#lab management for lab technician | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kedreeva · 7 months ago

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#we spoke of this a LOT at work after that one tech was murdered and hidden in a wall

hi!👋 hello! kedreeva! i’m going to need to ask you to explain this!!!!

So back in 2009, a lab student named Annie Le was murdered at Yale university. Cameras saw her going on into a building, but not out again and it was like, the eve of her wedding (or close to? I don't remember) so clearly she had places to be and people waiting for her so they immediately started looking and the next day (or so? Anyway on the day of her wedding) they found her body in a recess in a wall, down in the areas where the research animals were kept. It turns out, a tech had killed her, but since there were cameras like EVERYWHERE, he just, I guess, left her there. Well, hid the body where it was. I don't remember how they caught him, but they did. It was a horrifying story. It still is.

And it was a huge news story among the folks at my workplace because, at the time, I was working at a different university, as an animal husbandry technician. As you can imagine this was a kind of intense time to be in that situation. They started offering, like, I'm not gonna say counseling but it was "if you need to talk we would prefer you talk to us about something wrong rather than kill anyone about it" and as techs (even if we were not even the same kind of tech, the killer was a lab tech and we were husbandry techs but I think a lot of people assumed it had been a husbandry tech since she was in an animal area), we were kind of getting the side eye from lab people for weeks afterwards. Like they thought we were gonna go "wow that's a fantastic idea, you're next!" or something, idk. And I mean like, people would freeze when you were alone in a hallway, or turn and walk the other way, or duck into the nearest room and watch you walk past, and they were all being super nice/civil to us when they did have to interact. It was very atypical behavior for lab people. Like not all of them, some of them had always been nice and weren't worried, but some of the people who had been unbelievable dicks previously were walking on eggshells. And the people who had friends in other universities reported this was happening at their jobs, too.

And instead of talking to The Man (because all the higher ups were garbage at the time), we just. talked among ourselves. It was a lot of "I may say I feel like strangling lab people sometimes when they do things that drive me up a wall but I don't MEAN it you know that right" and it also led to group discussions of what would be a theoretical *better* solution to hiding a body than what happened, with clear disdain for doing things like hiding bodies in walls, which is a terrible idea and one we would never do (looking at the people who think we might have decided this was a great idea actually).

Which consequently led to a lot of supervisors and/or managers that happened to overhear us bringing us donuts or arranging pizza for lunch in like, some kind of bid to help us feel appreciated, I guess, so that we wouldn't murder anyone, even though none of us were going to do that anyway. But also none of us were in a position to turn down free donuts or pizza or whatever.

And then after a few weeks, maybe a month or so, people just kind of forgot and moved on and things went back to normal like fifty people hadn't spent every lunch hour for weeks talking quietly among themselves about how human bodies would definitely fit into a carcass disposal barrel or that you'd have to crush hip bones and/or skulls before incineration. Hypothetically.

Like I said, it was a VERY weird time to be at my job, and every time I remember it happening feels like a fever dream. I can't even imagine what it was like at Yale.

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bowelfly · 7 months ago

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Is it difficult to become an entemologist? Do you know if any other fields of work with insects that may not require like? A whole degree in it

Just asking for curiosity sake since… bugs are a special interest of mine ahaha

It really depends! There are a lot of possible careers within the entomology field, which have wildly different duties, education requirements, and so on. I think when a lot of people think of entomologists, they think specifically of insect taxonomists, the people who do the work of describing and identifying insect species, and often teasing out the phylogenetic relationships between them. These are usually the people working as curators for museums and large institutional collections. But there are also insect ecologists, medical entomologists, integrated pest management entomologists, forensic entomologists, etc.

The above all generally require advanced degrees, but many of them also need lab or field technicians, which generally don't. Field positions are usually seasonal but I know a lot of people who've been doing seasonal insect collecting work for various agencies for many years and are happy with that life. Entomology museums are pretty much always in need of workers to do the grunt work of sorting, labeling, etc, but they're also in my experience usually short on funds so a lot of people get their foot in the door through volunteering until a paid position opens up.

IDK if any of the at was helpful but it's about as good as I can offer. You might also check my entomolgy tag on this and my more bug-focused blog since I've answered similar questions in the past on both.

#entomology

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writinginkpen · 13 days ago

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I've been thinking about the combaticons from mecha au a lot. This is my take on a closer look at what reactions might have been to finding out about Vortex's death.

warnings: discussion of death , mentions of blood, mentions of unethical experiments

(inspired by events of keferon's mecha au)

————————————————-

“Vortex is dead.” The lab technician in front of Onslaught shifts from foot to foot as he says the words.

“There was nothing we could do.” He gestures vaguely in the direction of the cockpit of Vortex’s mech.

The mech is dark. Empty. Silent. Stained red with so much blood Onslaught wonders whether it will ever come out. He hopes it doesn’t. Wonders if it will remind them in the future of what they’ve done here today. Because maybe there was nothing anyone could do. But of everyone Onslaught can see moving around the catwalk they clearly haven’t even tried – the techs’ lab coats are all a pristine white, unsullied and unstained. There is not a medic in sight.

Mecha doesn’t hold funerals for pilots. Too many die too often. But even if they did. Fuck. Judging by the state of things, there’s nothing left of Vortex to even try and bury.

“I’m sorry,” the lab tech says.

He doesn’t sound sorry at all. Or at least not sorry in the way one would be sorry about the loss of a human life – not grieving, not sad. He looks more – disappointed, like a student that just found out they failed the project. The thought makes Onslaught sick. He clenches his fist, presses it close to his side in an effort to refrain from teaching the tech before him just what it would mean to be sorry.

Onslaught spins abruptly on his heel and marches back down the hall the way he came. It doesn’t matter. The tech is replaceable. They all are. Nothing would change. Except that Onslaught might lose what little standing he’s managed to gain in mecha. The standing that allows him command, that allowed him to negotiate into keeping their small group – the combaticons – together.

That had been the plan. He stands between the others and mecha. He coordinates their missions. They bring in the results. It was supposed to be enough – to let him watch over the others provide what little breathing room, what little safety he could. It hadn’t been in the end. Mecha had sent Vortex out alone. Without telling him. Had violated the unspoken terms of his command.

They have lied – to Onslaught’s face – about Vortex, about the mission he was on. Because this is no inevitable failing on Vortex’s part. No getting caught unawares by the aliens. Vortex is many things, but to lose focus – to lose himself during a fight as they implied? No. Vortex was the fight. If he lost himself, it was because they – mecha – drove him to it.

There is nothing left of the body. No way to prove it. And if they can do everything else, who’s to say that mecha hasn’t engineered that too? Ensured that even if there had been some evidence left of Vortex – that it is gone now. Try to ensure that the truth of whatever happened has died with him.

And if they can do that to Vortex. They can get to any of the others. Onslaught will have failed them as he has failed Vortex. That cannot happen. That will not happen. The combaticons have the reputation they have on the battlefield for a reason. Mecha has just declared war. Onslaught intends to respond in kind.

But first, the others have to be told. There is no point hesitating at the door. Putting off the inevitable will not make the words any easier. Only once the words have been said can they be processed. And only then will they be able to move forward and do something.

------------

“Vortex is dead.”

Brawl finds himself on his feet before his mind has fully registered the words coming from Onslaught’s mouth.

Vortex. Is dead.

Vortex. Dead.

Tex….

It can’t be true. Brawl refuses to believe it’s true. Brawl peers around the side of where Onslaught is standing in the door, half expecting the little shit to pop out from behind Ons laughing at the looks on their faces.

Brawl doesn’t know whether he would crush him or hug him. Probably both. And Tex would bite him on the arm again. Brawl subconsciously rubs the spot on his forearm in memory.

Only Vortex doesn’t appear. Just Onslaught, still standing in the door, stone-faced and grim.

Vortex is dead.

Brawl can see it. This is no joke. Not that Ons would joke about something like that, really. Tex maybe. But…. But Brawl hadn’t wanted, had hoped….

The room suddenly feels too small. Brawl feels too big, standing in the center of it. At a loss.

He looks down at where his hand rests against his arm. At the small indents – scars, only an impression of Vortex. Brawl had hated how Vortex would bite. But that’s all that remains of Vortex now – impressions.

The thought makes Brawl want to rage -- want to make a mess of things. Vortex would, if he were here, Brawl knows. Tex would have screamed and swore. And Brawl would have joined him. Would have broken things. They would have made a mess -- together.

Brawl wants to break something. But the bunk bed is where Vortex slept. The bookshelf has the books – books that Vortex got sticky more than once. The space is too small. There is too little. And everywhere is Vortex. And Vortex is nowhere.

Brawl turns back to his own bed in frustration, picks up the only pillow – a small lumpy, worthless thing, and slams it into the floor. The pillow explodes in a shower of feathers. Brawl thinks it is the most satisfying use he has ever gotten from that pillow.

--------------------------

Vortex is dead.

The thought spirals through Blast Offs’ mind like the feathers from Brawl’s pillow had spiraled through the air when it exploded. Feathers that Blast Off has spent the past hours meticulously picking up from every corner of the room.

Any other time he would be angry. He is angry. At mecha. Was angry at Brawl, for making such a mess. But the mess was also a distraction. The cleaning has kept him occupied. Kept him focused on something other than that one singular thought – that Vortex is dead.

But he’s also found the remains of Vortex everywhere, suffusing the room just as much as the remains of Brawl’s outburst. Old wrappers mixed with the feathers under their shared bunk. A barely opened packet of cigarettes shoved next to the books on the bookcase.

Blast Off had pocketed those. He doesn’t know why. Any more than he knows why he spent time meticulously picking the feathers out from around the wrappers so that they would remain undisturbed under the bunk.

What he does know is that he is exhausted by the time he is done. Whatever grief, whatever rage he felt at Onslaught’s initial words has been tempered by time and work. All that is left is the exhaustion.

By the time the day is done, all Blast Off wants is sleep. For those words “Vortex is dead” to fade slowly into the darkness with all of his thoughts. And Blast Off knows it’s a petty thought, but at least there will be no screams through the night or rain of debris and cigarette ash. Maybe he will actually be able to sleep.

Only the darkness closes in and sleep doesn’t come. The room is too quiet. Too still. Swindle’s presence may as well be unnoticeable. Brawl snores softly from his bed. And Blast Off lies awake. Eyes open – staring up at the bunk above him. Searching for the familiar presence. Waiting for the noise, the chaos – the comfort of a familiar routine that doesn’t come to pass.

There is no other distraction from his thoughts now. No work to retreat into. Only the darkness and the silence – worse than any screams or any nightmare. Blast Off feels his eyelids droop, feels himself drift. He is tired, so tired. Of all of it. Mecha. Piloting. The violence. The deaths. The screams echo in his mind.

Vortex is dead.

Blast Off had not seen the body. Does not know how exactly it happened. But his mind has no lack of information to speculate on. Possibilities flash through his dreams – each more horrible than the last. The screams echoing in his mind slowly taking on the sound of Vortex’s voice.

Blast Off’s eyes fly open. The room is silent. No Vortex. No screams. Nothing from the bunk above his.

Vortex is gone.

Vortex is dead.

Blast Off searches in vain for some evidence of Vortex’s presence in the bunk above. Something to stop the thoughts spiraling around his mind. He takes a deep breath. And nearly chokes on the scent of the cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

Vortex.

Blast Off’s hand fumbles in the dark, reaching first for the pack of cigarettes he pocketed earlier in the day and then for a lighter. He feels the tightness in his throat ease, even as the smoke burns.

-----------------------

Vortex is dead.

Dead and gone and not coming back.

Swindle glances up at the bunk as he passes, at Blast Off lying underneath. He isn’t even sure it matters whether he’s quiet. Because the top bunk is empty – no one there to disturb anymore. Because although Offy’s eyes are open, they are fixed in such concentration on the bottom of the bunk above him that Swindle suspects Off is blind to just about everything else in the room at the moment.

The light is still on in Ons room. Onslaught is hunched over a table, scribbling notes. He looks up as Swindle passes the doorway, their eyes meeting briefly. Ons should stop him. They aren’t meant to be out this late at night. And if Swindle gets caught, if anyone found out Ons knows what he does, it will only mean more trouble. But Swindle never gets caught. And Ons just nods as he passes.

Swindle needs to get away. Away from the pilots’ quarters. Away from the mechs. Away from the labs. Away from anything to do with mecha. Away from the reminders of what’s been done to them all. Away from the reminder of what’s been done to Tex. Because Swindle has no doubts that Vortex is only dead because of mecha.

Swindle knows he should be more cautious going through the halls. Should perhaps even feel afraid, knowing what mecha can and will and has done. He isn’t. Or rather he is. But not in the sense that he wants to run. Mecha has them all cornered anyways. Swindle isn’t sure there would be anywhere to run to even if he tried. And he isn’t willing to bet his life on that uncertainty. So he’s afraid, yes, but he’s determined to fight – in whatever scheme it may be that Onslaught’s crafting. In whatever way he can to undermine the system that thinks it can control them.

Make that Vortex’s legacy. Swindle can’t undo what’s been done. But maybe he can spit in mecha’s eye – metaphorically at least -- on Vortex’s behalf. Though…. Swindle glances through one of the lab windows on his way out of the building. Thinks of Vortex – how many times he meddled, tampered with samples, even literally spitting in them to keep Swindle and the others off those same lab tables.

Swindle thinks about it. And moves on. Not worth the risk. Not tonight. Tonight is for him to do what he needs to do for himself – to grieve, to remember, to forget. So that when he rejoins Onslaught and the others in the morning his mind will be clear.

And what Swindle needs right now is to just be. Not a pilot. Not a mecha employee. Not a scammer or a schemer. Just Swindle. There’s only ever been one place -- one person -- where he can be just himself. Swindle looks for the brightest light on the city skyline and heads for it.

----------------------

Vortex is dead.

He’s known it, from the moment he walked out of the lab that morning. Had known, when the call came to take his mech out, alone, that he wouldn’t be coming back. Had known that if he came back, they’d think they succeeded. And they’d do what they did to him to the others, if they thought it would keep them in line.

Vortex wouldn’t be kept in line. Wouldn’t give in or go down without a fight. He was glad at least, that they’d sent him out alone. That the others wouldn’t be there to witness. Or to try and interfere. Because it had been a fight, down to his last moments – pouring more and more of himself into his mech systems to escape the failing body mecha had tried to control.

Vortex had expected to die. That that would be the price to finally be free of their experiments – of their control.

And so when he first becomes aware of the dim red glow in the dark, he tells himself that he must be dead.

Vortex is not dead.

That much becomes clear as the red glow flickers and brightens, resolves before him into the powered up visor of his mech. He can sense the consoles, the wiring, every joint and screw.

Vague outlines of movement resolve into a sense of figures – technicians – poking through the mech’s – his – consoles.

Vortex concentrates harder. Power surges along wiring into one of the consoles. Sparks fly outwards towards the technicians. He narrows his focus further and one of the cables twitches bumping against a leg.

The technicians jump and run.

Vortex is not dead. But he is not alive.

Vortex is the mech. The mech is Vortex.

Vortex could laugh, if he had a mouth still. Instead, he contents himself with sending another, larger shower of sparks hissing through broken cables to shoot outwards from the visor. He takes in the fear on each of the techs’ faces, the way the red light of him is reflected in the depths of their eyes. Vortex relishes how, as more of his systems come online – as he comes back to full consciousness, he can track their movements – down to the fluctuations of their breathing, the racing of their pulses.

They tried to destroy him. Tried to control him. Made his life a living hell. Only they failed. And in so doing, have made him into something he now realizes they’ve always feared he could be – a weapon that could turn against them. Because they have always known, as Vortex himself knows, that that’s what he is -- a weapon, built to fight.

And he will. He will give them hell for what they’ve done. And by the time he’s finished, he hopes that red glow will haunt them the same way their white coats have haunted him. He will never let anyone control him again.

#tf mecha universe #tf mecha au #vortex #swindle #onslaught #blast off #brawl #combaticons #tf vortex #tf onslaught #tf swindle #tf blast off #tf brawl #tw: death

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metamatar · 2 years ago

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After the first nuclear test at Los Alamos

Many of the scientists and technicians who understood the destructive potential of the atomic bomb felt that the U.S. should first conduct a peaceful demonstration to warn the Japanese of the consequences of refusing to surrender. Szilard and several other Met Lab scientists had collaborated on the Franck Report, issued in June of 1945, which called for a demonstration. However, the Franck Report was rejected by the scientists who served on the Interim Committee’s Scientific Panel – J. Robert Oppenheimer, Enrico Fermi, Ernest Lawrence, and Arthur Compton – who wrote, “We see no acceptable alternative to direct military use.”

[...] Szilard toned down his rhetoric over the course of several different drafts of the petition. Between 65 and 150 people signed the various different drafts that he proposed at the Chicago Met Lab and Oak Ridge project site [...]

The petition fared better at Oak Ridge than at Los Alamos. Another Hungarian-American physicist, Edward Teller, brought the petition to that site with the intent to gain signatures there too. However, at the advice of J. Robert Oppenheimer, he ultimately decided not to do so. “Oppenheimer talked me out of it, saying that we as scientists have no business to meddle in political pressure of that kind. We know too little about that. I am ashamed to say that he managed to talk me out of the right intention,”

From the Nuclear Museum

#oppenheimer

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ivfcourses · 1 year ago

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#infertility courses #embryology courses #iui training courses #hysteroscopy course #lab management for lab technician

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glowettee · 10 days ago

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✧ pre-med extracurriculars: for my future doctor angels ✧

hi my lovely pre-med angels!! 🤍 it's mindy hereee!

today's post is extra special because so many of you have been asking about extracurriculars for medical school!! if you know, my ultimate dream is to become a doctor, i'd love to either be a psychiatrist or a cardiologist, so anything medical-related is my favorite cup of coffee!! i'm literally so excited to share this comprehensive guide that will help you shine on your future applications. this post is for you if you're in high school or college, this guide will be your bestie through the journey!!

~ ♡ for my precious high school sweethearts ♡ ~

hospital + healthcare volunteering (my absolute fave!!) • aim for 100-150 hours minimum • try different departments to explore • build relationships with nurses + staff • pro tip: volunteer during summer break for more hours • keep a reflection journal of your experiences • bonus: ask for recommendation letters if you connect well!!

research opportunities • reach out to local universities • email professors about summer programs • join science fairs with medical projects • create your own research project • tip: start with literature reviews if labs aren't available • document everything for future applications!!

leadership + school involvement • start a medical interest club • lead health awareness campaigns • organize blood drives • create mental health support groups • join science olympiad • participate in biology competitions • personal story: i started a "future doctors club" + it literally changed my life!!

~ ♡ for my darling college angels ♡ ~

clinical experience (super important!!) • medical scribing (literally the best!!) • certified nursing assistant (CNA) • emergency medical technician (EMT) • phlebotomy certification + gain a bunch of different certifications online • medical assistant • tip: aim for 200+ hours minimum • pro secret: try different specialties!!

research involvement • join multiple labs if possible • aim for publication opportunities • present at conferences • write abstracts + papers • network with graduate students • maintain good relationships with PIs • secret tip: join journal clubs!!

leadership positions • pre-med society officer • tutoring coordinator • mentorship program leader • research team leader • volunteer coordinator • tip: create new positions if none exist!!

~ ♡ extra special activities for everyone ♡ ~

medical mission trips (life-changing!!)

start a health education blog

create medical awareness social media

join medical podcasting

organize health fairs

volunteer at free/non-profit clinics

shadow different specialists

join pre-med summer programs

work as a pharmacy technician

volunteer at nursing homes

organize medical supply drives

create health education programs

~ ♡ my personal tips + secrets ♡ ~

quality over quantity always!!

maintain each activity for at least 6 months

document everything (literally everything!!)

take lots of pictures (for memories + portfolio)

get contact info from supervisors

keep detailed reflection journals

network with other pre-meds

create spreadsheets to track hours

always ask for recommendation letters

maintain professional relationships

~ ♡ time management secrets ♡ ~

use google calendar religiously

block schedule your activities

don't overcommit (seriously!!)

maintain 2-3 main activities

rotate seasonal activities

leave time for self-care

schedule study breaks

plan one year ahead

keep backup activities ready

remember my loves: medical schools want to see dedication + passion!! don't just collect activities like pokemon cards (even tho that would be cute). focus on meaningful experiences that truly speak to your heart!!

pro tip: start a bullet journal to track your journey!! include your thoughts, feelings, and learning experiences. future you will literally cry happy tears when writing your personal statement!!

also!! please please please remember that your mental health comes first!! it's okay to take breaks, it's okay to say no, and it's absolutely okay to prioritize self-care. you'll be a better doctor if you learn these habits now!!

sending you the biggest virtual hugs + all my love!! you're doing amazing sweetie, and your future patients will be so lucky to have you!!

feel free to send more asks if you need specific advice!! i'm always here to support my precious future doctors and followers i call my sweetheart community!!

xoxo, mindy 🤍

p.s. remember to hydrate, get enough sleep, and take your vitamins!! doctor's orders!! <3

p.p.s. i'll be sharing more detailed guides about each activity soon, so stay tuned my loves!!

btw, if you need personal study advice or anything, submit to glowettee hotline 💌: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months ago

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The reverse-centaur apocalypse is upon us

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

In thinking about the relationship between tech and labor, one of the most useful conceptual frameworks is "centaurs" vs "reverse-centaurs":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

A centaur is someone whose work is supercharged by automation: you are a human head atop the tireless body of a machine that lets you get more done than you could ever do on your own.

A reverse-centaur is someone who is harnessed to the machine, reduced to a mere peripheral for a cruelly tireless robotic overlord that directs you to do the work that it can't, at a robotic pace, until your body and mind are smashed.

Bosses love being centaurs. While workplace monitoring is as old as Taylorism – the "scientific management" of the previous century that saw labcoated frauds dictating the fine movements of working people in a kabuki of "efficiency" – the lockdowns saw an explosion of bossware, the digital tools that let bosses monitor employees to a degree and at a scale that far outstrips the capacity of any unassisted human being.

Armed with bossware, your boss becomes a centaur, able to monitor you down to your keystrokes, the movements of your eyes, even the ambient sound around you. It was this technology that transformed "work from home" into "live at work." But bossware doesn't just let your boss spy on you – it lets your boss control you. \

It turns you into a reverse-centaur.

"Data At Work" is a research project from Cracked Labs that dives deep into the use of surveillance and control technology in a variety of workplaces – including workers' own cars and homes:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work

It consists of a series of papers that take deep dives into different vendors' bossware products, exploring how they are advertised, how they are used, and (crucially) how they make workers feel. There are also sections on how these interact with EU labor laws (the project is underwritten by the Austrian Arbeiterkammer), with the occasional aside about how weak US labor laws are.

The latest report in the series comes from Wolfie Christl, digging into Microsoft's "Dynamics 365," a suite of mobile apps designed to exert control over "field workers" – repair technicians, security guards, cleaners, and home help for ill, elderly and disabled people:

https://crackedlabs.org/dl/CrackedLabs_Christl_MobileWork.pdf

It's…not good. Microsoft advises its customers to use its products to track workers' location every "60 to 300 seconds." Workers are given tasks broken down into subtasks, each with its own expected time to completion. Workers are expected to use the app every time they arrive at a site, begin or complete a task or subtask, or start or end a break.

For bosses, all of this turns into a dashboard that shows how each worker is performing from instant to instant, whether they are meeting time targets, and whether they are spending more time on a task than the client's billing rate will pay for. Each work order has a clock showing elapsed seconds since it was issued.

For workers, the system generates new schedules with new work orders all day long, refreshing your work schedule as frequently as twice per hour. Bosses can flag workers as available for jobs that fall outside their territories and/or working hours, and the system will assign workers to jobs that require them to work in their off hours and travel long distances to do so.

Each task and subtask has a target time based on "AI" predictions. These are classic examples of Goodhart's Law: "any metric eventually becomes a target." The average time that workers take becomes the maximum time that a worker is allowed to take. Some jobs are easy, and can be completed in less time than assigned. When this happens, the average time to do a job shrinks, and the time allotted for normal (or difficult) jobs contracts.

Bosses get stack-ranks of workers showing which workers closed the most tickets, worked the fastest, spent the least time idle between jobs, and, of course, whether the client gave them five stars. Workers know it, creating an impossible bind: to do the job well, in a friendly fashion, the worker has to take time to talk with the client, understand their needs, and do the job. Anything less will generate unfavorable reports from clients. But doing this will blow through time quotas, which produces bad reports from the bossware. Heads you lose, tails the boss wins.

Predictably, Microsoft has shoveled "AI" into every corner of this product. Bosses don't just get charts showing them which workers are "underperforming" – they also get summaries of all the narrative aspects of the workers' reports (e.g. "My client was in severe pain so I took extra time to make her comfortable before leaving"), filled with the usual hallucinations and other botshit.

No boss could exert this kind of fine-grained, soul-destroying control over any workforce, much less a workforce that is out in the field all day, without Microsoft's automation tools. Armed with Dynamics 365, a boss becomes a true centaur, capable of superhuman feats of labor abuse.

And when workers are subjected to Dynamics 365, they become true reverse-centaurs, driven by "digital whips" to work at a pace that outstrips the long-term capacity of their minds and bodies to bear it. The enthnographic parts of the report veer between chilling and heartbreaking.

Microsoft strenuously objects to this characterization, insisting that their tool (which they advise bosses to use to check on workers' location every 60-300 seconds) is not a "surveillance" tool, it's a "coordination" tool. They say that all the AI in the tool is "Responsible AI," which is doubtless a great comfort to workers.

In Microsoft's (mild) defense, they are not unique. Other reports in the series show how retail workers and hotel housekeepers are subjected to "despot on demand" services provided by Oracle:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/retail-hospitality

Call centers, are even worse. After all, most of this stuff started with call centers:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/callcenter

I've written about Arise, a predatory "work from home" company that targets Black women to pay the company to work for it (they also have to pay if they quit!). Of course, they can be fired at will:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

There's also a report about Celonis, a giant German company no one has ever heard of, which gathers a truly nightmarish quantity of information about white-collar workers' activities, subjecting them to AI phrenology to judge their "emotional quality" as well as other metrics:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/processmining-algomanage

As Celonis shows, this stuff is coming for all of us. I've dubbed this process "the shitty technology adoption curve": the terrible things we do to prisoners, asylum seekers and people in mental institutions today gets repackaged tomorrow for students, parolees, Uber drivers and blue-collar workers. Then it works its way up the privilege gradient, until we're all being turned into reverse-centaurs under the "digital whip" of a centaur boss:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revenge

In mediating between asshole bosses and the workers they destroy, these bossware technologies do more than automate: they also insulate. Thanks to bossware, your boss doesn't have to look you in the eye (or come within range of your fists) to check in on you every 60 seconds and tell you that you've taken 11 seconds too long on a task. I recently learned a useful term for this: an "accountability sink," as described by Dan Davies in his new book, The Unaccountability Machine, which is high on my (very long) list of books to read:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/02/despotism-on-demand/#virtual-whips

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #bossware #surveillance #microsoft #gig work #reverse centaurs #labor #Wolfie Christl #cracked labs #data at work #AlgorithmWatch #Arbeiterkammer #austria #call centers #retail #dystopianism #torment nexus #shitty technology adoption curve

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heyitsme1040 · 1 year ago

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When It's All Too Much [l.l]

summary : Loki’s been gone for a month to Asgard, and his return home gets delayed. You miss your boyfriend, and it is during the extinction of his mission that everything becomes too much. All your pent up emotions from the last month come bursting out. You’re surprised that Loki is there to comfort you as you’re crying. He helps you feel better from your emotional turmoil.

pairings : Loki Laufeyson x Reader

warnings : One use of y/n, crying (if I missed anything let me know!)

word count : 1,030

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day ten of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘sadness’.

Today was one of those mornings where everything seemed to go wrong. You’d missed your alarm, broke your favorite mug, and misplaced your phone. Not having the time to look for it, you rushed out of your apartment and to the meeting room Steve was debriefing everyone in. You slipped in the door just as Steve was assigning everyone missions for the week. While you worked with Tony in his labs, you were also the Avengers’ go-to lab technician for mission equipment. You needed to know where they were going to make sure the correct equipment would be sent with them.

“Y/n, we need you to modify Redwing’s stealth frequency,” Steve informs you.

“Of course, Cap,” you nod, “I can have that done in fifteen minutes.”

The meeting continues, and you write down the two other modifications the team needs on its equipment. You’re quick to enter your lab and get everything adjusted. You manage to adjust the frequency of Redwing’s stealth mode, adjust the plates of Bucky’s arm, and finally begin working the adjustments to the comms systems. Most of the team had already left for their missions when you finish adjusting the comms for their next missions. It’s quiet when you begin the walk to your apartment, and you feel yourself relax at the thought of Loki arriving home tonight.

You are surprised that the apartment is still empty as you enter. You turn the lights on as you walk through. Changing out of your work clothes, you trip over your phone next to the bed. You sigh, picking it up, having forgotten you couldn’t find it this morning. You quickly scroll through all your notifications. Replying to the most important emails, you pause seeing a message from Thor. Tapping the text, you feel your mood drop a little more reading that Loki’s business on Asgard is going to take an extra two days to finish.

You trudge your way out of your room, wishing he’d be home already. He’d already been gone a month, and you missed him. There wasn’t any way you could talk to him when he was back on Asgard, but you were grateful Thor was able to give you updates when Loki was gone. Having nothing left to look forward to for a few days, you head back to your lab feeling glum. You knew you were close to finishing your most recent invention, you just needed to figure out the final calculations to make it work.

The repeated failed attempts at a solution did nothing but sour your mood further as the hours passed. You were tired of everything going wrong recently. Everything was becoming too much and you couldn’t fight the tears welling in your eyes. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep everything inside for much longer. Quickly you rushed to your room, hoping that you’d manage to get there before the tears fell.

Slamming the door behind you, you didn’t even register that the lights in the living room were turned on unlike how they were when you left. You leaned against the door, slinking down as the tears began to pour out. Your chest aches at the lonely feeling you’d had ever since Loki left and your brain focused on all your recent failures at the job you were supposed to be good at. Vision blurred by tears and head pounding at the intensity of your crying, you don’t register the dark figure that was coming toward you. It isn’t until you feel arms around you and smell Loki’s familiar linen and mint scent that you realize he’s home.

His presence is like a balm to your sadness, taking away the sharpest pangs of sorrow. He holds you tightly, stroking your hair while rocking the two of you. You cling to him tightly, grateful he’s here to hold you.

“I’m so sorry darling,” Loki says into your skin. “Everything’s okay, I’m here now. Let it all out.”

You cry harder knowing he’s got you. The feelings you tried so hard to keep at bay rise to the surface as you register he’s home.

“You’re supposed to be gone for another day,” you force out between sobs.

“I finished my diplomatic duties faster than I expected,” Loki calmly explains. “I didn’t want to be without you another day, darling.”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“I’m elated to be home, darling. I just wish you’d had a better time in my absence.”

You shrug, knowing it was out of both your control. There had been a lot of small issues building up on top of you missing him. Everything was better whenever he was home. You slowly managed to calm down your cries, matching your breathing with his steady breaths. You pulled away from where your face was buried in his chest to look up at him. Loki’s hand cupped your cheek as his thumb swiped away your fallen tears.

“Hi my love,” Loki softly kissed you. “I’m sorry you were without me for so long. Do you wish to tell me what happened to make you so sad?”

“It’s dumb,” you mumble.

“Nonsense, whatever it is that made you feel that way is anything but dumb.”

You sigh letting the bitter emotions escape you, “It wasn’t one thing. It was a lot of minor things, and I missed you, so I guess I just let it all stay pent up for too long. I’m sorry this is what you came home to,” you sheepishly admit.

“Darling, I love coming home to you. No matter the state you are in, I am never anything less than happy to see you.”

You nod, convinced by his tone alone. You watch as he stands, offering his hand to you. Taking it, you allow him to pull you to your feet. He wraps his arms around you once again, embracing you properly.

“Thank you for helping me,” you kiss his neck, unable to reach his face.

“Thank you for allowing me to help,” Loki kisses your lips. “Now then, let’s lay down. I want to hear everything about the past month I’ve missed here.”

You smile, grateful he knows exactly how to take care of you.

Author’s Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

#fanfiction #fanfiction writer #fanfic blog #marvel fanfiction #comfortember 2023 #comfortember #marvel #comfort fic #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson

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whatcha-thinkin · 8 months ago

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#polls #poll #daily polls #i love polls #polladay #space travel #science fiction #scifi #spaceship #spaceship crew #star trek

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max1461 · 11 months ago

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I've talked before about how scientific knowledge assumes a robust body of everyday knowledge. When you do a scientific measurement, you need to trust that your instrument is giving you the right reading instead of an error, for instance. You probably don't know the ins and outs of how the instrument works yourself—you're trusting technicians to be able to do their job and make the instrument work. They may use a mixture of formal knowledge and informal knowledge to do this. You hear all kinds of stories of technicians saying things like "this machine's a little finicky, if it doesn't give a reading just give it a couple of whacks" or whatever all the time.

You use everyday, "common sense" reasoning of various sorts to determine if your instruments work and if your technicians are trustworthy and capable and so on. You can bolster this knowledge in other ways—for instance, if another research group on the opposite side of the world gets the same result as you, that's some evidence that your readings weren't a technical error. But trusting this research group requires all sorts of other informal knowledge, which you get through e.g. your professional network as a scientist and so on, about whether they're working in a reputable lab and whether the journal they published in is reputable and so on and so forth.

I'm not saying that this makes scientific knowledge untrustworthy. Far from it, I think scientists' ability to manage these epistemic hurdles is generally quite good, although certainly not flawless. They're an occupational hazard of being a human and trying to collaborate with other humans to figure stuff out about the world, there's no way you can get around it. But I do think it means that if you want to consider yourself, you know... epistemically virtuous, a good skeptic, you need a working model of how everyday knowledge is and should be obtained, an epistemic theory applicable to "folk knowledge" not obtained through the scientific process. Not only because you use folk knowledge all the time in your everyday life and should probably be thoughtful about whether it's bullshit or not, but also because the scientific process itself relies on it in a straightforward way.

Anyway, I can't do a rigorous scientific study to figure out... how I should respond to my friend when they're down, or how to throw them a good birthday party, or whatever. And I would be dubious of any psychology study which claims to answer these questions in a general sense. But that doesn't mean that I don't know how to do these things for my friend! My specific, "folk psychological" understanding of who my friend is as an individual, what they care about, how they respond to things, these are more reliable guides than the psychological literature would be on this issue! That viewpoint is not "anti-science". The alternative view is so patently ridiculous that basically no one hews to it, not even scientists.

On second thought I'm sure there are like, some podcast guys who believe it...

#navel gazing #triv this is not about your psych/antipsych posting this is about a much dumber discourse

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waytooinvested · 5 months ago

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Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 26

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena was perhaps unreasonably proud of the small cup of lime jello she had managed to get her hands on, and bore it back to Kara with the air of a conquering hero bringing home the holy grail.

In her defence, it had been a mission to find. At L-Corp all she would have to do would be to buzz the request through to Jess, and within 15 minutes she would have had half a dozen different brands and flavours on her desk to choose from, but here at the DEO she had to do it the hard way. It turned out that surprisingly few of the very serious field agents, scientists and tech geniuses that worked at this particular top secret government organisation brought jello to work with them for lunch, and even fewer still had it untouched at 2.30pm. In fact, this applied to exactly one person in the entire building, as far as Lena had been able to ascertain: Ms Ewa Jagoda, alien toxicology specialist, jello enthusiast, and Lena’s official new favourite DEO lab technician.

She had intended to present the jello with a dramatised retelling of her misadventurous quest, both to keep up her own distraction and to make Kara laugh, but in the time she had been gone it seemed visiting hour had opened up. On one side of the bed J’onn was talking to Kara with a paternal expression that mingled stern and concerned in equal measure, while beside him Kelly gently combed the last traces of dried blood and street dust from her hair. Across from them Nia and Brainy were good naturedly bickering over the ideal placement and wording for a leg cast signature, passing a marker back and forth between them without stopping their debate long enough to actually write anything down. It was such a familiar scene, all of them talking over each other and cracking jokes, that it took a moment for Lena to work out what was wrong with it. Then it hit her: Nia, Brainy, J’onn, Kelly, Kara, but no Alex.

She was here, in the room, but rather than being gathered in by the bedside she was standing off to one side, leaning up against the wall with Kara’s chart in her hand. She had washed the tear tracks from her face at some point since they’d talked, but it did nothing to disguise the lingering redness around her eyes or the ragged scabbiness of a lower lip chewed to the point of bleeding one too many times. She was ostensibly making medical notes, but the fact that her gaze remained fixed on one point and she never actually put pen to paper suggested otherwise. Alex was clearly not okay.

Lena glanced briefly over at Kara, the part of her heart that always tugged in that direction urging her to move towards the bedside, to claim a place beside her, take hold of her hand and never let it go. Today of all days with her fear and shock still roiling just below the surface the instinct was difficult to ignore, but Lena managed to hold back. Kara was in the midst of a game of tic tac toe with Kelly on her otherwise still unsigned cast, and seemed happy with the company of her friends. She didn’t need Lena right now, and after a second or two more of silent internal wrestling, she made her way over to the elder Danvers sister instead.

‘Hey. All okay?’ she murmured, keeping her voice low enough not to draw anyone else’s attention to the question.

‘Huh?’

Alex stopped tapping the end of her pen against her teeth and looked at Lena distractedly, blinking slowly back from whatever thoughts had been absorbing her.

‘Oh, yeah, it’s all fine. She’s doing as well as we could reasonably hope for at this stage without you-know-whats, and there’s no internal damage to speak of. She should make a full recovery.’

‘That’s great news, but I actually meant you… no offence Alex, but you look awful.’

Alex snorted.

‘Thanks a lot Luthor. Do you actually know what no offence means?’

For once Lena hadn’t actually been trying to be provoking, but Alex had clearly taken the comment as part of their usual banter and huffed back at her, giving her a little poke in the ribs with the chewed end of her pen as if the comment had been a dire insult. Lena briefly considered apologising, but it was good to see the vague, distant expression transformed into Alex’s comfortably familiar trademark Luthor v. Danvers snark-battle scowl.

If she had been talking to Kara, or Jess, or even Sam, Lena probably would have gentled her approach at this point even so. She was concerned for her friend, and wanted to take care of her as best she could in their current circumstances. But she suspected that despite her protestations Alex, like Lena herself, would not want to be coddled right now. Breaking down in a roomful of people (even people you loved) was humiliating, and there was nothing that could bring down walls so effectively as someone being sweet to you when you were trying to be strong. So Lena wasn’t sweet. She folded her arms and met Alex’s glower with an unyielding look of her own.

‘Well, I’m not wrong.’

Alex narrowed her eyes, preparing to argue, but then apparently decided she didn't have the energy for it. She hugged the chart to her chest like it might somehow shield her, and let the scowl drop.

‘Yeah.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘There’s nothing to talk about, really. It just- it feels different this time, you know? I’ve been here so many times before it should just feel like another day at the office, but it never does, and somehow this one’s worse than usual. For all the… incidents… we’ve had, they’re almost always in the midst of world ending fights where a certain amount damage is expected, and most times the injured party is back to normal within a few hours. But this- it’s not meant to be like this. I know we’ll find a way to fix it eventually, but what if-’

Alex broke off, unable to say more with the risk of being overheard so acute, but Lena didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence to know what came next. Alex was scared that Kara would hurt herself again before they found a cure to return her invulnerability, and that next time this happened she wouldn’t be so lucky. Lena was scared of that too.

‘I know.’

They stood together in silent solidarity for a few moments, then Alex nudged her again.

‘I was going to return the compliment and point out in great detail all the ways you look awful, but you actually don’t. You look… weirdly unruffled. Like, unnaturally so. And as much as that makes me want to rough you up a little to even things out, I’m guessing this is just that thing you do, and at some point it’s going to break and become a full on freak out?’

Lena could have denied it, insisted that she really was totally fine: another day, another near death experience for herself or a loved one; but at some point in their re-aquaintenceship and without her noticing it happening, things had shifted so far with Alex that bluffing would have been pointless. She knew her too well for that now. Besides, after their afternoon of breaking things together there was an element of camaraderie to their shared turmoil, and Lena found she didn’t even want to lie about it. So she shrugged.

‘That’s the plan, yes. It’s on my to do list for when I leave here, actually.’

‘On your- y’know, if anyone but you or Brainy said that I’d assume they were speaking figuratively, but-’

Lena pulled out her phone and navigated quickly into her personal calendar, smirking as she held it out to show Alex the 15 minute block labelled ‘Feel Things’ she had entered for this evening. It wasn’t serious, obviously. She might be a Luthor, but even she couldn’t plan her emotional breakdowns quite so precisely. It was more like a promise to herself, and a reminder that while she needed to keep a handle on herself right now, maybe putting everything into a box and never looking at it again wasn’t how she wanted to deal with things anymore, and at some point that meant she was going to have to feel it (later though. Much later. And alone). It had also been a whim that she had only indulged in order to kill a few extra seconds while she waited for the elevator to carry her and her newly acquired jello back to this level, and one she probably would have deleted in embarrassment given another hour or so. Now though, as Alex choked on her laughter at the sight of it, she was glad she hadn’t.

‘You actually did. Jeez Luthor, the inside of your brain must be really-’

‘Lena, hey!’

Up until now they had been conversing barely above a whisper, but at the bright peel of Alex’s laughter Kara had looked up from her game and at last realised Lena was back in the room. Her bruised face lit up with a lob-sided, swollen lipped grin that could equally have been for Lena or the vibrantly green dessert she was holding. It was painfully endearing, and like a moth to a flame Lena took an automatic step towards it, then paused and turned back to Alex.

‘Hey… if you want to get drunk about this later, I have a $2000 dollar bottle of scotch with our names on it. Just say the word.’

Alex blinked at her – she was usually the one to reach out to make plans, while Lena was the one being coaxed into them, it had never happened this way round before. She smiled, a quieter version of Kara’s surround sound beam, and a little of her weariness seemed to fall away.

‘Yeah, okay... I’ll text you.’

‘Do.’

Then Lena gave in to Kara’s magnetic pull and made her way swiftly to the bedside, jello cup held out in front of her like an offering.

‘I can’t believe you actually found this for me! I realised after you were gone that the pain meds were maybe making me a bit loopy and there was no way you could actually get jello without trekking a mile out to the nearest grocery store. But you did! You are officially the best.’

Kara balanced the pot on the edge of her cast, freeing her good hand long enough to give Lena’s a grateful squeeze, their fingers curling together so naturally that the idea of letting go seemed impossible. But then Brainy held out the spoon that he had apparently (inexplicably, since no one had told him Lena was off looking for jello) thought to bring with him into the room, and the moment passed.

It would have been ridiculous to feel a little pang of loss as Kara withdrew her warm fingers from hers, so Lena didn’t. She looked round at everyone else and used her empty hand to wave at them all instead, as if that was why it had been held out in the first place.

‘Hi.’

J’onn and Brainy responded with smiles, nods and murmured greetings, and Kelly pulled Lena into a quick hug. She was just relaxing into it when Nia followed up her friendly ‘hey’ with ‘aren’t you meant to be out of town until tomorrow though? Did you cancel your big press thing?’ and Lena stiffened.

As one everyone in the room turned to look at her, Kelly’s arm going slack around her tense shoulders and Kara freezing with a heaped spoonful of jello quivering just outside her open mouth. The question was clearly well intentioned, but Lena still wished Nia hadn’t asked it. It made it hard to keep ignoring the twisting in her insides that was determinedly trying to remind her just what a big deal this might have been for L-Corp.

‘I didn’t cancel. They didn’t need me for the product demo anyway, and I had someone step in to give my speech. It’s all taken care of... But if anyone asks, I’m currently recovering from an emergency appendectomy.’

She forced a chuckle, trying to break the tension and make it a joke, but it fell flat, and Kara dropped her over-laden spoon back into its pot with a soft, dismayed splat.

‘You told them you had appendicitis? I’m so sorry you had to do that for me when I’m not even badly hurt, and it was all my own stupid fault. I feel awful.’

‘Oh no, Kara, this one was all me.’ Alex finally abandoned her post by the wall to reassure her sister, stepping in to stand beside Brainy and casting guilty glances between Kara (bruised and now slightly jello spattered but very much alive and more or less well) and Lena (still dressed in her presentation outfit and probably wearing a fixed grimace of discomfort from all the attention, though apparently not enough of one to divert it).

‘Lena, I’m the one that asked you to come back without thinking about what else you were in the middle of. I’m sorry for putting you in a difficult position when we didn’t even know how bad it was yet.’

Lena frowned. ‘If you hadn’t told me I would be plotting where to bury your murdered body right now, as I’m sure you would me if our positions had been reversed. It was my choice to drop everything and I’m glad I did, so please, don’t worry about it.’

She meant what she said, but it didn’t diminish the unease that still writhed in her belly at the reminder of just how abruptly she had abandoned the press conference. She wondered how Jess had gotten on without her, and whether Raj and Amanda had managed the product demo as smoothly as they had in previous events. Had there been questions they couldn’t answer? Had anyone pressed the issue of Lena’s sudden non-attendance? She hadn’t talked to many people ahead of the event, but enough of the staff had seen her looking not at all like someone about to collapse with a ruptured appendix that it was possible her story was going to be interrogated.

Still, there was nothing she could do about any of that right now. She needed to focus on Kara for the moment, and when she got home later she would start on damage control. She’d call Jess to check she was alright after being thrown to the metaphorical wolves. She’d make sure her bonus was processed right away, and maybe order a muffin basket or something as an extra thank you. Then she would go through the conference footage and draft something for the press to smooth over anything that needed smoothing. Whatever had happened, Lena could deal with it. And even if the whole thing had been the worst PR disaster imaginable, she was still glad she had made the decision she had. If Kara had been more badly hurt, if she had died without her while Lena was off talking to the press, she would never have been able to forgive herself.

She did her best to focus back in on the conversation the others were having, which had thankfully moved on from Lena to the best flavour of jello (black cherry, or else anything with a bit of zing to balance out the sweetness. Strawberry was also acceptable, but Brainy’s assertion that it was berry blue was preposterous, and frankly objectionable), and what exactly it was about it that made it so satisfying to eat (the jiggles, obviously).

After twenty minutes or so Alex said that Kara was looking tired, and as her doctor she thought they’d better all leave her to rest now, so one by one the others hugged her (carefully), told her how glad they were that she was alright, then filed out the room. Lena reluctantly made to do the same, but Kara held on when she moved to straighten from the hug.

‘Stay with me a little while longer? I’m not too tired for you.’

She shuffled over on her mattress as best she could, patting the space beside her invitingly.

‘I should probably at least sit on the chair, I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘You won’t hurt me. Besides, being in pain makes me kind of needy, and I want to be held… if you’d be okay with that?’

Lena felt her lower lip tremble slightly with the request. There was nothing in the world she wanted right now as much as she wanted to hold Kara, but it wasn’t going to make keeping her feelings in under control any easier…

But maybe it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t care anymore.

Screw her carefully scheduled slot to feel things only once she was safely alone. Kara had nearly died today, and they both needed this too much to deny it.

Lena kicked off her stilettos, taking a beat to savour the sudden reduction of pain as her feet dropped back into their natural position and her toes wriggled gratefully against the cold linoleum. The small concession to comfort felt so good that after a moment’s consideration she followed it up by shrugging out of her blazer, untucking her shirt and loosening her tight chignon before finally easing herself into the space Kara had made for her, moving slowly to avoid jostling any injured parts. As soon as Lena’s arm was in place around her shoulders Kara relaxed into the embrace, a long, quiet breath escaping her lips in a sigh that could have been pain or relief or simple exhaustion.

‘Thank you. I know you probably have other places to be right now, but I’m really grateful for you staying here with me like this.’

Lena pulled her in a little closer, the physical contact making her feel suddenly, absurdly protective, as if she could somehow retroactively keep Kara from getting hurt just by holding her close enough.

‘Forget other places to be, I don’t want to let you out of my sight. Look what happened last time.’

‘Well, I don’t think I’m very likely to get in much trouble from here.’

‘I wouldn’t put it past you after what happened today. What if you decide hospital bed stair surfing would be a good idea next?’

It was meant to be a joke, but the tone came out all wrong and it didn’t feel like one to Lena. At this point she wasn’t sure she could put anything past this version of Kara who seemed to have all of Supergirl’s recklessness and none of her invincibility, and the thought made her simultaneously sick with worry and hot with anger that Kara could treat her life so casually. It was one thing when she was saving the world, but this risk had been so pointless.

Kara however either missed or willfully ignored her tone, taking what she’d said at face value and grinning the mischievous grin that would usually make Lena melt, playing along as if their situation was perfectly normal.

‘Now there’s an idea. I bet if you took a run up and pushed I could get up enough speed to make it all the way down without rolling.’

‘KARA!’

Lena’s voice cracked, and Kara’s smile faded as she finally noticed the tears glimmering on her lashes.

‘Hey… Lena, I’m just kidding.’

She knew that, of course. Downplaying and making light of traumatic events was Kara’s default coping mechanism, and she hadn’t even really been the one to start it this time… But still, it tore at the walls Lena was maintaining around her feelings and grated at her frayed nerves. The anger she had been trying so hard to tell herself wasn’t there stirred again, hot and desperate insider her, and she snapped:

‘Don’t. Not about this.’

She met Kara’s eyes as the expression in them finally began to lose its playful twinkle, but it wasn’t enough. She needed her to feel it, and Lena poured every ounce of sincerity she dared to express into her next words.

‘Kara... I’m furious with you for jumping off that roof. You understand that, right? I’m too relieved and you’re too hurt for me to yell at you about it, but I also can’t listen to you joke like it’s nothing. If you died it would break me. And if you died because of something so stupid-’

‘I won’t.’

Kara’s interruption forestalled the rest of Lena’s admonishment, but she wasn’t quite ready to leave it at that. She needed to hear her say it properly.

‘You won’t what?’

‘I won’t joke anymore. You’re right, it’s not fair on you. I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if it was the other way round, if it was you who had-’

Kara broke off with what probably would have been a shudder if not for her sore muscles, and nudged in a little closer against Lena’s side.

‘I promise I won’t do anything like this again. I really am sorry for what happened, I swear I never meant to cause all this trouble.’

‘So... why did you do it? I know you’ve been enjoying climbing and paragliding and the rest, but you must have known how reckless this was. What got into you Kara?’

‘I’ve been asking myself that ever since I woke up here, and the answer is… I honestly don’t know. Looking back I can see that it was a stupid thing to do, but it didn’t feel reckless to me at the time. I can’t explain it in a way that makes any sense, but when I was doing it, it just felt like I couldn’t fall. Like gravity wasn’t even an issue for me, and the air would catch me and carry me where I needed to go. Up on that rooftop I felt so close to- I don’t know, something. It was like if I just went on a little bit longer, jumped a little bit further, everything would click, and I wouldn’t need to keep chasing that feeling anymore… Urgh, that sounds so crazy. Maybe I am crazy.’

Lena softened at once.

‘Oh darling, of course you’re not.’

Actually, the explanation made far too much sense, and she couldn’t even really blame Kara for it (well alright, she could. Kara was still an adult supposedly capable of rational decision making who had jumped off a damned roof. But maybe it wasn’t just her fault). After all, Lena was the one that had poked a hole in her mental barrier without understanding how it worked and let just enough of Supergirl leak out to make Kara feel like she could fly without any of the actual accompanying powers to back it up. She was also the one that had made Kara promise to wait until they’d researched proper abseiling techniques, then failed to follow through and help her find a safe outlet when it was obviously something she badly needed. And she was the one who still, after months working on the problem, hadn’t found a way to bring back Kara’s memories and physical invulnerability to make sure something like this couldn’t happen to her in the first place.

Kara must be so confused...

‘It was probably just the adrenaline high, you got carried away. I’m sure you’re not the first person to experience that, and you won’t be the last. And as long as that was your last, I won’t keep going on about it anymore. I’m just glad you’re going to be alright.’

‘Me too. And it’s definitely the last, I’ve learned my lesson.’

The remains of Lena’s anger at her best friend drained away, and she let her head fall back into the pillows behind them in relief.

‘That’s okay then.’

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #my fic #kara x lena #supergirl fanfiction #multi chapter fic #Forgotten Not Forgiven

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