#so i have no research nor true knowledge so i technically have no room to argue any side

[kollector-of-stims]

I CANT-

Just reorganized all my plushies and got into a SQUISHMALLOW PHASE and got together my ENTIRE COLLECTION AND CHANGED MY SLEEP AREA AND TOOK PICS-

THEN FOUND OUT THE COMPANY IS BAD IN WAYS I KNOW ARE BAD BUT DONT HAVE THE SPOONS TO LEARN ABOUT CAUSE I AVOID IRL ISSUES-

I guess me being into other plushies like Aurora and such is a better thing than I thought, but fr I JUST bought 2 new squishmallows EARLIER just to look on here for more wholesome stuff about them and then...

Well, guess cheaper alternatives and knock offs were the better option after all! My two knockoff bats make me happy knowing I didnt support jazwares! As for the official ones? Nah, not getting those irl anymore. So look at my collection now cause no more official ones from irl stores will join this group anymore~

Aurora is still my fave plushie brand 😁

[spookyrea]

Something About Us

You're stuck waiting for the bus in a torrential downpour. Conrad offers to keep you company (and later, to warm you up).

(part of a larger series of vignettes about navigating life, love, and monsters with one James Conrad.)

Warnings: none! | read it on AO3 here

You stand under the lab’s narrow awning, watching a tropical storm batter the pavement. The wind carries the rain at an angle, whipping mud puddles into a thick mist that leaves your legs prickling uncomfortably with the cold. You had the forethought to wear a jacket but your umbrella lies inside, useless, at the bottom of a garbage can, decommissioned by a fatal gust earlier this morning.

“Dreadful weather, isn’t it?” A warm voice and an even warmer body joins you under the awning. Whatever James Conrad is doing in the lab is beyond you – he’s not a researcher, nor a tech, so outside of delivering mission reports he has little reason to be on this end of the Monarch campus.

That hasn’t stopped him from becoming a constant in your day-to-day life, though. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Had to get my shots.”

“Right.” It’s a lie – more likely that he’s spent the afternoon being briefed on some top secret reconnaissance endeavour that’s above even your clearance level.

“Are you waiting for the bus?” He curls just that bit closer, his voice calculatedly casual. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him against your arm, his body half turned so that you are parallel to his underbelly, to the space where his jacket is wide open and vulnerable to the chill. It’s a space just big enough for you to slot in, if you wanted. 

“Yep.” The researchers’ barracks are within walking distance, technically, but they’re at the very edge of the base, farther than any of the other accommodations from the central hub. “Which means I have to sit,” you nod toward the lone bench on the side of the road, “right there.”

The lab door opens; instead of stepping away to let them through, Conrad crowds up into your space, so you’re pressed shoulder-to-chest, leaving just enough room for the janitor to slip by on his way to the barracks. He’s appropriately dressed for the weather, at least, in a raincoat and hat, and heads off in the opposite direction toward the pub.

“I could share,” Conrad says, unfolding his umbrella, “as long as you promise to behave.”

“Behave?”

“Mhm.”

“You ask too much of me,” you say, though you don’t deny yourself the pleasure of looping your arm through his as you start toward the bench.

It’s not a very large umbrella so you both have to huddle to stay under it. In weather such as this, though, it’s nearly useless; the rain seems to come at you from every angle, stirred up by the wind, and the asphalt swims with  a couple inches of water. You regret wearing suede shoes – there’s no way you’ll get these stains out.

“It was a typing day, then?”

“Hmm?”

Conrad nods at your calves, now shiny with rainwater. “You’re wearing a skirt. You don't wear skirts in the lab.”

“Oh.” Something warm thrills in your chest at the knowledge that he’s taken notice. “Yes. Reports to write. Forms to sign. Any excuse to dress up, you know…”

“So the day hasn’t been a complete write off. Since you got to… dress up.”

It’s not necessarily vanity – you just like the feeling of putting yourself together in the morning. Of matching your shoes to your hat, or coordinating your lipstick with your mood. Some of the techs and more than a few of the privates make fun of you for it, jeeringly calling you nicknames like Scientist Barbie or Private Monroe. Even those who are nicer about it have begun calling you ‘ doll’ and, in true military fashion, the nickname is near-permanent.

“I did.” A jeep rolls by and you have to pull your feet back to avoid getting splashed. “And now I’m kind of regretting it.”

“Oh come on, doll. It’s just a bit of rain.”

You don’t mind when Conrad calls you doll. His accent curls it a little, makes it less leering and more affectionate. He gets this look to his eyes, a puppy-dog kind of expression you’re glad hasn’t been carved away by the horrors Monarch subjects you to every day.

“You’re not going out tonight? Weaver thought the two of you would make good money destroying those transplant recruits, the ones from the base off the coast of British Columbia.”

“Not tonight. Figured I would give someone else the chance to win for once.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Thoughtful? No, no – I’m stoic, remember? Rugged. You can’t slander my name like that. I just want to bide my time to make them complacent.”

You laugh; the look Conrad shoots you is unimpressed, his mouth turned down in a pout, but you can see the slightest curl of amusement behind his eyes. “Sorry,” your fingers wander with a mind of their own, pushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “It’s just hard to take you seriously when you’re all wet.”

“It’s raining,” he deadpans. “You’re wet. We’re both wet. ‘Wet’ is neutral at this point.”

The wind howls as if summoned, syphoning the rain into the collar of your blouse. Your nylons are soaked through, the hem of your skirt so saturated that it clings to your calves. His shirt is equally wet, slippery under your hand when you lean into his chest to muffle another laugh. Conrad tucks himself closer still, scooting up the bench so that you are half wrapped up in the circle of his arms, as if he means to shield you from the rain with his body instead. His left hand, the one not holding the umbrella, threads through one of yours and draws it under the lapel of his jacket, tight to the space just under his heart.

The bus’s headlights cut through the rain a little ways ahead. A twinge of disappointment stirs in your belly as it approaches. As cold and wet as you are, there is something nice about being this entangled.

Conrad ushers you to your feet under the pretence of keeping you under the umbrella, his hand riding low on your back, just shy of friendly territory. You don’t think it’s intentional, though – you suspect that, like yourself, he is an audience to his own body, watching it respond to yours unconsciously.

The inside of the bus is superheated compared to the weather outside. You’re the only passengers – it’s a weekend, so everyone is probably already in bed or playing pool at the base pub. You lead Conrad to the very back of the bus by his index finger, looped around your pinky. You think it’s too intimate, to try and hold his hand outright, so you settle for this, if only for the excuse to keep touching him.

A cassette tape soothes through the bus’s radio; new records and a decent radio signal are nearly impossible to come by on the base, meaning your only lifeline to pop culture comes in the form of your twice-monthly trips off base and the occasional recon mission abroad. This tape is probably a couple years old; you don’t recognize the voice or melody.

Water pools under the umbrella where it lies between Conrad’s feet, spilling out along the grooves in the bus’s rubber floor. You shift in your seat and Conrad’s knee is quick to follow yours, so he never loses the weight of you against his leg. “I’m dreaming of a hot shower right now,” you sigh. “Dry clothes – what a luxury. When I get back state-side I’m moving to the desert where I’ll never be this damp again.”

“Area 51, then?”

“No. Somewhere completely, utterly boring. Adjunct professor, maybe. University of Arizona.”

“Hmm. I’m not convinced. I give you three months before you’re crawling back to the jungle to take more of those little smears or slices or whatever they’re called.”

“I would be a great professor, thank you very much.”

“Of course you would.” His fingers trail under your sleeve, admiring the skin over your pulse point. “You’d have a full class every semester, I reckon.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. Though the demographic might be a little skewed.”

“Ah. Business students looking for an easy grade.”

He laughs. “Not quite. I was thinking something along the lines of teenage boys making excuses to come to your office hours. At least, I would, um… I, well…”

“Oh.” The bus rocks as it eases over a speedbump. Conrad winces, looking a little regretful at his revealing joke. It’s maybe the most blatant he’s ever been with his affections for you. You imagine for a smooth talker like himself, it must be difficult to be tongue-tied.

Taking pity, you try to move on. “The hot shower might be a pipe dream at this point. I’ll be lucky if the water is lukewarm in the barracks.”

His shoulder bumps yours when he sinks backward into his seat. “A perk of being so indispensable: private bathroom.”

“Ugh! I hate you right now. I actually really do.”

“The hot water runs out quickly, if it makes you feel better.”

“Well if you’re only one man, that’s not an issue. Twenty, all in one bunk… The stuff of nightmares.”

Neither of you acknowledges the fact that you work with real, living nightmares on a daily basis. Nightmares with teeth and acid drool. Instead, you trace the side seam of his jeans with your pinky finger.

The bus groan under the weight of the storm outside as the first flash of lightning tears through the sky.

Conrad watches you watch him. An understanding yawns in the narrowing space between you, grown heavy and swollen with a latent charge that needles your skin. Your whole body thrums; for all the discomfort - the tight chest, the hammering heart - you think you'll find relief in him, in his mouth, like a lightning rod. 

“You could always join me,” he says slowly.

“Mhm,” you mumble. “I could.”

“It’s… and after, with two bodies in one bed… much warmer than the barracks.”

“Much.”

“Don’t even need to worry about dry clothes.” His nose brushes your cheek.

“Because we won’t be wearing any.”

“Exactly.”

The bus bounces off a pothole. The two of you collide inelegantly, shoulders and chins bashing, fingers scrabbling in each others’ clothes as you both nearly slide out of your seats. It shocks you both into a proper seated position, backs ramrod straight, eyes forward, your hands tangled in a knot.

You roll to a stop outside of the private quarters – Conrad’s stop. Yours is two more away at the end of the loop. 

“The offer still stands,” he says gruffly, not looking at you. He peels himself off the velour seat slowly, making a show of shaking out his coat.

“Don’t forget your umbrella.”

He waves it away. The spell over you seems to have been broken; there is a significant arch to his shoulders that exudes displeasure. “You’ll need it. It’s a longer walk to the barracks from the bus stop than it is here.”

He climbs off the bus, leaving you reeling and a little lonely. You watch him trudge through the rain toward the private lodging complex where the higher-ranked staff live. Not quite it's own house – closer to a dormitory than anything – but he gets his own room and bed.

It’s a short journey to the next stop, only a couple minutes’ drive, and you spend it stewing. These barracks are for the soldiers and labourers; there’s a gravel path connecting their courtyard to the private quarters’. The lab staff’s housing has no such thing – it was built almost as an afterthought, right against the edge of the bluff.

You descend from the bus and start the walk back toward the private housing.

You find Conrad’s name on the list outside his building and dial him. The intercom rings and rings and rings, so long that you start to get nervous and steel yourself for what is sure to be a dreadful walk back.

His voice is rough, even through the tiny speaker. “Hello?”

“I–” You what? You find yourself at a loss for an answer. “We weren’t done talking.”

“Doll? Jesus, one–” the intercom cuts out. You shuffle your weight from one foot to the other, your hands gone cold and numb.

Conrad is wearing a dry shirt and a pair of gingham-print boxers, and his hair stands up at awkward angles, half-dry already. “Did you walk?”

“Only one stop.”

“Come inside you silly thing.” He corrals you through the front door and down the hall, toward his room. You’re not sure if this housing is co-ed – despite the recent push to allow women equal employment, military organisations (particularly private ones) tend to be quite exclusionary – so you try to keep your voice low, lest you get caught.

“Take your jacket off. Take everything off, actually, you’re going to freeze to death.”

You laugh. Your jacket joins his over the back of a chair – standard issue, plain teakwood beside a matching desk. “I thought that was what the shower was for.”

“Tell me you didn't just come here for a shower.”

“No. I was promised a warm bed, too.”

His eyes soften just the faintest bit. “Ah, yes. Understandable.”

His fingers start on the top button of your blouse, watching your face for any signs of reticence. “Come along, little doll,” he murmurs, drawing you backward toward the ensuite. “Let’s get you warm.”

It only occurs to you that you left his umbrella on the bus the next morning.

[somuchbetterthanthat]

Jonelias week, day 1! Setting: no power AU // Prompt: Try again

Jon goes back. It's undoubtedly the worst decision of his life, but it also feels like it's the only one he can make. He does wish, up til he's reached the door, that the professor won't be here anymore. It's late, after all; the university is technically closed to the public by now, although that has never stopped Jon before, even when he was a student here.

But of course, as if he'd been waiting all along, or perhaps hadn't moved at all since their last meeting, Professor Magnus is at his desk when Jon enters his office, focused on a rather large pile of files, several old-looking books scattered open around him. Jon tries to swallow his fear, hand gripping hard the handle of the door, and thinks for the upteenth tme that, if only he had anyone in his life -- anyone like he used to have Georgie, a couple years back, they would have known better than to let him go and he'd have listened to them.

But it's only him, which is why he doesn't curse or run away when Professor Magnus raise his head, piercing grey eyes appraising him with something that could be satisfaction or hunger and gives Jon goosbumps.

"I'm glad you're back," Magnus says.

Jon can't help it. He scoffs. "You knew I would," he accuses him immediately.

"Please, let's not go this road again, Jon," Magnus tuts.

With his free hand he beckons Jon closer. Jon, heart pounding, steps fully into the room, closing the door behind him, and walks to the desk. Magnus's smile is small but pleased. Jon's mouth is dry.

"Did I hope that you would? Of course," Magnus tells him. "I've made my intentions very clear, have I not? I also do admit that, having had the chance to study you a lot those past few months, I did think there were greater chances of you coming back than leaving me entirely."

Despite the fact he's still sitting and has to look up to talk to Jon, Jon is all too aware of who holds the power here. He wants to be angry -- he wants to fight back, to snark, to protest -- but, of course, they both know that the professor has already won. Still. Still. Magnus wants Jon? Fine. But Jon is not an easy person to have in one's life.

"Who says anything about you?" he asks. "It's the Society I want to know more about. What you have hidden in your Institute, that's the most interesting thing about you. That's the only interestng thing about you, in fact."

Infuriatingly, Magnus only starts laughing. Jon bristles, ready to say more, but his words die against his tongue as Magnus's fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling him closer still. Jon's hip bumps against the corner of the desk and he can't help but shiver.

"I truly do appreciate your boldness," Magnus says at last, with such fondness Jon's stomach jump to his throat, "if not necessarily your denial. I have very little use of you lying to yourself -- we might work on that first. Now: I would appreciate if you fully committed and knelt down, my dear."

"Make me," Jon's mouth snaps before he can think and, to his horror, he feels a rush of heat go straight to his face as Magnus's eyes gleam with warmth and amusement.

"You've actually done your research," he tells Jon calmly. "You're well aware by now I'm not the only person with full access to the Institute's true ressources, nor in fact the sole man in charge of the organisation. I do have power in the Society, but not all of it. You have names. You've even realized that some of your old friends have already been initiated into it. I'm sure you thought about reaching out to Miss James before you came back here. But if it was only about the knowledge, you'd have walked right past the Institute's doors long ago already, isn't that right, Jon? You wouldn't have waited or hesitated, this is not the sort of man you are, in most cases. So it must be that something else in my offer appealed to you; something only I can give you, no matter how much you fear it, no matter how much your reason tells you it's a terrible idea. It must be that you are, perhaps despite yourself, as fascinated by me as I am by you. That you are intrigued by how much I claim to love you. And, of course, that deep in your bones you know you've been craving the freedom of never having to choose wrong ever again."

Jon stares at him for a long moment; it's not until he starts feeling dizzy he realizes he's been forgetting to breath. It's mesmerizing, he thinks. The way Jonah knows. The way Jonah understands. It's horrifying, and it feels so -- right.

Of course Jon was going to come back, even if this is the last decision he ever takes in his life.

"Are you ready to try again?" Jonah asks, unbearably patient. "I still have quite a number of papers to grade before we can both go home."

Jon's nails dig into his palm. Slowly, he goes to his knees, awkwardly shuffling until he is right at Jonah's feet. Jonah caresses the back of his neck, and Jon's eyes shut close.

"Very good, Jon," he murmurs. "I know it might not feel like it to you right now but I do promise you we will accomplish great things, you and I, as long as as you do not ever forget that you are all mine to do whatever I wish starting tonight."

[shmowder]

hi I can't reblog your patho x reader smut posts because I don't put nsfw on my blog but I wanted to let you know they're SO good and hot. also choosing to read them as aroallo daniil rep

Thank you so much!! AAAA <3333 I posted them bc of one person's encouraging comment, I didn't expect more people to actually like them, even in secret. Fr tho, even without rebloging, a sweet message like this is all it takes to make writing and posting things worth it.

There wasn't any x reader in Pathologic before so it was a bit intimidating to be the first one to break the seal in a small fandom but fosjofjsjd it was so worth it.

Oh my god, aroallo Daniil sounds amazing. I didn't write it this way on purpose. It was more of me thinking how he might act in these situations according to his personality. I'm so happy he could be interpreted this way! Hell I actually kinda see it now when rereading what I wrote. lmao it's so funny bc I am aroallo myself.

I'd love to expand more on AroAllo Daniil below, your idea is simply gold. As for the Hysteria fanfic, I do have an idea for part 3, I might even post it on AO3 afterwards as a complete piece.

His lack of romantic attraction would explain a lot in general and even in the pathologic story itself. To be capable of love for humanity, just not romantic love for its individuals.

But let's focus more on a "reader" in this scenario and their relationship with Daniil. Caring for you as he would to one of his patients, inquiring about your well-being constantly and if you feel any discomforts.

If anything, he's more fussing over you than he is to the average patient. It's a clear favouritism, but he doesn't see it that way. In his eyes, he doesn't feel anything more special about you than other people he cares about.

Your "dates" are more of him bringing you along on his daily errands and asking for your input or talking shit about the kains with you behind their back.

Your "romantic nights" consist of him going over his research while you get yourself busy somewhere in his room. He is content with just knowing you're there. If you get bored, then he will involve you in his studies, explaining his recent hypothesis to you and mentioning the latest experiments results on animating then 2 weeks old decomposed tissue sample. It helps him remember his purpose, recall information and think with a clearer mind.

But whenever he's frustrated by something in particular or just exhausted from the endless workload in a single day, you find him by your side, mentioning how long it has been since you felt properly relieved and as a doctor it's his job to take care of you.

To get plausible deniability of course, you see he is doing this for your own health and because he cares. Half of it is true, and in a way he technically does get off on taking care of you.

On having you at his mercy laid on a bed, willing to listen to the knowledgeable bachelor who just has the cure for the ache between your legs. You let him take his time with you and he never does something without asking for permission, you're treated with complete respect whilst having surrounded all powers to him to do as he pleases.

His eyes are cold, and his movement is technical, driven by curiosity and fascination. As the act between you progresses and gets more intimate, he doesn't shy away nor act coy. He doesn't feel any difference than when the two of you first started.

But there is an undeniable shine in his eyes, a gleefully fascination of the human body and how beautifully complex it can be, of all of its capabilities. Each time he's on top of you, he's studying your body, carefully testing your reactions and the sensitivity of your intimate zones.

What makes you shudder, what makes you tense uncomfortably, what makes you lean in for more.

Keeping notice of your growing arousal and your different responses to his various approaches. This is how he has fun, this is where he truly feels in his element in a field of possibilities and endless potential, exploring the human body knowing the other person is as enthusiastic about it as he is.

It's like solving a puzzle, the clear satisfaction on his face when you're on the verge of orgasm, the way his own body meets yours in calculated thrusts, the way he keeps his a clinical facade to the whole ordeal while his mask crumbles down to reveal the desperation and hunger in his eyes. For comfort, for your hot insides, for the rush of adrenaline washing over him just before the blissful release, making his forget the ache in his joints and the soreness in his back.

The way the corners of his lips curl in the aftermath is undeniable, his always straight back forgeting its pose and slumbing down in relaxation, hell even his headache is gone.

He looks at you with gratefulness for your existence, for being by his side. He is thoughtful of you and shows it by cleaning you up, by treating your body with gentleness as he wipes it down. In a way, the aftercare is also a huge part for him in sex, it's like the final bow in a theatre act before the curtains close, taking care of you makes him feel alive, makes him remember why he enjoys being a doctor so much.

You're the most grateful and sincere patient he has ever had.

[laxmiree]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 34 - Lucien’s part Translation (Part 1)

⚠️  SPOILER ALERT  ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the  chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if  there are any mistakes in the translation~

IMPORTANT!!!  to fully understand the story, prior knowledge of previous S2 chapters are needed. Before, I made a short summary that explain those chapters. I hope this can help :D. (Though this chapter is less plot heavy so you’ll probs understand like 85% of it even without any knowledge of previous chapter ahah-

Quick recap of what happened before in S2: In search of CORE to solve the blood disease that killing off Evolver, MC went to the orphanage to search for CORE and meet Lucien here. In the orphanage MC found out that she’s actually the CORE carrier. But no one knows/sure about it because there’s a ‘barrier’ that hide the CORE from getting discovered. The barrier was a result of Experiments No.0 that’s created by MC’s dad. Anyway, after MC and Lucien went out from the orphanage, Xiao Yue was waiting for them along with other NW members. To get out from that situation, MC shoot herself to open the CORE barrier. If you want to read more about last chap, you can read it here

[Chapter 34-1]

MC wakes up in pain and found herself in a white space. She remembered firing a shot at herself in an attempt to break the CORE’s barrier. She assumed that she’s still in the NW laboratory and tried to escape, only to find herself get transported to Twin Leaf Orphanage, in the room where she woke up 17 years ago.

What does this mean? Why am I back here again and what is the purpose of this NW experiment?

Amidst the chaotic thoughts, a sound of footsteps approached me.

I immediately sat up from the operating table, grabbed the ballpoint pen on the desk with my hand, and looked warily at the door.

The door was slowly opened and a man stepped out of the shadows, causing me to hold my breath momentarily.

He was wearing a shirt and looked no different from the last time I saw him.

MC: …Dad?

Dad: It's been a long time, MC.

From outside world perspective, MC was sleeping on a lab bed with Xiao Yue and NW researchers observing her across the glass.

There’s an invisible barrier outside her body. It was speculated that if they tried to forcibly destroy the barrier, it could cause serious damage to the CORE on her body.

No one could remove this barrier, so they couldn’t do any experiments on her. Lucien was also here, standing in the corner.

Xiao Yue's eyes moved to the corner of the laboratory.

Xiao Yue: Professor Lucien, was this situation also within your estimation?

Lucien glanced toward the place where the girl was sleeping, with obscure emotions hidden in his eyes, and folded into the cold light.

Lucien: According to the record of experiment No. 0 left in the orphanage, a barrier was set up around the CORE's host.

Lucien: Due to the technical limitations of that time, they had already anticipated that the barrier layer could be destroyed by external energy, so...

Lucien: They will not leave this kind of gap.

Lucien's voice was faint, and it calmly slammed against Xiao Yue's scrutinizing gaze.

Lucien: I guess this is the true barrier to protect the experiment.

Lucien: In other words, when the barrier is not removed naturally, there’s a closed form that appears after an external damage attack.

Lucien: And thus it also protects the power of CORE.

The neither humble nor arrogant words landed steadily in every corner of the laboratory, the busy researcher stopped the record in his hand and looked at Lucien.

Xiao Yue's face sank for only a moment before he slightly raised the corners of his mouth.

Xiao Yue: Professor Lucien seems to have a solution?

Lucien: It depends on whether Mr. Xiao has enough courage.

Lucien: Because I'm not going to address it here.

From time to time, the sleeping girl showed a slightly uncomfortable expression and struggling with clenched fists.

Lucien's eyes darkened and he walked towards the door with no one coming forward to stop him.

After walking out NW's front door, he picked up his phone and pressed a series of numbers.

He waited patiently, and the phone was picked up at the moment it was about to be cut off.

Lucien: I need the plan to start in advance.

??(Cyril’s voice): Yes, you can, but I have new conditions.

[Chapter 34-2]

I stared blankly at the sudden appearance of my "dad" and subconsciously took a step back.

Why is my dad here? Could this be some kind of scheme by NW?

I couldn't figure anything out for a moment. I just stared at the person in front of me. Even if it's a trap… I couldn't even blink my eyes.

My dad, who accompanied me for more than ten years, raised me to grow up, and always looked at me tenderly.

My dad, who suddenly disappeared from my life, no matter how much preparation and prevention I made.

The most important person I thought I had lost forever.

Standing in front of me right now.

The man across the table seemed to see my silence and patiently and gently put his hands behind his back. He smiled, which is the most familiar look to me.

Dad: I know how long it takes to accept all this. So it's okay, MC, take your time

MC: ....

I looked at my "dad" hesitantly  and opened my mouth.

MC: Dad… why are you here?

Dad: Because of Experiment No. 0

His voice wasn't loud, but it struck me hard.

He did not dodge nor conceal anything, and continued to speak with utmost sincerity.

Dad: Whether you have seen the information left in the Twin Leaf orphanage or not, since you are here, it means that the barrier in your body has been destroyed by external forces.

Dad: Only in this situation I can come to see you in this “form".

Dad: As the last line of defense.

I froze for a moment, having some difficulty digesting what he said.

Could it be that this is not NW's lab? Or is this some kind of illusion created by NW to extract other information from me by using "Dad"?

MC: …Why are you doing this?

Dad: Because Dad wants you to be safe.

My father lightly looked at me with a slight furrowed brow and a small helpless smile.

Dad: CORE is more powerful beyond all of our imaginations, and it's not a stretch to call it a force that can change the world.

Dad: In relation to this, it is bound to attract countless attention and contention.

Dad: I’m an ordinary father, I don’t want my daughter to live forever in a state of uncertainty and escape, I do not want her to become an object or a bargaining chip...

Dad: Become a symbol of sacrifice to the world at some time of necessity, pushed by countless people.

Dad: I hope she can grow up safely as an ordinary child, with her own little dreams.

Dad: So back then… I conducted that experiment in secret.

It was the first time I saw a sort of sorrowful expression on my father's face, and I was somewhat dumbfounded.

There is something like a heavy tide, silently covering my body, makes me feel a little at a loss.

MC: So this place...isn't NW's lab?

Dad: Of course not.

Dad: This place is your dream.

In front my surprised look, my father smiled and gently stroked the operating table surface.

Dad: The power of CORE is powerful, especially after you make the world go through a time warp as it completes its metamorphosis and moves forward to what it is today.

Dad: This power, which contains space-time and the world, can tear you apart in an instant.

Dad: Therefore, if the barrier in your body is destroyed in an unnatural way and this power is suddenly flooded into your body, you will be instantly devoured by it.

My father spoke with great clarity, and every words sounded in my ears, making me even a little scared.

It took me quite a while to digest what he had just said, and my father waited patiently, even gazing at me somewhat reminiscently.

MC: Is that why… I am here, in my dreams, slowly absorbing that immense power?

Dad: That's right.

MC: ...What if I can't absorb it?

Dad: It's just a matter of time. And you won't wake up from the dream until you're sure your body won't be burdened by it.

Dad: But of course, because we also set up another "barrier", so no one will do any harm to you while you are sleeping.

My heart sank a bit as I gazed at my dad's face, wondering why I felt like I had changed from ‘MC’ to my dad's little daughter in a heartbeat.

Perhaps in his mind, I will always be a child.

You do as much as possible, and do more, just to protect me, to keep me away from danger, and give me the right to step back and hesitate.

Those times we spent together told me clearly that this man is my dad, the one who will always consider me his greatest pride.

MC: …Dad.

My voice was a little choked up, and my overwhelming thoughts made me take a few steps forward.

MC: Did you wait for me here all this time?

Dad: Silly child.

It was not until then that my father finally came up to me, stretched out his hand slightly awkwardly, and touched my head.

I don't know if it was because of the dream, but I felt the long-lost warmth of his palm.

Dad: It's just a memory I left here, because there are some things that Dad hopes you never need to know.

Dad: But I will be your strength when you have to face certain things.

Dad: I'm sorry I could only protect you in that way before, and I hope you can forgive Dad for being "authoritarian".

MC: So where exactly are you… I really miss you.

There was a glimmer of sadness in my father's eyes and he didn't answer me when I asked him.

Dad: You're all grown up now, MC.

Dad: So… You can make your own choice now.

I looked up in confusion and bumped into my father's gentle smile.

Dad: In fact, there is a way to get out of here immediately

With that being said, my father walked over to a machine in the corner of the lab.

Dad: Back then, before completing Experiment No.0, your power had gone out of control several times.

Dad: Whether awake or asleep, those disorganized and confusing precognitive dreams eat away your mind and make you more and more miserable…

Dad: It's also getting weaker.

I froze. In those blurred scenes, I couldn't remember any memories before the age of five. Is that why?

Dad: So I used this machine to record all your dreams while trying to figure out how I could fix that uncontrolled power.

Dad: This is part of the reason Experiment No. 0 exists.

Dad: Later, after I watched those dreams, I gradually confirmed one thing.

His expression was particularly firm, as if he had the determination to overcome all difficulties.

Dad: MC, this power, you do not necessarily have to accept it.

Dad: You can seal it up permanently if you want –

Dad: Let it disappear from this world forever.

MC: B-but…

Many faces crossed my mind, and the many people that are affected by blood disease may still be waiting for help from CORE.

And those silent memories may also need the power of CORE to be awakened.

MC: But there are still people who need CORE.

And I need it too.

Dad: Which is more important, a short-lived salvation for now or a long-lasting future?

Dad: Perhaps the disappearance of CORE is the way to protect both yourself and the world you love.

I couldn't understand my father's words, I just felt my ears were buzzing.

Dad: See for yourself, the future that comes with your awakening.

Dad: Think it through and then make your decision.

The moment the machine was activated, the solid walls of the laboratory suddenly distorted.

The man looked dotingly at the girl sleeping on the machine and closed his eyes somewhat sadly.

However, with the sound of footsteps coming from behind him, he quickly gathered up all his emotions and turned around.

He faintly gazed for a moment at the man who appeared in front of him, and his calm face filled with a little bit of nostalgia.

MC’s Dad: You have grown so much, Lucien.

MC’s Dad: This must be the first time we see each other after 17 years.

Lucien's cold eyes flashed with surprise for a moment, but he quickly covered it up.

He had many assumptions about this dream, but had not expected to meet this man here at all.

It seems that this dream holds a more profound meaning than he thought.

He bowed slightly and stared quietly at the man.

Lucien: Hello.

MC’s Dad: I guessed someone smart would think of this method, but I didn't think it would be you who came.

MC’s Dad: Though I don't know what power you are using, don't go any further.

Behind the gentle voice wrapped in a few faint warnings, the smile on the man's face morphed into a commanding presence.

Lucien: There is no way I can leave her alone.

Lucien: This is the only thing that I’m afraid I can’t do as you say.

MC’s Dad: Do you want the power in her body?

Lucien's eyes moved slowly to the girl's face, his particularly deep eyes were like the deep tide in the night.

Suddenly, a two-meter-high black hole slowly spread out from the wall on the side. Lucien stepped into it without any hesitation, leaving only faint murmur in the air.

Lucien: I also hope… my purpose is as simple as that.

[Chapter 34-4]

MC is currently on her own prerecognitive dream, dreaming about a possible future if she awakens the CORE. The world is basically in chaos, and amidst all chaos, she saw herself.

Then, I saw myself.

Inside the huge medical pod, I saw my sleeping face.

The girl closed her eyes quietly, and looked like an object under the indifferent gazes of countless researchers wearing white coats outside the pod.

??: How's the comet doing?

??: It is accelerating toward Earth and will probably arrive in 142 days.

??: Shit.

A man angrily hammered the wall of the medical pod and cursed.

??: If not for this CORE awakening, how else that comet could have been affected by gravity?

??: From the very beginning you made a big joke and mistake by letting the CORE awaken!

I froze in place and lost all of my words for a moment.

What he means is… From the beginning, that comet… was here because of my awakening?

If CORE is another way of saying QUEEN.... If I hadn't awakened that power in the first place, the world wouldn't have come to an end-

And there is no need to start over?

My whole body could not help but shiver, and the only thing I could do was to freeze in place. The busy crowd hazed into a single point of light, making it more and more difficult for me to see their faces.

??: If Professor Lucien is still alive, then…

??: What nonsense, Professor Lucien is making a great contribution to humanity!

??: He voluntarily explored more secrets about CORE for humanity in a ruthless way, saving the dying CORE host!

??: If it weren't for him, how would humans have evolved to this point?

??: But the world is falling apart because of CORE's awakening!

I blinked sluggishly, and the tangled conversations sounded like muffled bubbles that kept rising in the deep sea.

Soon, the image in front of me turned into a misty haze - and finally there was a regular and cold mechanical sound in my ears.

I saw another smaller medical pod, the pod from above cast a variety of tubes, and those tubes finally all inserted into…

A human brain.

I felt my whole body spasm violently, as my legs lost their strength and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

The electronic screen in front of the medical pod kept bouncing with data that still seemed to be constantly calculated.

There is no emotion, no sound, no breathing.

And yet there it is.

No one gave me a firm answer, but I knew what it was.

This is… Precognitive dream of the future after the CORE awakening?

My vision became unbearably blurred and my body unconsciously huddled as if something was constantly pounding on my heart.

Is there anyone who can tell me this is all a lie?

At this moment, all the previous determination and resolve are crumbling into a shattered fragment, and constantly cutting a sharp slash in my heart.

Even if there is only a 1% chance that the future of this world will become like this because of CORE's awakening. If Lucien will become like this then…

What is the point of all this?

Is that why dad said… The disappearance of CORE is the only way to protect the world?

My eyes stared blankly as teardrops kept slipping from my eyes without emotion.

Will the world be a better place if I don't awaken CORE?

Even if we can't get back those lost memories, can we still live happily?

MC: Lucien...

I choked up and raised my head, wanting to try to hold on to something.

“Beep-“

“Beep-“

“Beep-“

The entire atmosphere was filled with only the emotionless sound of machinery, the pod calmly surging with tiny bubbles, like a silent and voiceless tap.

MC: Lucien?

???: Hmm.

(T/N: Ok so before anyone get confused, In this particular possible future she became an experiment subject, while Lucien (already died because, bruh no one can live without brain-) has his brain in a machine, fully devoted himself to constantly working to save the dying MC and researching CORE. Lucien that answered her is the Lucien from real world that also got into her dream to accompany her.)

Just like a hallucination, a familiar and gentle voice fell behind me.

In the next instant, I felt a pair of gentle palms caress my cheek, accompanied by a sigh, and I looked into a pair of inky eyes.

MC: So this dream… I can change it with my mind?

Lucien: I'm here to find you.

His fingertips gently wiped the tears on my face, and his gentle words floated in the dense mist, as if they would dissipate in the next second.

Lucien: MC, I've come to find you in your dream.

MC: …Why did you bother coming to find me?

Lucien: [softly] Because I can't leave you alone in the dream.

Lucien: You've been sleeping for a long time. So I'm wondering if I should find a way to wake up this sleeping beauty.

I froze sluggishly in place for a long time before the focus of my eyes slowly coalesced on the face in front of me-

I finally got a good look at Lucien's face.

Just like that, tears immediately poured out.

MC: I… Have I been asleep for long?

Lucien: Well, you've slept for 3 days so far.

Lucien: Although you were brought back to the NW headquarters, they were unable to do any research on you because of the expanded barrier.

Lucien: But that's exactly why I can safely come to you in the dream.

Hearing him say that, my heart didn't waver and I slightly lowered my eyes.

MC: It seems that in order to keep the power from getting out of control, I will stay in the dream for a while and wait for my body to slowly adapt to this power.

MC: But… I can also seal this power and leave this dream.

My head was getting lower and lower, and my eyes were fixed on the horizontal lines of the floor.

MC: If my dad is not lying to me, this is my precognitive dream.

MC: Then… if I awaken the CORE, the comet will change its trajectory to the earth and the world will come to an end…

MC: And you will…

My words didn't go any further

I didn't have any courage to finish it.

I felt that Lucien seemed to stand up and walked to the medical pod. I don't know what he was looking at, and I'm not sure what his expression would be now.

The dead silence pressed down on me a little.

I kept my head down, as if preparing for the coming trial.

What will Lucien think of it?

And I am afraid to face the answer to this question.

But soon, those feet stepped back. A pair of hands reached out and lifted me up, as if they had also fished me out of some black mud

I subconsciously lifted my head and collided into those deep eyes.

Lucien had a soft smile on his face, he didn't say anything, just reached out and touched my head.

Lucien: Okay, then just seal it.

Lucien: And then, we go home.

[Chapter 34-6]

MC: W-wait…!

I didn't expect Lucien to be so straightforward.

Watching him take my hand and head for the door, I subconsciously pulled him back.

MC: Lucien… Is this really okay?

Lucien: What's wrong with that?

MC: …What about those patients with blood diseases? And those Evolver who are not fully evolved, are they going to be sick in the future?

MC: The CORE… Can it really be decided and simply discarded by me in this way?

Lucien: Why not?

There was no hesitation in Lucien's eyes, and a frantic me was reflected in his deep eyes.

Lucien: The history of mankind has been filled with diseases that have swept the world and countless viruses that have consumed countless people.

Lucien: The blood disease that has appeared in Loveland City is the result of human behavior driven by malice.

Lucien: It may even more easily solved than the usual rampant diseases.

Lucien: Whether it is sacrifice or death now, it is only a small microcosm of human struggle in the huge history.

Lucien: If you can't find a solution other than CORE, then it's just a case of going through the motions. After all, no one can predict that CORE will inevitably appear at this moment.

Lucien's words were particularly plain and direct, like a precise sharp blade, cutting through the fog, revealing a real but bloody result.

Lucien: And Evolver, too.

Lucien: This is the path of evolution, even if it leads to a future of near annihilation and destruction.

Lucien: At the moment you shot yourself, you should have been harboring the awareness of carrying everything. Now, you are just putting the awareness further away.

Lucien: There's no right or wrong answer in this matter.

Those neat and cold words burrowed into my ears, making me even more ashamed of my wandering heart.

I know I'm just afraid to face this big choice and the consequences I might have to bear.

Lucien is right, there will always be sacrifices in the world, but the thought that someone will lose their life because of my choices still fills me with a heavy sense of guilt.

Yet even if I choose to do so, perhaps more people will die as a result.

So the world is trying to tell me that because I carry CORE, I have to give up some people no matter what I choose?

I stood in place blankly, unable to find my voice for a long time.

MC: Lucien, I… can I think about it again?

Lucien: Of course.

Lucien: This is your choice after all.

MC and Lucien found a small house in that prerecognitive dream, they decided to temporarily stay while dwelling about the future of the end. MC watched a TV that broadcasted disasters that was happening around the world. Although humanity already formulated so many plans for doomsday, they all know that it was probably all in vain. MC glanced at Lucien that seemed to be reading something.

There was a faint sound of paper flipping in my ears. I looked up and saw Lucien sitting on the wooden table beside me, holding a thick stack of documents in his hand.

For a moment, he seemed to overlap with the figure in the botanical garden.

(:””” the ch 37 reference)

Lucien didn't do anything to stop or persuade against my actions, but just quietly stayed by my side, as he said, waiting for me to come up with a result myself

MC: Lucien, what are you reading?

Lucien: Having the rare opportunity to be present at the doomsday, I was interested in the comet that was attracted to CORE.

Lucien's eyes always stayed on the document, the corners of his mouth gently hooked up.

Looking at such Lucien, I felt my face was a little hot.

I felt I was too indecisive, but could never find the courage to bear the overwhelming burden of life.

I hugged my legs and spoke to him with some hesitation.

MC: Lucien, if the awakening of CORE in my body will really lead to a comet...

MC: Can you somehow get it out of me right now and go help the blood disease patients…

MC: And finally let me seal it?

Lucien: Not really possible.

Lucien lifted his head slowly and denied it without any hesitation.

Lucien: Now your body can’t get close to any kind of force, and if the measures are wrong, it may even lead directly to the loss of control

Lucien: To say the least, if we can find an opportunity to destroy the barrier perfectly-

Lucien: According to the current data observation, there are unusually violent energy fluctuations in your body right now, and I don't think it's possible to extract a complete CORE sample in this state.

Lucien: And no one can guarantee that the extracted "dose" is enough, nor can we predict whether there will be a second or third blood disease in the future.

Lucien: This idea is a little too ideal.

Lucien shrugged, without any refusal or concealment, and completely put his thoughts and judgments in front of my eyes, leaving me speechless.

MC: So if it does attract comets, how sure are we to prevent the comet from hitting the earth and causing doomsday?

Lucien: From the information and data I have now-

Lucien: I’m not sure.

Lucien: This comet is a little special, so more information may be needed with its compositional analysis.

Lucien's attitude remains nonchalant, and he always answers my various questions and conjectures in such a sincere and direct manner during my thinking.

He did not press me to make a decision, but without being overly gentle, he just watched me calmly and quietly.

It was as if he could see my soul.

Lucien: MC, if you want everything, it'll also easier to catch nothing.

Lucien: There is no perfect choice in the world, which is a very important proposition.

His voice was soft and melted in the almost obscure night.

Lucien: You can still think about it.

Lucien: Do not let go of any possibility, but also go head-on to all that may happen.

Lucien: It's okay, we still have time.

[Chapter 34-8]

Even after their talk, MC still couldn’t come up with a solution. After waking up and couldn’t find Lucien anywhere in the house, she got up and walked out to see the city. There, she saw many people, their voices piercing her eardrums as they’re either blaming her or putting too much hope to her

There were voices of malice or goodwill all around, and as I moved forward, it started to rain so suddenly.

???: You deserve to die!

???: Save us!

???: Go to hell!

???: It's okay, we believe in you.

I subconsciously ran, trying to leave those sounds behind me. But those sounds got louder and louder and became the main theme of the whole world.

No matter how hard I ran, I couldn't get rid of those sounds.

I really want to be a bad guy, I really want to run away.

The rain in the sky is getting heavier and heavier, pouring me thoroughly.

The air was stuffy and dry, and it kept making muffled noises. No matter how much I tried to leave them behind, those voices still surrounded me.

I slowly stopped my running steps and stood blankly in place.

It's probably some kind of human weakness to have a little bit of responsibility within the ego.

It makes it impossible for me to let myself escape and to be my paranoid self without worry.

It's just so unstoppable, endlessly killing my time and my will.

Lucien: Would the lady like to come to me and take shelter from the rain?

A familiar voice suddenly burst into the rain, causing me to look up in a daze.

I saw Lucien standing on the outdoor stairs just above me, smiling and gazing down at me

He was leaning against the railing and appeared to be drenched, I wonder how long he had been standing there.

MC: Lucien, can you give me a correct answer?

I stood stubbornly in the rain and looked up at him.

MC: What do I have to do to make the right choice?

MC: Do I have to give up anybody…

Heavy rain smashed on the ground with a clattering sound, Lucien was just silent.

He gently raised his fingertips, and with a lit spot of light, a ladder made of ice spread up from in front of me until it was laid in front of him.

Like a silent invitation.

I clenched my palms tightly, walked up the steps, and came to Lucien.

Lucien: MC, what can you hear right now?

I pursed my lips, and after a brief moment of hesitation, I spoke softly.

MC: I hear… a lot of voices.

MC: They hate CORE and want me to disappear from this world.

MC: They also look forward to CORE and pray that I can bring them a miracle.

Lucien: And what else?

MC: I hear… the sound of rain.

Lucien: Did you know? I tried to do some experiments on your dreams and this rain is the result of the experiment.

I froze, my brain was a bit stunned, and it took me a long time to react to what Lucien meant by that.

MC: …Is this dream world can be interfered with?

MC: So what you're saying is that we can change the doomsday here?

Lucien gently chuckled, without denying my temptation, his gaze wrapped in a faint arrogance.

The rain fell along the tips of Lucien's hair, and the soaked shirt clung to his body in a sticky way, making his body permeated with a slight dampness.

A rainbow of fragmented and illusionary neon colors gilded his back, and his body was bathed in psychedelic colors-

Like a torch of dark flame, burned out all illusions without even moving.

He blocked out all the shifting light in front of my eyes, gathering me within his shadow and filling all my vision.

Lucien: Perhaps it is indeed possible.

Lucien: You can probably correct the trajectory of that comet and make this crumbling world instantly look like any other beautiful world.

Lucien: But no matter how much you change it, it's just a dream after all.

Lucien: It doesn't do much other than bring some false relief to your heart.

MC:…

It was as if I had been stung by something and those bubbles of innocence were instantly burst.

Indeed, even if we can change the dream world, what will it do.

Reality will never become a dream that can be tampered with at will, and cannot easily become what I want it to be according to my wishes.

Lucien: I'm not interested in this illusionary doomsday, so since we can interfere with this dream then…

Lucien: How about seeing something more special?

While saying that, Lucien extended his hand to me.

The palm that was spread out towards me was always dry and warm, as if as long as I reached out now, all the noise and restlessness would return to peace.

Yet he did not move from his leaning position, but simply made a gesture of invitation.

The falling raindrops poured into his hands, Lucien's fingertips were hanging in the air-

As if always waiting for me to walk towards him.

MC: Something special?

Lucien: For example, that comet.

[Chapter 34-9]

Lucien: Although it is the world of premonition, we are still in your dream after all.

Lucien: You can create everything and do anything if you want to.

Lucien: But just saving the false things doesn't give you the answer, so why don't we go see it-

Lucien: The thing that perhaps will destroy everything in the future.

His gaze shifted slightly upward, as if he had passed through the dark sky and arrived at a more distant place.

I was a little unsure, yet I felt something quietly ignite at my chest.

MC: By seeing it… will I finally get the answer?

Hearing my helpless question, Lucien's eyes flashed with pity for a moment, but he still tucked it up quietly and looked at me lightly.

Lucien: MC, your world isn't all about answers.

The rain kept falling and fell on my eyelashes.

The world was roaring, and Lucien's voice was mixed in it. It didn't sound real, but it still fell clear enough to my ears.

MC: I… what should I do?

Lucien: Close your eyes and think of visiting it.

Lucien: You should be able to see it right away.

I froze for a moment and slowly made my steps. Lucien's open palm was always waiting there, waiting for me to deliver myself to him.

I held Lucien's hand.

The warm and moist touch instantly traveled along my fingertips to my whole body, causing me to shiver.

I closed my eyes and darkness settled in. I gripped Lucien's hand with a gentle strength and felt his presence.

The comet that brought doom…

Now that I think about it, it seems like I never thought about it

It was so heavy for me and brought me a feeling of parting and destruction.

Lucien: We’re here.

With Lucien's voice ringing faintly on my side, I opened my eyes nervously-

The huge comet shuttles through the splendid nebulae, dragging out a dazzling and long trail under the curtain of the dark night.

Thousands of stars twinkle and ancient light spans billions of light years, dotting its back.

A continuous tremor kept appearing on the comet, washing out layers of ripples, spreading out in all directions like a wave, forming a fleeting and dazzling ring.

I was so shocked by what I saw in front of me that I couldn't speak, and a certain awe came over me that made me subconsciously raise my shoulders.

Lucien: MC, what can you hear right now?

I froze and turned my head, the shadows of the stars twinkling in his eyes, like the silent sea under the moonlight.

MC: It’s so quiet here.

There is no hatred and no hope.

In the silence of the universe, there was no sound of anything. I could not help but exhale gently.

And Lucien's words rang out softly in front of this magnificent scenery.

Lucien: You just asked me if I can give you the right answer. Can I tell you how to make the right choice?

Lucien: My answer is, I can't.

His eyes were dark and he looked at me deeply.

Lucien: Instead, I want to ask you, why are you hesitating?

Lucien: Why insist on getting a correct answer?

I felt like someone had stepped on my tail, and I felt a little uncomfortable and hurt by his words.

MC: I need my choices to be the right one.

MC: Otherwise, what I have persisted until now will become a fruitless result.

MC: And if I choose wrong, either a lot of people will die soon, or a lot of people will die in the future.

MC: Will no one really blame me? Will no one really blame me for those lost lives?

MC: I don't want to sacrifice anyone because of my choices; I don't want to ruin anyone's life.

MC: I've worked so hard for so long to not to face a choice that will backfired.

The annoyance and entanglement that had accumulated in my heart for too many days exploded along the fuse of ignition.

Lucien: Even if the "right" choice is contrary to what you really want to do?

MC: ...So what can I do?

MC: What else can I do...

Endless helplessness and confusion filled my entire chest.

In that doomsday, I followed my mission and let go of your hand.

Sometimes I wonder if it's better to stay in that apocalypse.

There is no need for further efforts, no need to face a world that only I can remember, no need for all this.

MC: Obviously all of this.... they have nothing to do with me.

MC: I don't want to save the world either.

MC: I just don't want to see the person in front of me die, I want to be with the person I like.

Lucien: MC, what are you angry about?

Angry? I was stunned in place.

The black mist diffused, I finally caught a glimpse of the anger that was always condensed in the chest

MC: I just think… I was never given a choice from the beginning.

MC: CORE has not given me a choice over me, nor did those power that were and are still in me.

MC: So why... Tell me all this now and let me choose?

Why should I bear the consequences of all this when it is clear that I did not cause it?

MC: I just want to be with the person I like…

MC: For the sake of the person I like and the kindness I receive, I have taken steps to get to where I am now, even trying to save a world.

MC: But now why throw such a big responsibility of the world to me so irresponsibly!

MC: I… I want to run away… I want to be selfish for once.

It was the first time I said these wilful words.

I felt like a balloon filled with water, it was so heavy, but I had to embrace it.

I don't want to meet the end of the comet again, I don't want to face the separation again, I don't want to imagine the possibility that I will then have to set the world back again and start again.

The helpless tears kept flowing upwards, blurring the stars and Lucien's face in front of me.

I felt Lucien release his grip on me and stroke my back, embracing me softly in his arms.

Lucien: Of course you can be irresponsible, and you can run away.

Lucien: Rather, there are many times when I wish you could really do that.

Lucien: The reason I say I can't give you a right answer is because I don't think it's an option in the first place.

Lucien: It would be too boring if the rules of this world were to be destroyed just because of a girl.

In the silent universe, in front of the brilliant comet, Lucien's voice was extraordinarily warm but firm and gentle.

Lucien: MC, you don't have to choose anything.

[Chapter 34-11]

Lucien: Look at that comet, don't you think it's beautiful?

I slowly lifted my head from Lucien's embrace and gazed at the comet with teary eyes.

It dragged the tail of light, blooming in the glittering nebula, giving birth to a pure and dazzling beauty.

Just like a beautiful star.

Lucien: I think, if it really comes because of you, then it just wants to see you.

Lucien: Don't you think it's amazing? In the middle of the universe, there is a star that wants to come and see you.

Lucien: I think it's a very romantic thing.

Lucien raised the corners of his mouth, and his slightly brisk tone had a bit of teasing envy.

MC: But, but it will bring the doom to...

Lucien: But that's a human-given thing, right?

Lucien: For this comet, it is not about death. And death is supposed to be a definition given by man, some kind of definition of state.

Lucien: We will always face death, and the trajectory of life is a circle.

Lucien: There may not be much difference between the end and the beginning.

I was lost in thought for a moment, the dust outside the crystal and the stars of the universe fused together, reflecting the same appearance.

Lucien: So whether it's racking your brain about how to life, or enjoying the present until the end of your life, it's fine.

Lucien: The important thing, however, is that you can learn to appreciate it first.

MC: …appreciating the end?

Lucien: I don't know how much pain you have been through and how many times you have faced unwanted partings.

Lucien: All the efforts and experiences will not be wasted, they will make you grow, but also at the same time will restrain your steps.

Lucien: As you become more cautious and hesitant, forget about all of that-

Lucien: Just see this comet, Isn’t just a beautiful star?

I raised my head following Lucien's line of sight, my fast beating heartbeat and rapid breathing slowed down with his words.

MC: It's my first time...seeing a comet in the universe.

There was a light laugh in my ears, Lucien hugged me and also looked in the same direction as me.

Lucien: Thanks to Miss Producer, this is the first time I've seen it too.

Lucien: The motion of comets is a spectacle. The endless universe, falling planets may be the existence that human beings can not be familiar with and resist for nearly a century.

Lucien: We are like... an ant, stepping on a leaf, trying to reach from one side of the sea to the other.

Lucien: Thousands years of hard work may also turn to ashes, and we may all become star dust and become a part of the universe.

Lucien: So don't be afraid.

Lucien: We will always be part of the universe.

Lucien's head rested on the side of my head, and in the vast universe, I felt him so close to my soul.

Lucien: Of course it will be tiring to carry a lot of things. If you always remember "the world is going to be destroyed because of me" and "I carry the fate of all mankind" in your heart, anyone with that thought will eventually collapse.

MC: But shouldn't major decisions be made with thought and consideration?

Lucien: Well... but you're just MC aren't you?

Lucien: You are miserable because you can only control what is going on in the present, and you have to force yourself to deal with what is going to happen in the future at the same time.

Lucien: I don't want to question the validity of this prediction. But this is the "future" after all, and the "present" can lead to the future.

Lucien: It doesn't matter what happens in the future or what happens in the world.

Lucien: Instead of always obsessing about whether you will make a decision that you will regret, let your future self prove that you will never regret it.

MC: But what if… What if the future me can't do it?

Lucien: If I were you in the future, I'd probably be a little angry.

His eyebrows were curved, and his face filled with my still hesitant face.

Lucien: “How do you know I can't do it?”

Lucien: Maybe I will be a hundred times better than you, and will laugh at your current foolish expression

MC: Pfft.

I couldn't help but laugh under his smiling gaze.

MC: Lucien, I know you probably don't believe in this future.

MC: But if that comet is really coming to visit Earth, aren't you afraid?

Lucien: Of course I would be afraid.

Lucien: No one is not afraid of the unknown and death, but I think …I'm ready for it.

Lucien: And I know that even if I become dust, there are some things I will definitely leave in this world.

Lucien: I don't think I'd really be helpless against the end of the world, and even if the worst were to happen, I don't think I'd be any worse than the scientists at the lighthouse.

That unquestionable certainty fell steadily on my heart, and I looked deeply into the man before me, understanding that he had never changed.

I raised the corners of my mouth, and for the first time in this dream world, I smiled so happily.

MC: Even if I have to do it again, I'm not afraid.

Not afraid of the doomsday, not afraid of falling into an infinite loop, facing all these choices and fates alone.

Just because I believe that one day I will find a way to walk into that best future with you.

Even with hesitation and timidity, this is the only thing I will never give up.

I looked at the beautiful comet again, some heaviness slowly faded from my body like a tide, I clenched Lucien's hand.

MC: Lucien, I've thought about it.

I didn't say the answer, but I knew Lucien understood.

Lucien: I don't know when the next time I will see a comet will be.

MC: What if it's tomorrow?

Lucien: Hmm… I’m probably going to be busy next then.

MC: It’ll probably going to be very very very busy.

We held hands and walked in the opposite direction of the comet, walking on the galaxy, passing by the river of stars.

Lucien: Then maybe I can take you to another place before it's going to be very very very busy.

Lucien: See that planet?

Following the direction Lucien pointed, I saw an asteroid glowing with lavender light. Although I didn't know what Lucien was going to do, I nodded.

Lucien: Let's use it to open a door to another universe.

Lucien stretched out his index finger and thumb, and measured the planet from a distance. After aligning the position, he gestured to me with a smile.

Lucien: I'm going to turn this “doorknob”.

Saying that, Lucien seemed to have really "held" the planet from a distance, twisted it lightly and pushed it forward-

“Click”

Following Lucien's movements, a door-shaped crack appeared in the night of the universe, and the dazzling light poured into my eyes like a waterfall.

I saw a flower field.

=================================================

In the middle of the night, the researcher in the NW research room yawned from exhaustion.

At that moment, he saw some double images on the display screen in front of him, and the fluctuating and misplaced images made his brain feel dizzy.

Researcher: .....I’ll just take a break.

[Next Part-> Here]

[daydreamingjester]

🌟 IT’S YOUR TIME TO S H I N E ! 🌟

{ NOTE : THESE FACTS REFER BACK TO BETTY’S ACTUAL BACKSTORY. CANON CHARACTERS MENTIONED ARE NOT REFERENCED TOWARD ANY PORTRAYALS HERE BUT MY OWN SPIN OFF OF THEM. }

🌟 FEATURING THE TRUE ENDING FOR CORRUPTED ! BETTY 🌟

🌟.

• Oliver Weldge is the co - creator of Lullaby Betty and the founder of Precious Moments Faire.

• His voice claim and face claim is Boozoo from The Walten Files.

• The man is just about as mechanically and digitally technical as Henry and Afton — which is why he was approached by William in the first place to collaborate on Circus Baby’s Pizza World before it opened. Harboring knowledge on synthetic life, programming, and artificial intelligence, one would assume he had chosen to formerly hone these talents by becoming a roboticist as well — but he did not.

Not willing to be held down by rules and instead moderate on his own schedule and entertainment, Oliver put all of his passion for analytics and robots into creating Precious Moments — as majority of the functionalities there were made by him.

• Betty was originally just a ticket admissioner passed down from another rundown circus. Finding that sort of life boring, a younger Oliver dedicated the majority of his early 20’s to refurbishing the old bot into something more than anyone could ever hoped for — and soon enough, the jolly harlequin very quickly become the entire face of the circus after five long years of extensive research and creation.

Because Oliver had poured his entire heart and soul into project Lullaby, he treated her like a gem — like a daughter. Oliver does not have any children of his own, nor a wife, as he was practically married to his business and was close knit to the members of the faire and Betty.

• Her name was originally just Bethanne. The Lullaby was added in when he installed a music box into her chest cavity, claiming that a “ beautiful doll deserved a beautiful gift to always keep with her “ . The two then shared a common jingle to activate it — four repetitive knocks then two slower ones. “ Four knocks to wake up the heart, two more for it to start ! “

• Having been accustomed to so much love and joy, Betty quickly became someone who ran off of pure happiness for all around her. This explains why she hardly has nor understands what a personal bubble is and has no issue going in for hugs toward strangers. Everyone is seen as a friend.

• Oliver had thought about adding another animatronic at one point but ditched the idea whence news spread about his current animatronic and attracted more people to the faire just to witness her for themselves.

However, because of how expensive all the top notch equipment of the circus was as well as Betty herself, the profit and donations he was earning simply wasn’t enough to cut it. The faire was going bankrupt and the direness of the dilemma became more prominent that they’d have to either risk shutting down or give up Betty.

• Fortunately, Betty’s face had spread far enough to attract more influential people — William Afton, co - founder of Fazbear Entertainment. Having contacted Oliver in hopes of collaborating in Circus Baby’s Pizza World,

During the last meet up in one of the office tents, several important people were present for the final decision. William, Michael, Oliver, Betty, and the main but newly starting circus crew under Afton. The animatronics were placed in a separate room to converse and mesh as the Aftons and Weldge began to lay out contracts and the likes. Seeing how Oliver couldn’t afford to keep Betty for much longer nor stay away from his circus when it was already failing, Afton came to the final decision to swap animatronics.

Giving him a digital copy of the full data on one of his own fun time animatronics to swap out for Betty so that the circus wouldn’t be completely devoid of AI life, Oliver hesitantly accepted.

• He never did anything with the data. It wasn’t his Betty, so he simply stored it away at home for another time. It took him years to construct Betty — he simply did not have the time nor energy to construct yet another animatronic for the circus.

• Betty was eventually returned after the mishap at Baby’s. Not long after did Precious Moments burn down and permanently damage Betty, and out of both immense guilt, hopelessness, scarcity of money, and not wanting to just make her some sort of house wife at his own home, he begrudgingly forfeit her to Fazbear Entertainment for the second time.

🌟 TRUE ENDING : SALVAGING CORRUPTION. 🌟

• During her time at the plex, Precious Moments slowly gained more traction again for his colorful electronics and simple - based animatronics. In fact, it gained so much attention that they were sponsored by bigger companies to afford to keep his animatronic life.

Meanwhile, Betty’s getting FUCKED UP by Glitchtrap and persuaded to mangle or terminate the other animatronics.

• Fast forward to her absolutely OBLITERATING one of the fun times and going absolutely FERAL on herself and an attempt toward Malhare after regaining consciousness during the dying moments. In the bad ending, she gives up her entire body and mind out of EXTREME guilt from realizing what she had done ESPECIALLY after having her memories fixed and regained.

In the TRUE ending to this verse in particular, Betty manages to leave him and Vanny behind in a desperate attempt to resurrect her dead circus mate and fix things with the remaining animatronics by warning them of what’s going on.

• Fire starts, I’m headcanoning a good portion got out with damage.

Betty convinces the rest of the circus crew to help her find Oliver, and seeing how they literally have no fucking choice with nowhere to go, they tag along.

• Oliver instantly welcomes them all with open arms. He adopts every single one of them, repairs them, spiffs them up, assigns them to parts of the new and improved Precious Moments.

Betty goes off to find the bunker just to find as many spare pieces as she can in the scooping room and nearly gets fucking killed at least five times playing cat and mouse with the machine — but she is DETERMINED to resurrect the missing member and complete the circus crew she finally remembers. Meanwhile, Oliver contacts Michael and asks for assistance in rebuilding an animatronic he looked over at one point as a technician.

• The best part ?

That data chip Oliver kept belonged to, by sheer fucking luck, the exact animatronic Betty annihilated during corruption.

🤍 { c : Kidnapemymeme }

[kaeyas-beloved]

i’m a sucker for platonic teenage mc. could i maybe have a scenario where mc is v close to leo and accidentally calls him dad. maybe they’re building something together and it just slips out? and she gets all embarrassed about it but leo thinks it’s quite cute and he already mentally adopted her anyways??

(i hope this made sense!! i’m just soft for platonic relationships and the suitors being family figures for mc and leo just seems like such solid father material)

Truth be told Anon, when I first received this request I (out loud) went “yes, yes, yes, YESSSS" or something similar to that but you get the idea I was excited to write it.

And don’t worry, your request makes perfect sense! I just hope that I was able to fulfill it to your liking T_T (and I totally agree, Leo is father material)

Hopefully you enjoy this, if not you can always come back and ask again! This is my first time writing Leo so I’m sorry if he’s OOC at all...

Note: I used an the Italian term topolina in this, which, from my research, is a term of endearment that translates to ‘little mouse’

~~~

“Thanks Dad” {Leonardo x Platonic!Teen!MC/Reader}

Leonardo da Vinci’s room is a mess, that’s a given, but it was peaceful - quiet, a space one could immerse themselves in with a hobby as a form of pass time. In a way, his room was like a library when the silent rule is followed to a T.

And it was here that she could construct with a clear mind, no honking of cars nor sounds of people from outside whatsoever. It was heaven for an aspiring architect like herself.  

“Just like that, easy now...” he murmured, watching with hawk-like eyes from the sidelines as the girl worked independently, putting the skills he’s taught her the past two weeks into practice. At the beginning of this little project they were working together, but about halfway through Leonardo fell asleep... 

Carefully, strategically, the teen applied the last wood piece, completely the couple hour long build. 

Taking a step back to stand beside him, she waits with bated breath, like the slightest change in wind could cause it to crumble. Yet when it held strong, a bright smile split across her face, Leonardo mirroring it with one of his own.

“Brava topolina, you’ve done it. On your own too” he chuckled, mussing up her hair playfully. She rolled her eyes, gently brushing his hand off her head. In no way though did that stop him from wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug.

“You helped, remember? We started the plane model together...” she reminded him.

“Maybe so, but you did most of the work and finished it. That’s worth something, you did good kid.” his praise caused her eyes to widen, his tone holding the warmest note that he’s ever used toward her since her arrival. All the other times where he’s recommended books on topics she’s interested in, when he taught her certain trades or brought her out to town pale in comparison to this very moment of bonding.

As she turned her gaze at the subject of their shared work, something they technically did together, a pleasant feeling filled her heart. Quietly, she whispered her thanks.

“...thanks dad, that... means a lot to me...”

There was a beat of silence before the severity of her words sank in, and a panicked expression morphed onto her face. ‘I did not just say that!?’. Leo’s brows rose in surprise as well, he too never expecting to be called dad, before returning to the usual calmness of his.

It’s true that the appearance of this girl from the future was a strange and different experience to him, a whole new world in some way. Yes, while in the past he’s gotten close to mortals of all kinds, adults, children and teens just like her, none of them could connect on a special level like this. There was never someone who he could just click with when it comes to sharing a hobby or two. Someone he could pass his vast knowledge of information down to to add to their own.

When she came along though she became exactly that person he was lacking in his life. She was the perfect mix of educated while still having room to grow and learn.

And yet he never could find an explanation as to why exactly he felt that way with her. What made her different from the others?

“Sorry, I, um, I didn’t mean-” she stuttered, so embarrassed she felt like she was overheating. Despite everything though, he didn't mind, and the master of all trades kept their wholesome hug going.

“Kinda like the sound of that...” he chuckled, gazing down at her.

“O-oh... can I... uh, keep calling you that?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Now, what do you want to build next?”

Maybe that was the answer - that the relationship they’ve built was akin to familial, she was someone he allowed to be just a little closer than anyone else. Why? Maybe because she knew the secret of the mansion, that he and the resident’s aren’t human, leading him to feel like he doesn’t have to hold anything back, that he can be himself. 

And that alone allowed him to feel just a little bit alive again.

The thought itself kept the smile on his face as he watched her look for another kit to construct, and it crossed his mind that he’d do literally anything to keep her safe with a happy look on her face like she has now.

Anything at all...

.

..

…

…Bonus...

“You really are a papà now, huh, Leonardo?” Comte smiled, a teasing look in his eye.

“Quiet ‘Comte’”

~~~

As of me posting this, requests are open [check my bio though to be sure]! Don’t forget to check the rules too for the fandoms/topics I write for (which are linked in my masterlist)!  

Masterlist

[fordanoia]

One of a Kind

Fandom: Gravity Falls || CW: - || Paranoid!Ford era trying to think of places to hide his journals (one shot)

______(~1.4k words)______

He just had to stay calm. The gradual pounding of his head made that hard though.  The catastrophe of a mess around him made it hard.  The monument of his stupidity — sitting like an anchor dozens of feet underneath the wooden planks and dirt and stone — made it hard. 

Mostly the pounding headache was the problem though. 

Every time he tried to gather his thoughts another throb would scatter them. Which was just wasting his time — time that he didn't damn well have.

He grumbled bitter nothings as he pushed the lukewarm mug of black coffee further away so straighten the map on the desk in front of him. He’d been at this for- well however long it took him to get through a little over four cups of coffee. He had to find a place to hide his journals, but where? He couldn’t just bury them all in the ground somewhere. They had to be in different kinds of hiding spots. If he just buried them all then mole people would wind up with an interdimensional portal breaking open a hellish dimension. Then if he hid them in ugly, disused dressers then it would be a guild of antique collectors, but the same scenario. Regardless of how interesting the beings were that found the journal, or how boring, it was still terribly dangerous.

Ford belatedly realized his body was drooping practically to the desk and jerked back to sit up straight again. Quickly pushed his tired limbs up to stand and walked around in ambling directions.

These had to be secure, they had to be safe. Gravity Falls was neither secure nor safe though.

He could bury one. Stash another in... the machine of- a box only opened by some hidden machinery. He could do that by the bunker.

The third journal. Where was he going to hide the third journal? The... The best place would be anywhere far away from here. That wasn't exactly an option right now though! Snow season was quickly approaching and he had a limited amount of time to get back to the caves before the hike would be too dangerous for him. Anywhere he went, it would take too long for him to get there and back in time. Not even accounting to actually hiding the damn tome. 

If he could find Fiddleford, he'd be able to ask him to take it with him on his way to Palo Alto. Like he wasn't already long gone that way, by now.

Ford swung around to grab the mug from the desk and take a large drink from the bitter and burnt coffee forcing himself to pull his mind back from the line of thought and think.

"Or he's here, which is worse." He rambled aloud, walking back around in unclear circles and lines with the mug in his hands.

Worse because if Fiddleford was still here then he was running around with a memory ray and some enabling cronies to help him blast away memories left and right! His, theirs, Ford's — anyone and everyone, who cared!

"It's not like it's harmful!" Ford ranted, mockingly. "No, there's not like there were obvious flaws in the design that were pointed out! Obvious flaws in the damn concept itself!!" He gritted his teeth, momentarily, before whipping his hands out. "If you're-!"

A loud crash of glass — of breaking, of intruding, of death and assault and assail (but mostly death!) cracked off his sentence and the air. 

Ford snatched the first thing in reach, a large chunk of crystallized rock from a Geodite's shedding, and reared it back to swing!

When he swung, the crystal glided through the air — not a problem, it could surprise them. The best surprise was always a zero hesitating- a dehesitating- an aggressive and quick offense!

He looked for a figure to swing at or react to as quickly as possible before it could get a jump on him! The room was a blur of colored shapes that he focused to snap together, only to still see nobody.

Ford breathed out hard, to look for the intruder. The invisible- had Bill enlisted the Invisible Wizard? Or the Hide Behind!

He backed up against a bookcase so the damn thing couldn’t sneak up on him, spotting for signs of its path. "Come eat crystal, you ugly ax-stealing-!" His mind buzzed in red at him.

It took a moment for his actual thoughts to catch up with what he'd subconsciously already figured out. There was no window in this room. There was no entrance here. The crash hadn't been a broken window or other entryway, all of which were reinforced with some wooden boards anyhow.

His eyes scanned the ground to quickly find the source of the crash. A broken mug, coffee dripping from its shards on the floor and splattered across half the wall below a small nick in the wall paper. 

“Oh.”

Ford sighed, letting his arms drop back down to hang in front of him, and feeling a little stupid. Thankfully, he was too tired to feel more than a little of any emotion though, which had its perk right about now.

He set the crystallized rock back onto its shelf before leaning down to inspect the damage, namely to figure out which mug he’d broken. (What a silly thing to worry about right now.)

This had to be the fourth mug this- week? He kept losing track of where the damn things were at and wound up breaking them, though usually by knocking them over not haphazardly throwing them without realizing it. Luckily he had a surplus of mugs. However, at his current rate he wouldn't for long. Too late to invest in making a shatter-proof mug now though.

He gingerly placed the largest pieces of the pastel purple ceramic into his hand, able to get a chunk that had the letters "Thir" on it. He stared at the piece.

Thiram? ...Thiuram- Thi...

Then it clicked.

"Ah. 'Flirty Thirty.' Right..." He squeezed at the bridge of his nose with his free hand in annoyance.

The image of the tacky mug in his memory was not a particularly pleasant one. Hot pink text on top of a soft purple background on a fairly standard mug shape, except for the unreasonably uncomfortable shape of the handle meant to mimic the number ‘30’ on it.

Definitely not his biggest loss.

He resumed carefully picking up the shards from the floor to clean up the mess.

Ford didn't even remember getting this mug. It was so obnoxious he couldn't imagine why he'd held onto it, much less willingly got it in the-... first place...

The dawning realization made his fingers slow and something heavy settle. This wasn't his mug. It had been Fiddleford’s. 

Fiddleford had left it to have at least one mug for himself here that he could use. (As though there wasn't already a whole shelf of mugs to use). Ford was half sure Fiddleford had just done it for the fun of Ford's face whenever Ford would look over at him and see the ridiculous mug, yet again remembering that it existed and, furthermore, was inside his lab sitting alongside the most important research of his life. History books did not show drawings of Katherine Johnson working on equations with a pair of sunglasses shaped like smiling, planets in orbit (that were also wearing sunglasses) or Isaac Newton underneath an apple tree, wearing a shirt saying ‘I discovered Gravity and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!’

Of course, Ford hadn't known the truth then about the portal and it’s not something he wanted in the history books anymore... but this had still been a damn, tacky mug. That much was still true.

And now it just looked like some broken mug, and you couldn't tell how awkward the handle was anymore or known it'd squish your hand if you tried to hold it like mugs are supposed to be held — or how ridiculous the hot pink looked with all the little orange designs around it. Now it was just... pieces scattered on the floor. 

He had plain mugs, mugs with knowledgeable jokes or quotes, and ‘technically free’ mugs he'd accidentally walked off with from the local diners. That mug had been the only truly tacky mug out of all of them. The tackiest mug across all of town, he’d bet. Unforgivingly ugly and irreplaceable.

Ford sighed, standing up again so he could get something to clean up the mess, trying to think back to potential hiding spots for his journals and avoid the pointless pondering of why he apparently felt bad about such an obnoxious mug of all things.

[wellimaginethat]

Bruises: Chapter 1

SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 5 FINALE OF CHICAGO MED!!!

Pairing: Crockett Marcel x (female) Reader

Word Count: 2246

Author’s Note: SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 5 FINALE!!! This happened because of Chicago Med’s season finale the other night. I got this idea and it just stuck. I couldn’t shake it so I had to write it.

Trigger Warning(s): MENTION OF CHILD’S DEATH (Dr. Marcel’s daughter, Harper), ABANDONMENT, divorce, CAR ACCIDENT, MENTION OF BLOOD (in later chapter), slight injury (in later chapters), hospital stay (in later chapters), bad medical knowledge because I’m not a doctor (yet, maybe someday, lol), Dr. Manning is a noisy brat (no hate, maybe a little shade, but no full on hate), DEPRESSION (in later chapters), mention of alcohol abuse, mentions of self harm (in later chapters) Marriage problems, slight arguing

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: This is probably, kinda, sorta AU because I’ve missed some of Chicago Med (the others too due to work) so I’m just going based off what I know and research (which has come up that we don’t know much about Marcel’s past, other than this shocking new tidbit). Also, the name is from the song Bruises by Lewis Capaldi, which is the song I was listening to while writing this

Y/N = Your Name

PRELUDE FOUND HERE

~ And every breath that I've been takin' since you left feels like a waste on me; I've been holding on to hope, that you'll come back when you can find some peace ~

You should’ve woken up by now, or at least that’s how it seemed, but when he checked the time it had only been a little over an hour since you were moved into a room.

For the first three years, he had wondered about you. Then he tried forcing himself to stop. But there was always the ‘what ifs’ lingering in the back of his head. What if Harper never got sick? What if it had been caught sooner? What if she hadn’t died? What if he hadn’t started drinking so much after she died? What if he had been there when you went to leave? That last one was the most frequent to pop up. He wondered if maybe he could have stopped you.

As the thoughts started to build up, he forced himself back to reality. Some might think it weird, that he still cared for you after so long, that he had never fully given up. But you don’t give up on a love like the two of you had. 

Part of him prayed that maybe somehow your paths would cross again. He never would have thought that him being accused of murder would be the cause, funny how the world works. A small amount of hope sparked in his heart, that maybe the two of you could talk and work it all out. It was a hope that he hadn’t realized he’d held onto all these years.

He looked at your face, you looked peaceful, like you were sleeping. If it wasn’t for the gauze covering the gash on your upper forehead and the slight bruising, he could’ve sworn you were just sleeping.

When he saw you earlier that day, so many memories and feelings came rushing back and he was faced with the realization that he never truly got over you. He had forced himself to move on, even if you weren’t technically divorced. That was just another question to add to the list he had for you. His first question, why you left, was practically answered for him. 

And seeing you there, in the hospital bed, bruised and with little cuts on your arms, made him realize just how much he didn’t want to lose you again.

He reached out to touch your arm gently, to reassure himself that you were in fact there, and technically okay despite the injuries you suffered.

And that was when you started to stir.

He stood up and carefully placed his hands on your shoulders. “Careful.” He spoke gently when he thought you were conscious enough to understand him.

“What happened?” You managed to say despite the dryness in your throat. It started to come back to you before he even opened his mouth.

“You were in a car accident.”

You groan some as you shift in the bed, looking anywhere but at him. You swat his hands away weakly, but it was enough to get him to move them.

“How do you feel?” “Like I was hit by a car.” You retort dryly, finally looking up at him, unable to hide the small smirk.

You could see him smile a little and roll his eyes. “You know what I mean.” “I feel fine considering the fact that I was, in fact, hit by a car.”

“Technically your car was hit by another car and you were inside.”

“True, guess I’m just lucky, huh?” That right there assured him that you’d be fine, you were still able to be as sarcastic as ever.

He sat back down, his eyes never leaving you.

“So how long have I been here?” You asked, looking over at him the best you could given the way you were laying and the fact that your muscles were sore.

“About two hours.”

“Oh, that’s not bad. I was afraid it was like a week or something.” You paused for a moment, expecting him to speak but since he didn’t, you did. “So how have you been?”

He shook his head some before looking down at his hands, clasped together as he was leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on his legs. He looked back at you. “Earlier you couldn’t stand to even look at me, let alone talk, and now you’re asking me how I’ve been?”

“Well I’m assuming I’m stuck here, and I’m assuming you aren’t gonna leave until I talk to you, so yeah, I’ve decided to kill time by making small talk. But never mind.” You huffed, shifting so that you were now looking at the ceiling.

Time passed by slowly, what felt like an hour of silence was probably only five minutes. You were getting ready to speak again, but just as you opened your mouth, a nurse walked in.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” She asked, and almost stepped back out.

“No.” The two of you answered in unison, too fast for it to not put an awkwardness in the air.

The nurse nodded slowly. “Okay…” She moved over to the side of your bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine, all things considered.” You answered her with a slight smile. “My head hurts a little, and my body’s a little sore, but it could be worse.”

“Alright, if it gets any worse just press this button.” She motioned to the clicker thing on the bed, to which you nodded. “Is there anything I can get you?” “Some water would be great, my throat is getting pretty dry.”

She nodded and after she checked a few things and made a few notes, she left the room.

The awkwardness however, did not. You felt unsettled, like there was something you were supposed to say but didn’t know what. The air seemed stale and you hoped the nurse would get back with your water soon so you would at least be able to drink the water and pretend like you were calm.

Time ticked by slowly, and soon enough. Crockett was standing up. “Well since you don’t seem like you want to talk, I guess I’ll just leave you be.” He stated as he headed towards the door.

“I tried talking but you just got annoyed with me.” You retorted back, huffing and crossing your arms.

He turned towards you. “Well I’m sorry if I don’t want to make small talk with my estranged wife after I haven’t seen her for seven years.”

“Did you think that maybe I was easing into the difficult topics? That maybe I didn’t want to just jump right into an argument with you?”

“Well it seems like your plan backfired on you because we’re arguing now.”

“Well we don’t have to be!” You huffed again, making a point of crossing your arms even more and looking away from him.

Seconds passed without either of you saying anything.

He finally broke the silence. “Why did you leave?”

You groaned, you did not want to talk about this now. Not here, not now, maybe not ever.

He huffed. “Fine, don’t tell me.” He turned to walk out again.

“Wait.” You called after him with a sigh. “I told you earlier that I felt abandoned. I felt like I was living with a ghost, I’d wake up and you were already gone, and you’d still be gone when I got home. You’d come home late at night. I started wondering when you’d stop coming home at all.” You admitted that last part quietly, your eyes straying from his.

“How could you think that?” He asked after processing your words. “I always came home to you.” “Yeah, you did, but the way things were going I didn’t know if it would stay that way. After Harper died, you shut me out. I get that you were grieving, but so was I. We both lost her.”

“I’m aware of that.” He replied tightly.

The nurse must have either really bad timing or really great timing, because that was when she walked in with your water. She smiled at you as she walked over and handed you the styrofoam cup.

“Thank you so much.” You smiled at her, taking a sip of the water through the straw as soon as the cup was in your hands.

“Not a problem, if you need anything else just hit the call button.” She walked out then and that’s when you noticed that Crockett slipped out while you were distracted.

You sighed sadly, setting the cup on the little table tray thing and leaned back into the pillows, replaying the conversation in your head.

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

You didn’t see him again, and the next morning you were released from the hospital. You got a taxi, since your car was totaled and probably in a junk yard somewhere by now, and went back to your hotel. 

You considered leaving, but something made you stay there, an inner voice maybe, telling you that you had to talk to Crockett before you left. That you had to finally resolve things and end your relationship with him completely, so that nothing tied you to him. The thought of it alone made your heart hurt, sure you had tried to move on from him, went on dates with other guys and stuff, but he was your first real love and a part of you still loved him, maybe more than a part. 

You let yourself slip into a daydream, one where the two of you were able to work it out and go back to how things used to be. You missed those days, back when you were dating, and when you were engaged, and even in the first few months of being married. Things were good between you two until Harper got really sick. At first you both were hopeful, but the sicker she got, the less hopeful you got, and he had tried to remain optimistic. When you snapped out of the daydream, clouded by thoughts of the past, you found yourself wondering what would’ve actually happened if you hadn’t left. Would he have stopped staying out so late? Could you have fixed your marriage?

That’s when you decided what you needed to do.

So you called for another taxi and headed to the hospital, when you got there you asked the driver to wait because you’d only be a minute, you just wanted to give him your cell number and tell him to call you and you two could talk.

But when you walked in, you saw him chatting with another doctor, a female doctor. You couldn’t help but feel a little defeated, but you figured he had probably moved on so you didn’t let it stop you from going over to the front desk and smiling at the receptionist. “Hi, I was wondering if I could leave a note for Dr. Marcel?” The receptionist nodded and grabbed a sticky note and pen for you, which you quickly scribbled your number and ‘call me - Y/N’ on it before handing it back to her.

Natalie couldn’t help her curiosity, she never could, and she noticed he was acting a bit odd, so she approached him.

“Are you okay?” It was an innocent question, she was one of the few people who knew at least most of the story, the fact that Y/N was his wife and that they had a daughter named Harper who died when she was young.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running his hand over the bottom half of his face before looking at her for a moment. He was about to say that he was fine, but he knew that she wouldn’t let it go at that. “Not really.” He almost had to force himself to admit it.

“Do you need someone to talk to?” She was just trying to help, trying to be a friend.

He had to think about it for a moment, which might have been the reason she was quick to speak again.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to overstep or anything, I just want to help.”

“It’s okay.” He assured her with the barest hint of a smile. “She left.” A sigh. “Again.” He added in an even more defeated tone.

“Oh.” Natalie wasn’t sure what to say right away. “Did you try talking to her?” He nodded solemnly. “I did, but it didn’t go well.” He sighed again. “We’re both still hurt and it just ended up with us arguing instead of talking it out.”

Natalie looked at him for a moment. “You still love her, don’t you?”

He paused for a moment before nodding. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving her, I’ve learned to move on and continue with my life, but she’ll always be the one that got away.”

She was a bit shocked, this was the first he’d ever opened up to her. She nodded to him and watched as he walked over to the front desk to check the files of patients.

“Oh, Dr. Marcel, a lady left you a note a few minutes ago.” The receptionist held the sticky note out to him.

He took the note and looked at it, reading it before nodding to her. “Thanks.” He put the note in his pocket.

“Was it from her?” Natalie asked, having been just a step behind him.

He nodded silently as he resumed working just like that.

[admiralty-xfd]

the whole truth

The epic Diana Fowley saga is here! 

I’ve posted the first chapter here, but you can read the entire thing on AO3. PLEASE read my author’s notes if you’re skeptical about this story. I promise, it’s all about the MSR.

“I have lived with a fragile faith built on the ether of vague memories from an experience that I can neither prove nor explain. 

When I was twelve, my sister was taken from me, taken from our home by a force that I came to believe was extraterrestrial. This belief sustained me, fueling a quest for truths that were as elusive as the memory itself. 

To believe as passionately as I did was not without sacrifice, but I always accepted the risks… to my career, my reputation, my relationships… to life itself.”

-Fox Mulder, “The Blessing Way”

prologue

She should have known from the moment she first saw them together that she never stood a chance.

She’d suspected it for a while. Call it women’s intuition. She hadn’t let many men into her life over the years but she knew Fox Mulder well, and from the moment she met that other woman she felt a cold chill wrap around her heart; a sense of inevitability, a sense of doom.

A sense of loss.

Knowing that loss intuitively was very different than witnessing it with her own eyes. She’d once again been losing the man she already lost years ago, piece by piece, ever since he came back into her life. Seeing him with the woman she now knew he truly loved only dug the knife in deeper.

On every other occasion she’d seen them together they tried to hide it; from each other, from themselves. But here and now, alone in this corridor where they thought no one was watching, she watched. And she saw.

She saw Agent Scully’s hand on the back of his neck, her other on his stomach, and she saw Fox’s arm around her waist. She saw her struggling to support his weight; a woman so petite she had to use every ounce of her strength to keep him upright. They were grasping onto one another like actual, physical lifelines. She saw love. She saw devotion.

And she saw trust.

It might not have been simple from the inside, as these things rarely are. But from the outside looking in, she’d never in her life seen two people so wholly immersed in one another.

Her own relationship with Fox had never been clean or simple. But she now realized it had never mattered. She now knew the one thing he’d needed from her above anything else was the one thing he never had: trust. And she could never truly give him that, because no matter what either of them wanted, no matter how much she loved him, everything between them began as a lie and now he could be absolutely certain of that; he’d read her thoughts. He knew the truth. Neither of them had much choice in the matter.

The grainy surveillance photographs in her hands were visual confirmation that her chickens had indeed come home to roost, that everything she’d struggled for over the past decade had been worth nothing in the end, nothing at all. Her own moral compass had been out of whack for so long it was hard for her to know which way was up anymore, what she was doing for herself, for Fox, for the project, for the world. She’d fought for a way out of this existence, but failed. In doing so she had chosen Fox’s fate, all the while believing he’d have chosen the same.

Would Fox have chosen this? She’d hoped it was true; she’d hoped that the truth they’d both sought for so long was worth all of this, worth everything. 

But she’d been wrong. He was worth more to Agent Scully than proof, than truth, than answers... than any of it in the end, and that made all the difference. 

Diana Fowley felt the tight grip of strong fingers curl around her shoulders, forcing her to look at the photographs of Agents Mulder and Scully escaping the facility with the keycard she had provided. Forcing her to feel her heart breaking all over again. 

What she’d done in the end for Fox was right, she knew that much. But it was too late for her now. And she would pay dearly this time.

Chapter 1: The Lie

THE MAJESTIC

ALEXANDRIA, VA

DECEMBER 1987

She spied him across the bar, two, maybe three drinks deep already. Twirling a long strand of dark brown hair around her finger, she sipped her Manhattan and formulated a plan of attack.

She got up and moved until she was two seats down from him, not glancing in his direction, and asked the bartender for another drink. She didn’t budge until she was certain the young man’s eyes were on her, and that task didn’t take long.

Her head swiveled and she smiled, her eyelids at half-mast. He grinned back. Works every time. Men were so insanely easy to work, it was a fucking marvel women weren’t running the world by now. 

It was the first time she was seeing this one’s face clearly. He looked slightly drunk; his hair was mussed, and his tie was undone. His sleeves were rolled up to the crooks of his elbows and she pegged him as a lonely man who didn’t spend much quality time in the company of women, at least, not much of the kind of quality time she was seeking this evening.

It had been a few weeks since she’d gone out looking for this kind of company, but he seemed to fit the bill nicely. He was a few years younger than her, and she could tell by his eyes that he was intelligent. It was a talent of hers; looking into another person’s eyes told her pretty much everything she wanted to know. 

Most importantly for her purposes, she noticed, he was drop dead gorgeous.

“Hi,” he said. She smiled. 

It was her favorite opening line.

“Rough day?” she asked. It felt apropos. 

He turned back to his drink, which was clear, whatever it was, and picked up the glass, shaking it. The ice jangled like an alarm bell.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he replied. 

The bartender set a fresh drink in front of her and she lifted it to her lips. “You’re right, I wouldn’t know. I’m only here for the scenery,” she smirked.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t a ‘thing’ for me, typically. I’m not much of a drinker.” He smiled warmly at her. 

She felt comfortable, she felt safe. She figured he was being honest; he didn’t seem like your typical drunk in a bar.

“Me neither, it’s just… been a day.”

“Oh yeah, you too?” he grinned. “What’s a woman like you doing in…” he trailed off, gesturing around.

“... The nicest bar in the city?” she finished, smirking again.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled, a bit abashed. It was a nice establishment, nicer than most. Alexandria wasn’t the worst place to go to a bar alone.

“Um… you know. Work… stuff.” She rarely elaborated on her work with men at bars. Quite frankly, most of them were too stupid to understand any of it. The more attractive they were, the less interested they seemed. She was here tonight for only one reason.

“What is it you do?” He looked genuinely interested and she liked him instantly.

“Mostly research,” she lied, smoothly. She wasn’t about to tell a stranger she actually worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. “I study criminology, and other social sciences.”

“Criminology?” He looked surprised. “Are you a detective?”

“No,” she answered quickly. It wasn’t technically a lie, but she still felt guilty for misleading him. “Just research. Studying human behaviors and such.”

“That sounds… very interesting.” He narrowed his eyes at her. She believed he meant it.

“Can I buy you another drink?” she asked him.

“A modern woman,” he said. “I like it.”

She grinned and scooted over until she was next to him. She gestured to the bartender, who obliged, setting another glass of whatever it was he was drinking in front of him.

“How about you? What’s made your day rough?” she inquired.

“I’d actually rather not say, if it’s all the same to you,” he said, making a face and holding his glass up. She didn’t mind at all. The less personal stuff she knew about him, the better.

“Fine by me,” she replied and clinked his glass.

“Maybe we can talk some more about you,” he said with a smile that made her melt a little bit. Just a little bit. Everything was going exactly the way she’d planned. The only hiccup was that, for some reason that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she kind of liked him. Maybe too much.

She grinned, taking a sip of her drink. “If you say so.”

She hooked her toe behind his calf and eyed him, not wanting her intentions to be misunderstood. It was brazen, but so was she. He was attractive and he liked her; she had no reason to look any further tonight. And his own eyes locked onto hers as he wordlessly agreed.

***

The door flew open in a flurry of activity; her mouth pressed against his and his keys falling to the floor. Pieces of their clothing were discarded one by one and through her mind ran the mantra this is not smart, this is not smart. It had only taken an hour for her to realize how much she had already developed a fondness for him. Even though she was here to do exactly what she came to do, she was worried. 

“I don’t usually bring strangers home with me from bars, I think you should know,” he murmured against her neck. 

She looked past him into his apartment, taking note of what she saw. It appeared to be a typical ‘single guy’ apartment, the difference being the clutter. Most men she let take her back to their places had very few possessions, either a remnant of some bad breakup or a product of limited imagination. This guy’s living room was absolutely full of books, papers, and a plethora of materials that surely crowded every corner of his mind as much as they did the room. It didn’t look unclean, just untidy. She smiled at the knowledge she’d pegged him right: he was smart. And lonely.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” he suddenly said, pulling back and looking around, his hand going to the back of his neck. He glanced behind him. “I wasn’t expecting company. To be honest, I rarely have… company.”

She took his face in her hands, regarding him. She already knew he was attractive, but there was something in his eyes that drew her in deeper. She was entranced by his intellect; she had been all evening. He’d listened to her and responded with genuine curiosity. He wasn’t like the other men she typically met in bars. It was strange and captivating and she knew she should resist but she could not.

It was for this reason she reminded herself tonight had to be about sex. Just about sex.

“I don’t know your name,” he said. “I’m Fox-”

“Don’t,” she shook her head. Names would make it harder. But then she had to ask. “Fox? Really?” For some reason this strange name only made him more attractive to her. “How’d you end up with that one?”

“Wish I knew,” he laughed. 

“I like it,” she admitted. She did. “Fox.”

And with that, he led her into the bedroom. There were no more words. It felt as if they had an unspoken agreement this would be about tonight, about right now. It was the way she wanted it, the way she always preferred it. 

Usually she would leave right afterwards. But this time, after it was over, he pulled her into him close and she let him. She felt oddly compelled to stay next to him all night. It was probably a mistake, as nearly every part of her was telling her, but she didn’t listen.

When she awoke he was lying on the other side of the bed, sprawled comfortably, and she watched him sleep. She wondered if perhaps she’d sold this one short. Their bodies had agreed, and he fascinated her, he aroused her own intellect. She softly ran her hand across his brow and his eyelids twitched. 

This could be something, really something.

But then her thoughts turned back to her work. It was where she defaulted when things got too difficult, too personal. She had her reasons for keeping things simple.

She slid out of the bed and gathered her clothes, putting them on piece by piece, completely unashamed of this particular walk of shame. But before she could reach the front door he appeared in his bedroom doorway.

“Leaving already?”

She sighed. “I have to get home.” He approached her, pulling on some sweatpants.

“Did I… do something to offend you?”

Poor thing, she thought. He hasn’t done this before.

“No, I had a great time,” she replied. “I just… have to go now, okay?”

“Can I at least have your name?” He looked so disappointed, standing there. Hair tousled, his naïveté dangling on the sleeve he wasn’t wearing. She’d feel sorry for him if he weren’t so goddamn attractive. Surely he’d bounce back.

It was harder to leave than she wanted it to be. And for that reason, she opened the door, looked back over her shoulder, and before closing it again she smiled at him, offering just two parting words. 

“Goodbye, Fox.” 

WASHINGTON, D.C. FIELD OFFICE (WFO)

601 4TH ST NW

FEBRUARY 1988

Weeks passed, and Diana poured herself into her work. Losing herself in the world of the fantastic was the best escape possible and she felt fortunate she had the freedom to do so. 

She had a degree in psychology and had completed her FBI training, trying her hand in both instructing at Quantico and working in the field. But she soon realized her talents and expertise could be better utilized in other ways; so she became an Intelligence Analyst. 

Luckily, this was the perfect job for her to explore the things that interested her most, namely the human brain and its many mysteries. Generous donors had supplied her the means to do so where many others at the Bureau could not. She was a self-admitted workaholic, and although she enjoyed her work immensely, it was quite stressful and filled her life to the brim.

Time passed and she filled her days with the work and her nights with thoughts of the work. Most of the time these thoughts were undisturbed. But snippets of a one night stand that had ended too abruptly would occasionally resurface. 

After she left that apartment he’d been reduced to two words: the fox. And at the back of her mind there existed a burrow, a small space that was dark and deep and dangerous. It was where the fox lived and held on. 

She thought about that night with him a lot. Too much. She hadn’t been affected this way by a man in a long time and it bothered her that she couldn’t let this one go. 

She told herself it was ridiculous; that even if she had space in her life for a relationship, the timing couldn’t be worse. And it wasn’t as if she could find him again anyway, even if she wanted to. She felt a bit guilty for leaving him alone that morning and she certainly didn’t enjoy thinking of that sad puppy dog face he wore as she walked out the door.

His name rolled over and over again through her mind, however, and she clung to that. Fox. She wondered about him, and wondered if he ever wondered about her. 

One afternoon in her office, as if her thoughts were somehow being projected out into the universe, as if some cosmic force were thrusting destiny into her path, she heard a somewhat familiar voice.

“Well, well, well. I guess this must be fate.” 

She was sitting at her desk reading an article and looked up to find the very last person she expected to see. Fox looked more put together in a suit and tie, and his hair was tidy. He cleaned up nicely. A Bureau badge was attached to his lapel and he wore glasses this time, which she found oddly arousing.

Of course. What were the odds of her finding another FBI agent to sleep with near downtown DC? Higher than she realized, obviously. 

“The fox returns,” she said, trying not to smile. “So you work for the Bureau, too?”

“Afraid so.” He didn’t sound upset she hadn’t told him, just a bit confused.

“Are you stalking me?” she asked him playfully, at least as playful as she got. 

“It’s a lot less romantic than that,” he explained, holding up a case file. Her name was written on a post-it note attached to the front. He gestured to her own badge. “I guess you’re my consult.”

“It really is fate, then,” she said, pleased to see him in spite of herself. 

“How long have you worked at the field office? Shame we’ve never bumped into one another.” 

She shrugged. “I’m a private person,” she said by way of explanation. “And besides, who says we haven’t?”

“I think I’d have remembered you,” he grinned. “You really know how to hurt a man’s self esteem, by the way.” 

She could tell he was joking, that she hadn’t really insulted him when she’d left him that morning. Judging by his behavior, he hadn’t been pining away or anything. It made him even more attractive to her; which was extremely inconvenient.

“I’m sorry about that, it wasn’t anything personal,” she explained quickly. “I just… I don’t do relationships.”

“I get it,” he said. “I’m the same way. Married to the Bureau?”

“You could say that.” 

“It’s okay,” he said coolly. “Anyway, I got what I wanted.”

His comment took her aback. She glared at him, but his eyes softened. “I meant your name,” he clarified, pointing to the post-it note, flashing his thousand watt smile. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Would it be all right if we introduced ourselves properly?”

She sighed, remembering how quickly he’d made her feel at ease in their prior encounter. She felt powerless against his rampant charm. “I’m Diana. Fowley. And you’re Fox.” She enunciated the name slowly, deliberately. She liked the way it felt on her tongue.

“Fox Mulder,” he told her. He extended his hand and she shook it. 

God, he was handsome. It struck her that it was the first time she’d shaken a man’s hand after that same hand had been so intimate with her body. 

“So, that really is your name?” she asked, glancing down at his badge.

“It’s not something I’d lie about.” He wandered slowly around the desk towards her. “Chopin?” he asked, noting the calming piano concerto spouting forth from her cassette deck.

“It helps me concentrate.”

He grinned. “I’ve always been partial to Bach.”

She knew what he was doing. He was trying to have the date they didn’t really have last time. She wanted to put a stop to it but she didn’t. She couldn’t help herself.

“How is it you came to know so much about classical music, Fox?” 

“You can call me Mulder,” he said. “I actually prefer it.”

She didn’t.

“I went to school at Oxford,” he explained. “I used to go… well, my ex used to take me to concerts at the Sheldonian. It grew on me.”

“Handsome and Oxford educated? You’ve got quite the list of credentials.”

He shrugged. “I don't usually put out all my credentials on the first date. But I think you and I are past that.” He grinned at her and his eyes sparkled; the same eyes that had drawn her in last time and she knew she was treading in dangerous waters.

“We aren’t on a date.”

“You’re right, we’re not,” he conceded. “But we could be.”

“So what did you come for a consult on, Fox?” she asked, pushing past his proposition and finally facing him, arms crossed in front of her.

“I’m a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We have a convict being re-evaluated for mental competency, due to some claims he’s made that defy explanation.”

“Such as?” She was intrigued. Things that defied explanation were her weakness. Handsome men talking to her about the subject were even better.

“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” she smirked.

He shrugged. “Psychic abilities. How does that grab ya?”

She removed her glasses and folded them, placing them in her coat pocket. She leaned back in her chair. “I’ve seen some patients display remarkable aptitude for clairvoyance, precognitive behaviors, even psychokinesis. There have been extensive studies on the phenomenon. While it’s still considered pseudoscience, it seems to be within the realm of possibility.”

Fox gaped at her, a small grin curving up either side of his mouth.

“You… believe in that kind of thing?” he asked.

“I’ve seen too much not to believe it.”

He looked at her in wonder, his eyes bright and engaged, seemingly speechless at her revelation. “I guess they sent me to the right person, then. How do you know about all this stuff?”

She raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly retracted. “I don’t mean- I just mean, they sent me to see an Intelligence Analyst that specializes in psych. I’m just surprised you’re even interested in the paranormal.”

“I have a background in parascience,” she explained. “It’s not something the Bureau utilizes much, but it comes in handy from time to time, I suppose… Whenever all your other avenues have been exhausted.” 

Again, he seemed at a loss for words. “I find the subject fascinating, actually,” he said, that same tone he’d used in the bar creeping back into his voice.

“Do you?” She’d never had a man claim an interest in the paranormal to get into her pants. It was oddly refreshing.

“I do,” he replied. “It isn’t often I run into someone who would entertain such possibilities. It’s… refreshing.”

She interpreted his wording as yet another sign this man was somehow meant to be in her life. She believed in lots of things, including fate, and she was starting to believe in him as well.

“I know what you mean,” she agreed. “It’s frustrating when all the people around you refuse to have an open mind.”

“I was actually just reading about a theory that claims prehistoric evidence of alien astronauts that landed here on earth.” He looked at her expectantly and she wasn’t sure if he was putting her on or not. 

Her eyes widened. “Wow. Do you open with that at parties?”

“Not ones I’m invited back to,” he chuckled. “I was just curious about your thoughts.”

“I’ve read about that, too. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it. It’s a long held theory, but…” she trailed off.

“...Wildly unpopular?” he asked.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds right up my alley,” he grinned. 

“Mine too, actually,” she admitted.

She smiled back and they looked at each other for a moment. The attraction she’d felt for him before was only growing exponentially, and it unnerved her. Before the feeling could continue for too long she interrupted it by holding her hand out for his file. “Well. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He handed her the file and she flipped through it. “Did you do MRIs? Ah,” she removed them and stood, inserting them into the light box on the wall. She scanned them carefully and then pointed to a small section of the scan.

“This is what we look for in these types of cases, here in the temporal lobe,” she explained. “It’s rare, but it seems to be the common denominator. If you look closely, you can actually see faint activity here.”

Fox leaned in next to her so they were shoulder to shoulder. She wanted to feel uncomfortable, a feeling that was comfortable to her, but instead felt overwhelming contentment. Not to mention he smelled incredible.

“And this is… unusual?”

She nodded. “It’s called the God Module. We rarely see any activity at all here. But sometimes there’s a faint hint of something in patients who demonstrate precognition, or advanced intelligence. It sometimes even shows up during extreme religious experiences.”

“Sounds like science fiction to me,” he winked, but she could tell he was being playful. “You’ve actually seen this demonstrated?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she explained. “Many in my field believe great leaps in science and other achievements were accomplished by individuals with access to this part of the brain. Galileo, Newton, Einstein. All corollaries to this theory.” She indicated the scans on the wall. “Looks like your guy could be one of them.” She leaned closer to the scans. “Luther Lee Boggs,” she read. “If you’d like, I could run a psych eval on him for you.”

She wasn’t sure why she’d offered. She told herself it was because this kind of brain activity was rare and she was lucky to have this case dropped into her lap. But the truth was she really just wanted to see the fox again.

His eyes went dark as he looked at her, predatory. It was then she knew for sure she hadn’t had the upper hand this entire time; that she was indeed his prey, and she was completely helpless. She wanted his case and he knew it. He liked her, and she knew it. 

“Have dinner with me,” he said.

She crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. “This sounds a lot like extortion.”

“It’s dinner.”

“I told you, I don’t do relationships.”

“You mentioned that,” he said. “But you do eat, right?”

She sighed and shook her head, smiling. “You sure are stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Only when it’s important,” he said. “One dinner. Then I’ll take you to see Boggs.”

Fate, he’d said. Maybe it was fate. As a man, he hit every one of the boxes on her checklist. Physically, she had zero complaints. He was interested in her work, not put off by it. And he was definitely interested in her. 

She looked into his eyes, saw them actively changing color as he watched and waited for her answer, and she knew she was done for. Maybe this could be fun. Maybe he was exactly what she needed. Maybe he could help relieve some of the stress she’d been under.

Maybe just for a while.

“Dinner. Okay,” she agreed.

CAPITOL HILL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JUNE 1988

Dinner turned into sex, which turned into more dinners, until several months had passed and Diana Fowley found herself in a relationship with Fox Mulder. 

He was everything she’d ever wanted in a partner, whenever she’d allowed herself to imagine one. And although she’d resigned herself to a life alone, she was walking back her preconceived notions. She wanted to be with him, she enjoyed it. They were so alike in so many ways. Maybe they could actually make this work. 

Snapping herself out of thoughts of the fox, she turned her attention to the task at hand. Today was an important day. She was standing in the hallway of the Capitol building, a stack of all her latest research carefully organized inside her briefcase. 

It had been several months since she’d attended a meeting like this one and she was a bit nervous. She wasn’t certain to whom exactly she’d be presenting today, but her grant was due for review and she hadn’t been this anxious since those first few weeks back at the academy years ago, when she knew she was being observed closely.

The freedom to pursue her interests in parascience hadn’t come easily. It wasn’t the kind of subject discussed much among her peers at work. Fortunately, her research had been noticed by people outside the Bureau who mattered. 

She took the stairwell down to the lower levels of the Capitol, to a hideaway office. It wasn’t the Senator’s typical meeting spot, and she was certain it was for the benefit of whomever they were meeting with today. She’d barely been sitting outside the unmarked office door for one minute when it opened and a woman poked her head out.

“Miss Fowley? The Senator will see you now.”

She stood and entered, a bit apprehensive. The office was much bigger than it had a right to be, considering where it was situated. The ceilings were vaulted and the adornments were breathtaking. 

The Senator got up from his chair and leaned over the desk, extending his hand. “Diana, so nice to see you again.”

“Senator Matheson.” She shook his hand, settling down in the chair across from his desk. Behind him was a man she’d never seen before, leaning against the wall with an inscrutable expression on his face and a cigarette in his hand. 

The senator was tall and his hair was graying. When she’d met him a year ago, there’d been an immediate attraction between them and she thought there might have been some expectation of a quid pro quo. It wasn’t anything she considered beneath her; Diana wasn’t one to dismiss using every attribute available to her to get where she needed to go. But the expectation never became reality. Matheson was genuinely interested in her work, always had been, and the funding she received from him had been gratefully accepted. Without his patronage she’d never have had the ability to pursue her work in parascience through official FBI channels.

“I’ve brought some progress reports for you to see,” she said, fumbling inside her briefcase. “I think you’ll be very pleased. I have some new research focused on not only what we know of the brain, but the parts of the brain we know practically nothing about.”

Ever since she began seeing Fox, the God Module theory had been at the top of her research priority list. They’d begun to see psych patients together that exhibited precognitive behaviors, and while Fox found them interesting on a more visceral level, what she often found most exciting was the potential; not only for her own discoveries but for the great leaps in knowledge they presented. 

Senator Matheson raised his hand to stop her presentation. “No need, I’m sure your work has been exemplary.” He smiled, and she was confused.

“Sir? I’m sorry, I was under the impression that this was an evaluation.”

“No, I’ve asked you here because there’s been… a development.”

Diana looked behind him at the stranger, who was eyeing her carefully as he puffed on his cigarette. Something about him put her off balance. She glanced at Matheson, expecting an introduction that wasn’t forthcoming. 

“What kind of development?”

Matheson sat back into his chair. “There’s a group I’m involved with, scientists and researchers in the private sector who are working on projects… experiments, really, that are pushing the boundaries of modern science, psychology… amazing things, Diana. I’ve told them about you, and they’ve taken an interest in your work.”

Diana was surprised, but intrigued. “Oh?”

Matheson leaned forward in his chair. “They’re willing to double the yearly amount of the grant I’ve offered you.”

Double? Diana was floored. Rarely was her field of expertise taken seriously by anyone. Her work was barely tolerated, much less encouraged. “That’s… that’s wonderful, sir. I’m thrilled to hear that.”

“If you accept, you’ll be under a private exclusivity contract with them for the next five years. It means you’ll get to continue your work while at the Bureau just as you have been, only they will direct your research, fund it, and retain the rights to your findings.”

This concerned Diana, as she worked hard for the discoveries she made. Passing off the credit wasn’t something she was eager to do. But it seemed a small price to pay for her to have the resources to push ahead. “I think that...sounds acceptable.”

“Things will be a bit different, however, Diana,” Matheson continued. “You’ll no longer be reporting to me.”

The man behind Matheson stood and moved behind the senator, placing a hand on his shoulder. He reached around to put his cigarette out in the ashtray, took a long look at Diana, and exited the room. She watched the door close behind him. 

“Who was that?”

Matheson ignored her question. “You’ll be contacted by someone soon. But Diana-” she looked back at her benefactor. “I cannot stress to you enough the importance of the secrecy of this work. It’s highly classified.”

She nodded, even more intrigued. 

“You’ll be able to tell no one, not family, friends. No one.”

She hesitated, knowing keeping this from Fox would be difficult. But their relationship was still relatively new, and this opportunity seemed once in a lifetime. Her curiosity won out. 

“That won’t be a problem, sir,” she promised.  “Can I ask… about the nature of these experiments?” 

“The Company will explain what they can. There are limits to your access, at least for the time being.” He pinned her with a look, that look he got whenever he was speaking wistfully of space exploration or American history. She liked Matheson, they shared a certain simpatico. “But I think doors will be opened for you, Diana. Doors you’ve probably been knocking at for years.”

In spite of the strange nature of this meeting, of this entire situation, she felt a flutter in her stomach that could only be the galvanizing excitement of discovery. It was even better than sex. And few things were.

Matheson stood and extended his hand. “It’s a shame to see you go, Diana, but I’ll rest easy in the knowledge you’re in good hands. I only hope someday I find another protogé as worthwhile as yourself.”

She reached for his hand and shook it. “Thank you, sir, for the opportunity you’ve given me in the first place. I’ll always be grateful.” She turned and walked out of the room, determined her life was about to change, that she could be making a real difference someday.

That night when she saw Fox, he asked her how her day was. She said it was good. 

It didn’t feel like a lie.

[loudgothbf]

((Sorry @ the mod. -the guy who send the arguments))

Anonymous said: 

Okay, here it is. Assault, an intentional act by one person that creates an apprehension in another of an imminent harmful or offensive contact. To my knowledge it is not assault but consensual crime. Which can be argued to not be assault if the person is of age, not under the influence of mine altering drugs and has the possibility to stop said act if they please. Which arguably would not make it assault, therefore disprove this point. Assault in a different case however it has to be looked into that. 

Breaking and entering, entering a residence or other enclosed property through the slightest amount of force (even pushing open a door), without authorization. If there is intent to commit a crime, this is burglary. If there is no such intent, the breaking and entering alone is probably at least illegal trespass, which is a misdemeanor crime. There is not enough evidence to support that Hiro did this as most seemed to have happened when he was supposed to be at work, which can be easily testified by his coworkers or Manager. Unless it's stated that he either left for an unusual amount of time during the day, left earlier or didn't show up it would make this point arguably stronger but this can't be proven yet since we do not have the accounts of witnesses. 

Hacking is broadly defined as the act of breaking into a computer system. Hacking isn't always a crime as "ethical hacking" occurs when a hacker is legally permitted to exploit security networks. In other words, it's when a hacker has the appropriate consent or authorization. However, hacking crosses the criminal line when a hacker accesses someone's computer system without such consent or authority. We do not have the evidence to support the claim that Hiro is or was hacking into anything. He would have the technical know how but that doesn't support the claim. IT specialists usually have the know how for this but that doesn't mean they use it. And even a normal person can learn how to hack which would show that this claim against him does not work out. 

Anyone who films a partner during sex without their consent is committing the criminal offence of voyeurism. Though this does not count for Hiro to my knowledge since he didn't place any cameras without Hibiki knowing from what I can see. The cameras were known to them I'd assume, unless there were new ones placed in which the placer would be guilty of voyeurism. I would assume that they consented to having the cameras placed for the safety of Hibiki. Which would probebly not make it a crime to film the living room in which they had consensual sex after simply forgetting about the cameras.  If however the cameras were placed without them knowing this would be a crime. Which can not be pinned to Hiro since we do not know who placed the cameras in this case.

One can not get DNA on objects if they are extremely careful. One can also place DNA on objects one has not touched, thus make it seem like they did. DNA is a good clue but the simple absence of new one does not mean that a person from the house hold is the criminal. It can just mean that the person was very careful.

As maybe noticed I did not touch on the subject of Stalking as we do not have the evidence needed to accuse someone of this crime as of now. Thus not making them guilty until proven otherwise. As a further thing to note. I am not a lawyer nor do I say that I know more or am equil to one. I'm simply trying to prove my point which is that I see Mister Hiroki Fukuyama as not guilty of Stalking Mister Hibiki Shiryo or any of the crimes you seem to assume him to have done. 

She gives a soft smile. “All of that is true. However, your entire argument hinges on a few things that you cannot prove, and cannot in general be proven without further official investigation, which turning the tapes over would instigate.”

“For one, Hibiki has admitted that part of the fun of BDSM for him is being afraid or being in pain. He actively classifies himself as a masochist. Therefore, Mr. Fukuyama would be knowingly inflicting painful, or ‘offensive’ contact, in the words of the law, and would thus be guilty of assault. In addition, whether it would classify as assault would only be relevant if an investigation were launched, which turning over the video would definitely do, and such a defense would only be relevant in a court room. It is not relevant to the investigation stage at all, which is where this case is, unfortunately, stuck.”

“You are correct that I have not yet interviewed witnesses. That does not exclude him from suspicion, especially since he would have the ability to slip out unnoticed, and leave no trace of himself in his own apartment. That would, again, require further investigation and is not relevant in the building of the case. In addition, the intruder drugged Hibiki, kicked him in the back leaving a large bruise, and stole his knife, not to mention the emotional damages the event had on him. Therefore, even if the intruder, Mr. Fukuyama or not, had used a key, it would be a crime. Which one or ones comes down to motive, which we can’t know yet.”

“Whoever is hacking the cameras does not have consent, therefore, it is a crime in this case and this point is irrelevant. Not to mention that the skill to hack lines that are designed to be secure, as with the cameras, is not something easily learned and requires a higher degree of skill than generic hacking.”

“Again, further investigation is needed to prove whether more or separate cameras have been places. This does not take any potential suspicion off of Mr. Fukuyama, so is irrelevant at this point in the investigation, in which our goal is to turn up new leads and throw out ones that can be excluded with definitive proof, which does not apply to him.”

“That is true, but a lack of DNA with how much contact the individual has had with various objects and persons is impressive. Not impossible, but highly unlikely. And, again, this does not alleviate suspicion toward Mr. Fukuyama.”

“I have in no way and at no point declared Mr. Fukuyama guilty. I am investigating him, and do not intend to make this a kangaroo court. I am investigating anyone who fits the bill, and there have been countless people already excluded from suspicion due to my investigation. And, as this is not an official investigation, there is no presumption of innocence. There is no presumption of innocence in any investigation. It is in prosecution where such factors come into play, and that is a bridge that has not yet been sighted, much less is it ready to be crossed.”

“Though,” she smirks slightly, “I am impressed by the breadth, depth and degree of your research.”

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [5/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who, not either of our boys!), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro.

Author’s Note: And now, for a change in POV!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Of course, right after Jason leaves, the baby wakes up.

And starts to wail.

Tim freezes, all of his reflexes seemingly dissolved by the unyielding sound that such a tiny creature should not be able to produce.

Whatever Jason said about him being calm, in actuality, he’s completely freaked out over this whole baby thing.

Over the whole Jason’s baby thing.

This whole situation is just not in his area of expertise, nor does it require any of his previous training. And he can’t really see a situation where, on the infinitesimal chance Jason decides to give up vigilantism and become a stay-at-home-dad, he’d ever ask Tim of all people to babysit.

But then, right now, Jason’s not here.

The nurse from earlier returns, offering him a sympathetic look.

“It’s about time for her next feeding,” she tells him. “Do you want us to take her, or would you like to do it?”

Take her, please, Tim wants to say but bites his tongue.

He wasn’t talking out of his ass when he acknowledged that babies needed to be held. Human contact is good (even if that wasn’t basic medical knowledge, his own semi-neglected childhood can attest to that) and he all but volunteered himself for this to help Jason. He should at least do what he can.

Holding down the fort apparently includes holding down the baby…

“If you could just show me…?” he suggests, a sheepish smile pasted on and hopefully hiding his inner unease.

As expected, the woman’s expression turns into a mixture of amused and charmed. She chatters, motioning for him to take the chair Jason was sitting in before; Tim sits and lets her arrange the baby in his arms, showing him a light, gentle rocking motion to try to calm her.

“I’ll be right back with her formula,” the nurse says, though Tim barely hears her over the furious wailing.

He squints down at the scrunched-up face, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation. Also, what exactly possessed him to call Jason his partner?

Because it’s the first believable thing to come to mind that didn’t involve spontaneous resurrections?

And technically, it’s even true. Sometimes.

And he was worried about Jason.

They may not be brothers, but they are family, and with that comes a certain awareness of each other. He knew the minute he saw Jason outside the dive bar that he was freaked out. He decided he would help him then, and he’s not about to back out now even if things have become way more complicated than anticipated.  

The nurse returns with the bottle of formula, and as soon as she’s explained how to properly position and feed the baby—apparently there’s more to it than just sticking a synthetic nipple in her mouth and waiting for her to chug—and prevent gas, she vanishes again.

To allow them “bonding” time.

Not what I thought I’d be doing when I got up this morning…

Tim’s done the baby thing before—sort of. But Steph’s daughter was bigger when she was born. Jason’s is tiny, and Tim is half expecting her to break into pieces before his eyes. Whatever manufactured confidence he had before, had been in the moment—and mostly for Jason’s benefit.

It had been imperative to get the infant out of the other man’s arms while he was clearly on the verge of a panic attack. Especially since no one ever knows how a cornered Jason Todd might react.

Not that I think he’d ever hurt an infant, but he doesn’t exactly process shock the way normal people do. It never hurts to have contingencies.

As he watches the baby guzzle her formula with surprising gusto, Tim finds himself going over a mental list of things that have to be dealt with if they’re going to get through life’s latest curveball more or less intact.

Paperwork for the baby. Arrangements for the mother’s body.

Isabel Ardila.

He knows her name only from the files as the woman Jason was seeing prior to the Joker’s last assault on the bats. She was caught in the crossfire, forcibly dosed with heroin to play on Jason’s past traumas, and following her recovery, ended things with Jason.

Or Jason ended things with her, Tim’s not sure. He never asked and he doesn’t intend to.

However it ended, clearly there was enough estrangement that she didn’t bother to tell Jason he was a father. It’s a decision he can, unfortunately, imagine the reasons for, even if he’s not sure he agrees with them.

Not like we can do anything about that decision now, though.

The baby slowly goes limp in his arms, and Tim has a brief moment of irrational, paranoid panic—has she been drugged?—before realizing she’s just fallen back asleep.

“Right. Because that’s a normal thing that babies do,” he murmurs to himself, and carefully maneuvers himself over to her crib to put her down on her stomach, like he’s seen in countless television commercials.

Then, uncertain, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and does a quick internet search, balking at the sheer amount of SIDS related articles, and scoops her up again to reposition her on her back.

Should probably tell Jason about that when he gets back…

Assuming Jason comes back.

Or even wants his help.

Which, Tim decides, he’ll offer anyway. Though that may mean playing to his strengths more than anything, preparing for every eventuality and having a series of back-up plans.

He highly doubts Jason’s thinking of any of that right now.

Phone in hand Tim begins typing quickly, pulling up tabs in his search engines for whatever concern pops into his head as he reads.

He suspects Jason is too uneasy about the whole situation to want to keep the baby, so Tim’s going to have to research adoption agencies through official and unofficial channels.

Open or closed, not sure what option he’d go with.

And then, there’s always the small chance he will keep his child. It’s a possibility that seems as likely as Bruce’s sudden predilection for joining the Russian ballet, but stranger things have happened in the family.

He skims through several forums and advice blogs for how to care for a newborn, makes a list of important supplies they might need in the immediate future and forwards it to Tam.

It’s several minutes later that his phone chimes, notifying him of her list of replies.

- Why the hell did you send me a list with diapers?

- Is this for a baby?

- Omg, did you kidnap a baby?

- Is that a thing that happens?

-First ninjas, now baby-napping?

Tim sighs and rolls his eyes. Normally he’d find her bemused and slightly-panicked responses a little amusing, but he doesn’t have the energy to go into details, even if Jason hadn’t sworn him to secrecy.

-A friend of mine has an emergency. Drop everything off at my apartment, please.

There’s a beat, another chime, but Tim doesn’t get a chance to read the message as his screen suddenly switches. The air is filled with a generic ringtone that Tim hastily mutes, eyes flicking to the baby and back to his screen. The number flashes ‘Unknown’, but Tim recognizes the number from earlier that day.

He stands, wanders away from the crib to answer quietly. “What is it, Harper?”

“Jay called me,” the older man says without preamble. “Told me everything. About the kid, about Isabel.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees quietly. “I’d say shock is an understatement.”

“No shit.” He sighs. “Listen, I talked him down as much as I could, but the rest is on you.”

“What? Why?”

“He says you’ve been helping him.”

“For now, until someone more qualified comes along,” Tim retorts, implication heavy in his voice.

Roy catches it because he lets out a bitter laugh. “Sorry to burst your bubble, bird boy, but that ain’t gonna be me.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve been in literally the same situation.”

“And I can’t right now. So I need you to be there for him.”

“He needs his friend,” Tim argues. “And he’s made very clear I’m not one of those.”

“Then you'd better become one fast, because I can’t.”

“Why the—” Tim’s eyes flick to the infant, and he can’t help giving in to the impulse to censor himself, lowering his voice, “—heck not?”

“Because I’m in a bad place right now,” Roy snaps. “I’m not in a good way for being around a kid, okay? I…” He pauses, like he’s weighing something, and then exhales. “I…fell off the wagon again.”

Tim's stomach sinks. 

“Roy…”

“Don’t tell Jaybird,” Roy orders. “I just…I need to sort myself out before I can be any kind of help for him. I show up there now, I’ll just add to his problems.”

“But—”

“This is you being tagged in, okay? Don’t fuck it up.”

There’s a harsh click in Tim’s ear, leaving him listening incomprehensively to the dial tone for several seconds.

“Are you…are you kidding me?!” he hisses after a moment, only just refraining from throwing his phone across the room in frustration.

He didn’t realize before Roy’s call just how much he was counting on someone else to step in and take over in the emotional support department.

I’m not cut out for this. This sort of thing…it should be Dick. Or Alfred.

He spends the next hour once again reviewing what he did to get roped into all this.

When Jason comes back—and something inside Tim unknots in relief that he did come back—he’s as ashen-faced as before. This time, though, there’s a determined set to his shoulders.

They stand and stare at each other in silence for a good five minutes before Tim realizes Jason’s waiting for him to speak first.

Right. Tagged in. Let’s do this. Ease into it.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Tim winces.

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly subtle.

Jason doesn’t seem to notice the awkward, though.

“No idea,” he replies heavily, leaning against the doorjamb and letting his head thunk lightly against it.

“Social Services is obviously an option.”

“No way in hell,” Jason snaps, straightening up and looking fierce. “I don’t trust them. And you can’t tell me with all the Wayne resources you’ve got access to, we can’t find something better.”

Tim expected that. He might not have had the exact same harrowing experiences with foster care as Jason did, but his very brief stint left him with a hint of that same disillusion with the system.

It’s not something I’d wish on any kid, least of all Jason’s.

“We can look into it. Organize the best possible adoption scenario without dealing with Social Services. There are actually a lot of couples in the community who would be willing to adopt.”

“No. This kid isn’t growing up anywhere near capes or masks or stuff like that.”

Okay, that’s understandable. It also makes it less likely he intends to keep her.

“Whatever we do, it will take some time,” Tim cautions. “Placing a child with a family isn’t going to be as easy as sticking someone in Witness Protection.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. “Only you would think that’s easy.”

“So, now that that’s figured out—what are you going to do once the tests are finished?” Tim asks, focussing on the practical. “I don’t find a family within the next day or so, you’re going to need to bring her somewhere. Assuming you’re adamant about keeping the rest of the Family out of this?” That receives only narrowed eyes in response. “Stupid question, sorry. But she’s going to have to stay somewhere until then. I wouldn’t recommend leaving her here at the hospital, for a number of reasons.”

Jasons frowns, thoughtful. Then,

“I’ll keep her for now,” he decides with a heaviness that Tim suspects is caused more by fear than dislike of children. “Until we find a better place for her. Some family that won’t mind doing this in private.”

“Okay,” Tim nods. “On that note—where exactly will you take her?”

Jason falters, looking like he’s not entirely sure what to say to that.

“I…my safehouses aren’t exactly babyproofed.”

“I don’t think that’s an issue until they start crawling,” Tim replies, trying for humor but the very idea sparks another flash of panic in Jason’s eyes. He’s looking at Tim now with something dangerously close to expectance, and a realization hits Tim.

He doesn’t want to be alone with this.

And it’s the fact he’s never seen Jason look so vulnerable that sparks a truly terrible idea.

I’m so going to regret this.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he offers, earning a sharp glance from Jason. “Just until you wrap your head around this and figure out the next move.”

He half expects Jason to scoff, or laugh in his face or say something insulting.

It’s decidedly worrying when the only thing that happens is Jason’s shoulders slump and he nods.

Jason’s shoulders slump, and he nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be…good. Thanks, Drake.” He pauses, considering something, and then adds, “Tim.”

Next Chapter

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[pkmnomegaverse]

You know what, i wonder if Pierce ever pays child support. This dude got 4 kids(probably more the 4) from fling to one-night stand, Family reunion must be fun thing about it.

Probably more than 4 is right. He has to go ask Archer or Silver for a raise because he’s paying so much child support.  😔 The kids keep piling up.  I had actually considered this issue though, if he does or does not pay child support for each child.

For Vinca, the answer is easy.  He doesn’t since neither he nor Sawyer know he’s the father.  Sawyer was in a situation similar to Grimsley in the sense that there were too many potential fathers that night, so he doesn’t know who the father is, nor cares to find out since he doesn’t want the person making a claim for custody.  I just personally know it’s Pierce, so I listed it for that reason, while even though I know Rue’s biological father, since he’s an OC, I figured there was no need to list him. For Mistral, since Mondo and Tyson are Pierce’s coworkers, he has the most contact with her overall. Helped by the fact the three have an amicable relationship with each other (the event that resulted in Mistral’s conception was a hook up between the three.  And wasn’t the first or last time the three hook up). He doesn’t act as a father to her, more of a distant uncle if anything, but he will sometimes pass along extra money to Mondo on her birthday or special holidays.  Tells him to buy her something nice.  He’ll also occasionally bring souvenirs for her from his travels, since he does meet up with the family occasionally.  Mistral is also the only one of Pierce’s children who knows he’s her biological father early on.  Tyson and Mondo figure it will come up eventually (since she visibly looks enough like him that at some point, she’ll possibly make the connection), and rather than make it some tragic reveal when she’s a teen, they explain it early on as her having two dads.  Her actual dad, Tyson, and then her dad who made her with Mondo, Uncle Pierce.  And that’s why her pretty blue curls match his hair.   It’s a low key thing they don’t bring up much, and Mistral herself isn’t bothered by it, even once she’s old enough to understand the implications.   So while he doesn’t technically pay child support, he does buy her gifts. If Mondo or Tyson pushed him on the issue, he would pay (likely in the form of having part of his paycheck transferred to their paychecks) and wouldn’t have minded too much.  He likes them both well enough and both are his regular hook up buddies when he’s in Kanto, so he’s still benefiting from being involved with them.  It doesn’t come up since both Mondo and especially Tyson are too proud to get money from him, plus they honestly don’t need the extra money.  As far as Tyson is concerned, he’s the father, Pierce is merely the sperm donor.  Thus he’s going to be the one to support his family.  Overall, no one in this family is bothered by the situation.  Mondo and Tyson had discussed what they would do beforehand if Mondo’s birth control ever failed and the father of the resulting baby was in question. They agreed they wouldn’t care and would just raise the child as theirs.  It was the risk they took when they starting hooking up with other people during Mondo’s heat. Alois and Avarel  is where it gets complicated, because Tory is really upset about the situation once he discovers he’s pregnant with a baby who might not be Rafe’s. The encounter with Pierce was a consensual threesome between him, Rafe, and Pierce, but wasn’t meant to be more than just a casual hookup.  Tory really likes the bad boy appeal, but is too nervous to branch out much when he’s younger.  He also never really got the chance to explore his sexuality, as Rafe was his first significant partner.  They get together when they’re both teens and stick together once Tory accidentally gets pregnant with Rayner.  But Tory does still want to explore more, see what it’s like to sleep with other people, but doesn’t want to cheat on or leave Rafe.  He talks with Rafe about his feelings and if he would be willing to try branching out a bit, see what it’s like to occasionally add another person into their sex life. Rafe agrees to experiment with him since he himself also doesn’t have much experience outside Tory and the idea itself does have an appeal to it. Tory sort of knows Pierce as a coworker of his brother’s, a criminal type who’s still “safe” since he believes Hun doesn’t actually interact with truly bad people.  And since Tory is nosy and tries to keep track of the goings-on of his brother’s job, when he notices one of Hun’s coworkers in the area, he okays the idea with Rafe before approaching Pierce. Pierce would have likely agreed either way, but the idea of doing Hun’s baby brother is especially appealing (see how the brothers compare), so he sees no reason to pass up the opportunity.  Tory being in heat for the encounter just makes it more exciting. They set up a role play of sorts, the big bad yakuza henchmen come to collect the dept owed by the up and coming E4 member.  The payment method obviously being a night spent breeding his fertile mate while he’s forced to watch. Rafe still gets in on the action because it’d be boring otherwise (plus Pierce needs to take payment direct from him as well, it’s only fair.  Plus lots of fun ways to get all three of them sandwiched together), but due to the setup, when Tory finds out he’s pregnant afterwards, he immediately panics because while either guy could be the father, the amount of time each guy spent fucking him was like 70% Pierce, 30% Rafe.  And Pierce had him multiple times before Rafe ever fucked him. He doesn’t want to have some random criminal’s child, but he also doesn’t want to abort the baby just because it might not be Rafe’s, since otherwise, he would be happy to have another child.  A younger sibling for Rayner, something he had been thinking about for a while, but wasn’t sure when to bring it up with Rafe. Rafe tries to be sympathetic and supportive but also doesn’t really know how to deal with the situation.  It’d be a lie to say he’s not somewhat bothered, even if he tells Tory he’ll support him in whatever he decides.  If he wants to keep the baby, he’ll still be the father, no matter what the outcome ends up being biologically. Tory ends up so upset about the situation that he goes to Hun about it, wanting advice on what he should do.  Hun, despite being brunt about his options, talks Tory through the situation.  Asks him which situation would be worse for him.  Having the child and it ending up being Pierce’s, in which case he could either keep it or put it up for adoption, or abort and live with the knowledge he chose not to have the baby due to the risk.  It’s on him which situation he can live with, not for anyone else to decide.  Tory ultimately chooses to keep the pregnancy because he did want another child, and feels he’d come to regret it down the line if he did abort, since he would always wonder “what if?”  Once he finds out he’s expecting twins, he’s even more concerned that at least one of them is likely Pierce’s, but he resolves that he’s going to try and overcome this (plus maybe with two, at least one of the babies will be Rafe’s?)Hun is pissed about the situation though.  He tries to remain calm when he discusses things with Tory, but inside, he’s seething. How dare Pierce think it would be okay to have sex with his baby brother.  Logically he knows Tory is just as responsible for suggesting the whole thing, but it doesn’t change his feelings on the matter.  As such, he does confront Pierce about the situation, which is how Pierce finds out Tory is expecting what could possible his child(ren). As is true for all his children, Pierce doesn’t actually care.  He purposely doesn’t give his random hook ups his full name or any contact information because he wants to be able to leave and avoid responsibility.  But with Tory, he doesn’t have that option because Hun is involved and ready to kick his ass if he doesn’t make amends in some way.  He does end up going back to Hoenn to discuss matters with Tory (which because Pierce is Like That,  he does manage to finagle another hookup from Tory, because Tory is easy and Pierce is still very attractive to him, despite his feelings on the situation). It’s halfhearted and in the back of his mind he’s working on ways to get out of it in the long run, but Pierce does offer to send Tory child support if one or both of the babies end up being his. He’s very firm about not wanting to be the father in a parenting sense though. Plus, would Tory really want him there influencing the children? He also not so subtly insinuates that Rafe should be the one supporting the children financially, so in the end, Tory doesn’t actually accept the child support offer.  Anything that ties the babies back to this man just further drives home the mistake Tory made.  Plus it’s true, Rafe should be the one helping to support the children if he’s really going to raise them as his regardless.  They’re not hurting for money at all either, between Rafe’s job as an E4 member and the fact Tory comes from a family with a lot of money, considering his own father is a renowned researcher. Meeting with Pierce doesn’t actually help Tory’s feelings on the matter, but he supposes it’s confirmation Pierce doesn’t want to be involved in the slightest.  It’s hard for him once the twins are actually born and he sees the telltale dark blue hair both have inherited. For as much as he tried to tell himself he was fine with the outcome no matter what, he can’t help breaking down and crying about it, apologizing to Rafe for failing (which…Rafe doesn’t even know how to begin trying to console Tory on the matter, because even he’s dismayed to see that telltale blue as well).  Once Hun comes into the delivery room and sees everyone being melodramatic, he takes charge and gets them both to calm down and stop being stupid about the situation.  Hun is basically the voice of reason for Tory in this entire situation, the one to talk him down from things and give him the brunt truth he needs to hear.   

It works out fine in the long run.  Alois and Avarel’s true parentage don’t actually affect Rafe’s ability to bond with them and he does view them as his children.  They don’t tell the twins about Pierce though, or even that Rafe isn’t their biological father. They know in the back if their heads it might come up one day, but they just pretend Rafe is their biological father.  No reason to keep dwelling on that mistake of a hookup.  As such, while a family reunion would be potentially amusing between all the half-siblings, it’s unlikely to occur since they don’t know about each other.  If they were to find out, only Mistral would be somewhat curious as to who her siblings are. Vinca couldn’t care less and would only care to see if any one them were interesting.  And in the end, she would decide none of them are.  She can hang out with Liam if she wants to spend time with a little brother and while Mistral might be less annoying than Lavender, she’s got no time for another sister.  Avarel and Alois would be more shocked by the knowledge Rafe isn’t their biological father, since they had honestly never questioned it.  Yes their hair is a bit dark, but they’re identical twins just like their aunts on Rafe’s side. Isn’t that somehow proof?  They’d likely want to meet Pierce more than their half-siblings, which considering how much he wouldn’t care or want to see them, would just end up sad for them.

[plumoh]

[HQ!!] Then again

Part 1 | Part 2

Word count: 1348

Summary:  Atsumu is the better alchemist, after all. / FMA AU.

Note: AO3 link. Slightly more based on 2003 than on mangahood!

Chapter 1: Then again

You know you've always been the most childish, or that's what people keep saying; you speak the loudest, you complain, you pull pranks on your brother, in short you're the little brother, despite being born before Osamu. Technically, you are the older brother, but many people dismiss the mention since you guys are twins, it doesn't matter who got out of your mother's womb first, you're identical anyway. Yeah. Yeah, identical, identical hair, identical face, right down to the right dimple when you both smile, identical legs that run just as fast, identical hands that draw symbols and circles to perform the best alchemy.

You both love alchemy, you started studying together and still do, but at one point it turned into a competition—who could transmute the fastest, who could add the most details, who could learn a trick the easiest. Osamu has always been the more level-headed, but you pride yourself in being the focused one when it comes down to alchemy. You can, and you quote Tobio, 'absorb anything like a sponge', whereas it requires a little bit longer for Osamu to grasp the concept you understood twenty minutes ago. You can't help but be smug and gloat about it, because hey, you're not identical anymore! You're clearly the superior alchemist, you know more than Osamu and you read more than him, nobody can tell you it's not impressive.

“That's good for you, 'Tsumu,” 'Samu has the gall to say with the most neutral expression he's ever worn.

“Come on, don't tell me you're not jealous!” Because there is no way 'Samu isn't feeling the teeny bit frustrated. You've fought for the last piece of cake, you've fought for the top bunk, you've fought to get first into the bath, there's no way the topic of alchemy will be disregarded that way.

“Well, I'm a bit envious, that's true.” 'Samu shrugs and takes a bite of his pudding (hey, when did Mom buy puddings? You wanted one too!). “But I'm not as passionate about alchemy as you, you know? Like, understanding and creating stuff is nice, I guess, but I'm not going to smother you with a pillow because you're better than me.”

You stay silent. This...is not what you expected. Osamu looks perfectly calm, staring at you with his sleepy eyes, like he just announced it was only four o'clock and that you could eat snacks. It's unnerving. It doesn't satisfy you.

“Wait, so you're willing to smother me with a pillow for other reasons?” you point out, gasping and widening your eyes. 'Samu rolls his eyes.

“If you come down and try to wake me up again for one of your stupid jokes, I won't hesitate.”

“That's fratricide, 'Samu!”

Osamu shrugs again and decides his pudding is more interesting. To this day, you don't know if he deliberately dropped the subject because he sensed something was off.

***

You are twelve when you come up with a formula for human transmutation. Mom died two years ago; you feel you should have studied harder, should have dug deeper into Dad's books, because two years are way too long to come up with one single formula you're not sure will work. Osamu helped a bit, though you didn't tell him what you were researching; you spouted some lies about healing alchemy and preventing other people from dying because of illnesses, and Osamu might or might not have bought it, but in the end you managed to achieve what you intended to do.

On a sunny morning at the Kageyama's dining table, you whisper to your brother, “I know how to bring Mom back.”

'Samu doesn't move. He doesn't drop his fork, nor does he tear his gaze away from his plate.

“That's what you've been researching,” he flatly says.

“Yes.”

He slowly, slowly turns his head towards you. “Human transmutation is impossible.”

“You don't know until you try,” you argue with a frown. “The world is huge, there's at least someone who succeeded.”

“And why haven't we heard from them? If they succeeded in something impossible, then I'm sure every alchemist would know.”

You grit your teeth. No, you can't hesitate now, after looking and looking and finally found the last shard of hope.

“Maybe they didn't want people to know, with notoriety and all,” you suggest.

'Samu finally puts down his fork in his plate and lets out a heavy sigh, staring at you with worry, anticipation, confusion? That's too many emotions, 'Samu.

“I don't know, 'Tsumu. I can't think of an exchange equivalent enough for Mom's body and soul.”

“I have everything figured out, don't worry, okay?”

You offer him a grin, one you always used to show whenever you thought of a good prank to pull on Tobio, and somehow it's enough for 'Samu to give back a tiny smile that makes his dimple appear.

“I kinda figured out you wanted to bring Mom back. I'm not one hundred percent sure about this, but I trust you, 'Tsumu. And you're better than me at alchemy, after all.”

Hell yeah you are. You know you are. That's why you took it upon yourself to find a way to recover the happy family you've lost.

Tobio comes back from the kitchen, and frowns that adorable frown when he sees you're still not finished with breakfast.

“We're gonna be late for school,” he mumbles. “What were you talking about?”

“Your little head won't understand it, Tobio-kun!” you cheerfully reply.

“Alchemy again?”

“It's not as if you don't spend your days inhaling some sort of oil or dust in that workshop of yours!”

“Well, we're not so different then!”

“'Tsumu, stop teasing Tobio and eat your food, he's right,” 'Samu butts in.

“Yeah, yeah, school.”

Who needs school when you have the most awesome plan in existence?

***

No. No. No, no, no, no.

No no no no no no no—

This isn't what you wanted. This isn't what was supposed to happen. No. Gods, blood. There's blood everywhere, splashed on the ground, on the walls, on your clothes, on your face and—

Red, flaring pain shooting from your leg that drags the paint over the whole room as you crawl, cheeks tear-stained and throat strong enough to let out rapid, choked breaths. You can't think, you can't process what's happening, yet your brain is full, full, full, on the verge of taking control of your body to keep moving, to do something.

You're dying.

“'Samu...”

Osamu is nowhere to be found, and only a pile of clothes lies where he stood. You choke on the smell of blood and the bile you just threw up, eyes stinging and ears ringing, head swimming in a fog you can't clear out.

This isn't what you wanted.

“'Samu...”

You crawl, nails digging in the concrete of the basement, elbows scraping on every tiny rubble. The gaping hole left by your missing leg grounds you in this reality, and then you lift your head and empty eyes stare back at you. Your mind is reeling; you saw things, black tendrils reaching for you, eyes watching with hunger, and they all come together to snap in your brain and that's when everything becomes lucid.

The armor drops on the ground as you punch it. The helmet comes off. Biting your lip in pain, in regret, in hope, you dip your finger in your blood and trace an array inside the armor, on your arms, on your chest, on your forehead, the symbols and the form springing up as if you've always known them. You believe the shaking of your hands is due to adrenaline (not fear, not fear).

“Bring Osamu back. Give me my brother back!”

You slam your hands on the array. Bright blue light envelops you, taking you to a white, blinding place.

The black Gate is sneering at you.

You scowl back. You demand your brother's soul—you stand proud, unwavering, just as It takes your toll.

It's okay. You will fix this. You're the better alchemist, after all.

.

.

.

.

Osamu wakes up with knowledge he didn't ask for.

[michaelandy101-blog]

YouTube Dominates Google Video in 2020

New Post has been published on https://tiptopreview.com/youtube-dominates-google-video-in-2020/

YouTube Dominates Google Video in 2020

In a study of 2.1M searches and 766K videos, YouTube accounted for 94% of all video carousel results on page one of Google, leaving little room for competition.

Even the most casual video aficionado knows YouTube (acquired by Google in 2006). As a Google search user, you may even feel like you encounter more YouTube videos than videos from other sources, but does the data back this up? 

A Wall Street Journal article in June 2020 measured a strong advantage of YouTube in Google search results, but that article focused on 98 hand-selected videos to compare YouTube to other platforms. 

Using a set of over two million Google.com (US) desktop searches captured in early October 2020, we were able to extract more than 250,000 results with video carousels on page one. Most organic video results in 2020 appear in a carousel, like this one:

This carousel appeared on a search for “How to be an investor” (Step 1: Find a bag of money). Notice the arrow on the far-right — currently, searchers can scroll through up to ten videos. While our research tracked all ten positions, most of this report will focus on the three visible positions.

How dominant is YouTube?

Anecdotally, we see YouTube pop up a lot in Google results, but how dominant are they in the visible three video carousel results across our data set? Here’s a breakdown:

YouTube’s presence across the first three video slots was remarkably consistent, at (1) 94.1%, (2) 94.2% and (3) 94.2%. Khan Academy and Facebook took the #2 and #3 rankings for each carousel slot, with Facebook gaining share in later slots.

Obviously, this is a massive drop from the first to second largest share, and YouTube’s presence only varied from 94.1% to 95.1% across all ten slots. Across all visible videos in the carousel, here are the top ten sites in our data set:

YouTube (94.2%)

Khan Academy (1.5%)

Facebook (1.4%)

Microsoft (0.4%)

Vimeo (0.1%)

Twitter (0.1%)

Dailymotion (<0.1%)

CNBC (<0.1%)

CNN (<0.1%)

ESPN (<0.1%)

Note that, due to technical limitations with how search spiders work, many Facebook and Twitter videos require a login and are unavailable to Google. That said, the #2 to #10 biggest players in the video carousel — including some massive brands with deep pockets for video content — add up to only 3.7% of visible videos.

How about how-to?

Pardon my grammar, but “How to…?” questions have become a hot spot for video results, and naturally lend themselves to niche players like HGTV. Here’s a video carousel from a search for “how to organize a pantry”:

It looks promising on the surface, but does this niche show more diversity of websites at scale? Our data set included just over 45,000 “How to …” searches with video carousels. Here’s the breakdown of the top three sites for each slot:

In our data set, YouTube is even more dominant in the how-to niche, taking up from 97-98% of each of the three visible slots. Khan Academy came in second, and Microsoft (specifically, the Microsoft support site) rounded out the third position (but at <1% in all three slots).

Is this just a fluke?

Most of this analysis was based on a snapshot of data in early October. Given that Google frequently makes changes and runs thousands of tests per year, could we have just picked a particularly unusual day? To answer that, we pulled YouTube’s prevalence across all videos in the carousel on the first day of each month of 2020:

YouTube’s dominance was fairly steady across 2020, ranging from 92.0% to 95.3% in our data set (and actually increasing a bit since January). Clearly, this is not a temporary nor particularly recent condition.

Another challenge in studying Google results, even with large data sets, is the possibility of sampling bias. There is no truly “random” sample of search results (more on that in Appendix A), but we’re lucky enough to have a second data set with a long history. While this data set is only 10,000 keywords, it was specifically designed to evenly represent the industry categories in Google Ads. On October 9, we were able to capture 2,390 video carousels from this data set. Here’s how they measured up:

The top three sites in each of the carousel slots were identical to the 2M-keyword data set, and YouTube’s dominance was even higher (up from 94% to 96%). We have every confidence that the prevalence of YouTube results measured in this study is not a fluke of a single day or a single data set.

How level is the field?

Does YouTube have an unfair advantage? “Fair” is a difficult concept to quantify, so let’s explore Google’s perspective. 

Google’s first argument would probably be that YouTube has the lion’s share of video results because they host the lion’s share of videos. Unfortunately, it’s hard to get reliable numbers across the entire world of video hosting, and especially for social platforms. YouTube is undoubtedly a massive player and likely hosts the majority of non-social, public videos in the United States, but 94% seems like a big share even for the lion. 

The larger problem is that this dominance becomes self-perpetuating. Over the past few years, more major companies have hosted videos on YouTube and created YouTube channels because it’s easier to get results in Google search than hosting on smaller platforms or their own site.

Google’s more technical argument is that the video search algorithm has no inherent preference for YouTube. As a search marketer, I’ve learned to view this argument narrowly. There’s probably not a line of code in the algorithm that says something like:

IF site = ‘YouTube’ THEN ranking = 1

Defined narrowly, I believe that Google is telling the truth. However, there’s no escaping the fact that Google and YouTube share a common backbone and many of the same internal organs, which provides advantages that may be insurmountable.

For example, Google’s video algorithm might reward speed. This makes sense — a slow-loading video is a bad customer experience and makes Google look bad. Naturally, Google’s direct ownership over YouTube means that their access to YouTube data is lightning fast. Realistically, how can a competitor, even with billions in investment, produce an experience that’s faster than a direct pipeline to Google? Likewise, YouTube’s data structure is naturally going to be optimized for Google to easily process and digest, relying on inside knowledge that might not be equally available to all players.

For now, from a marketing perspective, we’re left with little choice but to cover our bases and take the advantage YouTube seems to offer. There’s no reason we should expect YouTube’s numbers to decrease, and every reason to expect YouTube’s dominance to grow, at least without a paradigm-shifting disruption to the industry.

Many thanks to Eric H. and Michael G. on our Vancouver team for sharing their knowledge about the data set and how to interpret it, and to Eric and Rob L. for trusting me with Athena access to a treasure trove of data.

Appendix A: Data and methodology

The bulk of the data for this study was collected in early October 2020 from a set of just over two million Google.com, US-based, desktop search results. After minor de-duplication and clean-up, this data set yielded 258K searches with video carousels on page one. These carousels accounted for 2.1 million total video results/URLs and 767K visible results (Google displays up to three per carousel, without scrolling).

The how-to analysis was based on a smaller data set of 45K keywords that explicitly began with the words “how to”. Neither data set is a randomly selected sample and may be biased toward certain industries or verticals.

The follow-up 10K data set was constructed specifically as a research data set and is evenly distributed across 20 major industry categories in Google Ads. This data set was specifically designed to represent a wide range of competitive terms.

Why don’t we use true random sampling? Outside of the textbook, a truly random sample is rarely achieved, but theoretically possible. Selecting a random sample of adults in The United States, for example, is incredibly difficult (as soon as you pick up the phone or send out an email, you’ve introduced bias), but at least we know that, at any particular moment, the population of adults in the United States is a finite set of individual people.

The same isn’t true of Google searches. Searches are not a finite set, but a cloud of words being conjured out of the void by searchers every millisecond. According to Google themselves: “There are trillions of searches on Google every year. In fact, 15 percent of searches we see every day are new.” The population of searches is not only in the trillions, but changing every minute.

Ultimately, we rely on large data sets, where possible, try to understand the flaws in any given data set, and replicate our work across multiple data sets. This study was replicated against two very different data sets, as well as a third set created by a thematic slice of the first set, and validated against multiple dates in 2020.

Source link

[localwebmgmt]

YouTube Dominates Google Video in 2020

Posted by Dr-Pete

In a study of 2.1M searches and 766K videos, YouTube accounted for 94% of all video carousel results on page one of Google, leaving little room for competition.

Even the most casual video aficionado knows YouTube (acquired by Google in 2006). As a Google search user, you may even feel like you encounter more YouTube videos than videos from other sources, but does the data back this up? 

A Wall Street Journal article in June 2020 measured a strong advantage of YouTube in Google search results, but that article focused on 98 hand-selected videos to compare YouTube to other platforms. 

Using a set of over two million Google.com (US) desktop searches captured in early October 2020, we were able to extract more than 250,000 results with video carousels on page one. Most organic video results in 2020 appear in a carousel, like this one:

This carousel appeared on a search for “How to be an investor” (Step 1: Find a bag of money). Notice the arrow on the far-right — currently, searchers can scroll through up to ten videos. While our research tracked all ten positions, most of this report will focus on the three visible positions.

How dominant is YouTube?

Anecdotally, we see YouTube pop up a lot in Google results, but how dominant are they in the visible three video carousel results across our data set? Here’s a breakdown:

YouTube’s presence across the first three video slots was remarkably consistent, at (1) 94.1%, (2) 94.2% and (3) 94.2%. Khan Academy and Facebook took the #2 and #3 rankings for each carousel slot, with Facebook gaining share in later slots.

Obviously, this is a massive drop from the first to second largest share, and YouTube’s presence only varied from 94.1% to 95.1% across all ten slots. Across all visible videos in the carousel, here are the top ten sites in our data set:

YouTube (94.2%)

Khan Academy (1.5%)

Facebook (1.4%)

Microsoft (0.4%)

Vimeo (0.1%)

Twitter (0.1%)

Dailymotion (<0.1%)

CNBC (<0.1%)

CNN (<0.1%)

ESPN (<0.1%)

Note that, due to technical limitations with how search spiders work, many Facebook and Twitter videos require a login and are unavailable to Google. That said, the #2 to #10 biggest players in the video carousel — including some massive brands with deep pockets for video content — add up to only 3.7% of visible videos.

How about how-to?

Pardon my grammar, but “How to…?” questions have become a hot spot for video results, and naturally lend themselves to niche players like HGTV. Here’s a video carousel from a search for “how to organize a pantry”:

It looks promising on the surface, but does this niche show more diversity of websites at scale? Our data set included just over 45,000 “How to …” searches with video carousels. Here’s the breakdown of the top three sites for each slot:

In our data set, YouTube is even more dominant in the how-to niche, taking up from 97-98% of each of the three visible slots. Khan Academy came in second, and Microsoft (specifically, the Microsoft support site) rounded out the third position (but at <1% in all three slots).

Is this just a fluke?

Most of this analysis was based on a snapshot of data in early October. Given that Google frequently makes changes and runs thousands of tests per year, could we have just picked a particularly unusual day? To answer that, we pulled YouTube’s prevalence across all videos in the carousel on the first day of each month of 2020:

YouTube’s dominance was fairly steady across 2020, ranging from 92.0% to 95.3% in our data set (and actually increasing a bit since January). Clearly, this is not a temporary nor particularly recent condition.

Another challenge in studying Google results, even with large data sets, is the possibility of sampling bias. There is no truly “random” sample of search results (more on that in Appendix A), but we’re lucky enough to have a second data set with a long history. While this data set is only 10,000 keywords, it was specifically designed to evenly represent the industry categories in Google Ads. On October 9, we were able to capture 2,390 video carousels from this data set. Here’s how they measured up:

The top three sites in each of the carousel slots were identical to the 2M-keyword data set, and YouTube’s dominance was even higher (up from 94% to 96%). We have every confidence that the prevalence of YouTube results measured in this study is not a fluke of a single day or a single data set.

How level is the field?

Does YouTube have an unfair advantage? “Fair” is a difficult concept to quantify, so let’s explore Google’s perspective. 

Google’s first argument would probably be that YouTube has the lion’s share of video results because they host the lion’s share of videos. Unfortunately, it’s hard to get reliable numbers across the entire world of video hosting, and especially for social platforms. YouTube is undoubtedly a massive player and likely hosts the majority of non-social, public videos in the United States, but 94% seems like a big share even for the lion. 

The larger problem is that this dominance becomes self-perpetuating. Over the past few years, more major companies have hosted videos on YouTube and created YouTube channels because it’s easier to get results in Google search than hosting on smaller platforms or their own site.

Google’s more technical argument is that the video search algorithm has no inherent preference for YouTube. As a search marketer, I’ve learned to view this argument narrowly. There’s probably not a line of code in the algorithm that says something like:

IF site = ‘YouTube’ THEN ranking = 1

Defined narrowly, I believe that Google is telling the truth. However, there’s no escaping the fact that Google and YouTube share a common backbone and many of the same internal organs, which provides advantages that may be insurmountable.

For example, Google’s video algorithm might reward speed. This makes sense — a slow-loading video is a bad customer experience and makes Google look bad. Naturally, Google’s direct ownership over YouTube means that their access to YouTube data is lightning fast. Realistically, how can a competitor, even with billions in investment, produce an experience that’s faster than a direct pipeline to Google? Likewise, YouTube’s data structure is naturally going to be optimized for Google to easily process and digest, relying on inside knowledge that might not be equally available to all players.

For now, from a marketing perspective, we’re left with little choice but to cover our bases and take the advantage YouTube seems to offer. There’s no reason we should expect YouTube’s numbers to decrease, and every reason to expect YouTube’s dominance to grow, at least without a paradigm-shifting disruption to the industry.

Many thanks to Eric H. and Michael G. on our Vancouver team for sharing their knowledge about the data set and how to interpret it, and to Eric and Rob L. for trusting me with Athena access to a treasure trove of data.

Appendix A: Data and methodology

The bulk of the data for this study was collected in early October 2020 from a set of just over two million Google.com, US-based, desktop search results. After minor de-duplication and clean-up, this data set yielded 258K searches with video carousels on page one. These carousels accounted for 2.1 million total video results/URLs and 767K visible results (Google displays up to three per carousel, without scrolling).

The how-to analysis was based on a smaller data set of 45K keywords that explicitly began with the words “how to”. Neither data set is a randomly selected sample and may be biased toward certain industries or verticals.

The follow-up 10K data set was constructed specifically as a research data set and is evenly distributed across 20 major industry categories in Google Ads. This data set was specifically designed to represent a wide range of competitive terms.

Why don’t we use true random sampling? Outside of the textbook, a truly random sample is rarely achieved, but theoretically possible. Selecting a random sample of adults in The United States, for example, is incredibly difficult (as soon as you pick up the phone or send out an email, you’ve introduced bias), but at least we know that, at any particular moment, the population of adults in the United States is a finite set of individual people.

The same isn’t true of Google searches. Searches are not a finite set, but a cloud of words being conjured out of the void by searchers every millisecond. According to Google themselves: “There are trillions of searches on Google every year. In fact, 15 percent of searches we see every day are new.” The population of searches is not only in the trillions, but changing every minute.

Ultimately, we rely on large data sets, where possible, try to understand the flaws in any given data set, and replicate our work across multiple data sets. This study was replicated against two very different data sets, as well as a third set created by a thematic slice of the first set, and validated against multiple dates in 2020.

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