#so i had some left over stims and i found a couple more to fit the vibe. i rlly like how it turne dout tho; it hits a solid aesthetic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makaylajadewrites · 4 years ago

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What a Woman

Summary: JJ and Emily seemed to be paying extra special attention to Spencer, and it was hard to hide his discomfort and obvious surprise when they dragged him out of the conference room to have a “talk” as they both put it. But the idea they had in mind was something he would never consider, not even for a millisecond, and to even think of such a situation made his skin crawl.

“Will you at least consider it?” Emily asked desperately, both girls following after him as he searched for an escape in the precinct break room, gravitating towards the coffee maker instantly to pour himself a cup of the black sludge they called coffee in Philadelphia.

“Not even for a second."

Potential tws: hate speech/crimes, homophobia, transphobia, not so nice Rossi, smut

Word count: 7757

Traipsing through his routine in the morning was simultaneously painful and difficult. Every morning was the same; he would wake up at five thirty on the dot and complain and curse for ten minutes about getting up early, then he would drag his willowy frame through his apartment like a wandering specter. Once his Keurig was on, he would vanish into the bathroom where he spent nearly fifteen minutes showering, attempting to tame his wild hair, brushing his teeth, and, much to Derek’s admitted surprise, applying makeup.

Spencer didn’t wear a lot of makeup to work, and in fact it was hardly even noticeable. His under eye bags were dark, almost purple, and it seemed that his perpetual lack of sleep and constant stress from the job was what kept them permanent. But with the concealer and powder he liked to use, it diminished them somewhat, and at least made him feel a bit better about his appearance. It wasn’t socially acceptable for men to wear full faces of makeup just yet, and with Reid’s subtle nature, he would have to deal with it as quietly as he could.

But today, something was different

Derek looked up and greeted him with a fond, “Good morning, baby,” but his eyes quickly flicked downwards to take in the pink sheen over his diamond-shaped lips. Reid smiled shyly, leaning in to kiss him and when he pulled back, Derek looked somewhat dazed and surprised. But he said nothing, and Spencer was grateful for that. He turned away and proceeded to collect the coffee mug that Morgan had prepared for him while he was in the bathroom. Once Derek took his own shower and readied himself for the day, they set off to work

Now that they were a couple, Derek seemed to be having a difficult time in keeping his eyes off of Spencer, at home, at work, on dates… All the time, really. Spencer had questioned him about this with a bit of humor in tone, and Morgan explained that it was because he realized just how pretty Spencer was, from his fluid movements to his somehow graceful composure. But Reid was quick to shut that down, since he found it difficult to accept compliments regarding his physical appearance - especially his normal, every day appearance. He was too awkward, too stiff. He didn’t know what to do with his hands sometimes and his autistic tendencies would often appear in the expression of silent stimming, rather it be in the form of flapping hands or wiggling fingers. He was a freak, but Derek was appalled by that word and assured him that he was, honestly, quite precious. Derek always had an incredible protective streak, but Spencer never expected to be on the receiving end of that, especially not in such an intimate way.

It must have been his lipgloss today, because Derek was practically undressing with his clothes the second they stepped into the bullpen. Reid had a habit of wrapping his lips around almost anything he got his hands on, but even as frequently as he mentioned how unhygienic as it was, he still had a tendency of biting on a pen cap or keeping one of the little black coffee straws in his mouth - That probably wasn’t helping Morgan’s vivid imagination.

Prentiss had taken a keen interest in the couple, commenting briefly on the shared glances between them over the past month or so and often encouraging them to ‘get a room’ without actually understanding that they were in fact involved with one another. Spencer knew that they needed to be careful, hence his disparity towards PDA and any form of more-than-friendly interactions. They couldn’t afford to be figured out, not unless they both wanted to lose their jobs or be reassigned within the Bureau. But today, she just seemed desperate to point out the obvious change in Reid’s appearance, particularly his new addition to his usually bare face.

“Lipgloss today, Reid?” Prentiss asked, not unkindly and mainly more curious than anything. Reid’s head popped up from where it was bowed down over his desk, a pen fitting between his parted, shimmering lips. He smiled around the cap, nodding his head shyly.

“O-Oh, yeah… I was feeling a little bold, today, I guess,” he said in a bashful murmur, his chestnut curls falling around his pretty face. He looked over towards Morgan, thick lashes batting innocently against his high cheekbones while he offered him a hesitant smile.

“I like it! It’s pretty. Brings out the color in your cheeks,” Emily observed fondly, and Spencer seemed to brighten up considerably. That was a considerable compliment, especially since he had the complexion of a zombie on his good days. He popped the pen out from between his lips, sitting up a bit straighter and crossing his slim legs effortlessly under his desk.

“You think so? I still think I look a bit washed out on normal days,” Reid said. Morgan looked a bit incredulous, but JJ happened to be walking by in that very moment with case files in hand.

“Reid, you know much I like to prove you wrong, but today we don’t have time. We have a case,” she said, patting the stack of files in her arm with one hand and clicking off up the stairs and towards Hotch’s office. The trio shared a look before getting up and heading towards the roundtable room in a group. They took their seats, side by side, but Reid wandered off towards the break room to fix himself another coffee before they had to get into the nitty gritty and bloody details. Because who could stand looking at mutilated bodies without overly sweet coffee? Certainly not Reid.

When he returned, everyone was inside and waiting for him, and he muttered a sheepish apologize while scurrying to his seat beside Derek who just acknowledged him with a fond smile. Rossi looked at him a bit strangely but said nothing, most likely noticing the lipgloss on his lips but ultimately diverting his attention to the case instead.

“Alright everyone, we have a case involving three murdered individuals in Philadelphia. They were all found in alleys with their clothing removed,” Garcia said, her full lips pursed. Some pictures showed up on the screen, revealing their nude and beaten bodies, with several stab wounds littering two out of the three. She left out a rather important detail though in her introduction, and almost immediately, Rossi seemed to catch on.

“Whoa,” Emily offered quite lamely, her brows furrowing together.

“They were completely castrated…” JJ muttered, feeling uncomfortable and knowing her male colleagues had to feel worse.

“Is that…” he started, only for Morgan to intervene before he said something potentially insulting.

“Are they transgender?” Morgan asked instead, and Garcia tilted her head slightly, indication of a mixed answer.

“Local law enforcement is saying yes,” Hotch responded with a firm nod.

“Maybe even drag queens,” Reid spoke up, his chin perched in his hand as he overlooked the file with a clinical expression on his face. “Do we know for certain if they were transgender or is local police just assuming they are? Because that makeup is… quite adventurous,” he said honestly,

“At this point, I believe it is just speculation. We’ll find out for sure when we arrive. Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch concluded, standing up with file in hand and leaving the conference room to organize their flight. Everyone else lingered, and Rossi just had to ask the question that everyone seemed to be dreading.

“You know a lot about makeup, Reid?” He asked a bit standoffishly, looking up and down Reid as if sizing him up. Spencer blinked, suddenly growing incredibly aware of the light makeup on his own face. God, this was uncomfortable, and even though he was a grown man, he felt like he had just been caught by his father, digging into his mother’s makeup bag. Subconsciously, he licked his lips in an attempt to destroy the evidence of gloss.

“Um… Just basic stuff, I guess.” Christ, it was like coming out as gay all over again. I sort of like guys… Maybe just a little. He swallowed and looked towards Morgan who was glaring holes into an unassuming Rossi. But Dave just frowned and narrowed his eyes a bit. “Uh huh,” He hummed, looking over Reid once more before leaving the room after Hotch. The girls looked after him incredulously and Spencer felt exposed, certainly uncomfortable, and definitely awkward.

“If he says another word to you, just let me know,” Morgan said, squeezing his shoulder in a way that didn’t suggest anything more than a protective, brotherly relationship. Spencer smiled slightly at him, and the girls agreed with similar statements. But he couldn’t get too caught up in his own feelings. They had a killer to catch, and if getting his feelings hurt along the way meant putting him away, it was a worthy sacrifice.

Right?

“I’m SSA Morgan and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with agents Hotchner and Jareau.”

Even though Philadelphia was only three hours, they couldn’t afford to waste time. They had landed in Philadelphia after an hour jet ride and almost immediately split up, Rossi and Emily visiting the most recent crime scene while Morgan and Reid tackled the M.E. Hotch and JJ had already set up at the precinct and were busy in the conference room, but as Morgan and Reid arrived, they were instantly approached by a deputy who questioned them, and he looked over Reid incredulously, and it was enough to make the young doctor uncomfortable. He probably had trouble believing that scrawny Reid was actually an FBI agent. But the deputy just hummed and directed the m towards the conference room where they could see their colleagues at work. It seemed that Rossi and Emily had beaten them back to the precinct.

“M.E. was able to tell us that all of our victims were biologically male, which we already knew,” Morgan informed the other four agents, and Reid was quick to jump in.

“All of the victims were wearing makeup, as we already stated, as well as colored wigs. Now, what’s interesting about that is that they were all wearing wig caps with glue or tape applied as well, which is a common trick that drag queens use to keep their wigs on while performing,” he supplied knowingly, his hands locking together in front of his chest. He knew that feeling this nervous was probably a bit dramatic, but it was almost like a personal attack on him - especially since he was beginning to believe that these victims were in fact drag queens, and not transgender or crossdressing individuals. The universe sure had a sick mind, and Rossi’s constant staring wasn’t helping.

“We can confirm this with Garcia,” Hotch said, and quickly took out his phone to dial their beloved technical analyst.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Garcia’s bubbly voice sounded from the phone, but the mood was far too somber for any of them to even think of responding to her quirkiness.

“Garcia, can you look into our victims and see if they were involved in the gay community, specifically as drag queens? Look into local gay bars as well as any other significant venues.”

“Ah, drag queens and gay bars, two of my favorite things in one sentence,” she cooed while her fingers flew across the keys.

“You know, it’s also possible some of them were involved in non-profits geared towards LGBTQ people. We—I mean, sometimes drag queens will get involved as role models for the kids who get rejected by their friends and families,” Reid said, cursing himself for his little stumble. Again, Rossi looked at him hard, but Garcia was quick to respond.

“Alright, my queens, all three victims were regular performers at a local gay bar known as Syndicate. And our second victim, Collin Knicks, took several trips a month to volunteer at a nonprofit in the Big Apple focused on preventing LGBTQ suicides and helping at-risk individuals.”

“There’s our connection,” Emily said with a nod of her head. “So it’s a hate crime.”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” the local detective, Jim Stewart, said, his arms crossed over his chest. He frowned, looking over one of the crime scene pictures. “It’s possible he was interested in them sexually and when he discovered they were actually men, he became enraged.”

“I’m willing to bet that it’s a hate crime,” Morgan said confidently, and Reid instantly nodded in agreement, standing up a bit straighter in front of the map he had been glancing over.

“As am I. Twenty point four percent of all hate crimes are focused on an individual’s sexual orientation, and out of those 20.4, 56.7% were homosexual males. I don’t think it’s coincidence that all of these men were drag queens, and besides, not all of them were the overly feminine drag queens that can be mistaken for biological females. For example, our first victim was in a style commonly called camp, and in the drag community, that means overdramatizing feminine aspects of beauty. A lot of camp drag queens draw their inspiration from typical clown getups, especially in their makeup, but they also perform with clown values like comedy and satire.”

That left a few baffled individuals, in particular, Hotch, Rossi, and Stewart. Damn, he knew it was foolish to spout out information like that, especially since it implied intimate knowledge of the drag community. And again, it wasn’t a secret, but the less people who knew, the better, and the last thing he needed was his two superiors knowing of his pastime activity. He knew they most likely wouldn’t do anything about it, but he would rather Hotch and Rossi not know that he flounced around in women’s clothing and makeup in his free time.

Someone cleared their throat in a hope to dispel the awkward air that took over the room, and Hotch eventually, thankfully, decided to speak up.

“Alright, Reid. If this is a hate crime, how do you think the unsub targeted them? Through the clubs?” He questioned. Reid instantly nodded his head, pointing at the one bar on the map where all of the victims frequented for performances.

“Has to be. Syndicate, the bar, is at the center of all of the dump sites. They were all left in different alleys no more than two miles away from the bar, so I think it would only make sense to assume that this is where he is picking up his victims,” Reid said, his intelligence hardly surprising the rest of his team, “And since he’s been there before, I’m betting that he’s either a regular or he blends in.”

“Perfect… So how are we going to find a single fag in a bar full of ‘em?” The detective spat out, and his hate was pretty clear. If Reid wasn’t sure, he’d think that the detective could be their unsub.

“Watch your mouth,” Derek hissed dangerously, and Hotch was quick to cast him a sharp glare insinuating that he would get this under control, and if Reid knew Hotch well enough, he knew he would follow through with that.

“Do not refer to these victims as such slurs. Regardless of their sexual orientation or preferred gender identity, they were human and deserve respect,” He said both respectfully yet sternly, and the detective just shook his head with a huff.

“I just don’t understand what the world’s coming to. But fine, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. They were human.” Well, that problem was solved, for now at least. Reid feared that the detective’s clear disdain for these people - people like him - would rise to the surface again, but they would deal with that issue when it presented itself. They came to do their job, and regardless of how hateful some people could be, they couldn’t let that interfere.

Speculation wasn’t getting them anywhere, but over time, they were able to develop a profile, or at least a partial one; The unsub was a white male in his mid twenties to early thirties with homophobic ideologies that could possibly stem from religious beliefs. It was possible he was feeling homosexual tendencies and in an effort to dispel them, he killed the objects of his desire. Due to his ability to go to the same club on three different occasions without incident meant he blended into the crowd and was potentially a regular at the club. With nothing more to go off of, JJ and Emily seemed to be paying extra special attention to Spencer, and it was hard to hide his discomfort and obvious surprise when they dragged him out of the conference room to have a “talk” as they both put it. But the idea they had in mind was something he would never consider, not even for a millisecond, and to even think of such a situation made his skin crawl.

“Not even for a second,” he dismissed easily, pouring sugar into his coffee which he was beginning to suspect was actually really mud.

“Spence, please? This could be our only chance of catching the unsub,” JJ tried, looking both exasperated and equally as desperate as Prentiss. He frowned and shook his head, reaching a hand up to brush his messy curls away from his face with fingers he now realized were shaking just slightly.

“Guys, please… I can’t. Do you realize the impact that could have on my career? My reputation,” he said, his voice raising just slightly in pitch out of frustration.

“Spence…”

“I said no,” he said more firmly with a sharp frown set on his lips. It was too much of a risk for him to take. If word got around at the Bureau that the Dr. Spencer Reid was actually a drag queen, he would be devastated and ruined. He knew they couldn’t legally fire him over it, but the Bureau wasn’t the most liberal place in the world, so they would most likely search for an excuse to get rid of him. And in all honesty, every single member of his team had done something that would deem firing - and he was not exception to that.

The day continued on as was expected, and when evening came around and they had no leads, Hotch gave instructions for them to retire to the hotel. They all stopped at a local Thai restaurant for dinner though, and despite Rossi’s occasional hard glances, he was feeling a little less exposed than he had been before. When they finally made it to the hotel, it was simply common knowledge that he and Derek would be rooming together. Nobody really knew for certain that they were in a relationship, and although speculation would continue to circle the unlikely duo, they would neither confirm nor deny it. So it was simple to make the assumption that Reid and Morgan would share a room, but not as simple to assume they would be sharing the same bed.

“JJ and Emily made the suggestion that I go undercover in drag,” he said softly, wrapped in his lover’s warm embrace with nothing more than a pair of boxers on. He needed this… A sense of relaxation and a stress free environment where he could just wind down for a little, at least until the morning when he and Derek would both have to snap back into work-mode.

“Not such a bad idea, actually,” Derek said thoughtfully, and Spencer only proceeded to smack his muscular bicep. Derek only chuckled in respond, his arms squeezing slightly around his lithe lover in a form of comfort and reassurance. “But I won’t pressure you. We can catch the unsub without that, but I won’t say it wouldn’t be a helpful way to get him on our radar.”

“Derek… You know I can’t,” he murmured with a frown in place. Derek leaned in close and kissed his pouting lips, and somehow that was enough for Spencer to believe that anything was a good idea, at least until he sobered up from the sweet moment. “You know what that would do to me… I can’t.”

“And like I said, I’m not going to pressure you. But I will ask that you think about it, for the sake of our victims and their families.” Derek was obviously pressuring him, just not in a direct manner like the girls had done. At least Penelope wasn’t in on their little idea…

“Don’t try and guilt-trip me,” Spencer lectured weakly, pushing away from Derek’s embrace and rolling over, his back to the other man. He didn’t know what he was going to do. It would definitely help them, but was it worth it to put his own self at risk? It was in his job description, to put his life on the line to save others. But he was beginning to question the flexibility of those rules. Morgan followed him as he turned away, curling behind him and holding him close, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder.

“I’m not. I’ll respect whatever decision you make,” Morgan mumbled into his skin. Spencer sighed, hugging a spare pillow close while his lover’s hands laid over his stomach, feeling the concavity of his thin frame.

“Rossi’s been looking at me weirdly all day, and I don’t think my knowledge of makeup and drag queens and my ramblings of gay hate crimes really helped,” he admitted, and Derek just chuckled, the light stubble on his chin scruffy against his shoulder.

“Rossi is a conservative middle aged man with a Catholic-Italian upbringing. Are you surprised?” He asked and Reid just hummed a sound of amusement.

“You’re right… Doesn’t make me feel any better though. He seems both intrigued and suspicious, and almost disgusted in a way. I don’t know if he really feels that way or if he’s just surprised.”

“It’s probably a mixture of both,” Derek said honestly, his hand now moving up and down Spencer’s bare torso. “But you shouldn’t worry about it… I know you look up to him, but if he really does feel that way towards gay men, I don’t think you should torture yourself like that. It’ll only hurt in the end.”

“You’re right… Maybe I’m just overthinking it too,” he murmured, and Derek tilted his head slightly to nip at the shell of his ear, a sharp gasp responding to his ministrations.

“Want me to help you stop thinking for a bit?” Derek whispered, his breath hot against his neck. And Reid could only shiver in response, nodding his head immediately. Those hands traced along the expanse of his torso, thick fingers brushing over his sensitive nipples and over the contours of his ribcage. He could feel himself getting aroused, his boxers getting tighter around his growing erection.

“Oh, god…” Spencer breathed as Derek’s hand dipped down to squeeze the bulge through his boxers, his thighs quivering out of pure instinct. Derek always had the ability to make him shake, and even light touches could send him over the edge. But not tonight - he wanted this to drag out for as long as possible, so slow was good. His partner kissed his shoulder and neck, his tongue dragging a line from the base of his neck and up the length of his jugular to the underside of his jaw.

“You’re so pretty, Spence…” he murmured, his hand dancing across the fabric of his Dr. Who boxers, the TARDIS overlapping prints of itself in a spiral of blues. He stifled a groan as Derek’s hand finally delved beneath the waistband, grasping his cock at the base and squeezing before moving upwards. And just to be a tease, the bastard completely avoided the tip.

“Derek, please,” Reid whined, his legs kicking out childishly. Derek chuckled, kissing his jaw and on the next upward stroke, his thumb slid over his head, teasing the slit delicately before he went back to just fondling him. Spencer let his head tilt back and turn, his own lips seeking Morgan’s. Derek was quick to fulfill that wish, their lips meeting in a sloppy but still passionate kiss. Derek purposely set up a quickened pace of stroking then, and Spencer moaned into the kiss.

“Don’t make me gag you, Pretty Boy. You know how much I love those lips,” Derek chastised gently, his free hand connected to the arm underneath of Spencer slid across his chest, teasing his nipples. “By the way, I really like the lipgloss today… Couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Spencer choked on a moan, his hips jerking forward. Derek sure had a way with words.

“You don’t realize how gorgeous you are sometimes… You’re absolutely stunning, Spencer.”

“Derek,” he moaned softly, one of his hands raising to muffle the noises passing his lips. “‘M close…”

“Come for me, baby boy…” Derek encouraged, kissing up his neck and suckling on the skin near the junction of his neck and shoulder, but not hard enough to leave a mark. Spencer did just moments later, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, as he released in Derek’s palm, legs spasming and toes curling. He panted heavily, and in the afterglow, he hardly noticed Derek leaning away to wipe his hand on a tissue from the bedside table. He gathered Spencer in his arms and held him close, nuzzling his neck.

“You’re too good to me,” Spencer murmured softly, beginning to move to face him. “Your turn?” He asked, looking a bit confused when Derek shook his head.

“No, baby, that was all for you. Just relax, okay? We both need it,” he said, turning Spencer’s head to kiss him just one more time before they got comfortable in their spooning position. It was one of Spencer’s favorite positions to sleep in, mainly because it made him feel safe and warm. And god, was Derek good at it.

“Alright… Goodnight, Derek,” he said softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too, pretty boy,” he responded, “Get some sleep.”

The next day came, and JJ and Emily were relentless, as Spencer had expected them to be. He was beginning to get a bit frustrated with them, but that night when another victim turned up, a confirmed drag queen still in her performance outfit, he began to feel inclined to help in any way he could. He talked to Morgan in private throughout the day, and as he had previously stated, he would support Reid no matter what he chose to do.

God, this was so difficult. The pain these victims must have felt; the fear, the horror, the fact that they were alone… He had been through experiences where such emotions presented themselves in his own life, with Hankel, the bullying he suffered throughout high school, yet none of it could even compare to having his life snuffed out simply for being himself. That was enough for him to finally cave and let them know he was willing to do it - for the victims. They deserved that, in the very least.

“Hey Hotch, we were thinking, what if we sent someone in undercover?” Prentiss started, skirting around and avoiding targeting Reid immediately. It would probably be best to mention the idea delicately, since Hotch and Rossi had no idea of his pastime activities. They were both bound to be surprised and maybe even a little offset, but Spencer was willing to suffer a bit if that meant getting justice for the victims and their families.

“Who did you have in mind? Neither you or JJ could do it, since our unsub is targeting gay men dressed as women,” he said, looking a bit confused and glancing back and forth between the two women before his eyes fell on the lithe man partially behind him who raised his hand like he were swearing his oath in court.

“M-Me, sir, I’m offering,” Reid said, and oh, how comical Hotch’s face would have been in any other situation. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head, his lips parting just slightly in shock and his overall demeanor simply befalling his previous state of serious to shock. Rossi looked on with a mirrored expression, but his was less drastic, most likely because, and Reid assumed, that he had his suspicions already. “It’s… something I do in my free time anyway. Drag, I mean.”

Hotch cleared his throat quite awkwardly, proving to be even more awkward than Dr. Spencer Reid himself, and Rossi simply nodded mutely. Stewart looked shocked, and the deputy who had regarded Reid oddly before glanced back and forth between the doctor and the detective. “W-Well… I’m certainly shocked,” he admitted, shaking his head and frowning at the doctor, clearly having some suppressed judgement for the younger man.

“At this point, it wouldn’t hurt,” Morgan tried to offer, and Hotch nodded slowly as if contemplating this idea. He looked to Reid, still recovering from the shock but regarding him with a serious expression. “Could you do it tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Reid said with a firm nod, “I don’t have any of my… equipment, but a quick trip to a drugstore can solve that. I can just fix my real hair, since it’s long enough,” he said.

“No, call Garcia immediately. We need this to be as smooth and genuine as possible if we want to catch the unsub,” Hotch instructed. He supposed it would be easier with his own supplies, and definitely more convincing since drugstore makeup didn’t always cut it in drag. He stepped out of the conference to let his revelation settle with his two unknowing team members and the local detective and deputy. He dialed Garcia.

“Hi, baby boy, what do you need?” Garcia asked, her bubbly voice as happy and unassuming as usual. He sighed and felt his cheeks flushing pink already.

“H-Hi, Garcia. Is there anyway you can go to my apartment and, um, pick up my… supplies? I need them,” he said, hoping she understood what he meant since the idea of asking for makeup in the middle of a police precinct was not at all flattering. She giggled through the speaker.

“You mean your makeup? Are they sending you under?” She asked him curiously, another giggle following.

“Um… Yeah, yeah they are. I mean, I agreed to it, but I don’t really want to. Look, I just need this to be as easy as possible. Could you bring them? Please?” He asked desperately, and she responded in the affirmative. He lowered his voice to a near whisper for his next request, looking around frantically. “Also grab my curly brown wig. A dress will probably be best and a pair of heels, but not too tall. Okay?”

“Gotcha, Bria. I’ll be there in a few hours,” she promised him before they both said their goodbyes and hung up. Reid sighed and dragged a hand down his face, feeling a rise in his stubble and knowing he would need to shave before tonight. He would get there eventually, but he had to face his team again. He entered into the conference room and instantly, he felt how thick the tension was. He shivered, knowing that he had probably caused it and frowning at the looks on Rossi’s and the detective’s faces. The deputy looked a bit conflicted, and overall, emotions were pretty ranged among the group. Hotch maintained that serious expression, but it looked somewhat angered. JJ and Emily looked angry too, but with more distress than pure rage.

But Derek Morgan? Now that was rage.

He looked murderous, his hands balled into fists at his side, clenched so tightly his hands were shaking just slightly. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in a heavy frown. His dark eyes were narrowed into dangerous slits, and the tension in his jaw was scary.

“What’s going on, guys?” Reid asked meekly upon his entrance, and Derek instantly looked at him with a slightly softened expression before looking back to the detective and Rossi.

“Nothing. We’re leaving, to scout the bar before we send you in tonight,” he said, and Hotch was quick to join them in their departure. Reid cast a glance back towards the conference room as they fled from the precinct, and he wondered he would have the power to fix this, particularly with Rossi, when this case was done and over with. He sure hoped so, because he didn’t think he could work with a man who acknowledged him with nothing but disgust in his eyes.

By the time they were finished with the scouting, Garcia called Morgan and let him know that she was about an hour out. Reid immediately asked to be taken to the hotel so he could get ready, and fortunately, Hotch didn’t question this request. He was actually very good at not mentioning the whole thing, most likely because Hotch didn’t do well with his team members’ personal lives, especially not with confidential information like Reid had so willingly shared with him and Rossi for the sake of the case. Reid only hoped that in the end, it would bump him up a bit on Hotch’s respect totem pole to counteract against the criticism and negativity he was sure to receive in the aftermath.

“Do you need help with anything?” Morgan asked when they were in the hotel room together, and instantly, Reid shook his head and smiled, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

“I’ll be fine. Just make sure that Garcia is… discrete when bringing my stuff in. I’d rather the city of Philadelphia not know that an FBI agent is about to go undercover as a drag queen,” he said softly, and Morgan smiled softly, approaching the slightly frazzled doctor.

“I will…” he said, raising a hand and rubbing it along Spencer’s now-bare bicep. Morgan’s touch sent electricity sparking along his skin, and he shivered slightly, a frown marring his features.

“Hey…” Derek started, choosing his words carefully to avoid upsetting Reid, who was quite sensitive when it came to the approval of others. He had been searching for it all his life, so of course he was sensitive. "Rossi and Stewart are just bigots. They’ll see, after we catch the unsub how valuable your input was. And if they threaten you in anyway, you can see to it that I’ll take care of it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Reid dismissed as he shrugged the shirt off completely, halted in his undressing with the conversation at hand.

“Yeah, I do. Because you’re my man, and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe,” he said tenderly, and Reid just smiled and shook his head, turning away from Morgan and heading towards the bathroom. He was about to close the door only for Derek to block it with his foot, peaking in at his lover. “I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you,” Spencer said in response, leaning into the doorway and pressing their lips together before pulling back and meeting his eyes. “Now get out so I can get ready.”

Morgan didn’t question and immediately, Spencer set to work. He let the shower water warm up while he shaved his face, skillfully avoiding leaving any nicks or razor burn in his wake, and that was because he had done this a thousand times for this very reason. He rinsed his face off, reveling in his boyish appearance for a few seconds before undressing entirely and hopping under the steady stream of water. He washed himself up as usual but the majority of time was spent shaving his legs and underarms. It had been a couple weeks since his last performance so quite a bit had grown in that small time frame (primarily since he was a man, of course). Fortunately, he didn’t have chest hair or incredibly dark arm hair, so he never had to worry about that.

By the time he was finished, he could hear Garcia’s voice through the bathroom door. Wrapping himself in a provided bathrobe, he emerged and saw Morgan, Garcia, JJ, and Emily all sitting around the room, talking amongst themselves mainly. When Derek noticed him though, he smiled that show-stopping grin and approached the young doctor, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leaning in close, too close to be platonic, and instantly Reid tensed at the feel of his lover’s lips against his cheek. “Secret’s out, baby boy,” he hummed in his ear, and instantly his cheeks flushed and he looked down in embarrassment. The girls all squealed though, clapping their hands excitedly as if watching a rom-com.

“Congrats, guys,” Emily said happily.

“I knew it, I just knew it,” Garcia hissed at them. “You didn’t even have to tell me.”

“You guys aren’t as subtle as you think, that’s for sure,” JJ added in humorously.

“What about… Hotch and Rossi?” Reid dared to ask, and JJ immediately shook her head.

“They don’t know.”

“Figured we’d leave the hardest for last,” Derek said softly, kissing his lover’s cheek. A chorus of ‘aw’s’ met the action and Spencer playfully shoved Morgan away, his cheeks pink but a smile lingering on his lips. He tightened the robe around himself, sitting down on the bed beside Garcia. JJ and Emily took up the other bed, and Derek stood at the foot of both. He was worried about the repercussions of this little undercover mission, and as crucial as it was bound to be, he was still afraid of what could come from it. Because no matter how successful a person was, if they made one wrong move, their entire career could crumble. Reid didn’t want to fall into that category.

This wasn’t about to get any easier though. He had to do this. Spencer had work to do, and with a firm nod of his head and a newfound look of determination on his face, he began to gather his makeup.

He would become Bria soon enough, all it took was a lot of makeup and a little added confidence.

“Bria’s here, babies,” Reid’s voice sang out as he erupted from the bathroom in a flurry of long brown curls and strawberry body spray. He spun around in three inch heels, black in color with a strap around the ankle. The edges were scalloped over the closed toes and the heel of his foot. He wore a black body con dress with mesh sleeves and mesh over the chest, dipping down in between his breastbone. But since he obviously didn’t have breasts, he put his silicone breasts in place in the dress to further blur the truth of his masculinity. In truth, it wasn’t apparent that he was actually a drag queen at first, because in truth, he looked like a woman ready to hit the town. Damn, he felt like he could conquer the world like this.

“Yes, baby!” Garcia cheered, the other girls looking just as excited. Derek just looked slightly baffled yet enamored, as he always did when Spencer dressed in drag. But Reid had a job to do, and he couldn’t let anything distract him. Emily approached him and fixed a microphone to the front of his dress, the black apparatus blending in with the dress (which was partially why he asked for a black dress). As well as that, he wore a little earpiece as well, and fortunately his wig was able to cover that without issue. JJ and Emily were dressed up in typical club outfits too, and Morgan was dressed a bit nicer in a maroon button down and black slacks which really accentuated his muscular thighs… Reid looked away almost as soon as he noticed his eyes lingering, clearing his throat a bit.

“You guys are going in too?” He asked them, the three of them nodding simultaneously.

“Just in case anything goes wrong,” Emily said in her businesslike voice, all of them knowing that, despite the somewhat ridiculousness of the situation, this was a serious mission at hand, and lives could be at stake.

“I can’t wait to see Rossi’s face,” JJ admitted sheepishly, and Garcia giggled beside her as they all flooded out of Derek and Spencer’s hotel room to head to the bar together. But before they left the hotel, Derek pulled Spencer aside and grasped his biceps in his hands, scanning his lover’s face worriedly.

“If anything goes wrong, just say my name, pretty boy, okay?” Morgan said, and Spencer swallowed nervously before bobbing his head instantly.

“I will.”

Rossi and Hotch were already there by the time the group arrived, set up in a van outside for reconnaissance. With Garcia’s help, they had access to the cameras located in and outside of the bar, and with four of them on the inside, there would be no blindspots. When they arrived, Garcia departed from their group to slip into the van, and like she never left, the group of four sauntered into the bar in increments like they belonged.

All of their victims had been alone or had just performed at Syndicate, so they all had themselves placed strategically around the bar with all eyes on Reid as he stood alone at the bar, nursing a drink which appeared to be a daiquiri, but was in fact a virgin one. He still needed to fit in, but he couldn’t let alcohol distort his senses. He needed to be alert and focused, else they risked losing the unsub or a life - or both.

After about twenty minutes of standing alone at the bar, occasionally faking texting on his phone, a man began to approach Reid, albeit slowly, and through his earpiece, he could hear Hotch’s voice filter through to the rest of his team, “Heads up, someone’s taking an interest in Reid.”

The man in question was tall, about the same height as Spencer in heels, and he was broad shouldered. He wasn’t muscular per se, just bigger in size but not overweight by any means. He sidled up to Spencer’s side, laying his hand over top of his on the bar top and smirking at him. “Hey, baby. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all by yourself here?” He asked.

Now, in any other situation, a single Reid would have been flattered, because in truth, nothing about this man screamed unsub. He was charming, not overbearing in anyway, and frankly, his cologne smelled nice. Spencer’s lashes fluttered in mock surprise, his pretty pink lips turning up into a seductive smile. “Nothin’… Looking for a man like you to whisk me away for the night,” Bria purred in response, and he swore he heard the sound of someone choking on a drink in his ear.

“I think I might be able to help you with that. But first, what’s your name, princess?” The man asked. Bria giggled, walking her fingers up the man’s forearm and meeting his eyes.

“You can call me anything you want,” she whispered, “But Bria will do.”

“Bria… A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I’m Stephen.”

“Well, Stephen… What do you say we get out of here?” Bria asked softly, her hand now resting on the back of his neck. Internally, Spencer wanted to shiver and crawl out of his skin, but he kept telling himself he had to do this. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was the unsub just yet, but something deep in his gut was telling him to run, and Spencer trusted his fight or flight response more than anything. But keeping up the act, he sauntered away from the bar and led Stephen into the ally behind the bar.

Almost instantly, he was slammed into the brick wall, a solid oomph sounding upon his impact. Before he had a chance to catch his breath, he was thrown down to the ground and kick after kick was delivered to his torso and face. He knew that his team was most likely unable to decipher what exactly was going on, so in a panic, he cried out, “Derek!”

It take long for them to react to that, fortunately, because the back door of the bar swung open and his colleagues emerged from within the bar, guns drawn. At the opening of the dead end alley, Hotch and Rossi stood with their guns out as well. Reid, blood dripping from his nose, crawled away from the seething unsub and in Derek’s direction. Morgan immediately holstered his gun and approached Reid, helping him to his feet. Hotch apprehended Stephen, forcing his hands behind his back and cuffing him while reading his rights. Spencer looked to Derek with wide eyes, a smile growing on his lips as the realization caught up with him, and without him alone, they risked the lives of more people. He threw his arms around Derek’s neck and laughed his joy into his neck.

On the flight home, now dressed in his usual style, Spencer wandered down the aisle with a mug of coffee in hand and a tissue stuffed up in his bleeding nose. He hadn’t broken it, fortunately, he had just been kicked hard enough that it felt like he had. He joined the group at the table, Derek at his side and the Emily and JJ across. Hotch and Rossi were near the back of the jet, talking quietly amongst themselves while Hotch did paperwork as he usually did.

“Props to Dr. Reid for catching the unsub with some feminine mystique,” Emily said with a cute bow in Spencer’s direction. The doctor just smiled, leaning into Derek just slightly and exhaling a soft sigh of contentment.

“I’m just happy I was able to help, even if it was a… unique situation,” he said, happy that he had been able to catch a monster and take away his ability to hurt anybody else. Derek chuckled and held his hand under the table, squeezing slightly. He felt accomplished. After years of hiding himself and being ashamed of who he was in his professional life, he felt like he had defeated his own demons. He raised his eyes up and connected gazes with Rossi for a millisecond before the older man looked away.

It looked like he still had one demon to face.

<-Part 7: Origin | Part 9: Demons->

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #derek morgan #moreid #moreid smut #smut #drag queen Spencer Reid #a disaster if I ever wrote one

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babysizedfics · 4 years ago

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4!!!

-🍼

vee shows michael her pacis

vote from this concept voting post!

so its the first time michael has visited the house since vee told him about her regression. he was super supportive and understanding - honestly it made a lot of sense given what he had seen of her behaviour

and michael reassured her that he was okay with it all and that she can regress with him if she wants to. so before michael visits, vee purposefully doesnt hide any of the little items around her room as she had done every time he visited previously

and when michael comes in he sees the sanrio and winnie the pooh colouring books on her bed. he just smiles and asks if she was doing colouring before he got there

vee gets a bit shy because its so much more real to have him actually talk abt it openly, and she just shakes her head, blushes and starts to chew her nail

michael obviously notices her nervousness so he doesnt push anythinf and they just sit down on the bed to watch a cartoon - michael isnt into kids shows rlly but hes been watching steven universe with vee recently

and eventually vee notices michaels gaze has wandered during the show and hes looking at the bedside table - she looks and goes rlly red because she FORGOT that she left out a couple of pacis,

she looks up at michael kindve scared that hes gonna think its weird but he just gives her a soft little look and whispers "do you wanna show me them?"

vee squeaks and quickly hides her head behind his shoulder and he giggles "its okay we dont have to" and goes back to watching the screen

but vee is chewing her lip and fidgeting with michaels sleeve and then after some internal debate and a lot of nervousness she tugs his sleeve

so michael looks down at vee and she just,, points to the pacis silently

michael nods "yeah kitty, i saw the pacifiers. did you wanna show me them?"

and hes sounds kind, michael is always so kind, that she nods rly shy but clings to his arm tighter, not moving to pick the pacis up.

so michael reaches over and picks both of them up and puts them gently in her lap,

her fingers go to the lilac sparkly one instanty and turn it over in her hand and michael prompts "is that your favourite one? its definitely your favourite colour"

and vee just smiles and feels less shy and "um yea.. i think so.... but- but um i like all of them really..."

and she tells mimi abt all the different colours she has and how nice they feel in her mouth and she even mentions that she uses them when big sometimes for anxiety - she flips the dark blue one over to show him the clear teat and explains that one is better for chewing. thats why she has two next to her all the time so if shes little she goes for the softer cloudy teat and if shes big and anxious she uses the firmer clear one and it helps her breathe slowly

michael is actually super impressed and curious about that "oh! oh like oral stimming! like the chewy necklaces!" and vee smiles "yeah!"

then the convo abt the pacis goes quiet and vee is leaning against him and fiddling with the lilac paci in her lap, smiling softly down at it

then suddenly michael asks, sounding almost shy "kitty? can i maybe... ask you something?"

vee feels her heart stutter. she gets rlly nervos and her eyes tear up in a second because oh no hes uncomfortable he thinks its weird he's gonna ask me to never show him little stuff again oh no

she rlly quiet goes "mhm" and braces herself

then mimi asks rlly sweetly "can i maybe see you with it in? its okay if not i just kinda wanna see..."

vees cheeks quickly go hot and she pulls back a little to look up at him and check his facial expression

he's smiling a little shyly. "i promise its not because i wanna laugh or anything i just... i dunno i just wanna see, i think itll be cute" and hes a bit blushy

vee is completely thrown off by michael actually wanting to see her use her paci but,,, she hesitates then RLLY quickly puts the paci in her mouth and hurriedly covers her face with both hands

mimi giggles and says "aww vee, its ok! but i cant see you" and he rlly gently puts his hands on top of vees and she doesnt react badly so he pulls them away from her face and chuckles "hello kitty!"

at the nickname she slowly looks up at him and is sucking the paci noticeably now to help with the nerves. its bobbing in her mouth and shes blushing and her eyes are wide and michaels face instantly lights up and he coos "AWWW KITTY 💖" really gushing and adoring

vee breaks into a big big smile behind her paci and she squeaks and buries her head on michaels shoulder again as he tells her "vee oh my gosh, you look even cuter than I thought!"

"nooo mo mo" vee giggles embarrassed, itching to crawl into mimis lap but theyve never done that before so she just settles for wiggling her butt on the bed and pulling her skirt down to make sure mimi can't see her pullup

"yes yes! youre so pretty kitty~" michael says really baby talky and pokes her cheek softly (he knows she loves being called that) (she squeals a little)

michael doesnt draw too much attention to vee after that, after the little blushy giggle fit he asks her if she is regressed and she takes her paci out to say she isnt, if she was regressed she wouldnt be able to talk or really sit up on her own

so michael asks more about how she uses the pacis as a grownup for anxiety. and after talking about it they both simultaneously pause then go...

"do you think you might wanna try?"

"do you think it would make me calm?"

and then they both giggle and vee hands the dark blue paci to michael smiling rlly big and her chest is bubbly with excitement because mimi is making this feel so NORMAL and fun!

and thats why when patton walks into vee's room twenty minutes later with snacks and appl mango juice, he is greeted with the image of vee sucking her sparkly lilac paci and having fallen asleep on michaels shoulder, and michael just scrolling on his phone and spinning the blue paci in his mouth

patton actually immediately whisper apologizes, he thought that michael would be embarrassed and that it was meant to be a secret

but michael isnt embarrassed at all, he asks through the paci "oh hi pap! are bose cookiebs?"

pat nods and places the snacks on vee's desk then quietly asks if michael regresses too (he was totally ready to adopt btw lol)

but michael just laughs and takes the paci out and is like "nah i just wanted to see what it feels like but i dont think theyre for me. kitty sure looks cute with them though"

then he looks down and smiles at sleepy vee whos just blinking awake and she asks rlly quiet and high pitched "wh- mimi?" through her paci

michael giggles and looks rlly softly down at vee as he pokes her nose "im still here, kitty. you fell asleep"

and vee sighs and buries her face against his arm and suckles on her paci more

michael laughs and wiggles his arm to get her to stop faling asleep "vee no cmon your dad brought snacks! i wanna eat, get off"

and of course that makes vee cheeky and she wraps both arms tightly around mimis arm and closes her eyes as if she's asleep but shes smiling mischievously behind her paci

"nooo im hungry" "im theepy!" "no youre not sleepy you were already sleeping!" "till theepy" "youre not, youre hungry" "nop hungy" "YOU ARE im speaking it into existence your so hungry right now" "nooo thtop it!" "no i wont stop you are LITERALLY starving you want a cookie so so bad right now, you want a chewy sweet cookie and nice cold apple mango juice" .... "arrghhh now i wan cookieth and juith!" "hahahha"

and patton just watches on with the softest smile because hes so happy vee found such a wonderful supportive friend

#I LOVE MIXHAEL I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM #little/big michael #little/big concepts #little/big ocs #agere virgil #ts agere #cg patton #asks #🍼 anon

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capricornus-rex · 5 years ago

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*pokes fingers together* If you take promts, I'm not sure if this has been done before but what about reader getting a semi-serious injury so they're out of action for a while (like lightsaber holding wrist/arm/etc) but they are restless and want to get back into practicing and battling really quick, pushing themselves and of course Cal is there to make sure they... don't. XD Taking care of them, refusing practice until they are fully healed and such. Well, only if you like the idea ofc~ :3

I think I’ve done something similar to this but only for a minor wound, so this time you’re the one with the major wound prompt hehe ^w^ Sorry if it’s a bit too short, but I hope you’d still like this! 💕

“Just A Scratch” | Cal Kestis x Reader

Masterlist

The quaint settlement town in Lothal is disturbed by the hot pursuit of two Jedi. The speeder bikes zoomed past the denizens, shifting left and right to catch up with the Jedi taking the sharp turns around the curb.

“Stop there! Insurgents!” the patrol trooper taking the lead barked.

“This way, hurry!” Cal snatched you by the arm and made a blind turn to the alley.

Squeezing yourselves in that narrow annex, Cal waited and listened for the sound of the speeder’s engine receding. You slowly peeked your head over the wall and surveyed the street left and right.

“Are they gone?” Cal mumbled.

“I think so,”

You emerged out of that tight fit and scanned again for good measure. Cal followed when you confirmed that the coast is clear. The two of you headed to the direction you intended to go. As you sprinted through the streets, both of you were watchful on the turns and curbs along the way—presuming that there’d be a Stormtrooper or two waiting for you.

Cal scraped his boots against the road when he spotted a couple of Stormtroopers coming out of the curb ahead of you.

“Nope! This way, this way!” he whispered, snatching you by the wrist and dragging you to the alleyway directly beside him.

This whole pursuit is happening in this maze of a town. It’s amazing that Lothalites are able to navigate their way through such a complicated layout. After one wrong turn, you ended up getting spotted by a group of three guards—one on a speeder and two Stormtroopers.

“I found the insurgents! They’re in the western alley at Block 8C!” the Stormtrooper radioed and aimed his blaster at you.

“Oh crud, RUN!!” you screeched and turned the other way.

The two of you easily deflected the Stormtroopers’ shots but are now in pursuit of another patrol trooper—this one wasn’t even riding the scooter-like model, the one he drove was the kind of speeder bike armed with blaster cannons.

After a while of sprinting, Cal noticed that the sound of the speeder bike has receded.

“Is he still on us?!” Cal asked.

“I don’t even wanna look back!”

In your collective periphery, the trooper has made himself quite resourceful with the environment—he slid up a toppled awning that led him to the rooftops as he continued the chase, he really hit the pedal to the metal with his bike until he’s gotten ahead of you. The two of you watched his entire stunt as you ran.

“What is he doing!?” you squealed.

The biker patroller jumped off a rooftop when he got to a considerable distance ahead of you—that was his plan all along: he meant to cut off your path by going on ahead and stopping you there. You hate to admit that the trooper was good driver and a daredevil nonetheless.

He had his speeder bike idled on one end of the road while the two of you stood at the other.

With the press of a button on the dashboard, the barrels of the cannons whirred and aimed at the general direction of his enemy, the trooper’s thumb rested on the trigger, it trembled with eagerness as he peered through the black visor of his helmet.

The Jedi couple unclipped their sabers from their belts.

Promptly, the trooper pressed the button, releasing two simultaneous shots from the cannons. Compared to typical handheld blasters, projectiles from vehicle cannons were much trickier to deflect and required more precision. Your eagle eye spotted the barrel of the cannon pointing at Cal and the trooper was lowering his thumb to the red button.

“CAL, WATCH OUT!!”

You shouldered Cal out of the line of fire. In exchange, your dodge got lousy and the thick, red projectile had cut through your sleeve, gravely injuring your bicep. A mixture of clear liquid and hot blood trickled smoothly down on your skin. The pain was so sharp and abrupt that the fingers that curled around your lightsaber rendered completely limp. The burning sensation made you fumble to your knees.

“[Y/N]!!”

Cal quickly dragged you out of the scene, keeping you cover behind a stack of crates before facing the trooper.

The biker sped straight ahead, closing its distance from the Jedi; in the blink of an eye, when the vehicle was just neck-and-neck with Cal, he severed the two-pronged front and the blaster cannons with his saber until the vehicle spun out of control and then crashed into another incoming biker scout.

He watched the enemies and their vehicles reduced to shrapnel and flames as he took deep breaths. He immediately turned his attention to you. You struggle to take slow, rhythmic breaths while easing yourself from the pain. Cal slowly removed your other hand that’s been pressuring on the wound to stop the bleeding. You winced and breathed through clenched teeth when he separated your hand from the injury, blood and water curdled under your hand until it became a sticky mixture to make your palm appear glued to the flesh wound.

“BD, stim!”

“B-Boo!!”

BD-1 popped out a single stim from his container and Cal injected the bright green syringe on your shoulder. You winced at the quick jab of the needle as the substance entered your body.

“Aww God, I can’t feel it,” you moaned.

“The stim?”

“No, my arm,”

“Come on, I’ll help you up,”

Cal made a crutch out of himself for you as he helped you hobble your way back to the outskirts of the town where the Mantis is.

Even though Cere wasn’t surprised anymore to see either of you coming home with a scratch, she always gives that stern, motherly look at both of you when she greets you by the door or at the couch.

“Just a scratch!” you scoffed smugly at her.

“That’s one hell of a scratch, if you ask me,”

“Nothing a little bacta can fix,” you winked as Cal shepherded you to the bedroom.

“Alright, alright, let’s get you cleaned and patched up!”

He helped you remove your top which now has a large gash on the sleeve, revealing the flesh wound with dried blood smeared on its radius.

“Thing of beauty, isn’t it?” you blurted jokingly.

“I’m glad the trooper didn’t hit your funny bone,” he chuckled back. “Wait here, I’ll just get some water.”

For the next minute, you stared at the flesh wound. The clear liquid clumped and dried, turning into a slight yellow color, you carefully plucked out the fibers that adhered to the surface of the injury. The sound of the bathroom door shut and Cal returned to the room.

“Don’t pick at it,” he lectured.

“It’s just the threads of my shirt,”

He soaked then wrung a towel in the bowl of water he collected from the bathroom, gingerly wiping off the dried blood and then daubing the wound itself. One of the things you loved about Cal is how gentle his hands were—for a scrapper, no less.

“I guess I owe you one,”

“It’s nothing, Cal,”

“No, really,” he looked at you with sincerity in his clear, green eyes. “Thank you. I don’t know how you do it but you’re always saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” you leaned closer to kiss him on the forehead.

The cycle repeated: soak, wring, and dab. When it was finally clean, he cut a strip of bacta—long enough to ring around your arm—and secured it with its adhesive.

“There, all patched up. You’re not gonna use that lightsaber for a few days,”

“So… I’m out of action for now?” Cal replied with a nod and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t get any funny ideas unless you want your other arm hurt,”

You sighed in defeat. There was no more room for argument. Cal playfully touched the tip of your nose, consoling you with a cheek kiss before leaving the room to return the materials. Simply reaching for your saber became a struggling, as the slightest turn strained your arm and—albeit limp—it felt heavy. To make the numbness go away, you flexed your fingers, opening and closing your fist at a pace, though you found it hard to maintain your usual grip.

You practiced the grip exercises on one of the tools sitting on the workbench. You practiced gripping on a wrench—starting off softly, you gradually progressed to the usual tightness of your grip but your fingers felt numb as well. Frustrated, you dropped the tool and sat back on the bed—and Cal had spotted you trying to regain your grip.

“Look, I know it’s hard right now, but trying to practice on anything isn’t a good idea right now,”

You grumbled something indistinct, Cal held your cheeks and then smothered your face with kisses. He took you out of the room so you could join everyone for lunch.

That afternoon, everyone lazed inside the ship—except for you, of course. You snuck out of the ship, tiptoeing past the cockpit—luckily, Merrin had her back turned when facing the holotable—and you hit the button as quietly as you could. You slipped past the door, finally, and the soles of your boots found the grass.

It looked and felt awkward, but you unclipped your saber with your left hand—which you aren’t obviously used to—and did some handling practice with it unignited.

“Okay, so far, so good. Could never go wrong with basic spins,” you tell yourself.

You thought that igniting then wielding it in a non-dominant arm is the stupidest thing that ever crossed your action-desperate mind. You switched the saber to your good hand and repeated the same grip exercises that you did with the wrench earlier.

Even if it pained you whenever you moved it, you tried to perform your usual attack swings and strikes, a spinning attack would be the most daring in this circumstance.

You came to the conclusion that it was lousier when wielding it with your dominant but messed up arm.

“My right arm is practically dead at this point,” you scoffed.

You looked for something to practice your left-handedness on, you spotted a withered tree trunk standing not far from the ship and you decided to walk towards it.

In less than two paces, you feel an arm hook around your waist, causing you to drop your lightsaber to the soil. He hoisted you up to his shoulder until you’re hanging behind his back, while securing you by the thighs.

“Where do you think you’re going, kitty cat?”

“Oh come on!” you whined, smacking his back in retaliation. “I swear I wasn’t going to the tree to practice.”

“Uh-huh, sure you are,” Cal replied with his signature sarcasm, blatantly ignoring your light slaps on the broad of his back. “Bad girl.”

You gradually gave up on the continuous, light slapping on his back as he carried you all the way back to the ship. You reached for your saber, pulling it with the Force towards your hand before he could get farther.

“Sneak out once more and I’ll punish you,” he firmly said.

“Okay,” you nonchalantly replied, waving your saber around as he marched. You smirked to yourself. “I’ll sneak out tonight then.”

“No, you’re not,”

The two of you mockingly bickered back and forth whether or not you’ll sneak out in the dead of night just to get a swing of your saber. He settled you down on the couch like a toddler, bent down to level with you and looked at you in the eye.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes,” you perked.

“Promise me you won’t sneak out first,”

“Of course, it was a damn bribe,” you muttered.

“Promise?” he repeated, but sternly this time.

With a comical innocence, your free hand held your right arm by the wrist, raised it up in mid-air and a limp hand bobbed to the side.

“Padawan’s honor,”

Cal raised an eyebrow.

“What rank do you want? Grandmaster’s honor?”

“Good girl,” he smiled and kissed the tip of your nose before retreating to the kitchen.

Your eyes followed him until he began fishing out cups and spoons from the drawers. Utensils lightly clattered here and there, the viscous chocolate sloshed from the pitcher to the glasses. He brought one for each of you and he cuddled into you on the couch. He scooped up your legs and rested them over his lap, he puts his arm around your shoulder, sipping away the sweet liquid each minute while nuzzling his cheek on your head.

“I hope this heals soon,” you muttered, a sad, bored tone rang in your words.

“Soon, sweetie,” he kisses your forehead. “Soon. Then we’ll go practice once it’s not so bad anymore.”

“Promise?” you angled your head up so you could look at him in the eye.

He smiled at the sight of your soulful, puppy eyes.

“I promise.”

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tisfan · 5 years ago

Text

The Works

Title: The Works Written by: @tisfan (3023) Square: R2 - Hydra Won (swapped square) Rating: Mature (for horror) Triggers/warnings: Tags: Hydra Won, ambiguous ending, incomplete Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 2346 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23753566/chapters/59696779 Summary: It had been his last act, getting the sleep-pods onto the ship and launching it, the whole time, holding Hydra at bay, keeping her here, keeping her distracted. And then she’d struck, casting some evil magic over him, over--He couldn’t remember.

__________

¬░▒╛┐z░¬ date ┴╗╣⌐g__d morning soldier ▒¬º╖ç

The old AI wasn’t working.

Which had been the plan, Barnes, get it together.

The man above him -- well next to him now that Bucky had sat up -- was something like a vision. They exchanged names, greetings. The man. Tony. Had asked some questions.

Bucky’s lips were warm. Tingling.

Tony had kissed him. To wake him up. To break the spell.

“Hydra won,” Bucky said. He wasn’t even sure he was speaking out loud, but he must have, because Tony was responding.

“That’s long since over,” Tony said. “There’s no Hydra anywhere in this sector.”

“She’s sleeping, because I was sleeping,” Bucky said. “I shut her down by shutting myself down. She might be back.”

“I didn’t see anyone else on this ship, except you and an awful lot of rabbits.”

“Rabbits?” Kobik had had some pet rabbits; a whole hutch of them. Part of the experiment. Could a space station become truly self-sufficient? The answer still looked like no, but some hutch and farm animals did function pretty well. There’d been goats at one time, too, but in the last days of the war, Bucky thought they’d all been eaten.

“They’re all over the place. My AI tells me they’re rabbits. I’ve never seen one, honestly.”

“Where th’ hell’d you grow up you ain’t never seen a rabbit,” Bucky wondered.

“I did mention the part about three hundred years, right?”

“Right, yeah,” Bucky said. “Uh, is there anything to eat?”

“There’s some mealpacks back at my ship,” Tony offered. “But unless your stuff is in permastore, I don’t think anything from here will be safe.”

“Water?”

Tony pulled out a canteen. That, at least, hadn’t changed much in form or function for centuries. Spout to put liquids in or to drink from, a standard filtration system, and a strap to carry it with. Why improve on something that was already perfect? Filters would, of course, adapt over time to whatever contaminants were in the water. “Human physiology hasn’t changed all that much,” Tony said. “I don’t think my filters will hurt you. But you have to be careful. Don’t drink from a Centurian’s canteen. They add in a lot of stims and endorphins to their water. Warrior race, but it gives the rest of us a twitchy stomach.”

“Good to know,” Bucky said. “How will I know who they are?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll usually tell you,” Tony joked. “They’re blue-skinned marsupials, with a red crown of-- head spikes, for lack of a better word.”

“Marsupials?”

“They carry their young around in a stomach pouch until they’re old enough to walk around. It’s a convenient arrangement,” Tony said.

“Okay, then,” Bucky said. He took a few sips of Tony’s water and then returned it to him. The nanites in his system would filter anything harmful out, and if he could eat soon enough, would get him back to fighting fit. Otherwise, he might possibly go into a cyber coma. He didn’t see the need to alarm Tony just yet. It wasn’t urgent. “We can check the mess, see if there’s any supplements left. They won’t go bad.”

Worst case, he could probably chase down one of the rabbits and skin it for food.

The whole station was both dead and alive at the same time. The hydroponics bay had escaped containment; there were vines and plants everywhere.

They’d probably grown, at least somewhat, in the remains of the dead. Bucky shuddered.

The rabbit colony hopped in and out of the dense plant growth. Unafraid, and why would they be? A rabbit only lived nine or ten years. There had been generations of them, since they last saw humans.

“Did, uh, did the colony ship get away?” Bucky asked.

It had been his last act, getting the sleep-pods onto the ship and launching it, the whole time, holding Hydra at bay, keeping her here, keeping her distracted.

And then she’d struck, casting some evil magic over him, over--

He couldn’t remember.

��£┼¬░▒-▒¿╟┼longing▒░┼╝º

“We never came across any ships from the Ring,” Tony said, as if apologizing, “but if you can give us mass and trajectory, I might be able to track it down for you.”

Sleep pods would last. If Bucky’s lasted, theirs would last.

He shook his head, wondering. Maybe they’d gotten out, maybe they’d gotten away. Away from Hydra, locked in her cold sleep with Bucky.

He wondered where she was.

She might still be on the station. He turned his gaze on Tony. That would be a strange form for her to take; Tony seemed sincere. But then, witches always seemed sincere, didn’t they?

“Sir, I’m reading some strange energy spikes in the station,” a voice said, coming from-- from Tony.

“My AI,” Tony said, as if apologizing. “Anything hazardous, Jay?”

“Not as yet, but you might want to consider retreating in the next few hours. Radiation levels are rising.”

“What’s the plan with the bunnies?” Tony asked. “Can we evacuate them to a planet?”

“I’ve already sent out a beacon pod, locating the station. Hopefully it will be able to float through the Ring, and broadcast from there.”

“Good job.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You’re worried about the wildlife?” Bucky asked, incredulous. Definitely not the witch, then. She wouldn’t have cared about the life of a bug, beast, or boy.

“They’re alive,” Tony said. “There’s no point in killing them. We’ve got biologists back on the various Initiative ships that can relocate them somewhere that they won’t be an invasive species. Well, technically, they’ll be invasive, but a careful selection will make sure they will fit in with the local ecosystem. Worst comes to worst, we can sell them as pets and novelties on Knowhere Station.”

“We do have cargo space in the lower deck,” JARVIS pointed out, “if you’re not planning to salvage much.”

“Salvage, right,” Tony said, snapping his fingers. “I got so carried away by Sleeping Beauty here that I forgot I was looking for valuables. What say you, hot stuff? You got anything worth selling on this floating coffin? Split it with you, 50/50.”[]

¥ƒ▀¥▒╜┼┼pжавыйÉ»¥┼╟╞─rusted▒╗▓

Bucky shook his head. “I think it’s all salvage now, rules of the drift,” he said. “Do you have policy in place for survivors?”

Back in his day, anyone found on the drift in space -- hypersleep accidents happened often enough that people could outlive their assets, their grandkids, their governments -- that some effort was made to track down any remaining property, they got a six month high intensity sleep-learning degree, and sent off into the world with a small stipend.

Bucky’d known a couple of them. Steve Rogers had done a Big Sleep, seventy years or more. Gone to sleep as a Private, cook’s assistant during the war and woke up as a Captain through time in rank.

Strange thing, really.

“You might be considered the longest standing prisoner of war,” Tony said. “Not that it matters, there’s a fortune to be had on this station. Split it with me, you won’t have to worry about it. This is all approved salvage. I have a license.”

He knew his way around the station, even with the plants and the rabbits. The rabbits were freaking him out a little; they kept following-- sticking their curious noses out of the underbrush. He wondered how they’d lived so long. Usually life support shut down when no one was breathing it.

Which meant Hydra had to be on the station somewhere.

“Why split it with me, then?” Bucky wondered. “License for salvage, you don’t need to--”

“Because I may be an asshole a lot of the time,” Tony said, “but I am not one hundred percent a dick.”

╜£Éëδ╗»╟┼╞─┬┴seventeen╜╝╗▒»▒┼

“If you want,” Bucky said. They finally made it to the messhall, and the sub-freeze was still reading green, so Bucky used his thumb print to open it. “I can recon some of these food packs.”

“You call this stuff food,” Tony said, incredulously. “You, my friend, you have been suffering. Recon has come so far since your day. Jay, can you dish up a four course for us?”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS said.

“What’s considered a high value item?” Bucky wondered, picking out a few recon packs. He added water to the cooker, stuffed the packet in the slot and watched as the not-particularly interesting, but high calorie, high vitamin cereal poured itself into a reusable cup. The spoons were a little iffy, so Bucky added more water, and then drank it as a gruel. Yuck, but it would keep his systems intact for a while longer. Just a little while longer.

He just needed to know what happened to Hydra.

Where was she?

Not in the messhall, that was for sure.

Tony was still running down a list of items -- elements that could be repurposed. Titanium, protactinium, thorium. They’d had those in ample supply at one point. Potable water, preferably in ice form, which was easier to tow.

“Wait, what was that last thing?”

“Etherium gas,” Tony said. “Might as well as for unobtainium, or wishalloy.”

“What, why?”

“As far as we know, stable etherium is a fantasy,” Tony said. “We’ve got plausible theories, but no one’s ever gotten a hold of the stuff before. I was spinning castles in space.”

“Um.”

╟S│ªS▒»░▒O1█┼daybreak▒»╟╗╣╕ë

“We have a tankful, at least,” Bucky said, “if nothing’s changed. That’s what we were mining, here--”

Tony was staring at him as if he’d said the moon really was made from green cheese.

“A-- let me get this straight. A tank. How much is in a tank?”

“It’s not really my department,” Bucky said, “but last I checked, about twenty thousand gallons of liquid etherium.”

Tony stopped moving, he seemed to stop breathing.

“I think we just became the richest men in the galaxy,” he said, finally. “Show me where this tank of yours is. Can we detach it for hauling?”

Bucky nodded. It was the gas, he thought. That attracted Hydra. She’d come because of the gas, and they’d fought her over the gas.

Witch.

Monster.

╟╗▒░ªÜfurnace▒»½▒╟┼╣

“Tony--” Bucky said, reaching out his hand. He caught hold of the other man’s wrist. “The gas--”

“Perfectly safe, cupcake,” Tony said. “We’ll make sure there’s no leaks, then we can just haul it away. Easy peasy, nice and cheesy.”

Bucky was pretty sure the phrase didn’t go that way.

And it wasn’t safe.

If Hydra was still on the station, that would be where she was.

Hibernating, maybe.

Or just waiting. Lurking.

He wanted to speak, it was like he’d forgotten the words, and so instead of saying anything, he just turned and led Tony deeper into the station. Down into the Works, the mag-engines and the hydropods, the storage and the plumbing, the fuel cells. It was dark there, wet and heavy somehow. The plant life stopped, which wasn’t surprising, and while there were a few rabbits down this deep, they didn’t seem… normal.

Mutations, perhaps.

Bucky shuddered the thought away.

Tony had said he’d sent out a beacon.

Help-- someone could help them.

Maybe someone would come.

I don’t have to run faster than Hydra, I just have to run faster than you.

Not true, and everyone knew it. Hydra was so fast. She was there before you even knew it. She wasn’t a sight, or something to touch. A witch, some sort of presence.

“Here,” Bucky said. “This is the shut off station. We’ll need to disconnect, and run diagnostics. That can take a few hours--”

“Don’t worry, Jarvis is already in the works, he’s a lot faster than your old systems,” Tony said. “We’ll be on our way back to civilization before you’re even sleepy.”

╟»▒░½Ü¢Ö▒»╟┼nine┼»Q▒»░▒╟┼

“Do you hear something,” Bucky said. He took a few steps down toward-- he didn’t even know. Something was down there. Calling him. Like a magnet that he was too pinlike to resist. A flame, to draw away a moth. It would burn him up, and he knew it, but he could not--

“Hey!” Tony’s hand was hard on his wrist, the fingernails biting lightly into his skin. “Hey, Bucky. You okay?”

“No, I don’t think I am,” Bucky said.

“Jay, how’s it look?”

“You may come back to the ship at any time, sir,” JARVIS said. “I can handle the disconnect from here.”

“Gotta be sleep-shock,” Tony was saying, “I’m so sorry, you seemed okay, let me just--”

Tony was leading him away.

Away from answers.

Away from--

▒┼╟╗╦Ñ▒»╟benign▒┼╫D░▒½¬

“It’s all right, you don’t have to do anything else, I’ve got you,” Tony said.

And he did. Somehow, this man was… carrying Bucky. Like he was a sleepy child. Bucky blinked.

“Nanites,” Tony said. “They’re pretty amazing. I know you had ‘em back in your day, my scans show you’ve got some yourself. I think there’s something interfering with yours, though. Maybe they’re just old. We can do a filter, get you fixed up. It’s all right, just let me take care of you.”

That was nice, somehow. The idea of just letting go. Of letting Tony take care of things. Letting him take care…

Of Hydra.

Would it even be possible? That the witch could be defeated by something as simple and small as human technology?

“Jay, get me a stretcher, would you, buddy?”

Bucky couldn’t see anything; everything was getting cold, frozen. His eyelids were frozen shut. Winter--

Winter was coming.

The winter.

He remembered climbing into the sleeppod, knowing she was right behind him, knowing--

He’d known something, once.

What was it--

▒┼╟»ª╣╝»homecoming▒»╣¥╝¡☺”

Static in his head, like snow. Freezing. He was so cold. Tony’s hands were on him, but he couldn’t see, and if Tony was talking, he couldn’t hear it.

She was coming.

Hydra was coming.

They’d woken her up, somehow, and she was on her way to claim him.

“You need to run,” Bucky said, hoping Tony could hear him. That he could do something. Anything.

Live.

Run.

▒»╟┼┴▒½¡╝one▒ªñªú┼╝│

“Tony, run--”

“Freight car.”

Bucky closed his eyes and went away.

The Winter Soldier was here.

“Hail Hydra.”

A/n - @27dragons wouldn’t let me post this until everything was resolved, so, I have written 2 more chapters and I will post them in the next 2 weeks or so.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #winteriron #horror #space bunnies #not mutually exclusive #apparently

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diredigression · 5 years ago

Text

Introducing: Courier Carrot

Consciousness. Rough fabric against her hand. Throbbing headache. Bright light pressing her eyes open.

“You’re awake. Huh. Look at that.”

Grimacing in the light, she turned her head to see the man sitting in front of her. Struggling against her stiff, sore neck took almost all of her energy. The man kept talking, but she was distracted by a voice in her head, a phrase looping like a stuck song.

“Must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck.”

Eighteen carrots. What a weird phrase. Something to describe jewelry, she recalled. Or some sort of shiny thing, anyway. Was eighteen good or bad? Eighteen out of how many? What did that have to do with luck? And why did they judge jewelry in terms of carrots? She’d only seen carrots a couple times in her life, rare merchandise from a couple of the more brave or more stupid Commonwealth traders. Could be carrots were as valuable as jewelry. Maybe–fuck, her head…

“…Carrot?… Can’t say it’s what I’d have picked for you, but if that’s your name, that’s your name.”

She’d forgotten the man across from her. She must have been muttering out loud. She began to correct him, but stopped when she realized she didn’t actually remember her name. Huh. Well, she’d never been too attached to it anyway. Carrot. Being named after jewelry was pretty fancy. Like some pre-war heiress. Imagine that, some pre-war heiress tramping around the Mojave in her tattered wanderer outfit and hurling dynamite at geckos.

Carrot giggled, a sound that came out slightly manic and turned to a whimper as her head throbbed. The sensation was dampened and fuzzy–a heavy dose of med-x was definitely at work–but still formidable. Musta been a hell of a night.

A small cough brought her back to the room. The man in front of her. Right. He was older, balding, dressed comfortably instead of for survival. He quickly wiped a wary look from his face as she met his eyes.

“I’m Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I had to go rooting around there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out.”

“Wh–what?” Her dry mouth tasted like dirt and clung to her words as she tried to speak. She struggled upright on the couch, accepting Doc Mitchell’s offered help.

“Whoa, easy there. Easy. You been out cold a couple days.” He frowned at the confusion on her face. "Do you remember what happened to you?“

Carrot carefully shook her head. "No…I don’t remember much of anything. How’d I get here?”

“That’d be Victor. Curious fella. Sort of odd. And I don’t just mean ‘cause he’s a robot. I couldn’t tell you much about him. He’s real friendly, don’t get me wrong. You just get the sense that ain’t the whole picture. Just a feeling. Keeps to himself, mostly. You want to know more about him, you’ll have to ask him yourself. He has a shack on the southern edge of town.”

The robot had his own shack? She was familiar with robots–eyebots, securitrons, that sort of thing. But she didn’t know many with the ability to “keep to themselves” in their own shack, human-like.

Headache. Right. Noggin. Lead. "…Did I get shot?“

"Yep. Handgun, close range, execution style. Someone musta had a helluva bone to pick with you. You’re lucky the bullet hit low, else it woulda taken out more than just a chunk of frontal lobe. Hell, with luck like yours I’m surprised them bullets didn’t just turn right around and climb back into the gun.”

She reached up to her forehead. The throbbing pain became more of a burn as she prodded the gauze taped there, low on her forehead between her eyes. A similar patch marked the exit wound at the nape of her neck, just to the side of her spine.

“Careful now, even a super stim’s gonna take some time to knit your skull back together. Don’t go ruining all that hard work I did.”

She continued fidgeting with the patch on her forehead. Doc Mitchell glared at her, steelier than she thought possible, until she ruefully dropped her hand. "Do you know anything about whoever shot me?“

"I didn’t see him or the men with him. You might ask around town, though. Could be someone saw which way they was headed. Your best bet would probably be Trudy, the bartender at the saloon up the road. If anyone saw anything, she’d know about it.”

Carrot began to speak more, but Doc Mitchell waved her quiet. "We can chat later. No sense keeping you in bed anymore. Let’s see if we can get you on your feet. The sooner you finish these tests the sooner you can get out of here.“

He led her through a variety of odd physical and mental tasks that made no sense to her, but the slight variations in his face when she answered told her that the doc was reading plenty into them. Almost too much. Carrot preferred to be on the questioning end.

Finally they finished. “Very interesting,” said the doc. “Maybe a little disturbing…but interesting. Seems like you’re fit to hit the road, at least.”

Carrot gave him a lopsided grin. “Thanks for patching me up, Doc.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s what I’m here for.” He pulled a brahminhide pack that she recognized as her own from a nearby shelf and handed it to her. “Here. Was all you had on you when you was brought in…I hope you don’t mind, but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find a next of kin. But it was just something about a platinum chip.”

He went silent as she dug through the pack. A few stims, a few sticks of dynamite, a too-small fistful of caps. The note he’d mentioned. Not even a can of water.

“I expect you’ll be wanting to go outside after being cooped up for so long, but if you have any questions—oh, wait here just a mo—” He bustled from the room, and Carrot heard sounds of heavy objects dragging and slamming.

After a few minutes, he returned with a bundle in his arms. “You ought to have this. They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. And put this on, too, so the locals don’t pick on you for lacking modesty. Was my wife’s. I think she was about your size, and she hardly wore it after we left the vault. Felt it was too brazen.”

Carrot’s eyes went wide. “Actual vault gear? I didn’t think any of this existed anymore. You could sell it for a pretty penny, ya know.”

Doc Mitchell chuckled. “Ain’t got the heart or need for that, but you feel free if’n ya want. As long as it helps you out, my wife’d be glad it went to a good cause. Ain’t much use to me now. But you might want it, after what you been through. I know what it’s like, having something taken from you.”

“Well then, thank you to your wife.” Carrot dragged on the slightly elastic jumpsuit, grimacing slightly at the brilliant, unfaded blue and yellow. It clearly hadn’t seen the sun in years. Cazadors’d be all over her thinking she was some big mutant flower. The pip-boy, though. Now that was some proper pre-war techy magic. She strapped it onto her forearm, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight as it updated with her information. The home screen showed the fabled vault-boy, his head currently wrapped in a comically large bandage. Flipping the knobs, she found that it somehow already knew the contents of her pack and even the suit she was wearing. Creepy.

Carrot followed Doc Mitchell to the front door. A few stimpaks and med-x syringes vanished from the shelves as they passed. It wasn’t like she was intending to steal from him. Doc just wouldn’t want her out there all hurt and helpless again, right? He’d said himself that he didn’t want his hard work ruined. She was doing him a favor, really, so he wouldn’t have to stitch her up next time a shooty bastard picked a fight.

“You should talk to Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She’ll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out, too. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave. Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I’ll fix you up. But try not to get killed anymore.”

Carrot grinned at him. “Fingers crossed.”

He smiled back. “Git goin’, kid.”

#Courier Carrot #courier #Fallout #Fallout New Vegas #fnv #she's dumb as a gecko #catch that luck and perception tho #fallout oc

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fidelcastrato · 6 years ago

Text

Saturday Night Dead

A dull roar floods a small, derelict house and about a block of surrounding land all of a sudden, followed shortly by a piercing screech which acts as the conditioned stimulus to roughly 30-40 people between the ages of probably around 15 at the youngest, up to pushing-40, causing a mass salivation in response to the promise of real, proletariat, bullshit-free Punk Fucking Rawk™. Brando Murely himself sits on a cinder block outside the door, just enough out of the way of the crowd distractedly making its way inside, everyone in the middle of a conversation, turning around every few seconds to give their latest opinion on the eternal IHOP v. Waffle House crisis, shouting-match phone calls, drunken wobbling, stoned hobbling, and oh-that-sweet-cocaine's-a-calling. From Brando's arm dangles eazily-breezily a small bucket, perhaps formerly housing some domesticated plant, with the word "DONATIONS" written in sharpie on the side. He is only a few brainwaves away from REM sleep, that sultry temptress.

Avey and Fyo take their sweet time. The openers are about to play, now sound-checking, if you can really call it that (not to be rude, but the opening acts of these kinda shows were more often than not either local upstarts or local failures, and lacked some level of expertise in regards to acoustics, dynamics, levels and such), but they have both just lit a new cigarette. No worries, though; they've been around enough that they know the path straight to the front, if it should turn out that The Ushi Onis were worth front row listening.

Towards the back of the house stood in solidarity the introverts so in love with music, but so out of touch with people, the old farts who didn't really care anymore but still attended out of habit, the few (if extant) devout fans of another band on the line-up who just wanted to get it over with already, and the stray college kid; not any art or philosophy major, no, just some regular Joe (and hilariously enough, one independent study in "Crime and Punkishment", a locally famous zine, reported that 73.7% of these people were actually named Joe) who happened upon this utterly obscene proceeding via a stack of coincidence and misfortune--maybe they were there with some punk ladyfriend from class.

In the middle, by far the largest section, you could find pretty much anybody from anywhere. Regulars who still hear the heartbeat of the scene, newcomers enthusiastic but not enthusiastic enough to put themselves out for judgement if they happened to accidentally nod their heads a bit with the music (mortified.....), and that strange demographic that seemed to place itself starkly in the middle of all the aforementioned alignments; middle-of-the-roaders through and through, to the point where they have risen above the road, and the ideal of the road, and smugly glance at one another and then down to you as if to imply a transcendence which those of us who have ever experienced anything in extreme can never know of.

Front and center, ears blasted to bits and facial muscles entering anaerobic respiration due to excessive smiling, the All-Stars of the scene danced alongside strangers, either naïve or drunk. The frontmen of the most famous local bands, the influencers, both silent and megaphonic, the photographers, the beauties, the hype-builders, the next band, the people who arranged this show in the first place, all of them stood in almost equal amounts of admiration as the performing act themselves. The rich and famous of the DIY; the proletariat bourgeoisie; the broke stock brokers; the soothsayers and the fortune tellers; basically, the people you want to know.

"Hey, let's make a film tomorrow" says Fyo.

"About what?" from Avey.

"Who cares? Let's climb that billboard at the top of the hill. Let's hop on a train and record the city from like, some weird dutch angle, or something. Let's see how many cats can fit in one box."

"We could never find enough cats for that. All of our friends have like two cats at least, including me, and that still wouldn't be close to enough."

"Let's give the camera some 4-aco-dmt and see what happens."

"Easy on the Adderall, bub."

Fyo had a pretty publicly-known problem with stimulants, which he was recently combatting with a burgeoning benzodiazepine habit. Avey's personal dog hair was Kratom. Both of them partook in casual use of just about every recreational substance at this point, always especially eager to try something new. They still more or less had a handle on their sanity, but not without their eccentricities. Both had a deep love for consumption and creation of art, primarily music; between them they owned a veritable arsenal of digital and analog synthesizers, samplers, ancient MIDI keyboards, melodicas, and various novelty instruments collected over the years. Each had their own individual recording endeavors, as well as a joint operation making full use of their combined setup. They had played shows, Fyo more than Avey on account of having played in front of various kinds of audiences since the age of 15, from dull high school jazz band performances to the exact kind of venue they found themselves at tonight--in fact he'd played at this house several times already in the past year. “Holy House”, one of the few legit punk houses remaining in the city after a long string of misfortunes over the past two years lead to some places being shut down, others burning down, some simply forgotten about, living on only in the ink of flyers taped to the walls of just about every DIY art kid in the area--it was kind of like collecting baseball cards. Avey had played a couple of the more fleeting art spots once or twice, but was generally overcome with anxiety at the last minute.

Now three cigarettes in a row have been smoked, throughout yet more overly-anxious stim-fueled artistic brainstorming, both Avey and Fyo silently assuming that tomorrow would in reality consist of the same events as every other Saturday; recovering from the debauchery of the previous night, maybe with a half-hour or so of absent-minded musical improvisation.

The Ushi Onis had completed their set, and from what they heard from outside, it was agreed that their nonsense conversations were about on equal footing with the music, as far as time-wasting went. Not that they were bad, it's just.....it seemed as though they'd heard this same band hundreds of times, despite the fact this was their debut show. It seemed to Fyo, who had been in attendance for, shit, a decade now, that every show more-or-less went the same these days. You could even predict non-music related events. There was the guy who got way too drunk and was basically floating around the crowd, eyes only half-open, flailing around off-rhythm in a disconcertingly unhuman way during particularly intense performances--Fyo himself had been this guy on more occasions than he'd like to admit, as well as more occasions than he could literally remember. There was the creep getting kicked out for being creepy; that was a very strict rule for this scene, "NO CREEPS". You'd see it on basically any given flyer. House shows did tend to attract these creeps, what with the combination of pretty, young, and drug-addicted attributes of many of the female frequenters. Thankfully, Fyo had never been that guy. There was the kind of slapstick situation that occurred immediately after every band played, where the members of the other bands playing that night would come up and say "Hey, great set, what pedals do you use?" and then annoy the shit out of the poor guys just trying to fucking get their drums in the van, only for the same thing to happen to the original complimentary artists. Nobody ever learned their lesson. Nobody ever learned their lesson, forever and ever. This pretty much sums up the stagnation that Fyo has recently come to observe within the scene.

"Hey, I'm done here, if you are. Head back to my place?"

"Right you are."

The four-minute drive back to Fyo's apartment left just enough time to blair at obnoxious volume Avey's favorite song by The Mountain Goats (at least, his favorite song that day--the song changed frequently, but The Goats always remained Mountainous). On the way upstairs, Avey got a text from Tomie: "Beck pulled through. Pool party?"

So Avey said to Fyo; "Beck pulled through. Pool party?"

"Fuckin duh."

Tomie was a close friend as well as ex-girlfriend to both Avey and Fyo. Beck was their communal coke dealer. Fyo was the only person in The Crew whose apartment had a pool, and it was the deep depths of summer, so late night swimming was a common occurrence. Tonight, Tomie had brought Beck along (who surely had more coke, and anyone can see that hanging out with a coke dealer, who definitely had plenty of coke to spare, would certainly turn out to be a fun time--Fyo knew this from experience, as an old friend, Jericho, also happened to be a coke dealer before moving off to.....fuck-knows-where; Fyo wasn't sure WHY they hung out so much exactly, or why Jericho had given him so much free coke in those days; Jericho was gay, but Fyo didn't really feel like he could possibly be desirable enough to warrant such favor, especially with his [back then, at least] very socially awkward mannerisms, even after several lines of really honestly pretty great coke--although, Fyo [himself being hetero, this only now in the narrative needing to be made clear] usually thought the same thing about ladies he spent time with, and surprisingly often was proven wrong) as well as invited Fitch, who invited Les, who invited Beck, who invited Lil, who invited Vick, who invited.....

.....

Noujeff.

"Wait you say WHO the fuck is coming to my apartment???" Fyo demands answers.

"Shit, I'm sorry Fyo. I didn't know Vick was friends with him, don't know why he still is. We'll tell him to fuck off once he gets here, waste some gas at least. But hey.....The Crew here ain't gettin' any younger, so let's fuckin' get to it. Pick a record already."

The Crew was, in no particular order:

Avey, reserved but strong-willed and resilient, and disarmingly cunning; he once got Fyo, his on-and-off-again girlfriend Elise, and himself a free pass to this really exclusive music festival in what can only be described as an "experimental city"--FORM Arcosanti was the name of the festival (the town being just "Arcosanti"), located smack dab in the middle of the deserts of Arizona, where Fyo first glimpsed that now-out-of-reach image, occasionally dreamt or half-remembered, of a lone mountain, in the middle of one of the least forgiving deserts in an entire superpower-nation's worth of land, one of the hottest and driest places around, soaring so high into The Places We Cannot Reach, the great heights, the domain of myth and fiction more than anything, of a mountain seen from the road of a lonely desert which had a peak covered, even here in the frenzied peaks of July, the radioactive horror show burning of July, a peak covered in SNOW. Beautiful, nostalgic (and always nostalgic, for there was no "winter" in Arizona), almost, no yes certainly CLEANSING snow. The rest of the trip only got better. That is all we'll say of it, for now;

Fyo, the one whose thoughts we gain direct access to (to hell with a fourth wall; give me 50, 500, 5,000,000 more walls, and I will break them all), generally responsible, has a dependable job as a pharmacy technician, "almost" a real job, and two major flaws; here we move into

1.) Intense Manic Episodes On a Yearly, Predictable Basis

-----

Every year, in the period of time spanning between around March and June-Mid-July, Fyo would suffer an intense clinical episode of mania; he would become obsessive over ideas so obscure and opaque that he only sounded like a lunatic when describing them, and indulged in drug abuse as if suicidal, and more than once now had indeed proven to be so. Fyo would and did argue, however, that during these periods of admittedly (even by him) questionable ties to reality, his artistic output became noticeably higher in both quantity and quality than what was usually found in his "seasonal depression" (so-called) episodes during the months of October-February. No psychiatrist has yet explained this adequately.

2.) An Unhealthy Obsession With All Forms of Art, As Well As the Definition of Art Itself

-----

From a very young age, Fyo had shown great interest in art, and strangely enough but of course conspicuously naturally, surrealist art in particular. At 12, on a family vacation to Florida for the purposes of the (back then affordable even by the lower-middle-class family, with some planning) relaxation of the beach and the primal thrill of the Great Twin Amusement Parks, he devoted a day to visiting the Salvador Dali museum in St. Petersburg, Florida; a couple years later, the very first band he was in (at 15 years old) was named after Dali's "The Burning Giraffe". Then he gradually caught on to the growing web of obscurities, myths, exaggerations, half-truths, genuine enigmas, and philosophical contradictions that were accepted by some as truth, and saw the art embedded in life; and in the mirror, he saw the reflection of such, and in that he saw things that moved him in ways he was naïve to previously. That's how he got older. That's how he saw that the waking life was just as absurd as the dream. All that mattered was which space he occupied at a given time;

Tomie, as mentioned previously was both a close friend and ex-girlfriend to both Avey and Fyo. Each relationship was separated by such distance (spatially and temporally) that it really didn't matter, everyone had moved on cross-country and it was just nice to have people just fuckin' caring about each other, you know? Tomie was not afraid to bite into you in a very personal way, as long as she knew it would help you. She was a great ally to have in the world, if sometimes blunt; but this bluntness was out of a genuine kindness and invariably proved effective somehow. If you trusted anyone's advice, it was Tomie's;

Fitch, constantly in-and-out of jail for something or other, after so many years the circumstances blurred out a bit. Being eternally and self-admittedly impermanent, he always seemed almost as if acting in repentance to the best of his abilities; but around people like this, hope for repentance was laughable;

Lil, probably the most adult of the group, an ex-girlfriend of Fyo from back in the day, had worked her way to a very well-paying analytics gig. She still found herself hanging around with these wannabe artists and revolutionaries, for whatever reason; she was certainly always welcome, and that gave her a warm, content feeling.....

"Pick a goddamn record" says Lil.

Every time The Crew got together for some midnight coke-fueled swimming, someone got to ceremoniously choose a record from Fyo's collection, off of which the cover of the cocaine would be inhaled. It was Fyo's night. He was having trouble deciding. The record that was chosen would also be played on the record player while the lines were being drawn and erased; the lines themselves were on the sleeve, the small but not ignorable visual component of the LP. He looked through his stack; Joyce Manor (played a show with them before they became big--frontman was kind of an asshole. No.), The Antlers (far too sad for shamelessly inhaled thrills), Talking Heads (no, we'll just end up putting "Once In a Lifetime" on repeat), no, no, no, no.....LCD Soundsystem? Hm. Yeah, this one. Sound of Silver, talk to me.

"Fuckin' finally. Okay let's get this train wreck a-rollin'."

Greed filled the eyes of everyone in the room. Along with record-choosing duties came the first line of the night. Fyo lays down one FAT fucking line, finely crushed almost down to the individual molecule it seemed, grabs the closest straw, leans over and looks down at the snowy mountain range here in the middle of the silver desert, and unflatteringly snorts with all his might, and feels each crystal immediately begin its own personal attack on his neurotransmitters, leans back to make sure everything falls into the mucous membrane, nothing wasted, except for Fyo himself, and steps back to fall comically onto the couch, a smile of contentment and even relief overtaking his facial expression as Nancy Whang chants "You can normalize. Don't it make you feel alive?"

This. This is the life.

#fiction #short story #drugs #punk #punk rock #diy #metamodern #metaphysical #arkansas #little rock #lcd soundsystem #surrealism #salvador dali #addiction

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deathbyvalentine · 6 years ago

Text

DuD Prompts

These boots were not made for walking

Lance was something of a sensate. He liked his body, liked it a lot in fact, hard won though it was, and he liked using it. He liked sensation, be it pleasure or pain, hot or cold, good or bad. It reminded him he was alive, he was here, he was present. And so he indulged.

He eat good food. Dressed in clothes that reminded him they were against his skin. He exercised until sweat dripped down his back and popped pills that made him feel even more. He tracked scars and bruises with a sort of fascination with the way experience can leave physical marks.

He had a list of sensations that were his favourites. He collected them like some people collected rocks or photographs. He liked getting into an ice bath after a particularly vicious flying session. He liked dragging his nails across velvet. He liked the hiss and fizzle in his mind about thirty seconds after injecting stims that seemed to spread all over him a moment later. He liked slipping silver rings onto his fingers. He liked the feel of real paper books under his fingertips. He liked terrible amasec, thick and with a free burning sensation.

And of course, he liked sex.

He liked biting, bruising, moving, breathing, the thrill of not only confirming you existed, but confirming you existed in conjunction with another person. He liked the curl of a fist in his hair, pressure against his mouth, nails in his hips. He wasn’t particularly fussy. But there were the more subtle elements he adored too.

The clink of metal buttons coming undone. Carpet burn between his shoulder blades. The slightly raised skin of a tattoo, only detectable when you ran your fingertips over it. His favourite feeling ever was a crucial step in the seduction process. The moment someone placed a hand on his calf and slid his boot from his leg, preferably slowly, preferably with no speaking so you could hear the slide of fabric on leather. It was an strangely intimate act, one that generally seemed rather at odds with his attitude to the rest of the act. He tended towards the cavalier and casual, disliking anything that implied a certain level of romance. But this he enjoyed. The small, quiet moment before the storm.

Lightning

Technically, there were engineers and lower officer cadets for this. But it was now well known that it was much more likely you’d receive a flogging for touching Devout Persuasion than neglecting your cleaning duties. Lance was... Particular about her care.

Dents were immediately pulled out with extreme prejudice. No evidence of fire was allowed to remain on her. Any rubble or dust was cleaned from her as soon as she docked and not with anything as imprecise as a pressure hose. No, it was buckets and rags and a couple of hours of blessed hard work.

Whenever there was something to be done beyond his care, he was like an anxious parent, hovering behind the tech priests, biting his nails and making suggestions they generally ignored but tolerated. The magos had a slight soft spot for Lance, mostly because of the sheer care he put into every one of his machines, regardless of their importance. A few even forgave him for his Castellum preference.

As much as he liked maintaining her physical side, his favourite activity in the world was checking on the software. He would connect and

He was in a dark forest, the trees so dense you couldn’t see beyond the first line of those circling the clearing. And there she would be, after a few moments, almost unfathomably huge. He often wondered if her designer had been from Nivalis - that was the only place he could imagine wolves growing this big.

Back in the early days, it had been either frightening or frustrating. She would either only allow him to connect long enough to look him up and down and demonstrate her sheer disdain or bare her teeth, the threat so clear she never had to follow through on it.

Now was different. Now she would barrel into him full force, knocking him over, eager to work, to move, to hunt. They were a perfect team, though in some ways he imagined he had ruined her - he did not envy anyone that tried to pilot her after him. When he died, the best thing to do would be to bury them somewhere together, in pieces or ash.

She wasn’t the only thing he had ever loved, but she was the only thing that had stayed with him. She was as much a part of him as his metallic backbone or rewired nerves. She had never hurt him purposefully, never abandoned him, never would.

He often wondered how on earth people ever expected him to settle for anything less than this. People were fallible. They broke or acted out or left. Devout stayed.

Tea and Sympathy

Kasimere liked this time of day best. The sun filtering through the trees, the slight chill appearing in the air. Dawn or dusk, the time of inbetweens. Soon, it would be the harvest festival and then soon it would be Winter and her favourite time of year would be over. There would be no more orange leaves, no more sunsets that lit up the sky with a gold so like The Emperor’s. No more pregnant wheat fields, no more mulled ciders, no more bonfires. Winter always depressed her.

So she would enjoy this while it lasted. She curled up on the bench outside of her home, burying her nose in the knitted scarf draped around her neck, and warming her hands on the freshly brewed tea she held. She blew her breath out just to watch the fine mist rise and disappear into the air.

She had been sitting only about a quarter of an hour before she was approached. Elias approached, twisting his cap in his calloused hands, nervous smile painted on his face. She was sweet on him, but wasn’t everyone in the village? He was kind, good with the animals and had only stabbed a member of the opposing clan once. That made him quite a catch. Kasimere wouldn’t allow herself to think he may be sweet on her, but she did like that she was his favourite priest.

She was a good priest. She was kind but no-nonsense. She was serious when she needed to be but laughed often. She pitched in with even the more unglamorous ceremonies like calving without complaint, happy to get her hands both muddy and bloody. She was scatterbrained with timing and lost paperwork alarmingly often. She wasn’t perfect but she was liked.

Elias sat beside her and accepted the warm cup of tea and began to talk about his woes. They were simple ones, worrying about his desire to see the wider world, obsessing about if he was doing his duty if he didn’t give his life. They could be solved with kind words and prayer, as so many things could.

It was a small life. But it was hers. And she loved it.

Flings

If he had bothered keeping notches on his bedpost, he would have sawed through it by now. It wasn’t that he didn’t have standards. It’s more that his standards were broad and far reaching. They could mostly be reduced to:

- Could act like they could kick his ass. - Wouldn’t mind his inability to shut up or at least had a decent gag on hand. - Hot, in some way or another. - Not xenos. One night stands were common. Repeated flings, slightly more unusual but far from unheard of. Actual relationships were rare occurrences and often a little... One sided. There were more instances of one of Lance’s bedmates thinking they were his partner than the other way around. Relationships were too similar to responsibility, obligation. He liked belonging solely to himself, not relying on anybody, not having to ask for permission for whatever dumb idea crashed into his head. He also fundamentally couldn’t stand the idea of anybody caring for him. Letting down his father was bad enough, letting down someone who chose him was even worse.

And so he had a boy in every station and a girl on every ship and anyone who didn’t fit into those categories on every planet. He was fairly sure at least half of the assassins that came after him had nothing to do with his family and everything to do with an empty bed in the morning. He did not envy any astropath that had to deal with the bullshit he left strewn in his wake.

But was he sorry? No. Would he do it again? Certainly.

Back on the Bullshit

“Quick, in here - “ The lanky young man grabbed the hand of the blonde girl, dragging her into the small janitorial cupboard tucked unobtrusively to the side of the grand staircase. Inside, they were sharing breath, listening intently as footsteps rumbled past, barking orders. Lance only managed to stifle his laughter by biting into the leather of his glove, Astrid raising an eyebrow the entire while. In her free hand, there was a bottle filled with golden liquid that shimmered in the low light of the cupboard.

“You act like you’ve done this before.” “I have - “ “No, I mean specifically this. Was it you that looted the drinks cabinet last year?”

All she got in reply was a smirk and him taking the bottle from her hand, rummaging about in the drawer for anything that could be used as a bottle opener. It wasn’t very long before the pair of them lost patience and broke the top of the neck off, pouring the bubbling amasec into a only partially dirty glass they found.

It was about two minutes after this that the realisation dawned on them that the door could only be opened from the outside. And sure, Lance could send a message via his MIU, but that would have to mean admitting he had locked himself in a cupboard. “So I guess we live here now.” He said, shrugging, pulling a face as he took a sip.

Astrid’s face was not impressed as she slid down to sit cross-legged on the floor, confiscating the rest of the bottle from him. He decided on the whole that was pretty fair. He joined her, back against the door, stretching his legs out to possibly accidentally nudge her hip.

“So, who are those from?” She gestured vaguely to the line of purple marks painting his neck. “Oh these? Son of one of the midshipmen. Gorgeous wavy black hair, purple eyes...” He sighed faux-dreamily. “Except he keeps talking about his feelings and that’s a real turn off for me. I’m thinking I might mysteriously have to really start thinking about the family future, ectera ecetera.” “God, you’re trash.” He laughed easily. “Yeah, I am.” ------------------------ He crashed into the seat next to her, the dark circles decorating his face counteracted by the grin he was wearing. She raised an eyebrow, moving a spoon in her rationpack corpse porridge. “I’m not going to ask.” “I know.” “You’re going to tell me anyway.” “Almost certainly.” “Why are you back again?” “Consider it divine justice.”

Threatened

Evie turned over in her bunk and slept until something woke her up. She wasn’t quite sure what had stirred her exactly until she looked at the bottom of her bed and saw her sister, sitting cross legged. This would have not been so unusual except her sister had been dead for three years. Lit in the glow filtering in from the window, it was unmistakably her. The tattoos trailing from her jaw to her neck were identical, the tight complicated braids in her hair, the messy make up across her violet eyes. She looked just how Evie remembered her best.

She must still be dreaming. But when she pinched her arm, it hurt. She could hear sirens outside and the hissing of the vents. She see the light bruising on Tessa’s knuckles. All these small details that she was sure her dreams would not know to include. All the things that made it real. Maybe miracles did happen, if you prayed hard enough. Evie had started to become half convinced of the Emperor’s apathy, His deafening silence more soul destroying than any of the sins the preachers told her were fatal.

“Are you going to sit there gawping at me all night?” Tessa raised an eyebrow. Evie glanced around the sleeping room, but nobody else had stirred, too deep in their opia slumbers. “Sorry, it’s just uh, I thought - “ “I was dead?” She grinned. “You should know that through him all things are possible. And keep your voice down, the gang are sleeping.” A quick shot of shame made her cheeks turn pink, she nodded, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I know but, I saw you. I saw the blood and the...” She trailed off, looking at the coat Tessa was wearing for the first time. There was a stain, darker than dark. “Are you going to keep complaining all night, or are you going to come do a last job with me?” Her eyes twinkled. “It’ll be fun.” She held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. Evie, as always, found it impossible to resist the charm of her sister. She took her hand.

And stopped. Numbness was spreading down her fingers, as though she had plunged her hand into ice water. Tessa was holding tight, so tight she couldn’t pull away. It was at this moment she noticed some other details. Like how her bed had no dent where Tessa sat. Like how if you looked closer, it wasn’t the light from outside making her skin look pale and washed out. And that it wasn’t lipstick making her lips blue. She moaned in horror, watching as her own skin turned cold and started to become necrotic. Though the smell was sickening, it didn’t hurt, not at all, it couldn’t hurt if the nerves just up and died. As she became sicker, Tessa seemed to become more solid, colour seeping back into her cheeks, gaining substance. It wasn’t long before it reached Evie’s heart, and her body dropped back onto the mattress, lifeless. Just like the others in the room.

Regrets

The magos hummed merrily to itself as it clattered around the room, arranging tools. Well, perhaps hummed is the wrong word. Buzzed with various tones and registers in a way that perhaps resembled music to some. It was not a familar tune to the man strapped to the operating table.

He flexed his fingers. He flexed his toes. He clenched his hands into fists and tried to bend his knees. He filled his lungs as full as they would go with air and exhaled slowly. He was not trying to escape. He was trying to feel his body, every inch of it, for the last time. He had never appreciated before what a miracle his body was. Every time he moved, every time he felt the table underneath him, every breath he took was a blessing from the Emperor. These things would not be taken from him. Not exactly.

At least now he wouldn’t be a coward. Not by choice, but it was the consequences that truly mattered. He wouldn’t run from battle again, desperate and frightened. He would be a proud soldier. And there would be at least a little bit more metal between him and the enemy. This was a blessing too, he repeated to himself, silently.

The saw began to buzz and he clenched his fist one last time. He wondered if he would even be able to choose to blink himself or if that too would be automated. If there would be a single nerve in his body that was his alone. He doubted it. He closed his eyes, murmuring a prayer to the Omnissiah and waited for his punishment.

Whiskey

Fethin’ Imperial heroes. Jaida tutted, holding their broom in one hand. Sure, they had saved the station, but they didn’t help with the bloody clean up, did they? They bossed them around, but they didn’t come over to pick up the discarded or broken laspacks, sweep up the ork blood or sort the broken doors.

And some of these messes were frankly fucking weird. A pile of ash in the middle of a room that stunk of disease and somehow, burning. Tentacle marks on the ceilings. Servitor corpses like no servitor Jaida had ever seen before, full of machinery that just looked wrong. A greenhouse, utterly destroyed. That was not to mention the chalk outlines of patterns in the basement they scrubbed away without looking at them too closely. They didn’t know what they were, but they did know they shouldn’t try to find out.

The bonus of course were the items that they also left behind. Jaida figured it was finders keepers. There was a nice laz pistol, an old one by the looks of it, but still working perfectly. A big piece of wood with the laws of the Mechanicus carved into them. A red robe, apparently discarded. Oddly, a small pile of discarded name tags, all with the same initials. And then, the best one, discovered halfway down a vent with only a few sips taken from it. Some Duroverum whiskey.

That was the rest of their evening sorted.

Leadership

He liked this bit. He liked it immensely. A new set of flight officers. A bit bigger than the usual intake, six aircraft which meant six pilots, plus spares. The ground staff would likely stay the same, maybe a few engineers going with the more specialist machines. But, let’s face it, the ground staff were only technically his problem. The pilots were entirely his problem.

He flicked idly through the files on his desk. Two, he had heard met before on an old posting. Astoundingly competent. They would end up going far but not interstellar, due to how devastatingly uncreative they both were. Minor nobles, joining the navy until they got married. Three were new to him. One agriplaneteer, which was always a toss up in skill. They were generally damn handy with a manual control but struggled with the neural. The lightnings were still divided right down the middle, the newer ones with MIU capability. He hoped she was trained enough in the new ones. He refused to have manual controls on his crafts. Then, there was the flight lieutenant. To be his second. He picked up her file, intrigued by the photo pinned to the front.

She had a defiant stare, her hair cut jaggedly and asymmetrically. He knew before he even opened the first page that she would be a hiver. It was something in the tilt of her jaw, the hardness of her eyes. He liked hivers. They had something to prove. They would either achieve beyond his wildest dreams or crash and burn beautifully. They were never boring. He looked at her list of write ups. Insubordination mostly, never personal admin, never a negligent discharge. Good.

He deposited the file back on his desk, in plain view. He stood up and went to the mirror, shrugging on his jacket, tucking in his shirt, making sure he looked like the perfect model of a superior officer. Contrary to all appearances, he took his responsibility and job extremely seriously. He loved it, after all. He could be a mess in his personal life, but not here. Never here. He made sure his natural cocksure smile had disappeared, that his warmth had turned authoritative. Then he crossed the room and opened his office door, watching the wave of salutes with some satisfaction.

Welcome to the Inquisition

The SaniShowers sprayed down, sluicing the blood and the viscera from his coat. As always, he murmured a brief prayer of thanks. He couldn’t imagine trying to wash this off by hand. He dumped his sodden gloves in the basket waiting by the door. He always wondered, every time if they incinerated them or simply washed them. Neither would surprise him.

All in all, it had been a useful interrogation session. Nothing ground breaking but confirmation of the intelligence they had gathered so far. Cults were on the rise, mostly the Fly Lord as always, but there was something else gathering too. That was what was worrying him more. He had put down the cultist at the end of course. They had two more, and they didn’t want to tire their psyker out too much. Ramesh was fairly convinced as it was that the mind had nothing more to give up anyway. Some people never expected to be caught and these people tended to fall into two categories under pressure. Stupidly brave or just stupidly cowardly. This one had fallen into the latter category and had spilt his secrets as easily as he spilt his guts.

It would be wrong to say Ramesh enjoyed his work. He took a grim satisfaction in it, sure, but only because he enjoyed his own competence. He liked a job well done, he liked boxes being ticked, he liked the feeling of contributing to something greater than himself. And of course, he wasn’t squeamish. He could cut throats, break fingers, maim flesh without breaking a sweat or losing sleep. He had very little time for the more liberal acolytes who turned pale at the sight of blood or criticised unnecessary violence as though any of them would be doing this damn job if it was unnecessary.

He made his way through the station, brain on autopilot. He could find his way to his apartment in his sleep. He often used this time to switch from work mode to home mode, almost completely separate entities. He found himself thinking of himself as a child, fascinated with the way the body worked. He had wanted to be a medicae. He almost laughed at how far from that aspiration he was now. He didn’t heal. He destroyed. And he didn’t feel a single shred of guilt about it. He opened his front door.

“Daddy!” His two daughters tore away from the Sister and ran at him full pelt, shrieking in joy as he gathered them into his arms and planted a hundred kisses on them. This. This is why he didn’t feel guilt. This is why he would kill a million cultists, torture a million more, destroy anybody that even looked at Chaos funny. No matter what the crimes committed by the Imperium were, they were virtues compared to what Chaos would do. And he loved his daughters. He loved them more than himself, feth, more than the Emperor. He wanted them to grow up into a better sector than he had. He wanted their hands to never dirty themselves on the hard work of the Inquisition. He wanted them to be medicaes. And for that to happen, he had to be the brutal one, the harsh one, the unkind one. So they never had to be.

#dud #death unto darkness #larp #prose #prompts

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autisticawesomeness-archive-blog · 8 years ago

Note

Hey, can you explain the difference between autistic grief and neurotypical grief? I tried to look it up, but I didn't get much.

Yeah, you and me both, buddy. The problem is that (to my knowledge) no formal studies have been done on the stubject. It’s an issue that has been largely ignored by the psychology field, for reasons that are beyond me (no, actually, it’s ableism. I know. I just don’t like to acknowledge it).

I’ve found three good articles on the subject:

Autistic Grief is Not Like Neurotypical Grief by Karla Fisher

Navigating Grief and Loss as an Autistic Adult by Lynne Soraya

When Logic Fails: Aspergers and Grief by Sherri Schultz

But those are basically it. I can, however, speak from experience.

Last December, my mom was diagnosed with stage four primary liver cancer, caused by hepititis C. It was terminal, and any treatments she might’ve had wouldn’t have focused on curing her, but rather extending her life. In the end, she chose not to attempt any official cure. She died last week, after a short hospitalization.

The neurotypical grief patterns is governed by the famous Five Stages of Grief, which are:

Denial and Isolation

Anger

Bargaining

Depression

Acceptance

Despite their numbered appearance, they can occur in any order. Every site and book on grief will tell you that every single person on planet Earth experiences this pattern.

All articles about autistic grief, as well as my personal experience, will tell you that that’s bullshit.

I’ve seen my mom go through all of these stages, in pretty much that exact order. Anger and Bargaining were the most prominent stages in her. I’ve heard her say things like ‘if only…’ more times than I can count, and I’ve heard her rant and scream at everyone and nothing. But I myself don’t feel like this pattern fits me.

Now, I’m new to this whole ‘grief’ thing, relatively, but I can tell you that Denial and Bargaining definitely aren’t appearing. I see no point in them. As Schultz pointed out in her article, the autistic mind is very logical. I see no point in denying the fact that my mom died when I’ve already paid the funeral expenses, have the decleration of death on my nightstand, and have practically seen her die.

Anger is another one that I’m having trouble wrapping my head around. Who should I be angry at? Why? It’s not like anyone actively tried to murder my mother. All being angry would do is cause problems for myself and others, as well as hurt people’s feelings. I’m not angry over my mom’s death, though I am slightly pissed at my family’s treatment of her while she was still alive, though that’s an emotion that has always been present. My family’s kind of shit.

I do not feel sad, at least, as far as I can tell. I did a bunch of crying when it happened, but that was over after a couple of hours. Since, I’ve only cried once. I feel more flatlined than actively sad or depressed. I do not know if this counts as Depression. Time will tell.

So yeah, autistics will most likely not experience the five stages of grief. Instead, our reaction to grief seems to be based around three things:

Loss of sensory processing abilities.

Loss of executive function/focus.

A need to gather as much information about the situation as possible.

I definitely recognize the first one - this actually started fairly soon after my mom was diagnosed, but has since intensified immensely. Fisher describes her loss of sensory processing abilities in ways that I generally experience under mild stress: the inability to fit visual information together in ways that make sense, the need to shut off all noise, etc.

Right now, my personal biggest problem on this front is an increased sensitivity towards food: I’m a picky eater, but usually not overly so - I slide by relatively easy. However, ever since my mom died, I’ve been incapable of ignoring flavours I don’t actually like. And unfortunately for me, that happens to be all vegtables. And basically everything but pizza, bread, cheese, and occassionally some meat. So as you can tell, my diet’s been going wonderfully.

Loss of executive function is actually my biggest problem right now. My routine has never been particularly strict, mainly because strict routines, while technically beneficial to me, stress me out beyond any reasonable measure.

However, what little routine I’ve had has completely fallen through. I’m typing this at 7:03 AM, after not sleeping in the night. I slept in short bursts from 15:00 to 21:30, unintentionally. I ate breakfast at 13:30, despite having been awake since 10:00, because I couln’t get my ass to the kitchen. I didn’t work through any of the messages I was supposed to, because I couldn’t get myself to turn on my phone.

I haven’t done any housework besides washing my clothes at all since a week, and I only hung out my clothes to dry yesterday, despite putting them in the washing machine on monday. Simply because I couln’t get myself to open the washing machine, pick out the clothes, and hang them to dry.

Loss of focus accompanies this; though maybe that’s the ADHD. Books are my special interest, but I haven’t been able to focus on reading them since January. It’s just completely impossible, and SO frustrating.

I didn’t feel the need to research everything about my mom’s condition, and I don’t feel the need to research anything about death. However, this seems to be a very common reaction among autistics. I do feel the need to control every single aspect of the aftermath, though, like figuring out where I’ll live now, how I’m going to pay rent, etc. I think that wanting to know everything about death and related matters is an attempt to regain control, and in that case, I fit into the pattern pretty neatly. But that’s just a theory.

Aside from those three major pillars, other interesting things in the articles were these:

Fisher recommends that people start a project, preferably one that centers around their special interest, to redirect their attention. I think that this would be a very good idea, as it combats executive dysfuntion and allows you to interact with your SpIn.

Exploring new avenues of your special interest can also be helpful.

Actually, Fisher recommends time spent with your special interest in general. I second this, but I do want to warn people that it’s very easy to slide into hyperfocus and/or escapism when doing this. Be careful.

Schultz notes that she experienced internal turmoil, where her logic argued against her heart. She explained that, while she felt intensely sad, her mind argued that she had no reason to, because she believed her niece to be in heaven now, so why bother feeling sad? Though I do not believe in heaven, this type of internal turmoil is very familiar to me.

Annoyance with other people’s emotions in regards to the death is also very common, and this is definitely something I recognize.

There’s an increased chance of shut- and meltdowns, probably because of the loss of processing abilities and the emotional turmoil.

Other than with neurotypicals, Fisher notes that being alone may help autistic people who are grieving. I second this. If I have to spend one more second with sympathetic friends, I’ll scream.

An autistic person’s focus tends to be more on the practical side of things, rather than on the emotional side.

Soraya noted that she had unexpected bouts of emotion, such as feeling angry when there was nothing to be angry over. To my knowledge, this is pretty typical for people with depression, but it’s not something I often see brought up in combination with grief.

Some things that I personally would like to add:

Over the past few months, but especially the past week, I’ve gained more harmful stims. I’ve always had a problem with picking the skin on my forehead, but lately it’s just been a bloody mess. I’ve also always have had the tendency to bite my hand, but my chewies just broke, and that’s also a much more common reaction now. I’ve also had scratching my arms as a stim, but I never had the intention of actually hurting, but lately it’s been getting more violent. Good thing I hate long nails and my stumps can’t actually do any real damage.

My stims in general have changed. I used to have a fair variety of everything, but now, it’s mostly chew stims and tactical stims (such as tangles).

I do not care for the things my mom left behind. I mean that very literally. I did not care for her corpse, in fact I never went to visit her, or went to her cremation. I have no attatchment to any of her personal things, and seeing her empty bed downstairs is not something I mind or get any negative reactions from. This is something that most neurotypicals don’t understand, so perhaps it’s an autism thing.

I perceive the sympathy that other people give me more as annoying than as genuine help, but I don’t know for sure if that’s an autism thing.

So yeah, that’s what I know now. I hope this helped!

#this is a pretty amount of information for a tumblr post #and a depressingly small amount of information to be everything on the subject #but oh well #ask #death //#tired-punk-demon

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mintedwitcher · 8 years ago

Text

92 Things

Got this idea from @racheloddment since they tagged anyone who read their full post. So buckle up fuckers, here we go. (I’m putting most of this under a cut because it’s long as fuck)

Rules: Answer these 92 questions and tag 20 people

(Since I’m too lazy to tag 20, I’m just gonna tag @screwthissite and anyone else who wants to torture themselves can go for it)

THE LAST: 1. Drink: coffee 2. Phone call: my mum two days ago trying to find out where the hell my sisters were 3. Text message: my Nan 4. Song you listened to: Thunder by Imagine Dragons (also the entire Evolve album cus its a jam) 5. Time you cried: uhhhhhhh few days ago, last time I had a panic attack lmao

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice? Yep 7. Kissed someone and regretted it? Yep 8. Been cheated on? Yep 9. Lost someone special? Yep 10. Been depressed? Lmao yep 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up? Yeah but never thrown up. I don’t get sick or hungover when I drink, no matter how much I drink.

LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLOURS: 12-14: Red, pink, blue

IN THE LAST YEAR, HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends? Yes!! 16. Fallen out of love? Eh not yet 17. Laughed until you cried? Last night; my sisters and I get kinda ridiculous together lmao 18. Found out someone was talking about you? Uhhhh...... do we mean like... casual mentions or talking shit because tbh I have no idea either way 19. Met someone who changed you? Idk if I would say ‘changed’... 20. Found out who your friends are? Yeah, the ones who don’t call me a two faced whore on Facebook for having social anxiety and not being able to socialise :) fuck you, btw.

GENERAL: (21 seems to have vanished) 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know irl? Almost all of them tbh I don’t have many Facebook friends anyway, most of them are family. 23. Do you have any pets? Yeah, three dogs (Ben, Jasper, and Dusty) and one cat (Callie) 24. Do you want to change your name? Yes! 25. What did you do for your last birthday? Spent it at home, writing, and had cake at some point. Idk I don’t really remember? 26. What time did you wake up? About 10-ish? 27. What were you doing at midnight last night? Sleeping for a change 28. Something you can’t wait for? Getting my septum piercing for my birthday this year 29. When was the last time you saw your mum? Yesterday 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life? I’d change my financial situation first (31 has disappeared too) 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom? Yeah he used to be my best friend 33. Something that is getting on your nerves? My dog wandering in and out of every room in the house 34. Most visited website? This hellscape 35. Moles? I have a few on my arms 36. Marks? Lots of scars, a birthmark, and some freckles 37. Childhood dream? Superstar! Or a show horse rider (thanks, Saddle Club) 38. Hair colour? Right now its dark brown - I miss my red hair though... might dye it again soon... 39. Long or short hair? As in... preference, or current situation... cus like... it’s short now but god I miss my long hair 40. Do you have a crush on someone? yep 41. What do you like about yourself? I’m creative 42. Piercings? None yet (aside from my earlobes but they healed over) 43. Blood type? Haha I actually don’t know 44. Nickname? Bob, Bubbles, Freak, Alpha 45. Relationship status: TBD 46. Zodiac? Sagittarius 47. Pronouns: she/her/they/them (very rarely he/him) 48. Favourite TV show? NINE NINE! (Seriously, Brooklyn Nine Nine is a gift to the universe). Friends will always have a special place in my heart. HIMYM is a guilty pleasure. Buffy. Avatar: The Last Airbender is a classic. 49. Tattoos? None yet :( 50. Right or left handed? Right 51. Surgery? I had my tonsils removed when I was seven but that’s it 52. Hair dyed a different colour? I’ve gone red, black, blue, and purple. I miss the red most. 53. Sport? Martial arts (54 has disappeared too) 55. Vacation? Tasmania when I was eight; England when I was two. Haven’t left my town for a vacation since, aside from the Adelaide trip in 2015, but that wasn’t a vacation since I was working. 56. Pair of trainers: (AKA, sneakers or tennis shoes, even though they’re all v different things wtf) I have a pair of custom trainers fitted to my feet, because I have an uneven gait and my hips and knees are all kinds of fucked up from it.

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating? Nothing now, but just finished some leftover soup from last night 58. Drinking? Coffee 59. I’m about to: grab a couple biscuits because I’m also writing and I need snacks (I also really need a chewy stim toy at some point because I kinda destroyed my favourite pen by chewing it while I work) (60 & 61 have disappeared) 62. Want: my sister to leave me alone for ten minutes so I can actually get some work done 63. Get married? Maybe someday, but it’s not a priority 64. Career: Writer, please, damn. But barring that, maybe a teacher

WHICH IS BETTER: 65. Hugs or kisses? Both 66. Lips or eyes? Eyes 67. Shorter or taller? Taller, but if they make short jokes, I’ll cut their legs in half and walk away. 68. Older or younger? I try to stick to my own age thanks (69 has disappeared) 70. Nice arms or a nice stomach? Nice arms fuck me right up 71. Sensitive or loud? Sensitive 72. Hook up or relationship? Relationship 73. Troublemaker or hesitant? Troublemakers are fun

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a stranger? Once or twice 75. Drank hard liquor? Yeah 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses? Nope, I don’t need them 77. Turned someone down? Yeah a few times 78. Sex on the first date? That would require actually being taken on a successful date (I’ve only been on one and it was a disaster) 79. Broken someone’s heart? Yeah 80. Had your heart broken? More times than I care to admit 81. Been arrested? Nope 82. Cried when someone died? Yeah 83. Fallen for a friend? So many times

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself? No 85. Miracles? No 86. Love at first sight? Eh... undecided 87. Santa Claus? Not since I was seven 88. Kiss on the first date? Again, it requires being taken on a date

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: Jack and Amer 91. Eye colour: Blue/grey (depends on lighting idk) 92. Favourite movie: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, or Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.

#long post #tmi tag #idk how to tag this lol #ask game #kinda #hey its riley

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stimtoybox · 8 years ago

Note

Hi, I have a question to ask, and I'm sorry if it's repetitive or has been asked before (I have checked but I lack the spoons to look through the entirety of the asks). I wanted to know if anybody could suggest some stims that I could do while typing. My favourite thing to stim with is a Tangle Jr, but it's tricky while typing at work to stim with it. I am not a chewer, so I was wondering if anybody could suggest some smaller toys that I could stim with in my hand as I type? thank you :)

Anon, asking anyone to go through all those asks is so ridiculously unfair at this point, so don’t be sorry. I’ve said before that the only reason I even know what’s there (and what to search for) is because I wrote them!

You might like to check out these previous asks, one on small everyday items for stimming, one on subtle on-the-person stim toys, as they’re often smaller-leaning. This said, we haven’t quite approached small fidget toys from this perspective! The interesting thing is that I’ve been thinking about this myself this week, because I’ve found myself frequently editing my chapter with my mouse in the right hand and one of the two spinner rings I won in an @stimtastic giveaway held between two fingers in my left. Last night it culminated in using the mouse in my right and a fidget spinner in my left, stopping every so often because I need both hands to get the spinner spinning.

Most of these toys are going to require the use of one hand or a couple of fingers, so you may not be able to stim with them whilst typing with both hands at a keyboard as opposed to between typing or while editing/reading over your work/browsing the internet. If you’re typing on a smartphone, less of a problem! I’m very much a two-handed Tangle user, even with a Tangle Jr, so I’m going to keep this list to small, easily-manipulated fidget toys and jewellery on the basis that if I can’t use it with at most one hand, it’s likely useless to you.

Links, unless otherwise specified, lead to that item’s tag, because by now I often have several posts on where to find these.

- Edamame popper keychains. Squished between a thumb and pointer finger, and I can do it in my off (left, as I’m right-handed) hand.

- Hedge balls / hedge creatures / porcupine balls. I can even cup the smaller ones under my thumb in my off hand and still, somewhat clumsily, type with both hands.

- Spinner rings. (Check out Stimtastic’s selection or the many, albeit often expensive, available on Etsy.) Mine are slightly too big, which I knew was likely (I have weird fingers) but since I’m always pulling rings off anyway, I’m happier letting go of the idea that I was ever going to wear them and just rolling one between two fingers in my off hand. I love the infinity ring, because it spins great after a graphite treatment; I’m less impressed with the black ring and don’t recommend it at all.

- Bead lanyards and fidgets, especially if you turn them into a wearable lanyard (worn around your neck - see my tutorial for this here) so you don’t have to grasp them to fidget - just roll/push the beads with one hand.

- If you want something that will take the entirety of one hand and is a little tougher/more challenging, a marble maze can be used one-handed in your off hand if you rest it on your lap or desk and hold it down with your palm while pushing the marble with your fingers. I don’t have the coordination to find this easy, but sometimes you might want this!

- A marble loop offers the same marble-pushing stim in something smaller and easier to use with one hand.

- I’m constantly squeezing a makeup sponge in my off hand, because it’s a gentle stim toy with a nice texture. There’s one permanently in my desk drawer.

- Bead rings, held in your off hand or worn as a necklace.

- Mini bean bags. Mod Luna sells them if you can’t DIY your own!

- Kneadable erasers. I say this specifically because they’re cleaner than slime and smaller than most tins of putty, therefore easy to squish and manipulate in one hand.

- Squishies. Any but the very large ones will fit comfortably into one hand. I stuff my apple under my elbow and smush it against my ribs, meaning I can stim and type with both hands at once!

- Small objects - I’m thinking dice, worry stones, elastic bands, erasers, buttons, anything that can be pushed around in the palm and fingers! I’ve got a round metal tin in my desk drawer that contains a few of these sorts of mini fidgets:

[image description: a round, silver metal tin with blue metallic tape decorating the outside besidea smooth light brown quartz rock, a blue hedge ball, a mini pink blending sponge, a white Magic the Gathering Spindown D20 die, a small silver clasp ring threaded through a mottled ceramic blue bead, a blue glass counter and a mottled grey ceramic butterfly bead threaded through a loop of thin pink elastic.]

- Spinner necklaces. These can be easily manipulated with one hand, just like a bead ring necklace. There’s a couple of different kinds sold by @spacerobotstudio and @neurodelightful.

- Fidget jewellery in general. Some of these are about moving the pendant, while some just offer different textures for touching. There’s a seriously wide variety of options! I’d look at Stimtastic’s snake twist necklace or planet necklace, and if you’re in the US, @caseydickdanger‘s Storevny shop. If nothing there quite works for you, try taking to Etsy.

(Sadly, a lot of chewellery comes up in that search, but there’s some very cool maille pieces as well. Steel Lynx Chainmail has lots of lovely things, although some pieces may be a bit expensive for some stimmers.)

- Chain fidgets. The smaller ones can be easily turned over in one hand. If you’re worried about size, you can DIY these using pony beads tied together or straws, in addition to whatever split rings you feel like. (Daiso stores sell packets of rings in a range of different sizes.) I’ve made mine by wrapping lengths of felt around the rings, sewing down the felt and coating it in clear glue or glitter glue, but I haven’t yet had the chance to write this into a proper tutorial. I absolutely love stimming with it, though!

(I have no idea how good this one is, but I recently saw a cheap ebay listing: $2.65 AUD with free shipping from China.)

I’ll say that there’s probably a great many items that should be on this list that I’ve forgotten, anon, but I’m getting tired. I hope that gives you somewhere to begin, at any rate! Please comment away if there’s something that should be here and isn’t. Please also comment if you have any suggestions or stories about how you manage fidget/hand stimming and typing!

ETA: @euphonysms says,

I absolutely love the boinks fidgets. They can easily be manipulated in one hand, and I absolutely love the texture of the woven nylon. I’m not sure about internationally, but in the US there are lots of cheaper off brands available on Amazon and eBay that feel just as sturdy as the boinks brand, and come in packs.

Oh, good addition! There’s several multipacks on Amazon, a few ebay listings and they’re also available on Stimtastic. I’m liking these ones with a carabiner attachment, excepting the fact that they want nearly $50 USD to ship to Australia…

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homoregalis · 8 years ago

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Ryder Appreciation! Q & A

So, I just finished for the semester, and it’s time to show some freaking Mass Effect love! I know I still have the 30 day challenge I started TWO FREAKING YEARS ago, and I really want to get to that, but I keep having a combination of life, computer crashes, and the like getting in the way. So, for the time, I’m going to answer some ME:A questions about my Ryder! Dunno where these came from, but I’ma answer all of them!

Ryder Character Questions:

1. Your favourite quote

- “I am Pathfinder. Rah bah bah bah!” in response to the Kett guy on Eos getting all lippy on the radio

2. Share a screenshot of your Ryder:

3. Full Name?

- Elizabeth Miriam Ryder

4. Origin/Meaning of the name

- Nothing particularly. Elizabeth and Miriam are both generic abrahamic names

5. How did you come up with the name and why did you chose it?

- Elizabeth is a name that works for anyone, to me at least. It can be high class or working class, royalty or the great unwashed masses, doesn’t matter, it sounds right. Miriam as a middle name was an aesthetic choice, as most last names like Ryder, that are so short, feel like they flow better off of a middle name to me.

6. Did Ellen or Alec chose the name for your Ryder? Or did your Ryder chose the name?

- Ellen. Alec named Scott. Ellen’s side of the family is of European-Canadian extraction, where as Alec is Asian-American having been born and raised on the continental side of the Sierra Nevadas, right in their foothills.

7. What pronouns does your Ryder use?

- Elizabeth has never cared much, but uses traditionally feminine pronouns.

8. Gender identity

- Female, although she doesn’t ascribe any particular meaning to that. She does what she wants, and by definition it’s feminine because she’s female, as far as she’s concerned.

9. Sexuality

- Bisexual, with a preference for female partners.

10. Date and Place of Birth

- 21st April, 2161 in Hong Kong.

11. Manner of Birth (Was Alec there? How long did it take? Were there any complications?)

- Unsurprisingly, Alec was off doing something or other and generally being a distant, if loving, individual. The births were reasonably easy, although Scott required careful rotation to stop him getting tangled in his umbilical

12. First Words?

- “No!” Turns out Ryder developed a distaste for celery at an early age, and wasn’t afraid to tell anyone about it.

13. Is your Ryder the older or younger sibling?

- (In line with ME:A canon) Older, by a few minutes. Although if you asked Scott he’d just say they were twins.

14. Does your Ryder have siblings? (CanonTwin and more)

- Just her and her “little” brother Scott.

15. Zodiac Sign?

- Taurus the bull, in the Year of the rooster.

16. Does your Ryder have a catchphrase?

- Only if cursing under your breath counts. That and, well, she’ll mutter “Funtastic” when she gets frustrating news too, I suppose.

17. Dominant Hand? Or is your Ryder ambidextrous?

- She’s fairly capable of a lot of things with both hands, like shooting or using scissors or the like, but is definitely right-hand dominant, and favours her right hand, particularly for fine tasks, like writing..

18. What does their autograph look like?

- “E. Rsquiggle” is probably the best description.

19. Describe your Ryders handwriting:

- A sloppy pseudo-cursive. She links her letters, but isn’t super consistent, and will not infrequently capitalize words in odd places, especially on words that start with “h”.

20. Height

- 5′ 9″, or about 175 cm.

21. Weight

- 170-185 pounds, or about 77-84 Kg

22. Bloodtype

- A-negative, from her mother’s side.

23. Any birthmarks that stand out?

- she has a couple of noticeable moles, one larger on her right hip, and another just above her right butt-cheek. Both feel consistent with the surrounding skin, and both are quite round in shape, looking like little more than spots of brown skin.

24. Hair (Length, Colour, Does your Ryder change it on different occasions? Describe it, share some screenshots or if you’re an artist maybe draw your Ryder with different hairstyles?)

- She tends to wear it relatively short, especially when on some kind of off-world assignment, but does grow it out in her down time, with it always ending up in a pony tail tied at the base of her skull. Elizabeth thinks it’s really pretty when it’s braided while long, but can only wear it braided if someone does it for her. Her hair is a black colour.

25. Eye Colour

- Green-Brown, leaning towards brown.

26. Do they look like their parents? Are there more resemblances with Ellen, Alec or a completely different relative?

- Scott inherited Ellen’s more Caucasian look. Elizabeth takes after her father, with his Asian ancestry clear in her features.

27. Do they like the way they look? Would they change anything about them if they had the chance? What would they change and why?

- Elizabeth is fairly comfortable with her body. She occasionally wishes she was a little taller, and had a slightly more curvaceous back-side, but generally she rocks what she’s got, and is damn happy to do so.

28. Any scars? How did they get them?

- She has the visible remnant of a well-healed scar on the left side of her face, from damage she got in a fire-fight with Batarian raiders, and a small scar on her lower lip from where a particularly feral street cat swatted at her as a girl.

The burn scar in evidence. The lip scar requires much... closer inspection.

29. Somatotype?

- She doesn’t know or care, and neither do I?

30. Do they wear make up? Are they good at it? Do they apply it for routine or because they have fun doing it?

- Elizabeth will wear a light foundation, and lipstick when on a date, but generally avoids make up else-wise. She’ll rock the messy make-up look for a night at the clubs with the girls though. Day to day, she doesn’t care to wear make up.

An atypical night out, no eyeliner in sight.

31. What’s your Ryders diet like? Did they listen to Lexis advice?

- Growing up with a busy mother and an absentee/distant father, the Ryder twins learned to appreciate Hong Kong’s street food, and often found their selves eating to-go from local restaurants, leading to a healthy life-long obsession with Chinese cuisine. Ryder eats plenty of veggies, usually stir-fried just enough to char at the edges, but be crisp and fresh else-wise, by choice. Lexi was preaching to the choir.

32. Favourite food and is it still available in Andromeda?

- She loves Mapo Dofu, and while soybeans and tofu were a few of the first food crops to be planted, the szechuan pepper is pretty far down the list. She also really likes Char Siu Bao, but they’re hard to come by too. Scallion Pancakes though are on the menu, much to her relief.

33. Weird food combinations they like?

- Mayo on her hot dogs.

34. How is their relationship with food? Do they enjoy cooking and eating or do they just see it as necessary for survival?

- Elizabeth loves cooking, and finds it tremendously cathartic. She also tends to stress eat though, and tries to be mindful of that. But she loves food, and all the attendant cultural and social elements that accompany a good meal.

35. Fitness (Any exercises? Yoga? Working out?)

- Kicking Kett ass, and a good general exercise regime. She enjoys boxing, and spends a lot of time with the punching bag, as well as the exercise bike where she can watch old tv shows.

36. Does your Ryder take any medications?

- She has medication for migraines and and inhaler as needed for asthma.

37. Any allergies?

- She has worse than usual seasonal allergies, and reacts roughly to furry animals when she first meets them. She’s also been chock-full of allergy meds since arriving in Andromeda, with her allergies going into over-drive around all these alien lifeforms.

38. Is your Ryder neuroatypical? How do they deal with it? Did the events in Andromeda affect their mental health in any way? Does your Ryder use stimming methods?

- Elizabeth has ADD/ADHD and suffers from dyslexia. She has a tendency to pace, and to play with her hands, such as touching her finger tips to her thumb in sequence repeatedly, when she’s having an off day.

39. Wardrobe (What clothes does your Ryder prefer? Did they take any clothes with personal history with them to Andromeda?)

- Elizabeth is decidedly a t-shirt/tank top and shorts girl, and took a decent selection of nice every-day cloths with her (well, as nice as luggage space for Andromeda allowed) as well as a pair of high-heels, a nice dress for polite company, and a couple of all purpose skirts She’s not a big bra person, although she has a couple for dressing up, with matching bottoms. She generally favours boyshorts. She also has the Andromeda issued wardrobe of socks (knee length in her case), shoes, trousers, long sleeve shirts and jackets, which keep her covered for the elements, and round out her wardrobe.

40. Any Accessoires they always take with them?

- Elizabeth has a 4,000 year old Asari family heirloom ring, given to her by a close Asari colleague when she got into the Andromeda initiative, so that her Asari friend knew that some part of her family had made it to another galaxy. Elizabeth wears it on a length of paracord around her neck at all times.

41. Stuff they always carry with them? (Nail File, Earbuds, Gum etc)

- A Flashlight. As a child, Elizabeth was particularly uncomfortable in the dark, and Ellen got her a a little pocket flash light so she would always have a light with her. Elizabeth kept it up, although these days her flashlight has a crenelated bezel that could crack a Turian’s face plate.

42. Any piercings/tattoos? When and why did they get them?

- Elizabeth used to have three eye-brow piercings above her right eye, but never wears jewelry on assignments, and so hasn’t worn them in years. She also has a mosaic of inter-connected tattoos on her left shoulder and upper arm, part of an eventual sleeve, documenting major firsts, like the first time she left Earth, the first Prothean dig she joined, and most recently, being one of the first humans to leave the milky way, which she got before they left, figuring they’ll either make it, or die trying, and that no-one would know her hubris if they failed.

43. What’s their hygiene like? Do they shower after every mission?

- Ryder showers daily and does all the usual hygiene maintenance, but otherwise doesn’t go the extra mile. If she’s feeling lazy on a weekend, she’ll just stay in and not worry about showering and all that, but other wise, keeps clean enough.

44. Scent?

- Pretty generic. A little musky when she’s been sweating her skin off doing something, and back when she helped secure digs, she’d often smell of that weired burned-metal/steak smell of hard vacuum, or dusty from spending time in the archaeology labs chatting with her fellow nerds. Out in Andromeda, she’s finding it a nightmare to not have a slight smell of stale sweat everywhere she goes with the long hours she’s spending in her envirosuit, often days at a time.

45. Do they use any perfume/cologne?

- Occasionally a light perfume for more formal occasions, usually something lightly floral, but otherwise, she’s a speed-stick and go kinda gal.

46. Voice?

- A light, pleasant contralto, with a tendency to speak a little sing-songy, her words a little lyrical.

47. Accents/Dialects?

- Her English is generally neutral, the result of spending her early life in Hong Kong, and later in Canada and else where. There are clear hints though of the lingering Hong Kong accent with its subtle British notes. Her Cantonese is clearly from Hong Kong though, and her French sounds mostly Parisian, although it’s clear there’s an outside influence, the result of it being her second language (after her joint mother-tongues of English and Cantonese)

48. Impediments?

- Elizabeth suffers from intermittent stuttering, although a life-time of experience with it has made it much less common in her speech, and it only surfaces as much any more when she’s upset or angry.

49. Are they good at singing?

- Her voice is sweet, but mediocre, although she can just about hold a tune. Much more a sing-along voice than an opera voice.

50. Describe their laughter:

- Elizabeth’s laughter is usually loud and full. Outside of that it could be a snigger, a bark, a chortle, a giggle, a snort, or just about anything, although she tends more towards bursts of full-on belly laughter.

51. Languages?

- English, Cantonese, and French.

52. Did they enjoy their time in school? Were they a good student?

- Elizabeth would have hated school if it wasn’t for her brother Scott being there to make it bearable. They’re both quite smart, but Elizabeth never enjoyed the everyday grind, and was less outgoing than Scott, and so didn’t socialize as much. Having her brother there gave her someone to engage with who was smart enough to keep up, helped her socialize a lot more easily, and made school doable for Elizabeth. Grades wise, she did excellently on tests and papers, but often only did just enough on busy work, and so had good, but not stellar, grades.

53. Do they swear a lot?

- Frequently, yes.

54. Temperament:

- Although prone to anger and frustration, Elizabeth takes pains to be professional and rational in her work, and to give people the benefit of the doubt. She rants and raves in private, but with friends and loved ones takes the time to try and be supportive, and to have patience even when something is trying, not always with success. Professionally she channels her tendency towards anger into righteous indignation and a vengeful zeal to achieve in spite of those who cross her, if at all possible achieving at their expense in the process.

55. Is your Ryder religious? Did the events in Andromeda made your Ryder question their faith?

- Elizabeth says she was “born Atheist”, religion never being a major component of her family life, and she herself never seeing the need for a god in a universe where science, day by day, kept peeling back the boundaries of the unknown. Andromeda just emphasized that, with the speed with which the new mysteries were being solved using good, old fashion, mortal science. One of her favorite quotes is “Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?” by Douglas Adams.

56. Their opinion on politics/political party?

- Elizabeth understands and sympathizes with the Earth-first stances of some parties, believing that the Systems alliance is sometimes too eager to seek the approval of the council. At the same time, she believes that Humanity’s place is as a major member of the Galactic political scene, and that growing ties with other races is essential. She particularly supports growing ties with the Turians, who have been at times the worst critic of and best ally of the Human cause in turn. With many younger Turians, and a fair few veterans of the first contact war, seeming to support closer ties with humanity, who they see in many ways as a kindred species, particularly since Humanity attained a council seat for Commander Shepard’s heroic actions during the attack on the Citadel (to Ryder) only a few years ago, she feels that her instinct towards galactic integration being vindicated. She supports the tight interplanetary trade regulation that the Systems Alliance maintains, on the basis that Human industry such as Hahne-Kedar would get crushed by the likes of the Elkoss Combine or Elanus Risk Control if they had to compete in the Earth Market the same as they do interplanetarily. It would be impossible to establish the high-end market segment they have if they weren’t able to found their sales earnings in human space. Her view is to look at the suffering that globalized deregulation caused to people in the 21st century, and use that as a lesson for future trade and economic policy. Ryder is also generally in favor of greater recognition for member races of the Citadel accords in formal decision making processes, although she supports limiting executive functions to the most populace races out of a pragmatic desire to avoid grid-lock.

57. Morality?

- She tends towards idealism with a healthy leavening of cynicism. She believes that sometime the most virtuous act, the act that causes the least suffering to the innocent, and which most rapidly solves a problem, is the use of force. She supports Alliance military action in the Verge, and proportionate response against Batarian forces and anti-slavery raids into Batarian space, as well as the expansion of the fleet to make it clear to Arahot that Humanity can and will crush them if pressed. So, she’s in the “speak softly, and carry a big stick” school of morality. That you should seek idealistic goals, but do so with an eye towards realism and pragmatism.

58. Assuming the Renegade and Paragon alignment still existed in Andromeda, how would your Ryder react? What would your Ryder chose?

- Broadly Paragon, with a dash of Renegade. Likely more Renegade than Shepard in ME1 or ME3, and about as Renegade as ME2, on account of having to deal with a broader range of galactic society, not just its best and brightest.

59. Etiquette:

- Elizabeth tends to be polite and formal with strangers, but is usually quick to ease up on formality after meeting someone, although the manners never quite go away, even when shit-talking her closest friends.

60. Attitude:

- She has little patience for people who are disingenuous, callous, or generally incapable of pulling their head out their ass and showing common courtesy. Outside of that, she’s fairly laid back and polite.

61. Outlook on life (pre and post andromeda)

- Generally positive. She sees Human space, and the council now that they’ve gone through the shock of Saran’s attack, as moving in the right direction, and she sees the broad appeal of the Andromeda Initiative to be enheartening. Since arriving in Andromeda, she’s felt affirmed in her positivity with the general goodness of people, although she’s angry that the shittiest people seem to gravitate at the top.

62. Any vices?

- Plenty ;) rich food, good quality rum, and Merino wool are just some of the more public.

63. Virtues?

- A very strong sense of right and wrong, and a tendency to give people the benfit of the doubt, as long as they aren’t just trying to save their own skin.

64. Do they live after a specific motto/philosophy?

- Not really?

65. Priorities in life and job:

- Surviving in Andromeda, getting a date with Vetra, and settling down somewhere with a view.

66. What motivates your Ryder?

- A hunger for new horizons and a chance to spread life beyond the paltry borders of our little galaxy.

67. Self Confidence?

- Miles of it, although, not with out doubt.

68. Self Control?

- Enough, although she does stress eat, and can like a drink too much.

69. Self Esteem?

- Lots, although she can feel that failures in her mission are her fault, even when they aren’t, and to take responsibility for things she didn’t have control over.

70. What would absolutely crush your Ryders confidence?

- Nothing, short maybe of getting her team killed.

71. Any quirks?

- I mean, yes. She’s a human, not a Geth. The most notable is that she has intermittent twitches around her eyes, especially her left.

72. Did your Ryder have any hobbies before Andromeda? Are they still able to maintain them on the Tempest? Did they found new things to do?

- Well, archaeology. She also enjoyed gaming, particularly racing and sports games that support split-screen multiplayer so she can thrash Scott.

73. Closet Hobbies

- Light BDSM.

74. Guilty Pleasures

- The occassional Cigarette, cheescake, ecchi manga.

75. Habits

- Always goes to the bathroom first thing after waking up, hates being awake until she’s had some caffeine so she bee-lines for tea, or caffeinated soda, or a caffeinated energy drink. Always hits the exercise bike up before bed to listen or watch something without just sitting on her ass.

76. Desires

- She’s beginning to want to settle down and start a family. Also, on the down-low, she wishes Drack would adopt her as another grand-daughter.

77. Wishes

- She’d like it if the initiative’s textiles equipment would get up and running fully so she could get some summer dresses.

78. Traumas

- Nothing especially. Her Mother’s death, her Father’s death, and her Brother’s injury are the big ones. Being treated a little as an outcast on account of only being part-Asian when she was young in Hong Kong, fitting neither into the local community, not the immigrant community.

79. Worries

- Plenty, but mostly transient.

80. Any nervous ticks? Do they bite their nails, chew their hair? Do they suffer from the shaky leg syndrome?

- Her legs bounce when she’s restless, and she looks around her surroundings a lot more when nervous. If she’s standing, she’ll bounce slightly, but noticeably, on the balls of her feet.

81. Soothers?

- A nice cool bed.

82. Soft Spots

- Kittens. When Turians do that thing with their mandibles. Anyone who cooks.

83. Accomplishments

- Becoming Human Pathfinder. Settling a bunch of colonies. Her work on archaeological digs, and coming the top end of her Alliance class are both points of pride for her.

84. What do they consider their greatest achievement?

- Eos.

85. What do they consider their greatest failure?

- Alec dying. She feels there must have been something more she could do.

86. Earliest Memory?

- Having noodles from a little bowl as a girl at dinner with her mother and brother.

87. Fondest Memory?

- Seeing space for the first time.

88. What are their dreams like?

- Elizabeth rarely dreams, but when she does, her dreams tend to be quite realistic. She does frequently suffer from fever dreams when sick though, and those are quite disorienting.

89. Happiest moment before their departure to Andromeda?

- When she first got deployed to secure a Prothean dig site. The two things that fascinated her as a child were space and the depth of history in the cultures around her, particularly in Hong Kong and, when she studied there, in Paris. She always knew space was going to become part of her life, but finding out she was going to get to reach out and see, first hand, the uncovering of a truly mysterious past in a Prothean ruin, discovering mind-boggling technological wonders that were 50,000 years old already, that really got to her.

90. Happiest moment in Andromeda:

-The first time she returned to Eos and saw it bustling after all the failures that came before.

91. Most valuable possession?

- SAM. She’s bonded with him in a way that’s impossible to describe, and already in the very short time she’s had him, she knows she’d find loosing him unbearable.

92. Do they collect anything?

- Misfit crew members and rocks. Elizabeth loved rocks as a kid, and found them fascinating, and she has ever since. She had to leave most of her collection behind, but smuggled a couple of the choicer small ones along. She didn’t know her father had a special rock until they arrived in Andromeda. Kinda made her feel a little closer to him.

93. Humour?

- Dry, dark, and cynical. The “worse”, often the better, as long as the joke is well crafted.

94. Likes

- I mean, lots of things? Misty rainy days are pretty far up there, as are cool sheets after a long day, and hot cocoa.

95. Dislikes

- Bad manners and disregard for basic niceness.

96. Favourite things in life:

- Perry the Pyjak, because he’s adorable! Also, Kallo and Suvi’s general dorkiness. And how much Drack is a total goober around his grand-daughter. And generally people having a soft and tender side with the ones they care for.

97. Profile:

- She’s an all rounder, and loves using her biotics to blink through things. *Whoosh-pop!*

98. Preferred Weapons:

- A Mattock assault rifle with scope for distance, as a compromise between accuracy, weight, rate of fire, and ammo capacity, giving her both a ranged precision weapon as well as an acceptable weapon for close to medium range engagements if pushed. For closer up, a modified Hurricane submachine gun, and for medium engagements a modified phalanx pistol that auto-fabs explosive charges, allowing her to put a lot of damage down range quickly.

99. Describe their fighting style:

- Again, a bit generalist. In open engagements, she tries to keep her distance and focus from target to target, methodically picking them off, and generally prefers to keep enemies as far away as possible just so she takes fewer hits. In enclosed spaces, or when pushed, she jumps from target to target, using her biotics to throw and yank enemies about, and to generate a barrier so she can close and use her biotics to “melee” opponents, nevermind blinking about the place to disorient the enemy.

100. Speciality:

- Controlled Biotic pulls. She can capture multiple objects, and keep them captured for a long time. While her other skills are decent, her throw especially being quite potent, her skill at capturing objects in a controlled biotic field is a cut above the rest.

101. Favourite Squadmates:

- Vetra and Drack. While she can tolerate the others, she actively enjoys Drack-and-Vetra’s company. She finds Cora preachy, and too serious, to the extent it interferes with her ability to do her job in ‘Liz’s opinion; She finds Liam obnoxious, although generally competent, despite a tendency to not plan ahead; She finds Peebee childish and trying, having little time for her facade of “mystery”; She finds Jaal’s attitude to be superior, his people to be even more prone to blind bigotry than most milky-way races, and their collective assertion that their emotional openness is somehow empowering to be little more than an excuse to emotionally degrade each other without long term consequence, and while it might not be fair to lump Jaal in with his people, his general adherence to defending their stances seems to be unthinking enough to ‘Liz that she feels he’s contributing to culture that is inherently unaccepting of genuine dissent and disagreement.

102. How do they handle the Nomad?

- Like a pro. Elizabeth had extensive experience driving off-road under various planetary conditions with the Alliance, and the act of driving appeals to some nerdy core of her personality that enjoys the precision of the act, the engineering, and the knee quivering power.

103. How do they maintain their sleeping pattern?

- These days, with SAM’s help, although Elizabeth has struggled to maintain regular sleep patterns since childhood, often relying on strict regiments of alarms to wake, and prescribed medicine to sleep.

104. Any traditions they value?

- Far to many to list. While Elizabeth is a forward facing and thinking woman, she recognizes the importance of the past, and is prone to cherishing the small things from it, like analogue time-pieces, and cooking over fire. Particularly important to her are manners, simple basic manners. She feel that in day-to-day life, they take no true effort, and signify a general respect for your fellow beings,

105. Culture?

- Most of Elizabeth’s culture comes from Ellen and Alec’s generally western Earth background, but an early childhood in Hong Kong definitely gave ‘Liz an element of awareness of Asian cultures and history, as well as informing her own worldview and mindset, and she embraces facets of Asian cultures generally, from appreciating the reverence for the natural world in Shinto and the search for inner peace of Buddhism, to things much more simple, like the slight bow that accompanies every “thank you” that passes her lips.

106. Eating Habits:

- Generally healthy, but sometimes too much. Elizabeth has struggled with Stress eating throughout her life.

107. Any pets?

- Just Perry the Pyjak. She had, with her brother, a cat and a dog as a child, the cat in Hong Kong, where a house-pet was more realistic, and a dog in Canada, where the larger suburban environments made walking and playing with a pooch doable.

108. Work Ethic:

- She avoids it when she can, but if something grabs her eye, or will clearly have a real world impact, she’ll work at it efficiently and well.

109. Does your Ryder have a criminal record?

- A couple public intoxication charges from college, an indecent exposure charge, and a few vandalism charges from graffiti as a teen.

110. Degrees?

- Two bachelors, one in Anthropology with emphases in the application of archaeological methods and xeno-anthropological principles, and one in Political Science, with focus on modern galactic relations.

111. Who is your Ryders best friend on the Tempest?

- Kallo.

She find him so easy to talk to, and so nice. To be honest, she has a bit of a crush. Besides, he’s just the best to hug! Most of all, he’s sensitive and patient. He’s the only crew member Elizabeth feel like she doesn’t need to be strong for. It was something about the way he was cheerful and joking from the get go, but always professional. She felt and instant fondness and connection.

112. Does your Ryder have any role models?

- Elizabeth has a fondness for those who pushed frontiers. She always admired Norgay and Hillary for refusing to say who reached the summit first. Also the early astronauts. To her, those kinds of people, often possessed of a surprising humility in contrast to the grandeur of their achievements, people who went to the unknown places to do the notionally undoable are the manifestation of the human spirit.

113. Any heroes and/or mentors?

- Not particularly, although she approves of Commander Shepard’s pioneering course as a Spectre, and her bright optimism in an often cynical galaxy. Elizabeth still remembers when the press photos first released of Shepard’s crew receiving commendations, and how it was so diverse, so different from what anyone suspected. Turian shoulder-to-shoulder with Humans and a Krogan, a Quarian helping the galaxy despite the tremendous mistreatment most received in galactic society, and the Willaim’s sisters, their family name no longer mud because of their forbears, accepting the highest Alliance and Citadel commendations for bravery on behalf of their fallen sister.

114. What is their reputation in Andromeda?

- Broadly positive. She has a reputation for helping those who need it, and not believing any problem is too small. She also has a reputation for crushing the life force out of you with her biotic powers, or burying a bullet in your head from behind a rock outcropping if you get in her way, or cause undue ruckus, or generally want a fight. She’s well brutal to those she considers threats, and the word is spreading.

115. Do they have a strong opinion on pineapples on pizza?

- They do not have a strong opinion, but they approve of people eating what they enjoy. Elizabeth herself rarely has pizzas with pineapple, but doesn’t mind.

116. Ever stole something?

- Nothing important. Strictly speaking she broke galactic law by ferreting away a small Prothean artifact from a dig, a small piece of a shattered and tremendously damaged base relief.

117. Is your Ryder the kind of person to play pranks? If yes, what did they do?

- Not really. Elizabeth more enjoys word play. Although she does occasionally enjoy getting a rise out of people, and can be a little gadflyish

118. Any “classic” movies they love?

- Apollo 13, 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Blasto Movies because they’re like a comedy-action James Bond, and Star Wars Excluding episodes I, XIII, and XIX. Turns out that most galactic cinema is trash. the galaxy lost its shit when Star Wars was re-released for galactic showings, and Elizabeth remembers seeing it in London where it was being shown in the original English, in a theater packed with aliens in the city on business. She swears the Turian ambassador was in the back row.

119. Your Ryder once uploaded a video that went viral. What was it about?

- Biotic gymnastics. She did an Uneven bars set without any bars in full combat gear while on deployment near the verge. Gave her a decent reputation for biotic skill.

120. Describe your Ryder in one vine

- No.

121. What tropes fit your Ryder?

- She feels like a Pint-Sized Powerhouse next to Drack and Vetra, a Brainy Brunette, an Action Girl, a Magic Knight, with Mind Over Matter skills, a real One-Woman Army, who tends towards the cross road of Good Is Not Nice and Good Is Not Soft when someone gets on her bad side. Oh, and she totally has a Violently Protective Girlfriend...

Vetra, in a peaceful moment between murdering Kett and other sundry villains.

122. Favourite Song?

- Just one? Uh, Spirit in the sky by Norman Greenbaum?

123. Do they play music in the nomad?

- Not normally. I mean, in and around the colonies, sure, but out in the wilds? Why play music and ruin the breath-taking awesomeness of the unknown?

#Mass Effect: Andromeda #Fem!Ryder #Ryder #My Ryder #Pathfinder #Pathfinder Ryder #Questions #Answers #Questions and Answers #Q&A #Seriously though Grandpa Drack would be the best can you imagine him dressed up as Santa?

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oranges8hands · 8 years ago

Text

It's Morphin Time! (Power Rangers review)

spoilers for Power Rangers (2017)

side note: I only watched a few episodes as a kid so I’m not going to pick up on inside jokes/won’t be pointing out comparisons. // I’m white and not autistic so when taking about representation keep that in mind // cw (lite): rape culture, suicide

much more enjoyable than the original breakfast club.

property damage

that was... a lot

and I’m not even referring to the big battle at the end; arguably they could have played it differently (and I mean that on both a watsonian and a doylist perspective) but Big Boss Battle, I give those passes, (superhero) movies tend to think they need them. (and are only so-so wrong.) But before that (and superpowers in general) we have: a damaged school/cow, a car chase at the school, a car accident, a mine blasting, a car chase at the mine, and a car-meets-train accident.

and while we see, yanno, happy survivors at the end, I’m wondering if they are going to address the major damage done to the town.

good thing they have masks. and knew to ditch out of there while still in celebration mode.

this was small town america, dependent on mining and fishing. (which - interesting choice of location because it made the movie very compacted, and it also stressed a lot of the push-pull of teenagers and their struggles. this should definitely become a theme as the franchise goes on - the desire to leave with the duty to stay and protect)

I know! use all that fucking spent gold Rita left behind!

I mean the jewelry store can at least provide receipts but what’s the mine gonna say? “yeah, that chunk of arm definitely came from Shaft 37″

speaking of - they are so damn reckless!

so reckless!

and I mean it’s kind of great because a) how fitting for teenagers in general, like this movie is 95% of the time going “they are teenagers!” (with all the middle finger to mortality and boneheadedness and earnestness and finding your place/friends/family that comes with it), and b) because it comes in various forms to fit the specific characters well, and c) its great tactic for skipping over the whole “wtf superpower freakout”

but also - thank bob they got some magic healing stones cause they all almost die a few times before the whole superhero gig even kicks in. that car chase at the mine (both the recklessness and the loyalty of helping each other) is an excellent establishing intro to them cause wtf power rangers

like arguably the least reckless is Billy, who is introduced as bribing a kid to drive him over so he can blow up a mine in the growing dark that almost kills another kid (how did Trini survive that fall with barely a bruise? magic). and he’s the LEAST reckless.

the real question - did he just happen to learn how to disable the tracker before this, has he actually done this before, or did he learn how before Jason came over that night?

but I say least reckless because the majority of his recklessness comes from love/loyalty - the mine visits originally for his dad, everything else for his friends

but we have Zack - taking care of a terminal ill parent and so his things are about pushing limits, that more, more, more (or out, out, out) feeling, being wild, flirting with that “death wish” - because that’s a way to act out his fear, that’s a way to be out of control in a controlled way (he can’t control that, but he can control this), that’s a way to say fuck you to death, that’s just part of his personality of ‘I’m gonna touch it’

100% he is the person who presses the red button that says ‘do not press’

also its funny that he just hangs around the mine; full assumption on my part but it fits if his mom got sick from the mine, and he - to avoid finding out if she dies during the night, if the last of his family is gone - visits the root of it

Jason: I think there’s arguably a few ways of looking at it:

the growing pressure of familial/town obligations of being the golden boy are too much, and he‘s acting out to blow off steam

how he touches his knee made me wonder if he was getting an injury, and (sub)consciously wanted to get out of playing more football, either because he’s afraid of damaging it more or because he thinks it’s better to get kicked off on purpose than have it fail him/have to leave for something he can’t control

small town football stars are the weirdest mix of celebrity/adoration* and teenager, and some people don’t handle that well and turn to other means to get that attention, and adrenaline

* adoration that is temporary and/or dependent on their skills

some combo of the above

but anyway he’s “dumb stunts” reckless, and brings other people (and cows) into it, and his arc as leader means figuring out a balance for that, bringing them to necessary danger but not getting them killed

Trini is “outsider” - and the movie supplemented that with actual queerness (more on that below); like she runs from the group, she questions whats really bringing them together (are we friends?), Rita pinpoints that as her weakness, her character arc/turning point is when she immediately tells the others. and her recklessness is towards the self, esp her body - like she trespasses into the mine to practice stretches/meditation, the train run (IIRC she’s the one whose like “eh, hope we make it”), she uses her powers to get away (did she know she could make that jump before she did it because her powers became apparent in less the ‘destructive of an item’ way and more like Zack’s in which it was pushing physics?)

I think its arguable she’s had issues with drugs. like the movie stresses three years for her (her growing distance/quiet coming with her sexuality questioning), and her mom just happens to have a pee cup on standby? that’s a long time period to keep testing a kid who never shows up as positive. I mean maybe her mom’s just reacting in more and more extreme measures and this is the latest version... also the way her dad intercedes with her mom’s questions, I wonder if that’s his natural role in the family or if that came out of therapy.

I really don’t think she’s presented as suicidal in the film, but I think there’s an underlining implication that can be read where AU this superpower thing didn’t happen she goes in that direction (she is isolated by her “other” status within her family, by being the new kid at school, and so on)

Kimberly is self-destructive; its thoughtlessness and impulsiveness (and meanness) coming out to swallow her and take who she can with her. cutting her hair, diving at night at the quarry, her “revenge porn” (and way more on that below), even breaking into Jason’s room to tell him about why she was in detention

there’s no “is it superpowers??????” which I immensely appreciate; it’s “something weird is happening and we need to figure out what.”

they killed Billy. and yeah, happy they bought him back, but they still killed him.

and since I hadn’t actually watched the trailer all the way through, and I feel like a Power Ranger died in the original series (no clue if that’s accurate), and Billy’s Black and on the spectrum, yeah, I thought it was going to last.

his death was used for Zordon, Jason, and Kim’s character arc

I understand it was so each of the other four could carry him together, but the Jesus pose is still in way too many superhero and/or teenage protagonist movies

yeah yeah he was the heart of the team I get it; still could have done it without his death. or frankly Jason works, since he’s the leader (and its interesting that the heart of the group and the leader of the group are two different people) and everyone pulls together for the leader. but again, no death works

it made no sense that she killed him and left the other four alive. also I’m assuming she was powering the ropes to keep them in place but did it completely drain them of power? cause as we saw earlier, they can breathe underwater

David Christopher Bell pointed out that since The Dark Knight, villains need to a) not just kill the heroes but break their spirits and b) get caught as part of the master plan. and while the latter is the “reason” behind the scene - she needs to find the location, she somehow knows Billy knows (like she somehow knew Trini felt like an outsider) - the former ended up feeling like the motive for the scene.

actually she hits a couple more on the list - we don’t actually know her motive for turning (beyond “feeling like an outsider”) and the narrative treats her like she’s “unhinged” for no reason.

weirdly Zordon is not part of her motive? like him being “alive” is barely a sidenote to her

representation

well done Black Autistic Hero! like Billy uses the actual term (which is already more than a lot of characters do), he exhibits behaviors of it (speech patterns, special interests, joke recognition, touching, stimming, etc), and he’s a friggin hero (and no one questions his capability to be one)

so Jason is the main; he has more screen time, his emotional arc is devoted the most space, he & his are the the inciting incident - a. his introduction into detention is the opening change that starts the story and b. his dad brings Rita out of the water (though maybe she could only be brought out after the gems are found?) - and he’s the leader of the team. however, Billy serves as the heart of the team, and the movie (usually through Jason, non-negatively) points out several times that he is behind finding the gems, and he’s the one who brings Jason to the mine. so Jason is the main but if they had tweaked the script a little Billy would have been.

Zack is not stereotypical/usual. (first off he’s played by an actual Asian actor, ba dum tss). but he’s poor, small family, while he wasn’t given a romance he didn’t come across as desexualized, he exchanged just pure slugging it out punches with Jason (instead of the “all (East) Asian (men) know martial arts” trope), he’s not nerdy or an airhead (the two extremes for school tropes), he loves his mom and outside of caretaking we also see them enjoy each other (high five over their chess game), he’s super f-ing reckless (let me just jump on this speeding car wtf Zack you didn’t know you had powers at that point), when established they speak Chinese together they don’t suddenly switch to (accented) English because that’s too many subtitles for an American audience

Trini: queer Mexican girl. like, I’ve seen the arguments for both sides of this - on the one end: she’s questioning (and feels so alone in it) so it fits she doesn’t have a label for herself, and on the other there’s been a growing trend of movies getting points for the tiniest overt queerness. because this is an introduction into a franchise and she’s a main character and the crew/cast are vocal about it and while she didn’t have a label it was connected to her arc (outsider status/isolation -> group friendship), I felt more on the ok end of it, though I would have definitely liked at least a little more vocalization. And this is definitely dependent on how they deal with it going forward, and I also agree with people who think it was not enough, especially since they chose to have her character in the early stages of questioning her identity and while that’s a legitimate storyline it’s not the only one.

a really good solution would have been to have Zack say he’s pan or bi.

more queer rep always

like, did you watch him? (flirting mode towards everyone: activated)

it means we see someone with a labeled identity and someone questioning, and it enriches the scene between them, and it gives more weight/overtness to her sexuality (aka the movie itself isn’t shying away from labels, this specific character is cause she’s still figuring it out)

the start of queering them all. all of them.

Kim is played by a biracial (Indian & white) actress. I can’t really speak to how that fits into the romance trope - she’s not white (the “Girlfriend Role” works differently for WOC), but Asian women are hypersexualized (the gratuitous bra shot, with Jason looking on without her knowledge)... basically I’m not familiar with how Indian women specifically fit into this conversation and it’s really not my place to say. I personally felt they erred too much on the romance for her, because the scenes with her and Jason together felt much more tied to Jason‘s arc* than hers or both of theirs, and she felt sexualized in the movie in a way the rest of them didn’t, so overall I wish they kept it a little more subtle than they did. but again not my judgement to make in terms of representation.

* the hallway walk, the quarry scenes... those feel like the Manic Pixie Girl/Girlfriend Role (”let’s run, right now”) and since her arc was a little less clear than the others it feels like the problem with that stems from the romance, even if it didn’t necessarily.

However let’s talk about her backstory, the biggest twist in a movie I’ve seen in years.

raise your hand if you thought she was getting the ‘sexually assaulted and fought him off and former friends/mean girls attack her for being a slut’ story. *raises hand* and instead she leaked her friend’s nude to a dude with a sex-shaming comment (who spread it to the whole school and/or besides to the dude Kim sent it to the school). PLOT TWIST.

except lemme say - this is a huge violation. HUGE. leaking nudes is not just a mistake or a bad choice, its a violation and it affects the leaked person for the rest of their life and its a well deserved criminal offense. (at least Jason’s ankle monitor suggests there’s some kind of police punishment that came with the huge amounts of damage he did - though talk about a light sentence good thing you’re a football player/white dude - but her punishment is just detention?) and I definitely need a lot more on the redemption arc beyond ‘stops being a mean girl who doesn’t recognize her actions for as damaging as they are until the consequences are shoved into her face’, esp because she’s only partly sorry. She’s sorry about what she did, yes, I believe that, but there’s also several instances (like when their cafeteria dishes melt, or the car gets smashed) where she smirks when they get in trouble. (That she’s the victim in this situation.) And with that, the narrative smirks at them too, because they’re mean girls and they cut her out; except she’s in the wrong! she completely violated Elizabeth! they’re allowed to be petty/mean back to her! It’s implied she basically leaked the nude because ‘why not,’ she deserves to get some shitty treatment back at her!

one of the main rules was “don’t use your powers for personal gain.” IDK if this is going to come up in the franchise, but if it does I’m assuming - if it’s not the whole group - it’s going to be either her or Zack. Zack because of his sick mom (external force), her because of her personality (internal force).

eta: in a convo with clari-clyde she pointed out that Jason tells her she’s not a bad person when yeah, she was a bad person. ("i would‘ve liked it better if jason said, you chose to be a bad person, but you can also choose to be a good person. you can make poor bad choices, building on that bad choice. or you can start making good choices, and start transforming yourself.”) and I agree. Kim didn’t do a mean thing, she is a mean person (the photos just being the latest and a REALLY BIG DEAL), and the narrative both understands that weight (her self-hatred/angst is about it) while treating it as less damaging than it is (how it somewhat tries to victimize her, and by virtue of getting the stone/superpowers.) once we learn Kim’s backstory her power walk (after cutting her hair) back into detention takes on new meaning, and not in a good way; she’s apologetic in the scene with Jason, but we don’t really see evidence of that in her treatment of her actual victims. (its the common redemption arc of tv white dudes - the idea that feeling bad is enough to redeem them, as opposed to them actually doing something to redeem themselves.) and one of the reasons her arc fell a little flat to me is because her backstory (leaked nude) and her end result (being a power ranger) are really not connected, both in context and through the group. everyone else’s arc was interwoven into them becoming a group, while her arc was interwoven with Jason only.

and in addition to that, Jason “forgiving her” gets tied back into their romantic undertones (removed kiss or not), so that it comes across more as “I like you, therefore you are not a bad person,” instead of acknowledging she was actually a bad person, but she can make actual steps into changing that.

Zordon & Alpha 5 downloaded the English matrix and can converse fine but “teenagers” is the one word to throw them off. which a) suggests Zordon and his group/people don’t distinguish that grouping - which makes sense, the term is only like a 100yrs old, but more importantly b) is beautiful shot at Marvel. I mean, I don’t know if that’s why they did it, but after that Civil War nonsense I’m reading it as one anyway. feel free to join me.

music - a little uneven. like for the majority of the film it was unobtrusive, with “HandClap” during the training montage brought into the narrative with Billy and Alpha 5 clapping, and then at the end there was the tv theme song (fair enough) but it cut off quick, as did the other (loud) song during those scenes too, and the one after the other nature of it was abrupt sounding.

I liked the training montage.

ok, so Jason can fight, we see that (dodge the bully’s fist), plus he’s an athlete. and Kim is an ex-cheerleader (and apparently recreational diver), aka an athlete. (athletes in football and cheerleading tend to have: body strength, quick pattern recognition, inclined towards multitasking & teamwork, can take a damn hit, etc.) we see Trini doing a stretch routine and taking out Zack in the pit and both she and Zack are suggested to have some parkouring. Billy is probably the least experienced, esp when it comes to fighting (and notable he’s the one that gets the basic boxing/punching routine), but he runs around a mine and like the others seems to be a good swimmer. so it comes across as less unbelievable that they can pick this up, esp because for the most part their fighting strategy is to hit the dirt monsters until they fall apart and we see them practicing (over and over again) the specific move that took Rita down. (also I was literally thinking ‘what, they can suddenly move as one with no training’ and then the final evolution of their robot trips. I’ll give the movie some leeway on how they can control the dino bots so well - plus handwavy they’re plugged in and figured it out - because of that trip.)

they also show injuries.

ok except for Kim and Jason’s shirtless scene, the camera (and clothing department) treated them like teenagers, like they shouldn’t be needlessly sexualized for (adult) audiences. it’s fucked up that this is special enough to note, but its definitely special enough to note. (and they still did the ‘guy looks at half-naked woman without her permission’ thing, which is not ok, yes not even to the same girl who leaked the nudes.) there was Rita - she shows more skin the “prettier” she gets, her outfit at the jewelry store was esp “where did she get this?” - but at least she wasn’t playing a teenager. (and I don’t remember her actions towards them being sexualized, but I may just not be remembering it. eta: she definitely does have the sexualized vibe going with her adult victims though.

it was a fair job with the product placement and shoutouts (like Bumblebee and Ironman/Spiderman - those are franchises it can be assumed their audiences know).

like Jason, you fucked over your football scholarship/college options, your family probably has to pay for the school damages, you have a police (though possibly just juvenile) record... they’re allowed to question your decisions. and your dad still ends up giving you a chance to have a car again. (after you smashed two in less than a month.)

this was a mix of parental awareness and not. like Billy’s mom* is there greeting (and noticing the school social group differences) at the door, but not that the missing (smashed up) van may be his fault. Trini’s parents are aware if ineffectual/ridiculous. we just get a glimpse of Jason’s mom and sister but we spend time on his relationship with his dad (whose paying attention to his kid and tries to rescue him), but he still sneaks out of his house (with ankle bracelet) and is gone past his curfew at least twice, if not every day of training. Zack’s mom is trying to keep track (checking if he’s going to school) but (assumed) doesn’t know he sometimes spends nights away from home (assumed after giving her her pills.) unless I’m totally blanking, we don’t know about Kim’s family, though she goes swimming at the quarry at night and cuts her hair etc without recognition. and they all spend at least one night (though is bonfire night and them meeting at the bleachers the same night?) away from home. and they all spend almost two weeks coming home with bruises/etc.

* ok I thought he said both parents died in the car accident when he first tells Jason but then later he just talks about his dead dad so was that his mom or his guardian? (I’m trying to remember if he shouted ‘her name’s Trini’ with a relationship term at the end.)

they had some really great moments but: Trini and Kim fighting over the last bite. Jason slapping the bully (that was so fucking cutting.) Billy on the spaceship. Zack and his mom hanging out over chess. Trini with her brothers. etc etc.

so the time jumps - the gems keep them alive and put them to bed, but they don’t do things like fix the van.

I’m so glad Trini immediately tells the group about Rita’s deal, and the narrative doesn’t even try to have some possible betrayal shit, and Jason’s speech (we suck, but we should do this anyways) was a good choice

all the death and injuries are close up, within the group. even with big battle the ‘helpless citizen’ was shown through Jason’s dad. the group itself receives extensive (if sometimes recklessly self-inflicted) damage.

boob armor. (Trini’s brothers could have guessed Yellow was a girl considering that.)

the actors did a good job, esp Billy’s

??? I always forget obvious stuff when I do these.

overall, I liked the movie more than I thought I would (ok not saying too much), and it had some great moments, but Billy’s death esp was cheap, there was some incongruent scenes that affected the rest/tone of the film, and the final fighting battles - esp in the dino bots (though let’s be real: I want one) - was a little ridiculous. but the movie did a good introduction, and it felt like it recognized teenagers in all their stupidity and grace, and I’ll definitely give the next one in the franchise a try.

#power rangers #power rangers 2017 #cross the street #spandex walking by #[though this doesn't exactly fit into the comics tag it feels like it does]#suicide cw #rape culture cw #3.8k of opinion in bullet format

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mechagalaxy · 7 years ago

Text

Extra Bits

Alpha Legion surpassed all others in the techniques of infiltration. So skilled are they that often opponents would be halfway through their victory celebrations before they realized the choicest bits of their loot had somehow disappeared in the night, or their high value asset had been quietly substituted while they were busy “successfully” driving off a frontal Alpha Legion assault.

Most Clans treated the war as beginning when they loaded the dropships for travel to the war world, some treated war as beginning when they dropped into a hot LZ (where they usually got slaughtered, for being unprepared). Alpha Legion understood the war was half over before you even announced where the battles would be fought. Clan war was announced, and the Alpha Legion was already in motion against their suspected foes. Infiltration and sabotage was the order of the day.

Omegon looked upon his coleader Alpharius with suspicion. The mission was sabotage of enemy high threat assets. They had worked out the greatest potential return was from sabotage only against one class of mecha. To attack a class of mecha is to raise the suspicion that it is a design issue, or a degradation issue, destroying confidence in even those machines of that class that sabotage had not been successfully completed on. The scramble to remove first choice equipment as a possible source of the issue also provided a general performance loss across the whole mecha class, and thus the whole clan. Like all Alpha Legion strategies, its success was almost impossible to see happening, and completely impossible to stop.

The mecha class selected had been Boreas. Omegon and Alpharius had worked out the targeting based on the threat profile of their likely opponents, but now that the time for infiltration was here, Alpharius did not bear explosives, or acids, nor compressed supercoolants, or anything beyond the standard infiltration softwares. He carried……bits.

Omegon looked at the components, clearly parts of mecha power relays, actuator connectors, flexor articulators, capacitor shield buffers and secondary power shunts and scowled.

“Brother, I fail to see how gifting our enemies with our own hard won spare parts will win us this coming war.”

Alpharius laughed. “Look again brother, these are not our spare parts, in fact they are not spare parts at all. They are Rube Goldberg parts”

Omegon looked closer, and a smile crossed his face. Rube Goldberg parts were engineered to look like they should do something, like they must do something, but of course they do not. Rube Goldberg parts were designed to drive engineers insane as they absolutely looked like integral and important parts. To scatter a few of these parts into a tear down is to leave the mechanics with parts that look more like the parts they took out than the real thing, with disastrous consequences if they try to fit them in.

The twin Primarchs of the Alpha Legion laughed, it was the perfect Alpha Legion strategy. The more capable the enemy leader, the more effective the sabotage. A truly gifted engineer could figure a way to make these parts fit, where they would almost, but never quite, work. The most gifted to could try it a hundred, terrifyingly bad, ways.

-------Smurf Base Mushroom 6--------- “Brainey, I swear, I haven’t touched a drop! Well I haven’t touched a drop more than usual. I mean I was barely drinking at all! Just enough to make the stim packs stop tasting like reactor coolant. I mean we are doing full teardown on all the machines and I needed a little help. I swear, I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t tear down any farther than usual, didn’t change anything, but I have….extra bits”

Brainey Smurf looked at Rachet Smurf with a disapproving glare. The extra bits were clearly the anterior power coupler for a Psychic Enhancer. How can you not notice that one of your cockpit modules was not connected to both incoming and outgoing power?

Brainey’s voice got nasal as he lectured “I can see why you are embarrassed to admit you Smurfed up something so simple. Any fool can trace the couplings and find one that is not mated incoming and outgoing, I don’t see why you are bothering me with this. Just find which one is missing, and insert it. Please don’t waste my smurfing time with details this simple”

Rachet Smurf felt his wrench arm stop. Two of his technicians had jumped him before he could swing the wrench through Brainey’s head and wipe the smirk off his face with a six pound actuator wrench. Oh well. They had traced the couplings six times and everything looked fine. I guess the pilot could test it for them.

Alarms sounded as the crash teams worked to get the Boreas pilot out. The smell of burned blueberries was frightening. As they pulled the crisped pilot out of the machine, the whisper went around. “Crispy Smurf!” He would be quite a while in med bay, being fried like overdone bacon by some sort of cockpit interface issue.

That was six Boreas down grudged for different issues. At this rate they were going to have to pull the class out of service for the next war, or they would lose their pilots before firing a shot.

-----Myth and Legends Blood Wolves---Fang Alpha-------

Chief Technician Lupus Sanguinius stared at the piece and raged. “This is a gyroscope component, clearly. How could you forget to double check the gyro integrity before resealing the housing? Do you have any understanding of how delicate these devices are? A single failure will not just require this part be replaced, but all the components run through the laser scanner and spun on the oscillator to ensure they are in proper balance, then fluoresced to see the failure didn’t induce stress fractures or temper reductions. You are talking dozens of man hours wasted for the lack of one simple double check”

The Blood Wolf technician was almost in tears. A young engine-seer apprentice, he loved the Blood Wolves machines like they were his own pups, more than he loved his own girlfriend. Luckily for him, she was a pilot of one of the machines and found his devotion to the major love of her life, her Boreas, to be his most endearing feature.

The troll like Astech Bjorn interposed himself between the Chief Tech and the young puppy before a promising young technician had either his confidence broken, or most of his limbs if he made the mistake of taking a swing at a hardened killer like Lupus Sanguinius. With a low rumble he spoke.

“Ah sor, I wondered where that had gotten to. Aye, I know just where that is needed. Why don’t you give me that, and I will instruct the young gentleman about where it goes.” The simple smile on the troll like Assistant Technician (Astech), reassured both and Lupus let the matter drop with a nod. Stalking off to terrorize the crew working on an Apatotron upgrade that was overtime, and still not finished.

The eager young technician followed old Bjorn as he wandered off in the direction of the problem Boreas. Stopping in front of it, he looked up, then used the odd shaped crystal/metal part to reach behind and scratch the bottom of his left shoulder blade.

“Ah blood of the gods but that feels good. Haven’t been able to reach there since that accident when the Black Stars shelled the base when I was half way into Magnus shoulder housing. Tore my rotator cuff, and lost just enough flexibility I can never reach that one spot.”

Grinning at the young technician, he wandered away from the Boreas in the repair cradle, and to a sealed locker at the end. Entering the code 6969, he pulled open a locker filled with…..well a bizarre collection of odd…things.

“This be the EB bin. If you even need to machine something, check here for stock that you can trim down first. Parts like this, whenever you come across them, you do get someone else to double check your work, then take what is left and dump them here.”

The technician was looking deeply confused. “But Bjorn, you said you knew just what this part was needed for, and where it goes. Why are you sticking it here, and not the Boreas. For that matter, what is the EB bin, it is not in the inventory database ANYWHERE.”

Bjorn closed the bin and grinned.

“Ah now sor, we don’t trouble the senior officers with such things. They need the universe to balance, and everything to have its place. We humble wrench jockeys know the universe doesn’t quite work that way so we smooth out the occasional rough edge they don’t need to know about. This be the Extra Bits bin, where we put extra bits left over from repairs, and where we go to find some bare stock to make new bits out of when we come up a wee bit short.”

The technician looked at the bin, which must weigh over a ton, even in this temporary field camp and whispered in shock.

“But Bjorn, there should never be any extra bits, every tear down must match the rebuild. That is just logic!”

Bjorn slapped the young officer-trainee on the back and grinned. “That’s the Spirit sor, well we will make sure it matches. We just keep those extra bits in the bin for when the universe tries to upset young gentlemen like yourself and great and powerful technomancers like Lupus Sanguinius. Don’t you worry about a thing. When you get and Extra Bit, you just toss it to one of the lads, and we will see it ends up in the bin”

Myth and Legend Blood Wolves Boreas had the lowest all clan failure rate that war.

John T Mainer 28840

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