, the gentle whisper of a breeze in my ears, the sound of the sliding door opening behind me...

A bolt goes up my spine, followed by a slight sense of dread. Guess distracting myself isn’t in the cards for tonight.

Another sigh huffs from my nose, and I pivot to see a very sleepy Josh, still rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes as he steps on to the balcony with me.

“Hey...” he murmurs, his voice thick and raspy.

“Hey...” I whisper back.

“What are you doing up?” he asks, moving to stand by my side.

I chew my lip nervously, avoiding both his gaze and question as I turn to look over the city below.

“Just couldn’t...sleep I guess.”

Josh seems to consider this, a slight silence following my answer, before he continues.

“A lot on your mind still?”

“You have no idea...”

Another pause. And consequently, without either of us saying anything, my thoughts begin to whirl.

God, I wish I could tell him. I wish I could tell him everything, tell him the truth. I wish I could be perfectly open and honest with my feelings, and have everything work out just the way I want it to.

But I’m stuck. I’m trapped. And there’s no telling when things will come out.

I grasp the edge of the balcony, the metal cool against my fingers. Just when I’m about to truly spiral, a gentle hand against my back shifts things, if only for a moment. Josh rubbing soft circles silently comforts me, but then sends my thoughts reeling once more.

He’s such a great friend.

He’s such an amazing person.

He’s an absolutely perfect man.

God, I love him so much.

My grip turns so hard that my knuckles begin to white out, tears threatening to build in my eyes. I must tense up as well, because the hand against my back slows to a halt.

“You okay?”

I nod, but the moisture I was fighting to keep away ends up pooling in my vision.

“Jen...” Josh murmurs, his tone a bit more solemn.

Just like earlier, just like when he came into my room, he breaches the barrier of my composure. Because when I turn to look at him and open my mouth, all that comes out is a sob, followed by streams of tears.

This time though, he doesn’t say anything. His face falls, his mouth setting into a tight line, before he simply holds his arms out for me to fill. I do so without question.

He holds me tightly as I cry for everything I’ve lost, everything that could have been. Though I’m so incredibly fortunate to have him in my life, call me selfish, but I want more. I want all that he is.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he murmurs, breaking me out of my thoughts, “Everything will be alright, Jen...It’ll get better...”

I could cringe at those words, giving a few more sobs into his shoulder.

“I just want everything to be...simple for once, you know? I want everything to just...fall into place...”

He lets out a sigh against me, nuzzling his head against mine. He allows me more time to cry, more time to get my more extreme emotions out, before I can practically feel his demeanor change. He perks up a bit, his entire form running warm and sunny against my stormy attitude. When he leans back a bit, I cannot help but follow, pulling away a tad to catch his eye.

“Well,” he starts, and I cannot help but notice the twinkle in his gaze, “I don’t know if I can mess with how your life unfolds. Manipulating time and space wasn’t included in acting training.”

Despite my tears, I let out a snort, one that’s enough to bring out the crooked grin I’ve fallen in love with over the years.

“But I can however, at least try and make things a bit better tonight?”

He then reaches up with a hand to brush a few of my tears away, his thumb gently swiping across my cheek. It’s enough to bring my smile back, which only intensifies his.

“So since we’re already up, how about weeee order some food and drinks through room service, put on a shitty movie, and...stay up until things fall more into place?”

I laugh despite myself, despite everything still circulating around through my head.

“You’re an idiot, Joshy...It’s three in the morning...”

“I didn’t hear an answer,” he chuckles.

I give a shaky inhale, contemplating if it’s wise to interact with him more in such a state. But who knows; it might be beneficial to spend the night with him as a friend, and break myself out of the thirsting cycle I’ve got going on.

Anything’s better than lying awake trapped in my thoughts anyway.

So pushing my hesitance aside, I sniffle and return his smile.

“Yeah...Let’s do that.”

xXx

We go back into the room, and it isn’t long before we’re surrounded by various forms of alcohol, munchies, and movies. I’m quick to turn to drinks to numb myself, to white out my mind, getting buzzed faster than I planned to. While he initially gives me shit for using alcohol to cope, teasingly calling me Haymitch and what not, it doesn’t take Josh long to follow.

We laugh and talk, eat and drink, attempting to pay attention to the chosen movies as much as possible but barely doing so. The entertainment is more between us, a stream of drunken jokes and jabs pouring out of us.

It’s just what the doctor ordered, spending time with him like this. It’s just the two of us acting like idiots in their twenties. It puts me in my place.

Three turns to four, and four turns into five. Though the booze continues to run rampant in our systems, we begin to wind down a bit, flopping against the bed and trying to focus more on the television.

And just like usual, the whole friendship element begins to chip away, something far stronger attempting to win me over. Just when I happen to be at my utmost weakest as well.

In my state of growing mental and physical exhaustion, I find myself laying against Josh, my arm thrown messily across his chest and my head atop his shoulder. He holds me in a loose embrace, the two of us quieting down as we try our best to watch whatever’s on the TV.

“I needed this...” I murmur after a bit of a pause.

“I know you did. How are you feeling?”

“Reaaaaaallly good,” I reply, my voice clearly coated with liquor.

Josh snorts, before laughing a bit at my intoxicated state.

“Glad to hear it. Sorry if you wake up with a headache tomorrow, though,” he chuckles.

“Whatever. I was probably going to have one anyway.”

He chuckles a bit again, before snuggling closer and starting to rub my back once more. I let out a long breath and relax even further against him, getting lost in his touch and comfort.

A bit too lost I suppose, because before I can even process what I’m doing, I press a soft kiss to his chest, my lips brushing against his skin. It’s a silent thanks for everything. It’s a hint of my longing towards him. It’s definitely not how two friends should be acting.

My logic eventually catches back up, and a bolt of fear runs down my spine. God dammit, I’m slipping. I’m slipping something terrible. I can feel the alcohol washing away any and all self-control I may have. I can’t fuck things up for us. Not again. No matter how much I may want to, he’s my friend. He’s...

My argumentative thoughts are cut short by Josh’s hand stilling on my back. I hold my breath, wincing as I prepare for him to question my motives. Oddly enough, he does the exact opposite of what I expect; he leans down and presses a gentle kiss against my temple.

God, I love it. It sets me completely alight, warmth shooting from where his lips touched my skin to every nook and cranny of my body.

Josh and I have always been a bit more physically affectionate with each other. Platonic kisses have never really been out of the question. But with my current circumstances, in my current state of mind, a simple kiss takes me to a whole different state of being.

It rekindles my romantic thoughts. It makes me want to kiss him until the sun comes up, until the liquor runs dry. It makes me want to get locked in his embrace and never come out. It makes me want to smother him with all the pent up love I’ve been accumulating over the past few months, past few years.

And of course with love, stronger, more salacious thoughts are quick to follow...

My breath catches, soft shivers beginning to course through me. It’s like I physically have to hold myself back from falling victim and completely ravishing him. I have to aggressively restrain my impulsive side, my eager side, and hold on desperately to my more logical, calm thoughts.

But as the warmth spreads, it gets harder, and harder, and harder, and harder.

I have to come up for air, pushing myself up off of Josh and sitting beside him instead. I avoid his gaze for a moment, attempting to reign myself back in with deep, collected breaths. I’m almost about to leap off the bed and take some time to myself, to ensure I don’t do anything stupid.

When I chance a glance at Josh however, when blue looks into warm, wonderful hazel, I lose it. I lose everything.

His stare appears to be soft, loving, curious. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say his pupils are quite enlarged, like he’s gazing upon me with the same desires...

I shut my eyes, trying so hard to hang on to whatever composure I have left. But I can still see him behind shut eyelids, and so I feel the last bit of willpower crack into pieces, a subsequent twitch rolling through me.

My breaths turn shaky, and I open my eyes so I can reach forward and cup Josh’s jaw, desperately begging him to help set me straight.

But he doesn’t. I don’t see any hint of confusion, disgust, or any other negative emotions really. He just continues to look at me with those enticing, handsome eyes of his.

“Fuck...”

My whisper comes out slightly pained, slightly ashamed. That doesn’t stop me from leaning forward though, everything directing me to get what I want.

“Fuck, Josh...” I whimper, almost in a sort of messed up apology before I pounce.

And pounce I do.

It’s like time skips forward; maybe we do have the ability to manipulate it after all. Because in one second, I’m still hesitating, and in the next, I’m crushing my lips to the mouth of the man I truly desire.

It’s heaven. It’s everything. I haven’t kissed him this way in so long. All of our more recent kisses have been for the cameras. I haven’t had him all to myself like this in what seems like an eternity.

It’s almost like my lips were made for his, gliding and sliding perfectly through them. His lips and stubble provide a wonderful mixture of velvety soft and scratchy gruffness that I grow all the more lightheaded, all the more eager to drink him in.

As I greedily kiss him however, as I suck and smack and coax, he doesn’t appear to be doing the same. And when I realize my actions aren’t being reciprocated, I snap a bit more to my senses, a slew of worry flowing through me.

He doesn’t want it. I was just convincing myself otherwise. I threw myself onto him without him feeling the same way. The alcohol painted lies and fed me with false hope.

I almost start to panic, and though it pains me to do so, I start to lean away to break our beautiful connection. Josh has always been one for surprises though; instead of letting me go, he finally comes to and chases after my mouth.

I could almost cry from his silent permission, the kiss entirely mutual now. And so I eagerly hop right back in, gaping against him and hoping he follows my lead. He does, joining me in the lascivious, messy, amazing kiss.

Our lips meet and clash in a continuous stream, like we’re just as desperate to get that forbidden taste from each other. When his hands reach up to frame my face, tugging me even closer to him, I cannot help myself; I begin to moan and whimper through each advance.

It was stupid to think that I would be satisfied by just a good make out session alone. Because sure enough, the deeper and deeper we kiss, the hungrier and hungrier I get. I quickly start to crave more, quickly start to want to connect with Josh in every way, shape, and form.

God, if I could fully have him tonight...

Caught up in the moment, in my emotions, in my intoxication, I need him. I need a taste of what could have been. I want to experience this with him before it’s all ripped away again; the universe never seems to bring us properly together.

So naturally, stubbornly, I want to take advantage of what’s happening here and now. I want to go through with what we’re both feeling.

Though every part of me is already on fire, my pelvis completely goes ablaze, raging the strongest of all. It practically takes hold of the rest of my body, leading me to climb onto Josh’s lap, straddling him as our kiss continues. He groans as I do so, but suddenly, he begins to slow down, not returning my advances as much.

“Josh...” I whimper against his mouth, breaking our seal to pepper his jawline with kisses and nips.

Again, he vocalizes, letting out a heavy sigh. But he doesn’t chase after me like I thought. He seems to still even more.

“Josh, I want you...” I whisper into his skin, solidifying my desires.

Another heavy sigh puffs from his lungs, and his hands creep up to my shoulders, pushing me slightly.

“I...I can’t...” he heaves.

My heart flips within my chest, and I quickly go back to kissing him, attempting to rekindle his spark.

“Shhh, you can...” I murmur into him.

“Jen...”

Now he chooses to be persistent. Now he chooses to stop us. He gives my shoulders a harder push, guiding me off his lap and onto the bed again. When I look into his eyes, I see the same pain, the same look of attempted self control, that I was showcasing earlier.

“No...We have to stop.”

I open my mouth to argue back, before floundering and biting my lip instead.

“It’s not a good time right now,” he continues, panting softly.

“Josh...” I start, stubbornly trying to keep things going, despite being well aware of the consequences, “There’d be no repercussions, no problems. And definitely no regrets from my end.”

“I’ve heard that before...”

My heart sinks into my stomach, his words transporting me back to years prior. When we were crazy for one another. When things were just as complicated. When we fell victim to such deep intimacy that we came out hurt on the other end.

A slight glaze of tears well up in my eyes. I just want him without problems. I want him freely. I want him without having to worry about a care in the world.

“Josh...Please, I...”

“Jen,” he starts again, cutting me off, “You’re not in a good head space right now. You need some time to process everything. I think we both do. So how about we just...take it down a few notches?”

I let out a shivering sigh, looking down and preparing to accept defeat. It’s at that moment though, that I notice a very telltale sign of arousal. There’s an unmistakable, definitely difficult to ignore bulge in Josh’s pants, the fabric practically tenting with his erection. I bite my lip, feeling myself clench down below. Josh must follow my gaze and read my thoughts, because I hear him inhale so sharply that it could cut right through the sexual tension.

Slowly, my eyes travel back up to meet his, the air growing hotter and hotter between us. We share a simmering stare, our eyes both swirling with dark lust. But Josh somehow manages to cut it off, closing his eyes and swallowing hard.

“No...” he groans, slightly shaking his head, “No...”

And proving that he’s the stronger-willed individual, he pushes himself off the bed, grasping the back of his neck as he begins to walk away.

“I just...Give me some time alone, okay?”

With that, he departs towards the balcony, leaving me alone, frustrated, and increasingly ashamed of myself.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” I attempt to say to him, but my voice comes out in a barely audible whisper.

I feel crushed. I feel sad all over again. It’s like a painful reminder that Josh and I will never be, were never meant to be together.

Before I can feel too sorry for myself and break down completely, I decide to go into the bathroom and shower. I feel like I need to wash all of this, wash all of my emotion, completely away. And I’m sure the warm water will feel soothing in Josh’s cold absence.

I walk into the bathroom and shut the door, not bothering to lock it behind me. I’m sure Josh will leave once he collects himself anyway. I strip away all my clothing, and pause for a moment to grasp the counter, eyeing myself down in the mirror.

My appearance matches what I’m feeling inside; disheveled, chaotic, and upset. I blow out a long breath and hang my head, cursing at how everything currently is. But I can’t control anything. I can’t do anything about it. So after a moment, I simply prepare myself to step into the shower. A distant call of my name freezes me solid.

“Jen?”

I can’t bring myself to answer him. I fear what follows will be something along the lines of “I’m leaving for the night.” And I can’t have that. I don’t want him to go. I refuse to believe I’ve messed up things further. I can’t.

My name leaving his lips draws closer, and closer. Even when he’s right outside the door, I bite my lip, unable to find the strength to reply. But to my surprise, he barges into the bathroom without caution, practically throwing himself into the room.

“J-...Oh, fuck...”

I can practically feel his stare, his eyes leaving small fires as he flits them over my bare form. Without the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment, I turn to face him, perhaps even flaunting my body a tad. And I find a very frustrated, very handsome, very hard Josh in the doorway.

I watch him curiously, and admittedly delight, as the last bits of his composure come crashing down. He practically falls against the wall, nostrils flaring, eyes squeezing, biting the back of his hand as he fights to the end. I can hear him groaning and letting out a slew of expletives, my heart speeding up as I watch. I reach out with my mind and figuratively wrap my flames around him, enticing him to come back on the same plane of passion.

“You...You drive me insane, you know that?” he grumbles against his skin.

“I know.”

He lets out a series of sharp breaths, before he finally makes eye contact again; but not without giving my nakedness another sweep.

“Dammit,” he whispers, “...No repercussions?”

My heart flips within me, practically skipping beats at his question. We’re so close to having each other. So so close.

“No repercussions,” I breathe, “I promise.”

“This is stupid...”

“Probably.”

He gives me one last look, and then I visibly see the final walls come down, his body slacking as he gives in to his wants a well.

“Fuck it; c’mere, Jen...”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

I skate across the tile, my feet barely touching the floor as I rush to him. And in seconds, I’m eagerly pressing my body into his, locking us into another kiss. He moans and I capture it, before sending the noise back, mewling my utmost need. Having him like this, kissing him so deeply, feeling his erection pressing into me...

I instantly go lightheaded with lust, my body and mind a bursting firework of emotion and feeling.

He must want this as much as I do, because without really giving us time to kiss, he’s leading me backwards and out of the bathroom. I eagerly chase after him, continuing to claim his mouth as we go along, excitement and anticipation rushing through my veins.

We quickly weave back into the bedroom, and the moment we reach the bed, he pivots me so I’m poised against the edge, sitting against it. I’m immediately on the same page as him, and spread my legs wide open with a sigh, welcoming him to be as close as humanly possible. The air quickly perfumes with my scent, and I watch as his eyes roll, taking every bit of me in.

He takes my invitation and steps up between my legs, fiddling with his drawstring pants. In his desperation, our desperation, he pushes both his pants and boxers down just enough to allow his length to spring out.

I take a moment to appreciate him, sighing and smiling at how large he is, at how ready he is for me.

He returns the expression, grinning crookedly, dirtily. I watch with interest and admiration as he takes himself in a hand, pumping a few times with subsequent grunts from his throat. I take my bottom lip into my mouth, before brazenly taking him as well, wrapping my fingers around his length. He lets out a hissing noise through his teeth, which shifts into a groan as I tug him forwards, leading him to my entrance.

I rub his head through my damp, swollen folds, shutting my eyes and savoring the feeling. We both let out moans and gasps, before Josh takes over, giving a small thrust of his hips and nestling the tip of his erection into my depths.

“You want this?” he growls, “You really want-”

“Don’t talk; just fuck me,” I breathe, wrapping a hand around his neck and pressing him to get on with it.

A visible shudder rolls down his form, his eyes rolling slightly once more. When he doesn’t immediately take me, I give the situation more fuel by adding, “...Hard.”

And with that, he brazenly latches his mouth to my neck, and sheathes himself deep inside me with a strong, fluid thrust.

Instantly, I see stars. Just from his entrance alone, I already want to scream in pleasure, my body completely at his mercy. It is absolutely astounding, the difference it makes when I’m experiencing this with a man I truly adore. After years of waiting, years of wanting, it feels like nothing else I’ve experienced before.

Josh goes through with my request. He doesn’t give me time to process things. Right after his initial thrust, he takes me carnally, driving his pelvis into mine again and again. We both sing out our pleasures, utterly delirious with the feelings we’re granting each other. He stretches and pounds me perfectly, and I swallow him up and clench around him with equal precision.

It feels right. It feels so right. It’s like each thrust erases reality away, hoisting me to a place where it’s just Josh and I. It’s like each movement deep within is Josh taking me back, claiming me as his once more. It’s like each hard shove of his length slowly turns the tables back to Hawaii, erasing every trace of my ex and going back to a time where Josh was my only focus.

It’s extraordinary. It’s everything I’ve wanted for the longest time. I could live in it forever.

“Mmmm fuck,” Josh’s pleasured grunt sounds, breaking me out of my trance, “God, Jen...”

“Don’t stop...” I croon back in return, holding on to his neck and riding the force of his movements, “Oh God, Josh...Please don’t stop...”

He certainly doesn’t. If anything, he intensifies his thrusts even more, driving into me so hard that I’m forced to fall back against the mattress. He reaches down to hoist my legs up, grasping my hips to give himself more leverage as he continues his wonderful assault.

I’m writhing and screaming and tossing my head, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving me. It must be equally as good for him, because he’s far more vocal than I remember, grunting and moaning and yelling my name.

I can feel my release approaching quickly, and for the first time, I don’t want it to hit. I want to prolong this moment as long as I can. I want to have him this close, inside and out, for the rest of my days. But unfortunately, our bodies dominate our minds, racing to orgasm even if we don’t want them to.

When I feel myself beginning to tense, I almost try to fight against it. When I feel Josh’s fingers atop my clit, coaxing me to race ahead of him, I almost want to slap his hand away. But damn if it doesn’t feel divine, his body working me straight to my glorious finish.

I’m overrun with pleasure so intense that I’m surprised my keens don’t break the lights. My entire body explodes with sparks and fire, shooting up from where Josh is touching me to every ounce of my being. My vision whites out, and for a moment, I really do feel like I’ve entered heaven.

But Josh is quick to ground me, just as he always does. I come back just in time to hear his final, cracking yell, before he shoves deep inside me and lets out numerous spurts of his release.

I lay on the bed in a wondrous daze, clenching tightly and swallowing up every last bit of him, like I’m fighting to keep a piece of him forever.

Completely satisfied, completely satiated, and completely exhausted, my eyes droop as the room fades from existence, practically floating on cloud nine. I don’t have the strength to stop Josh from slipping out of me, but he’s quick to fill the gap by flopping down on the bed beside me.

The two of us simply lay drunkenly together in post-coital bliss, the once chaotic room only filled with our quieting pants now.

I don’t think too hard about what we just did. I don’t take anything into consideration. I simply enjoy the moment, appreciating it for what it is.

When Josh crawls further up the bed to rest near the pillows, I lazily follow, nestling my bare, full body against him. He flops an arm atop me, and the moment I snuggle into his chest, it’s no surprise that a much needed slumber overtakes me, falling into a perfectly content rest filled with nothing but the man of my dreams.

xXx

Though I do indeed awake to a rather nasty headache the following, my body feels lighter than the pillows behind my head. I let out a long and content sigh, stretching my limbs and enjoying the warmth still radiating out to my extremities. What happened just hours before still feels like a dream to me, reality not fully sinking back in yet. Still halfway locked in my reveries, I reach out to caress the man beside me, hungering to continue and to never wake up from this.

But when my fingers dust across an empty, cold mattress, I do.

I snap awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. And when the sheets fall off my form, revealing my still-naked body, reality hits with an excruciating force.

Josh is gone.

Josh and I had sex last night.

Oh God.

Anxiety and dismay are both quick to set in. Though I vaguely remember us promising each other that there would be no repercussions, we were obviously too out of our heads to fully commit. Because we’re best friends. Two best friends who are still pretty much linked to other relationships. Two best friends who have been cut deeply by this same thing before.

Oh God.

I wanted it so bad. I wanted him so bad. And as messed up as I was last night, there was no stopping it. I hungered for that little taste of him like nothing else. But for what? Messing us up again? Messing him up?

Shame pours through my veins in droves, manifesting as tears that are quick to coat my vision.

“J-Josh...” I whimper out, praying that he’s in one of the other rooms, that he’ll reply to my call.

My suite is just as empty as my bed.

Moisture pours down my cheeks as I throw myself out of bed, slipping on a robe and searching around. My heart sinks further and further into my stomach the longer and longer I search, the hotel room feeling very much vacated. But as I pass by the window, I catch a glimpse that sends a sob of relief from my throat.

Slowly, cautiously, I open the sliding glass door and step out onto the balcony, next to a rather pensive-looking Josh. Though I’m so glad he didn’t leave, I can’t bear to look at him. I’m feeling increasingly guilty, all the memories and visions of last night pouring in one by one. It was mutual, yes, but I was the one who initiated it, the one who pushed it.

I can feel his eyes on me, his stare forcing more tears out of my own. He continues to look at me, and I know I have to say something. I know I have to apologize.

“We...We shouldn’t have done that...”

I hear his intake of breath, and still feel him staring, so I’m quick to continue, “I mean...I shouldn’t have done that...It was all my fault, Josh, I’m sorry...”

I wait for him to step in with his two cents. I wait for him to chip in with his eloquence and maturity. When I’m left with silence however, I cannot help but sob.

“Josh, I’m...sorry...I was way too worked up last night and....it just...got to me.”

More silence. I’m starting to think nothing I say will come even close to fixing the situation.

“Can...Can we just forget this ever happened?...Please?”

He lets out a long sigh, and finally speaks up, his voice hoarse and low.

“I think that’s easier said than done...”

My composure, as fragile as it’s been over the past couple of days, snaps right in half once more. My sobs pick up, audible hiccuping-noises sounding from my throat and visible shudders rolling down my body. Though my eyes are now shut from the force of my cries, I can practically feel Josh deflate beside me.

“Jen...”

I don’t look at him. I don’t move. A pair of gentle, warm hands on my shoulders however, coax me to do so, beckoning me into my favorite embrace. I’m still devastated, surely, but I feel immensely better that he’s hugging me. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and bury my face into his collar, continuing my weeps and never wanting to let go. To my utmost relief, he holds me back just as firmly, his hands rubbing soft circles against my back.

“I...I didn’t want to...” I hiccup into him.

“Didn’t want to what?”

“I didn’t want to...fuck things up again...for us...I was so...fucking stupid...I’m sorry...”

“You’re...”

I hold my breath as he inhales deeply and lets it out with another long sigh.

“You’re not stupid,” he murmurs, “I acted out of impulse too. I mean, I think it was pretty obvious that I was caught up in the moment as well. So we’re both guilty in that respect.”

My heart flutters a tad at his words, a hint of comfort trickling back in. Anxiety is still in the lead however, making my arms wrap even tighter around him, locking him into my embrace.

“Please don’t leave me...” I moan.

I feel his breath catch, before he hugs me closer as well.

“I’m not going to leave you...”

A particularly sharp sob sounds from me, and I feel one of Josh’s hands venture up to cup the back of my head, cradling me and rubbing his fingers soothingly against my scalp.

“Jen, I’m not going to leave you,” he murmurs firmly, “I promise.”

His words flood me his warmth once more, and I feel my sobs letting up a tad. I snuggle closer into him, nestling my face against his skin.

“I mean,” he starts with huff of laughter through his nose, “What’s a drunken fuck between two friends?”

I cannot help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking my head at the both of us.

“God, Josh...Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Yeah, but I guess we’ve never been ones for being normal,” he huffs again, before his voice takes a more serious tone, “And it’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

I let out another puff of mirth, but my heart sinks again as his last words do. I chew my lip for a moment, before leaning back in his arms, meeting his eyes for the first time this morning. When I’m met with the usual gentleness, the usual warmth swirling around his hazel depths, I gain the strength to continue.

“You’re more to me than just...a rebound, by the way...”

His eyes search through mine, blue and hazel silently communicating.

“I didn’t just jump on you to forget Nick...There was more to it than that...I just...”

The truth poises itself on my tongue. The need to admit my true feelings wells up dangerously in my chest. But as per usual, it all crashes, my body deflating as the truth blips away once again.

“I don’t know...”

“Regardless of why it happened, what’s done is done,” he says, still continuing to rub my back, “So how about we just...try and look past this?”

I can feel my heart crack a tad at the missed opportunity. Another chance to be with Josh, gone, obliterated. But inwardly I know he’s right. Inwardly, I know we have to, for the sake of our friendship at least.

“It’s going to be weird...”

“Maybe at first,” he agrees, before I see that teasing glimmer in his eye, “I mean after all, I’ve seen my ‘annoying sister’ naked. And we ended up doing it. Pretty hard to look past that.”

“Josh!” I gasp, rolling my eyes with a groan that eventually shifts into a few huffy rounds of laughter, “Oh God...Why’d you have to bring up the fucking annoying sister thing again...I hate that. And you just made things worse.”

“No I didn’t!” he chuckles, “We’re from Kentucky. Totally normal.”

“Jesus,” I laugh, “You’re awful.”

We both laugh together, chasing the anxiety within away. It comforts me immensely that we’re still able to banter as we do, even after such a life-changing incident.

When we quiet down, smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes again, I have to proclaim at least something.

“You mean a lot to me, Joshy...”

His stare softens, his smile turning solemn and gentle.

“You mean a lot to me, too. There was no way in hell I was going to throw you away over a slip up.”

My smile must fade a tad, because he’s quick to add, “A mutual slip up.”

Tears well up in my eyes again, but they’re happier, relieved. Even though yes, I am still worried about the future, worried about if this will end up impacting us in any way, it comforts me tremendously to know that Josh is still by my side.

“Thank you...” I whisper, throwing myself back into his arms.

“You’re welcome...”

He inhales as if he’s going to continue, but instead settles on hugging me back in return.

I don’t think much of it, simply glad that we’re okay, that nothing erupted from our impulsive act of passion. As I continue to embrace him under the light of the rising sun, bathing in warmth and contentedness, I can finally feel myself starting to relax.

I guess things will be okay after all.

#TWAAL #Joshifer fic #Joshifer fanfiction #Joshifer #Joshifer smut #NC-17 #Jennifer Lawrence #Josh Hutcherson #YEET LOL #Oh God wow I feel like I'm back in 2015 just starting this story again #Way back when I BARELY knew where it was going to take me #I just had like #CHAPTER FRIGGIN 19 PLANNED OUT OF COURSE LOL #But everything else hooo boy #I've missed ya Peanut

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danlowe-blog · 7 years ago

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The Future of Game Animation

Recently Ninja Theory Senior Animator Chris Goodall posed a question on Twitter: What do people think the future of game animation is going to be.

This is one of my favorite topics to think about, and so I was eager to share some thoughts.

Short Term: Motion Matching

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GDC 2016 was Motion Matching’s big coming out party. The core ideas had been floating around the world of academic research for years before that, but this was the first time that actual game studios were starting to show this tech in practical scenarios. Two presentations were made: One by Kristjan Zadziuk, about prototypes in development at Ubisoft Toronto, and another by Simon Clavet about his work on For Honor. The buzz at the conference was palpable, and since then, there have been rumors circulating the industry, that a lot of other AAA teams are now starting to build their own Motion Matching technology.

For those who aren’t familiar, Motion Matching is a method of automatically picking which piece of animation should play next on a character, by allowing the system to make its own choices, as opposed to relying on Stateflow logic; which is the current, manually-crafted method, of deciding which animations should play.

The Motion Matching system makes these choices based on high-level goals that you feed into the system. So one of these high-level goals might be “2 seconds from now, I want the character to be in this position, and this facing direction”, which the system gets by predicting the future position of the character based on player inputs. Another common high level goal is, “match the position and velocity of the feet and the hips, as closely as possible to what was already happening in the previous frame”.

The end result is that Motion Matching has the potential to dramatically reduce the amount of work required when creating animation systems. It also tends to produce very high quality results: Since transitions from one move to the next, are taking into account hip and foot position and velocity, you tend to get really smooth blending, which is sometimes not the case with a traditional State Machine approach.

I expect that in the next few years, we’ll start to see Motion Matching used more and more in games. Of course, it doesn’t have to be an all or nothing switch from traditional systems; you can embed a Motion Matching system into a traditional State Machine, so for a while, you’ll see a kind of hybrid approach, where some moves will be using Motion Matching (e.g. locomotion), and others might use a more traditional implementation (e.g. scripted events). But I think gradually Motion Matching will replace the majority of moves that we see in games.

The initial response from some animators towards Motion Matching, was concern; that the ease with which you can create systems, might potentially reduce the need for animators. From what I’ve experienced so far, this is absolutely not the case: Motion Matching systems typically still benefit from the usual clipping down of data (or otherwise tagging data), and of course, that data is still better if it is cleaned up animation, rather than raw mocap.

The initial vision for Motion Matching was that you would be able to just throw a bunch of unstructured mocap into a Motion Matching database and the system would do everything for you, but it turns out this kind of approach doesn’t produce good results. Technically it does still work, but the system often makes unwanted choices (e.g. sometimes deciding that rather than playing a run cycle, it’s going to play the last two footsteps of an Idle to Start over and over and considers that a run), and so a lot of teams are finding that curating your animation data can give better results.

So in short, there will still be plenty for animators to do, in a Motion Matching world.

Short Term: Script Based Automation

At GDC 2016, I presented a new animation tool that Zach Hall and I had developed when I was working at Ubisoft Montreal. The tool automatically processed raw motion capture data into shippable quality animation. Before building this tool, we did an analysis of how our mocap animators were working, which showed that an estimated 50-80% of the tasks that they were doing, were things that could be automated. So, we set about automating those things.

In a way, what we did wasn’t particularly revolutionary: Every studio writes scripts to automate repetitive tasks, the only difference in our case was the degree to which were willing to do it. I’d also say that a key point was that we were really looking closely at what the animators were actually doing, whereas sometimes technical animators can think they know the problems animators are facing, but they’re actually building solutions for things that aren’t necessarily the most important things.

I got a very positive response to the GDC talk, though I’m yet to hear of other studios trying a similar approach.

I would hope that in future, more teams start to look seriously at automation and pipeline efficiency, because it really is a huge opportunity. A single technical animator can potentially save the work of many, many animators, if they’re aimed towards the right things. It’s just unfortunate, that it seems like more often than not, people tend to rely on what they’re familiar with, and so a manager might prefer to hire 10 more animators to brute force the work, rather than assign a technical animator to focus purely on improving efficiency.

I’m hopeful though that things will happen in this area.

Short to Mid-Term: Neural Networks - Motion Generation at Runtime

If you haven’t seen Daniel Holden et al’s paper on Phase-Function Neural Networks, drop what you’re doing and watch this now. This is the future of game animation, right here.

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In my view, Neural Networks and Deep Learning are going to change everything (not just about game animation, not just about game development: everything). While we may not see Neural Network based animation systems shipping in games for a while, some developers are already doing experiments using something similar to Daniel’s approach.

Studios will begin to use animation data to train neural networks, and those networks will then be able to generate animation at runtime. Just like Motion Matching the data that it generates is based on high-level goals, so it makes this a natural successor to the some of the work that’s being done with Motion Matching.

There are a number of benefits to Neural Network (NN) based animation systems over a Motion Matching approach…

They’re cheaper memory-wise: You only store the trained network weights, and not actual animation data.

Motion Matching is picking from a pre-existing set of animation data. NNs on the other hand can generate poses that weren’t in the original data, just that makes sense in context with the original data. This allows for far more adaptive characters. So for example, if you want your character to run past a table and pick up an object from that table, the position of the object doesn’t have to perfectly match what was in the training data; there just needs to be enough examples of picking up objects from tables while moving, correlated with appropriate high-level goals, for the system to understand how that type of action works. Then when you’re generating animation at runtime, you can set goals that never existed exactly that way in the training data (like different object positions on the table, different speeds, etc), and it should be able to deal with that.

NNs need to be fed lots of training data, but one approach to creating this data is to do offline procedural adjustments to your mocap (the kind of adjustments that might normally be inappropriate to use at runtime), and then use the result as training data for the NN. This essentially gives you something similar to a runtime version of that offline process. So for example, Adjustment Blending is a method of adjusting animation, that produces high quality results, but is most suitable for offline processing. This is because it relies on knowledge of what the character is going to do in the future. However, you could use Adjustment Blending to create lots of examples of adjusted data, and then use that adjusted data to train the NN. This would essentially give you similar results to Adjustment Blending, but at runtime. Another example of this type of approach is the uneven terrain example used in Daniel’s PFNN paper.

There are some challenges with NNs too, that the industry will need to work through…

NNs are currently slow to train. You can’t see the results of your changes until hours later. This will hopefully get faster as time goes on, but it’s currently an issue.

NNs are even more of a black box than Motion Matching. If the NN does something you don’t want it to do, it can be incredibly difficult to figure out why.

NNs rely on being fed a lot of example data. The more data, and the higher quality the data, the better. With this in mind, it’s likely only going to be appropriate for mocap, at least at first. You’ll also have “style transfer” which will help us to produce more stylized animation, but it’ll be a long time before we’re able to generate high-quality, Pixar style animation because there isn’t enough of that animation in the world, to train the system.

Short to Mid-Term: Animation Capture - Quality and Volume

As mentioned, NNs need to be fed vast amounts of data, and you generally need this data to be consistent and high-quality. Part of the reason that Deep Learning has made such rapid advancements in the last few years, is because of the vast amounts of data available on the Internet.

With this in mind, I see there being huge benefits to focussing on animation capture quality, and methods for capturing large amounts of animation data, very quickly. The amounts of data that we’re talking about here are so large, that it would be too much for an animator to clean up manually, so ideally we’ll need to use the raw data that comes out of the capture system, or treat the data in some sort of automated way.

Improvements in synchronized, body, finger, and facial motion capture will certainly help. Longer term I would expect to see far more full body 4D capture, and a focus on surfaces and muscles rather than bones and traditional skinning methods.

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One area that I expect to get very good in the next few years is the ability for NNs to generate motion data from a single video source, rather than dedicated capture systems. Researcher Michael Black and his team are already working on this kind of thing, and I’m guessing that very soon, the results will start to be as good or better than optical systems.

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If this happens, it’ll be an absolute game changer: Teams will be able to source their data from any video footage, so imagine the entire wealth of movies, TV, CCTV footage, people’s home videos, etc. all being sources for mocap data. Moreover, depending on the fidelity of video footage, and the quality of the NN system, you’ll likely be able to derive more than just skeletal data from this footage. You’ll eventually be able to estimate fingers, facial, muscle, subcutaneous layers, skin, etc: All things that are useful, and usable.

Long Term - The Incredible and Scary Future - Semantics

Some NNs are already able to derive semantic information from photos and video footage, and this is where things really start to get crazy. These systems are able to make accurate guesses about who and what are in images, what the relationships are, and so on. These types of systems are continuing to improve at a super-fast rate.

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So say for example, you build an NN that can look at video footage and not only generate the motion of the person in the footage, but also accurately guess whether the person in the footage is male or female, guess how old they are, guess their ethnicity, maybe even guess their personality traits, their level of education, how wealthy they are, what type of job they do, what their political stance is, etc. Imagine that you then associate all that information with the generated motion, and then use that as part of the motion generation training data for the NN that generates animation on-the-fly.

So now you can set character traits as high-level goals for the system. So maybe your game director can simply say: Create me a character that moves like a 50 year old, overweight man, who is shy, and is recovering from an injured ankle: The system sets those parameters as part of it’s goals, and so when it generates the motion it generates with those parameters in mind.

I’ve just been talking about animation so far, but the same advancement is happening in other game development disciplines, and so by this point, there will also be systems to generate faces, bodies, clothing, etc. and so these same parameters can be applied in those systems to generate character meshes that are also context appropriate.

So you’re now able to build any type of character just by asking.

Let’s get more crazy...

What if you derive semantic understanding from scenes and places. For example: What if you use CCTV footage, along with the NN that analyzes people, to get a semantic understanding of city demographics. What type of people travel through what type of areas. What type of people live in what types of appartment buildings. What type of people drive vs use public transport. Which people go to Starbucks vs the artisinal local coffee chain. What type of people give money to the homeless, etc.

Now you feed this information into an NN that generates city neighborhoods, or whole cities, or whole continents full of cities. First, it generates a set of demographics, then it uses the character and animation NNs, to populate each city in appropriate ways.

So maybe now all the game director has to say is “Make me a city like London circa 1975”, and as long as there are enough data sources for what a city like that should be like, the system will generate an appropriate city, with appropriate people, who have appropriate behaviour.

Want to get even crazier...

Maybe at this point the game director who’s asking for all of this, isn’t even a game director anymore; maybe it’s just the player, asking directly for what they want.

“I want to play a game in the style of James Bond, but set it in the 1800s.”

“I want to play a brand new Star Wars story, from the perspective of Chewbacca.”

Eventually, we tie this in to devices that track emotional responses as the player is playing e.g. cameras that look at facial responses, or wearables like smart watches that track heart rate. Maybe you don’t even ask for a subject matter, maybe you say how you want to feel.

“I want to play an experience that makes me feel happy.”

“I want to have an experience that gives me a sense of family and belonging.”

“I want to experience a story that gives me the same sense of childish wonder as when I first read the Harry Potter books.”

Maybe in the next step you don’t even ask the system for anything. Maybe the system scans you as soon as you enter your door, understands what mood you’re in, and generates a complimentary experience.

At this point you start to delve into philosophical questions about what it even is to be human and whether the human experience means anything, if you’re just having your every whim automatically appeased, so maybe I should leave things there.

So yeah, that’s my road-map for the crazy future of game animation and game development as a whole.

Oh also I guess at some point we’ll get good full body IK.

#animation #technical animation #techology #deep learning #game development #machine learning #neural networks #motion capture

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