sub basement

Public School Gothic

you were sent to the library a while ago but the purpose of your visit is unknown to you. “i need you to go to the library for me”. it drones on and on in your mind.

you hear the screaming down the hall at least once a day. no one says anything. we dont know what may happen if we do.

every school has a basement, or even a sub-basement. weve never been to it but we know its there for us.

the applause in the cafeteria started from nowhere, and ceased just as quickly as it started. no one knows where it originated.

its gym class. “were running today”. everyone knows that once you start running its impossible to stop.

in every school there are a few empty classrooms. sometimes you can peel back the old paper covering the windows and see whats inside, but i wouldnt recommend it.

theres an outbuilding that used to be used to heat up the school its not supposed to be used anymore, but sometimes you see smoke rising from its old chimney. youre sure of it.

school hours have been shortened due to district budget cuts. no one ever sees the teachers leave in the afternoon. we never see them leave the school.

everything goes smoothly, up until rain starts falling. the students raise their heads one by one to stare out the windows.

sometimes our school runs out of paper. we can no longer print documents or worksheets or office referrals. everything comes to a halt. even when unable to function, we must return to school.

you hear someone yell down the hallway “WHAT TEAM?” the answer is wildcats, apparently. our school mascot is a gryphon. we dont have team sports.

public schools dont have nurses offices. we cant get medicine or disinfectant for the many wounds we acquire throughout the day. we rarely have access to bandaids, yet you always hear someone say “im going to the nurses office”. where are they going?

Appendix A: About The Librarians

I Know Too Much about how libraries and librarians work. This resulted in complicated headcanons about job roles and org charts, trying to figure out how the behind-the-scenes of all the accumulating bits of canon and fanon would work. Hope it’s okay to share this here.

Crossposted to AO3

*

Libraries contain vast amounts of information that create possibilities, and stories, that have an immense amount of narrative weight and power. They are basically one giant liminal space, but one that exists for the people that use it. And it’s the people that work in the library that create that connection.

The Fair Folk have opinions about librarians. There’s a certain amount of idealism involved that would make them vulnerable, but so much of what they know and do is dangerous. They are accorded a certain not-inconsiderable amount of respect and caution, let’s say, and leave it at that.

There are two kinds of librarians at Elsewhere University, two sides to the same coin. There are the librarians who have an employee ID number, and a title on their nametag. They have lunch breaks, vacation time, and salt and iron in their pockets and stashed in odd corners in their desk drawers and offices, just like the rest of the staff and faculty. And then there are The Other Librarians. The other librarians can be found on floors ten through twenty-three. Officially, there are nine floors to the library. (This does not include the rooftop garden that is not accessible by stairwell or elevator.) The sub-basements are officially recognized. The tunnels are not.

The other librarians also have officially-issued library nametags. All they say is “librarian.” Some of the other librarians may have been human once. They may have officially retired. They may have learned too much, or willingly given up something that held them tethered to mundane cares outside of The Library, or made a bargain for something the library needed.

There are stories of a cataloguer, best of his generation, who reached a point where he could recite chapter and verse of the standards, never misjudged a subject heading or used the wrong cutter number. The arcanest of arcane inscriptions held still for him while he captured the true author and all relevant cross-references. There was not a text he could not read, or element of biliographic control that he could not master. The years went by, and the standards changed, Anglo American Cataloging Rules superceded the Rules for Descriptive Cataloging, ISBNs were introduced, AACR became AACR2, and a switch from cards to computer records loomed large. He knew so much, but was afraid so little of it would still be relevant. He made a deal.

He wasn’t the first. There are still cards appearing in the card catalogue today written in copperplate Library Hand script, as proscribed by Melville Dewey, with a pen and an inkwell.

There are still memories on the lower floors of a reference librarian who could find anything. There are people on staff who worked side-by-side with her on late night reference desk shifts, and tell stories of how she had an infinite command of Boolean logic to wring every penny out of the paid-by-the-second online search services. There was not an annotated bibliography or index that she didn’t have at her fingertips, and she could walk a student though the reference interview from “I need a book, I guess” to “help me find three print sources for my introduction to pre-confederate Canadian literature mid-term paper” in twenty seconds with a smile. Rumour has it that she bargained away the memory of every childhood pet she ever had to get internet access in the library for undergraduates. Officially, she retired in the late nineties. But in the Deep Library, there are those who can coax the dial-up modem into connecting to a Dialog subscription that the university hasn’t paid for in two decades, and bring back an answer in seconds every time.

There are fading echoes of the year that the entire cataloguing department and half the reference librarians vanished in the stacks in the early 1940’s. The university was smaller then, and the protections that were needed to balance a tumultuous time in world history took a terrible toll. It was said that if you stood in certain parts of the stacks, you could hear the air raid sirens, and watch the collection grow as refugee books were taken in. There were dark whispers that some of the staff disappeared into the library in a trade for safety for family members or one of the other desperate bargains made in wartime, but some were promoted to the upper floors without warning because the library didn’t want to lose their valuable talents to conscription or worse.

If the Library needs you, it will take you. If you are lucky, it will be on your terms, at a time of your choosing. In most cases, a masters’ degree in library and information sciences from a nationally-certified graduate program is required, though in some rare cases, an equivalent combination of education and experience may be considered.

Most undergraduates and visitors (both the mundane kind that come from outside the campus, and the Visitors), and some university support staff, will leave with a vague impression of any of the librarians as an ominous yet helpful shape, and an overwhelming sense of sameness. This is a type of protective camouflage that the library generates, and it extends to cover all the librarians, the one that leave at the end of the day, and the ones that do not. They cannot all be the same. It is, of course, impossible to run a library without a wide and varied pool of skill sets and personalities, all of which contribute to the, shall we say, unique personalities, egos, interdepartmental rivalries, feuds, and alliances that are the lifeblood of an academic library.

This protection waxes and wanes depending on the year. During the spring and summer semesters following the Chemistry Majors’ Revolt, anyone remotely associated with any of the science departments would find themselves on the doorstep of the library with a ringing in their ears like the sudden absence of a loud noise, holding the books or other information they’d gone to the library to find, with no memory of how it got there. An entire spring-semester introductory chemistry class knows the structure of an APA-style bibliography inside and out, but could not tell you when or where they learned it.

In more recent times, sufficiently motivated undergrads, graduate students, and faculty will have little trouble differentiating one librarian from another, if they are on floors one through nine. (They must, of course, be referred to by job title as they do not have names.)

There are operational needs that must be met. It’s hard to plead your case as to why the library really should keep that critical music theory database for your graduate level seminar course that currently costs as much as all of the journal subscriptions for the art history department combined when you’re not sure if you’re talking to the subject liaison librarian for fine arts, the head of interlibrary loans, or an eldritch creature with no face but a really excellent recall for geopolitical boundaries in medieval Africa, and a working knowledge of twelve dead languages, seven of which were never spoken by a human tongue.

(Interlibrary Loans and Fine Arts–the subject librarian, not the department–have been in the midst of a prolonged feud for the past decade over a hiring committee disagreement regarding practicum student placements and a botched exorcism. It is rivalled only by the cold war between Interlibrary Loans and Cataloguing over supply budgets that’s been running since the late nineties. Confusing one for the other would be unhelpful, to say the least.)

The Other Librarians generally do not encroach on their colleagues’ responsibilities. They are still librarians with all of the professional ethics that entails, and are generally orderly and rule-abiding, unless a fundamental principle of librarianship is at risk. (Do not speak of internet filtering within the library walls if you wish to leave with all of your fingers intact.)

The Deep Library should be approached with utmost caution, regardless. Some people in the profession say, your library should have something in it to offend everyone. EU’s library would agree to that statement, with some extensive additions, explanatory footnotes, and cautionary appendices. Respect the Library.

[x]

Pen Pal

The majority of Elsewhere U. students really interest me. Those who live in a liminal space and refuse to see anything out of the ordinary.

This is my first time writing in second-person POV (it happened on accident) and I hope you like it.

————–

It started dully enough. Someone had written ‘Hello’ in the bathroom (in fancy curly purple script, so extra). Juvenile, but it was the single-stall Everyone bathroom in the second sub-basement of the library, so you were willing to write it off as a bored freshman or something. And maybe you were a little bored yourself. Or lonely. Because you replied. You bought a green Sharpie specifically to respond to the purple word on the light orange paint.
‘Hey. W/ u studying?’

You went to check the little-used bathroom a few days later.
'Humans’ was written in beautiful purple handwriting under your green message.
'Psych major, cool. I’m eng-his double major’
You hoped the janitors wouldn’t clean off or paint over this little conversation. It was a little like having a pen pal. A couple days later you had another reply in purple swirls.

'Would you do something for me?’
The request was weird, but so were college kids; and you could always just not do it, you didn’t know who you were talking with, and were pretty sure you weren’t being followed. Like 75% sure. 70% sure.
'W/ u need?’
'Bells NOT silver candy cream beads appreciation’
It took you a few seconds to understand that the beautiful words written at all angles on the wall were a list. (Seriously? Upside down?) It was a pretty cheap request, aside from 'appreciation’, but most college kids lived off dark humor, so you didn’t pay it much mind. Maybe they were doing a psych-sociology experiment; you didn’t want to screw up their data.

You got some cheap gold-painted aluminum jingle bells, thread, and a package of plastic beads at the craft store. They were the same kind of cheap beads a lot of the art majors wore on necklaces, so you figured that’s what your pen pal wanted. At the grocery store you added a box of unflavored single coffee creamers and a bunch of candy, including caramel with creme centers (you couldn’t tell if 'cream’ and 'candy’ were meant to be combined on the bathroom wall or not). You brought it to the single stall bathroom in the second sub-basement of the library and left the bag in the corner. You threw out the receipts, thought a second, then tore out a piece of paper from your notebook and grabbed your green marker.
'I appreciate you :)’ You wrote, messily folding the paper into a crane, the only origami you know, and leaving it on top. 

You went back to your dorm, finding a small pile of pretty-looking junk on a huge leaf on your pillow. Your roommate wasn’t there. Must be a weird prank or some new internet challenge or something. You sorted through the odds and ends. Pretty rocks, tiny animals carved from wood, marbles, pieces of broken safety glass cracked through with green-blue and so fragile that some crumbled off the sides when you picked them up (you cleaned the miniscule slivers of broken glass off your pillow with some duct tape)… Eventually you found a little purple origami turtle. You opened it to find writing inside. 

'Your assistance is appreciated*’
There was no other asterisk anywhere else on the paper, so it must have been a stylistic choice, not a grammatical one. You put it out of your mind and carefully refolded the turtle and set everything on your desk to deal with later. Maybe you’d give it to an art student, they always seemed to have little trinkets like that. Or trade, the student body really liked trading, or maybe most colleges full of poor college kids were like that.

———–

In the week before midterms you suddenly awoke one night. You almost groaned and rolled over to preserve what sleep you could, but when you grabbed your blanket your hand landed on paper. You squinted at the post-it in the dim light, making out swirly fancy handwriting. Across the room, your roommate was asleep. Whatever. You stuck it to your phone and went back to sleep.

You read the post-it the next morning.
‘*I can help’

“What does that mean?” You asked your roommate, slightly accusingly. He frowned at the note.
“You should probably leave this alone.” He tells you seriously.
“Then why did it you stick it to me last night?”
“What? No I didn’t. My handwriting looks nothing like that.” He had a point. 
“Are you having a friend write the notes? Is a friend of yours messing with me by way of you?”
“No, I have no idea what that’s about. But if I were you, I’d steer clear of it. And make sure you have iron, salt, and cream on you.” Pippin was a theatre major, so he may be lying, but if he wasn’t lying his superstitions were true to his nature. The only group that could rival theatre majors for superstitions were D&D players.

You frowned at the post-it, debating what to do. You decided to stick it to the backside of the dorm door, adding your own post-it below in your green marker.
‘Help how?’ You didn’t think your roommate was the plagiarizing type, hopefully he only meant studying together because of how english, history, and theatre all came together.

You checked the back of the door after lunch to find a new post-it.
‘If you want to find out, come to the pool party tonight. I’ll find you.’
You debated. You knew you needed to study for midterms, but what if your roommate could help? What if he was trying (in a really weird roundabout way) to take your mind off midterms and get you to relax? You decided to go.

The pool party was more fun than you thought it’d be. You jumped in the deep end and swam around there early in the evening, before you could get drunk. They were playing good music, had more than just cheap beer in the coolers. You were genuinely having a good time.
“Hey.” A smiling girl in a bikini put her arm around your shoulders. “You’re Green Marker, right?”
“You’re Purple Marker?” You asked. She nodded. “How do you know Pippin?”
“I know all the theatre majors in passing. And I know anyone down that deep in the library could use a hand come test time. What do you say?”
“You’d help me study? Without plagiarizing?”
“You’d have to provide me with something, too. Fair’s fair.”
“What would you want?”
“What are you willing to offer?”
“More candy?” You tried.
“To help you ace your midterms?”
“Okay, um…”

You tried to think. People were always saying to never wager something you couldn’t bear to lose. What was something valuable enough to get studying help, but that you could bear to lose? You glanced around and realized you’d been slowly walking away from the party, into the darkness.
“I’ll give you…” She wanted appreciation. “I’ll give you my friendship. How’s that?”
“Wonderful.” She sighed, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

 (x)

“I used to work in a building that had three levels of sub-basements, with the piece of lab equipment I typically worked on in the lowest basement. I had the only key. There was a wired phone in there, and I did work late some nights… but not this night.

I was sleeping alone in my apartment when I woke up to a call on my cell phone from my girlfriend at 3 AM, she was in hysterics and asking why I scared her. Apparently she received a call from that basement phone just a minute earlier, with someone who sounded like me slowly repeating her name, until crackling and fading out. My apartment was 10 miles away from work. I thought she was lying, but I saw the 3 AM call from the basement phone logged on her cell myself. Still freaks me the fuck out.”

By: [deleted] (Reddit, tell me your “Glitch in the Matrix” stories)

Familiar

Requested by: @its-another-fan-acc
(Here are the specifics)

Pairing: Reader x Bucky
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Angst, fighting, swearing

A/N: This was longer than I anticipated, whoops!

~~Third person POV~~

The room full of scientists and agents falls silent as the cylindrical tube slowly raises, letting mist pour out. Everyone was nervous, unsure how the asset would react when defrosted, but Madam Hydra stood tall, her shoulders squared and face blank from expression.

She nods towards two agents, who tentatively step forward and unlatch the asset from the cryo chamber. The asset was starting to come to, the frost in her hair melting and her skin breaking out in goosebumps. She tries to keep herself upright, but her aching muscles made her slump against the agents, who were tense and scared.

“Prep her,” Madam Hydra barks at her agents, who nod and carry the asset off to an adjoining room. The scientists take their cue and follow suit, readying themselves for the possibility of erratic post-cryo behaviour.

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Hello I am an historian and I would like to say that TAMATOA IS A GOD ok?

Actually, he’s a Titan, an elemental force that created the universe and usually existed before the gods took over and sent them to whatever the culture considers “hell.” 

I mean this guy of course:

Originally posted by pigsocks

Yes, you.

Thing 1: He’s locked beneath the earth. Literally locked. Like every titan gets locked in every myth tradition.

Thing 2: He’s giant. Titans are alway giant bc they become before the gods, before humans, before the Golden Age. They are monstrous because they are Elemental.

Thing 3: He’s an elemental. He’s more powerful than a demigod, he’s obv really fuckig powerful. He’s not just a coconut crab, @carlinbrothers, he’s got powers. But he’s selfish, uninterested in humans, barely able to care for himself, only interested in food and SHIN-AY. That’s an elemental force - before the civilization of gods, titans are the forces that create the universe, and they’re pure, selfish energy. 

Thing 4: He’s in the creation myth at the very beginning and he’s after Te Fiti’s heart (the green stone), but he doesn’t get it. Elementals don’t get godly powers, they get put down. In the ground. And chained there. Obv an ordinary coconut crab wouldn’t be OLDER THAN THE ISLANDS.

Thing 5: He doesn’t leave his lair in the movie. He doesn’t chase Moana. All elementals want to escape the sub-basement of hell they’re chained in, which is why Tamatoa wants the Hook. He CAN’T LEAVE, yall, bc he’s chained down there. 

Moana didn’t just trick a demigod, she stole from AN ELEMENTAL ANGRY FORCE OF THE UNIVERSE. 

acebeatriz  asked:

Sci-fi AU in which Credence is an android that grew way beyond his programming and Graves is the handler that has grown much too attached to something that was supposed to just be another project.

On the second day of testing, the C prototype of his Obscurus project learned how to mimic human body shapes. It tried on his own face and the face of one of his junior programmers, then settled on something entirely its own. It gave itself a pronounced nose and a strong jaw, large features that stood out even in the cloud of grey.

On the fifth day, the C prototype began to buzz and hum. For an hour, it screamed at pitches so inhumanly brutal that Percival Graves made the call to cut the audio recording himself. That was a mistake. He’ll never know exactly when it was the C prototype learned to speak.

On the sixth day, the C prototype sat on the other side of the triple-sealed polymer glass and said, “Hello, Mr. Graves.”

On the one hundred and seventy second day, President Picquery called him before the board.

“Graves,” she said. “Is what Dr. Barebone says true? Is the C prototype self-replicating?”

“He’s learning,” Percival said. “That’s what he’s programmed to do. His advancement is astounding, as I’ve put in my reports.”

“It,” Mary Lou Barebone said. “The protoype is an it, Mr. Graves, not a he. It is a cloud of nanomachines dangerously close to bringing all our nightmare projections about grey goo to reality.”

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Library Services at Elsewhere University: A Guide and Compendium
(Crossposted to A03

Part One: Student Services

Welcome to the Elsewhere University Library. This guide endeavours to provide students with a general outline of library services, facilities, and safety precautions. More comprehensive help, including study guides for planning your research, finding books and journal articles, evaluating and citing sources, and safely navigating the library both with and without a map, compass, or bread crumb trail can be found online on the library’s website, in print at the first floor reference desk, and translated into Norse runes and carved into the foundation of the condemned building in the west quadrant of the campus.

Instructors wishing to book a tour and orientation for incoming classes can make arrangements directly with the subject librarian assigned to their department. Basic research skills and bibliographic instruction for classes is a core services provided to all faculty. Advanced research support may be obtained with proof of approved interdepartmental charge. Payment will be extracted at the campus health centre, or during one of the library’s monthly fundraising blood drives. A pound of flesh is no longer accepted in payment, as the exchange rate is currently exorbitant. Requests from the biology department will be assessed on a case by case basis until the overdue accounts resulting from the escaped blood scandal last fall are resolved.

Borrowing privileges for undergraduates and non-academic staff include a semester-long loan period with no renewals, and a maximum of three interlibrary loans per course per year. The length of the semester is determined by time passing within the registrar’s office, and no exceptions will be made for the west quadrant of the campus, philosophy majors, or those born on a Tuesday. Library staff, and RAs and custodial staff assigned to Brigadoon Hall are eligible for an exemption, however. Please ensure that circulation staff are advised of your status upon yearly renewal of your library card, and keep in mind that time passes differently within the library.

Graduate students and faculty are eligible for a year-long loan period, and unlimited interlibrary loans. Additional charges for interlibrary loan material may be passed on to the borrower. Library staff will do their best to ensure that you are aware of the procedures and policies of the lending institute, however, can take no responsibility for additional fees and fines accrued. Arrangements for payment must be made directly with the lending institute. We do not have the liability insurance required to send your first-born, existential sense of dread, or the memory of the colour of next spring’s tulips via interoffice mail or interagency courier. Please note that while all graduate theses are archived in the library collection, borrowing privileges for theses that have not yet been written are limited to faculty only.

Overdue fines may be waived at the discretion of the library staff for just cause. Fees for lost items must be paid by the end of the semester or late charges will continue to accrue. Nonpayment of fees and fines may result in withholding of your final transcript, degree, sense of smell, or sense of self. Barter for tangible, nonmonetary items will not be accepted as payment, with the exception of plastic beads. Intangible items may be accepted on a case by case basis. Baked goods are always appreciated, but will have no effect on the balance of your account. (Donations of plastic beads will be accepted at the circulation desk, and will be donated to the library’s current community support program, who is welcome to join us in the library foyer, coffee shop, and first floor classroom space, but we would appreciate it if it refrains from attempting to use the elevators to reach the rooftop garden.)

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10.

Mulder’s sitting alone in the control room, feet propped up on the table, idly turning the dial on the radio. Mostly static. A few stations pop in and out and he listens to each of them for a minute or two. The lists of names. A weather report from somewhere – the guy never says where. The nutso Bible guy, because it turns out the apocalypse is full of those.

Is anybody alive out there, he thinks again, for the millionth time. He doesn’t give a fuck about Springsteen either, but he can’t get it out of his head. Earlier, when he was testing in here with Patrick, looking for something to say, he’d defaulted to talking to Scully. After a year and a half without her, she’s still his default.

And who else would he talk to? The base is mostly men, government guys and contractors, some military. And a few tech geniuses, mavericks from the old world, which is most of the people Mulder sees — all the guys that Frohike is buddies with now. They make him feel distinctly un-genius-like, which is probably good for him.

Skinner’s approach, on two crutches and one foot, is unmistakable. Mulder can feel him hovering in the doorway like a gnat. Maybe if he doesn’t turn around, Skinner will leave.

Instead he says, “Do you think she’s listening?”

Mulder flinches.

Skinner sits down heavily next to him, and in that moment Mulder can see everything that’s weighing them both down. Nobody here has an easy load to carry. He says, “I do.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

Skinner just keeps talking anyway. “I have to believe she’s alive.”

“You want to believe,” Mulder says darkly.

“What’s the difference? Anyway. With her talents, she’d be in demand anywhere. Hell, she’s probably in charge of some town. Probably a nicer place than this shithole.”

He keeps talking, but Mulder lets it fade out. Instead he imagines hearing Scully’s voice on the radio, wonders who she would pretend to talk to, out in the void. He remembers reading her journal when she was in the hospital all those years ago. He was so used to her case reports, dry and factual; reading her journal made him yearn for her. For this woman that he didn’t understand half as well as he’d thought.

She’d written it for him.

Her handwriting, neater than his, careful. I need to know that you’re out there if I am to ever see through this.

Yeah. He’s been thinking about that a lot lately.

“…six months or so,” Skinner’s saying, and Mulder is pulled back in it.

“What?”

Skinner glares at him. “The scientists came back from the field yesterday. They think that’s all we have left.”

“Before what?”

He shrugs. “Before the world is irreversibly transformed. Before we can’t live here anymore.”

“I thought it stalled. I thought—”

“We were wrong.”

Skinner gives that a minute to let it sink in.

"It’s the end of history,” says Skinner, finally. “I didn’t think I’d live to see it.”

“Maybe you won’t.” Mulder yawns and stretches his arms out wide, playing at disaffected. “It’s longer than I expected. Besides, we had a pretty good run.”

Skinner shakes his head, disgusted. “Fuck off.”

Mulder turns on him. “What do you want me to say? We’re gonna spend the last months of our lives cooped up in some secret government facility, watching the world fall apart.”

“And you don’t care.”

He doesn’t care, not really.

Skinner stands up and glares at him from on high. “Get up. You need to see something.”

Grudgingly Mulder follows him down the stairs to one of the sub-basements: their medical ward, which Mulder realizes is likely the best hospital in the country at this point, thanks to their stockpiles of medication. It’s slow going; a world without elevators isn’t an easy one for Skinner anymore. He makes his way carefully, leaning on the railing while Mulder holds his crutches.

Finally Skinner stops outside a quarantine room and stares through the window. A split second after Mulder joins him, he draws sharply away, looking off down the corridor. Skinner is unmoved.

“Look familiar?” Skinner asks.

Mulder nods instead of speaking. His mouth has gone dry.

His old boss’s voice is dispassionate, almost cold, but Mulder knows him better than that. “They came back a week ago,” he says. “Nothing we’ve done can stop the infection.”

“But we haven’t seen this since—”

Skinner ignores him and continues. “They went into a town that died in the days after the bombs. It was barricaded off; they thought someone was protecting something valuable: food, medicine.”

Mulder stares at the men. “It was a warning,” he says, and Skinner nods.

They are silent for a long time. On two standard-issue hospital beds the men writhe in silence. Both of them have had limbs amputated; something black pools on the tile floor beneath them. No one tends to them.

“William cured you,” Skinner says, finally, and Mulder swallows and doesn’t speak. “We need to find him.”

Mulder shakes his head. “I don’t know where—” He doesn’t even know if.

“You have a better shot of figuring it out than anyone else here.”

Back when they were at the lake house, that long winter, Skinner had said the same thing about Will: that he was necessary. That he was a cure. It disquieted Mulder then as now.

His son. All Skinner sees is his blood and the power in it. He imagines Will here in this sub-basement, getting poked and prodded by men in white coats with masks over their mouths. His son, bleeding for everyone else. It’s nothing Mulder ever wanted for him.

“I wasn’t conscious,” Mulder says, looking for excuses. “You can’t be sure that it was Will.”

Skinner pulls something from his pocket then: an empty vial, labeled in Scully’s familiar handwriting. “I can,” he says quietly. “Before I left, Scully gave me this. For testing.”

Mulder doesn’t have to ask. Of course Scully would’ve acted in the name of science. “And?”

He gestures toward his leg, which he’d lost from just below the knee. Until just now, Mulder had never questioned how he survived.

“His blood is the only thing I’ve seen that has any impact on the alien pathogens. Your son saved you. He saved me,” Skinner says. “He could save the world.”

And Mulder thinks: maybe, but he knows something about saving the world, and the things you sacrifice to get there.

Skinner says, “Find him.”

Dramaland Forecast: July 2017

Previously: 2016 - Jan - Feb - Mar - Apr - May - June

Completed:

  • Chicago Typewriter it started out slow and I was *thisclose* to dropping it around ep 5 because I didn’t care about the modern timeline dynamics, but ep 6 was good and then it just got better and better until the ending crushed my heart in all the best ways.
  • Man to Man – a fun, idle binge! Even though I wasn’t super invested, I loved every moment Park Sung Woong was on my screen (he can do no wrong!). I preferred the goofier side of the drama than the srs bzns spy stuff, but the action scenes were pretty slick and I liked the production values. I don’t regret wasting my time on this show although I will probably forget it ever existed.

Currently watching:

  • Super Family 2017
  • The Best Hit
  • Duel

Dropping/skipping:

  • I purposefully didn’t start many dramas this month knowing that I wouldn’t have time for them. I’m waiting for Lookout, Circle, Secret Forest, and Fight My Way to end so I can binge at my leisure (and no one had better spoil me on Circle until I do because that’s the one I’m most looking forward to – I’ve worked incredibly hard to avoid spoilers so far and you don’t want to make me cry, do you? Do you?)
  • Oh and I also plan to look into Woman of Dignity but my hopes are sub-basement level and I’m only doing it for my love of Kim Sun Ah.

Upcoming dramas of interest:

  • School 2017 – I never watched the 2015 version but I really enjoyed the 2013 version (all my beloved students with their various problems, and the reunion of the Baby-faced duo Jang Na Ra and Daniel Choi). Although, based on this writer, I have a feeling there will be loads more humor than tears.
  • Strongest Deliveryman – I know nothing about this except it has Go Kyung Pyo in his first leading role, so of course it has my attention.
  • Reunited Worlds – “A love story between an 18-year-old man and 31-year-old woman, born in the same year and were childhood friends.” Well, this is certainly a new take on the noona romance. The writer is dependably okay and I like the cast even though no one particularly excites. I’m curious but not to the point where I’ll make a point to clear my schedule for the premiere.
  • Save Me – I love OCN thrillers (esp. in the Sat/Sun timeslot) as much as anyone, maybe even more than most, but… but… Taecyeon.  I dunno if I can last a whole drama with him as the lead.
  • Man Who Dies To Live the plot is vague but the cast is decent. There’s potential here but I’m gonna need more info.
  • Manhole – “Bong Pil and his five friends travel between the past and present through a manhole in order to stop a wedding scheduled a week later.” Starring Jaejoong and UEE and Baro. Heck, let’s get all the idol and ex-idol actors and make it a thing. From the writer of TEN and TEN 2 so it shouldn’t be quite as ridiculous as it sounds (but it better be just a little bit ridiculous. Just a little).
  • Hospital Ship – the plot makes me think of a gender flipped version of my beloved Matsuda Shota’s A Clinic on the Sea, so I’m tentatively willing to give it a chance if it promises me a quirky mix of characters.
  • Mojito – the plot sounds like a standard chaebol-candy rom-com buuuuuuuuuut Sung Joon and Baek Sung Hyun reunited? Yes, please!
  • Live – Noh Hee Kyung’s newest offering that potentially could star Lee Kwang Soo in a role that I’m hoping reflects more than just his comedic abilities. There’s no airdate set (some time next year, probably) and only a vague plot but MY BODY IS READY.

As always, any drama not listed means I have nothing new to add since the last mention and/or it’s not something I care about enough to add to the list.

Trust Me

So this is from last month, there were two girls whom I owe two fanfics because I guess the notes on my phone didn’t save properly. If there were anyone else’s that got looked over, I apologize but I only have time to redo these two.
I’m sorry again M and R! Here’s the first one!

Prompt #12:  The heat is off in my apartment and you know how to fix it and now you’re shirtless in my living room.
Superstar: Dean Ambrose

Thanks again ladies for the request :)

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Journal Entry, 2/10/2017

12:34pm

Big bro says, keep a journal, lil bro.  And I think I used to do that but I can’t remember and I can’t find it anywhere.  Big bro says dont worry, so I don’t, but I wonder if I’ll lose this one too, just like the last one.  Don’t remember too much from those days.  Lil foggy, lil hazy.  I remember goin to the gym, startin to go to the gym.  That was like, what, a year ago or so, I think.  I remember struggling with 50 lbs.  I remember thinkin, hey, in a year’s time, I’ll be pushin up more weight and here I am pushin more weight.  It’s like I read a fortune cookie or got my future told and here it is, bein fullfilled. 

So yeah, I been makin progress, I think.  Take my supps at night, the Z-core stuff.  Supposed to make my testosterone bigger.  I dunno about all the math stuff, I just kinda listen to what big bro says.  I wake up, take the meds that are in the box marked F, cuz its Friday, then I eat some breakfast, then I supp up for the gym.  Even got some extra cardio in today cuz it snowed like a mother the other night.  Get home from the gym, super fuckin pumped.  A lil dizzy, even.  So pumped that I take a shitload of selfies and send em to big bro.  Even take a flexin, posin video, and send it to big bro.  Got a lot to work on, but thats okay.  Big bro knows best - gotta grow for big bro.  Right?  Right.

Last night big bro kinda spooked me a lil, lol.  We were talkin on the phone, like we do every night, and he said, “Your kinda like an experiment, lil bro,” and I was all like, whoa, wait, what?  These, like, dim alarms rang somewhere down in the sub-basement of my brain for a minute.  “But you dont gotta worry, lil bro,” he said, and I know I dont gotta worry, but sometimes like that elevator of thought goes down there and I’m all like wtf is going on?  I speed back to the past in my head and I see myself pushin my glasses up on the bridge of my nose and talkin real fast with someone across the bar, bout some book we were both readin.  I remember gettin all tense and angry, kinda like when I do a shitload of crunches, like 50 or 60 or so, and my abs are all tight and my veins are pulsin at the temples of my head and my shoulders are all tight, but YEAH, fuckin 60 crunches!  Time to go do 3 sets of 12 side crunches.  Gonna feel that tomorrow.  Big bro’s gonna be so proud.  “You there, lil bro?” 

“Yeah, big bro,” I say, though I’m a little hazy in the brain.  Ding!  Some kind of bell going off in my brain, like the bell between rounds in a boxing match, or a wrestling match, or a UFC MMA fight.  Big bro’s gettin me into UFC a lil.  I like the rough n tumble shit.  Big bro sends me selfies sometimes and he’s all in this kinda like fighter’s stance and he got this confident gleam in his eye.  He just got a haircut and he says when I visit it’ll be time for mine too.  I am gettin kinda bushy up top.  Like to keep it pretty short.  Not too short, but you know.  “Don’t worry about it, lil bro,” says my big bro confidently.  Everything he fuckin does is confidently.  He could part a crowd just by walkin thru it, head high and stride wide.  “Big bro knows best.”

That’s usually when I cum, actually, lol.  Big bro’s voice in my ear makes me cum, and usually so hard that it flies up to my forehead lol.  Never cummed like that before.  Fuck, never even talked bout cumming before, but big bro coaches me to be more comfortable with that.  It’s fuckin natural, right, just like jackin off is natural.  Just workin out another muscle.  Just like goin to the gym and workin out, watchin my heartrate climb.  Big bro watches my heartrate too, every day thru the monitor I wear on my wrist.  Every day.  And I keep track of my water and tell him every fuckin thing I eat, so he keeps track of my macros so I can get big for big bro.  Grow for big bro.  That’s what’s best.

Uh, I kinda lost my train of thought.  Hard as a motherfucker though, lol.  Feels so good to think about big bros voice in my ear.  Urgin me on, sometimes only in a whisper, sometimes in a shout, sometimes commanding, sometimes coaxing.  Sometimes persuasive and sometimes firm.  Sometimes I lay around in a fuzz of gray static, with his voice curlin around me like mist.  Sometimes he is the sun exploding over the dark horizon, a clarion sound trumpeting that I WAKE UP, FEET ON THE FLOOR, LIL BRO, and before I even know it, I’m up, hands on the pill box, downin what big bro says, shake is already in the blender.  Sometimes before I even know it, I’m out on my way to the gym.  Am I even wearin a shirt?  Well, if I dunno, I just ask big bro, and he’ll tell me. 

So uh thats it guys, lil bro out for now.  Gotta take a muscle nap cuz I just went to the gym and had my postworkout shake.  Got some real life shit like work or whatever to do tonight but I’ll get thru it becuz on the other side big bro will talk me down to sleep and thats my favorite part of the day.  Well any part of the day with big bro is my favorite part of the day.  Sometimes feels like hes takin over, and soon I’ll just be like, a part of him, but I dont mind.  As long as I get to make more muscles, thats cool.  Fuckin love big bro.  Dont need to worry, dont need to think.  Just cruise on thru and flex some more.  Take some pics and flex some more.  Soon enough big bro will be by my side and thatll be the best day ever.

the saddest thing is

in a few weeks, we’ll look back on this as the good old days. because every time we think trump can’t sink any lower, he builds another fucking sub-basement.

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether).
See if there are any patterns.
Then, tag your favourite authors.

Thank you @victuri-oh-nice for the tagging I’m always down to procrastinate a term paper.

Tagging: @muspellssynir​ , @machinewithoutfeelings​ , @kingotabek​, @the-stoned-ranger​ and whomever else would like to participate. 

Lots of first lines behind the readmore. Patterns include lots of descriptions and narration. Not surprising since that’s probably what I am best at. Recent works include lots of Otabek thinking about stuff. Being pensive, etc. 

1. Yuri’s Kitten 

“I don’t believe you’re actually a witch,” Otabek looks Georgi up and down.  He’s dressed head to toe in crushed purple velvet. His evenly applied wingtip eyeliner looks like it’s pulled straight from this month’s Vogue. The crystal ball plugs into the wall, and Georgi had to consult the instruction booklet for his tarot deck during the reading.

2. Let the Record Drop

Otabek lives on the nineteenth floor. But he parks the bike in the sub basement, which means they have to climb up the steps to get to the lobby elevator first.It might as well be up on the goddamn fucking moon when Otabek’s doing everything in his power to delay the process. Otabek’s got his fingers threaded into Yuri’s beltloop and tugs him close so that their hips knock awkwardly together as they walk.

3. Line and Verse

Otabek doesn’t much care for poetry. This becomes apparent upon his fifth birthday. He peels away the wrapping carefully, as to not disturb the thick butcher paper in which the gift is wrapped.

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Runaway Bride Observation

After watching “The Runaway Bride” for I don’t know what number time, I just came to the realisation…

That the point when The Doctor gets really mad

When he makes his angry face, is when Lance is insulting and belittling Donna. He really didn’t like that. Not one little bit.

He also laughs, really laughs, for the first time since losing Rose when he is with Donna.

Donna laughs after all she has been through, for the first time, when she is with the Doctor.

Other points:

  • While at Donna’s reception, he can’t help but smile at Donna’s quick thinking and her spirit. Even if he’s still missing Rose.
  • Donna chooses the Doctor over Lance, even before discovering his betrayal, by leaving the reception with him.
  • Donna chooses to stick with the Doctor when he finds the sub-basement and offers her a way out.
  • Donna: “You’d better come back!”
  • Doctor: “I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried”
  • Donna - little smile
  • Donna puts herself between the Empress of the Racnoss and the Doctor to protect him,
  • By that point the Doctor has saved Donna a few times himself.
  • Donna: “What? There’s a secret base hidden underneath a major London landmark?”
  • Doctor: “I know. I know, Love”
  • The Doctor tries to cheer Donna up after seeing she is upset after learning about Lance’s betrayal.
  • Donna saves the Doctor from dying under the Thames.
  • The Doctor makes it snow for Donna to try to make Christmas a little better for her. To make her happy.
  • The Doctor is visibly disappointed when Donna decides not to travel with him at the end of the episode.

There’s more, but it was really the point where Ten is getting visibly angry at Lance’s insults towards Donna that I decided to post something. I am not sure why I never noted it before. But it is all right there. 

The Doctor was already quite taken with Donna Noble at that point. 

It makes me feel even worse for Martha now.

But even warmer for Donna and the Doctor.


@basmathgirl
Butch DeLoriaxFemale Lone Wanderer Headcanons

So I have this HUGE idea for a Butch DeLoria x Female Lone Wanderer fanfiction. And I have all these damn headcanons. Shall I write a giant story about all these? (Please don’t steal the ideas! I really want to write this someday but I can’t hold these ideas in anymore.)

  • The Female Lone Wanderer’s headcanonical name is Eve, Eva or Evelyn. James and the FLW’s mother were both religious and quoted the bible. Also, The GECK James searched for stands for Garden of Eden Creation Kit. He would want his daughter to belong to something beautiful. Not to mention…President Eden is this big lie in the same way that utopia can never exist, and the FLW comes to accept that. While she searches long and hard for a better life, she is only shown that she can no longer obtain what she wants. Not to mention, Butch is a Tunnel SNAKE, like the snake who tempted Eve. He believes in anarchy and making one’s own choices that defy the higher power (the Overseer who plays God).
  •  Butch’s father was killed by the overseer. Ellen DeLoria is always drunk like she’s washing away sorrows. Butch’s father used to tell him stories about the outside world and tell him to never tell anyone because everyone is supposed to believe that you are born in the vault and die in the vault. Eventually, when Butch was three or four, his father tried to leave the Vault and was shot by the Overseer’s henchman, perhaps Officer Kendall. Butch could barely remember this…but eventually figured it out as the years went on. His hatred for the Overseer’s control was a personal matter as well as his rebellious spirit coming to light.
  • Butch and the FLW were best friends before the age of nine. They used to share Grognak the Barbarian comic books, and play in the atrium. Eventually however, Butch received pressure from the other boys (mainly Wally Mack) to break away because of gender roles. The female lone wanderer then got even closer to Amata.
  • Butch DeLoria is afraid of radroaches because, when he was five he was locked in the lowest level of Vault 101. His alcoholic mother Ellen DeLoria locked him there.  Butch kept asking his mom about what happened to his dad, and afraid of the Overseer’s wrath, she told Butch to stop asking. But being a  typical five year old, he kept asking over and over. So, she dragged him to the sub basement area while intoxicated. After locking the door, he began to cry and scream after a radroach came out and attacked him. James shows up with his daughter to unlock the door and comfort him. After that, Butch holds a respect for James, but has a resentment towards his daughter that he doesn’t have a father like him. When Butch bullies the lone wanderer, James never actually gets angry since he still feels bad about Butch’s lack of a father figure.
  • The FLW always cried to her dad about Butch. James told her that boys only tease you when they like you… For years, she hoped that was the case. But she still didn’t believe that hitting on her actually meant hitting her!
  • The Female Lone Wanderer is nicknamed “Nosebleed” because of what Butch did. At the age of nine, the kids were playing baseball in the atrium. Eventually, the female became MVP (because the perk says so) and jealous of this, the opposing team’s players told Butch to bring her down a notch. When she was up to bat, he was pitcher, and threw the baseball right at her face, where it hit her nose and she received a bloody nose. He’d been calling her “Nosebleed” ever since.
  • The Female Lone wanderer never fights back against Butch unless he’s bullying someone else, namely Amata. He then stops targeting  Amata after realizing this and tries even harder to get a rise out of her, like throwing gum in her hair during class or tripping her after class. When it never works, he gets obsessed with this…and maybe even develops something far different from hatred.
  • When they were seventeen, Butch fucked up the FLW’s hair. To get back at him for all his teasing she called him a hairdresser instead of a barber. He decided to pull  a prank and botched her long hair unevenly. When she told Amata, Amata tied it like her own hair. So they wore similar hairstyles for a long time. Over time, the ponytail began to grow out more until it no longer resembled the other girl. But she refused to go back to the Vault hairdresser…err barber.
  • A year before the FLW left Vault 101, her relationship with Butch got…somewhat…better. While he still teased her, shoved her in the halls when the other guys were around, etc, he began to get quiet when it was just the two of them. He’d watch her shooting her BB gun in the basement, and even gave her a shot of whiskey he managed to steal from the Overseer’s chambers. They finally got to talk about what it was like growing up with one of their parents being dead. It turns out they had more in common than they initially thought.
  • Butch began to date Susie Mack, Wally Mack’s sister. She’d never admit to it, but when the FLW catches them making out in the hall, she immediately turns back around where she came from and feels like she could cry without fully comprehending why. Butch tries to talk to the FLW and be nicer, but she instead treats him harshly because of her jealousy. He again turns hostile. Wally Mack soon quits the Tunnel Snakes after that, pissed that Butch would go with his sister. 
  • After she left the vault, the FLW always wore the Tunnel Snakes jacket Butch gave her. She began to panic as it got more and more damaged. Eventually, Moira fixed it up, and teases that it has the scent of a man’s aftershave and cologne.
  • Butch DeLoria was the one who spray painted “Fuck You, Overseer” on the “Thank You, Overseer” sign. Amata kept yelling at him to stop it. But he managed to make a contraption out of rope to allow him to paint the sign with the other Tunnel Snakes
  • Butch meets James Hargrave in Rivet City. The kid with a bad attitude has a dead father and alcoholic mother and he reminds Butch so much of himself as a child that it begins to disturb him. He tells the kid about his own life and even becomes like a big brother James could look up to. He also told James to be always be good to C.J. Young, the little girl who always follows james around. And if he does, he’ll even let him join the Tunnel Snakes when he grows up. James asks why he has to act so nice to her. Butch tells James that he’ll understand why when he’s older…. Because he wishes he could’ve treated the FLW better. Every day, he’d been waiting for her to show up in Rivet City…
  • When the FLW agrees to travel with Butch again, she knees him in the groin. Butch apologizes for all the times he bullied her and beat her up when they were kids. So, she knees him in the balls and says she forgives him. He of course crumples to the floor and says “Yeah…maybe…I deserved that Nosebleed.”
  • Butch DeLoria is still a HUGE Grognak the Barbarian comic book fan at the age of 20. His line “I hear there were dragons out there. You ever seen one?” reveals this. It drives the FLW crazy, especially since he spends all their caps on rare issues rather than on the supplies they need.
  • When the pair sleep in Raider camps outdoors, the female lone wanderer always takes the top bunk when they manage to find bunkbeds. Based on the line “Man that creeps me out. That thing up there…you know? The sky…” The lone wanderer knows he’s terrified to look up there, so she alleviates his fear by taking the top bunk, making it feel like he’s back in the Vault.
  • Butch suffers from monophobia: the fear of being alone. His whole “Tunnel Snakes 4 LYFE” motto is only him trying to belong to something. The Tunnel Snakes have no real goals or purpose besides to be “the most badassest gang in the wastes”. Plus, he’s the only one to leave the vault for good after Trouble on the Homefront. This likely means, he knows the gang is over with and everyone else abandoned him… Even still, he follows the FLW and uses the “gang” as an excuse. He never wants anyone else following you. So how could a gang ever form?
  • Butch sings along to Galaxy News Radio. Whenever they are at a bar, Butch gets buzzed and just starts singing along. The FLW told him a million times to shut the hell up, but he just sings louder. His favorite song is supposedly “I’m a Mighty Mighty Man.” because it says that “I really don’t need a wife.” This upsets the FLW though she never says so.
  • The Female Lone Wanderer loves when Butch cuts her hair. The feeling of his fingers against her scalp takes her breath away…until he decides to play the same prank like when they were kids and shaves part of her scalp. She sics Dogmeat on him.
  • Butch really likes Dogmeat, though initially acts like he doesn’t. This is since he doesn’t mind having Dogmeat follow as well. He wanted to sew Dogmeat a personal Tunnel Snake jacket… The FLW forbid it.
  • Butch manages to find a way to bake a sweetroll. He goes through life and limb to obtain the ingredients. He gives it to the female lone wanderer as a peace offering after taking her sweet roll at her birthday party ten years prior.
  • The Lone Wanderer says goodbye to Dogmeat and Butch during the last quest (without expansion). She makes a slight joke that Dogmeat and Butch should go into the irradiated chamber of Project Purity. And while Butch declines, he doesn’t believe that she planned to do it anyway. He doesn’t understand why she says goodbye and tells him to take care of Dogmeat. When she goes in, he tries to stop her but it’s too late.
  • Butch goes into a huge depression before the events of Broken Steel (aka end of game without expansion). He becomes an alcoholic just like his mother and only has thoughts of the lone wanderer. Dogmeat ends up taking care of him more than he takes care of Dogmeat. Every day, Butch regrets that he didn’t activate the control chamber in her stead. Whenever he hears Three Dog mention her on GNR, he gives a toast before downing his last shot and smashing the glass. Instead of “I’m a Mighty Man” he only listens to the slow sad songs like “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire.
  • Ok, that last one made me tear up. AHEM. The female lone wanderer and Butch are in love. I mean…that damn dialogue. As a follower, he flirts so much only if you’re female. Need I say more?
  • Butch and Dogmeat are reunited with the Female Lone Wanderer… The Three Tunnel Snakes For Life. 
Blast From The Past: Part 13

Pairing: Reader x Bucky
Word Count: 1.2K
Warnings: Angst (as always)

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy!

Feedback is always appreciated. Let me know if you want to be added to the tags list.

E/C: Eye Colour

Part 1 // Part 12

You slowly flutter your eyes open. Your head feels heavy and there’s a throbbing pain coming from the base of your skull.

Looking around the empty bank vault, you were confused. Then you remember what happened before you were knocked out. You whip your head around, trying to identify where you are. There’s a machine in the corner of the room, one that you had seen a few times before, decades ago.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky’s soft voice broke through your thoughts, “Y/N, baby, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Your eyes met Bucky’s and your heart broke. He looked so worried, but also terrified. You nod, “I’m okay, handsome. Are you? Did they hurt you?”

He shook his head, “Well, apart from knocking me out. Do you know where we are?”

“Yeah,” you could feel a lump rising in your throat, and tears welled in your eyes, as you realised why neither of you had been killed yet, “This is where they’d bring you to wipe you,” your voice broke as Bucky’s shoulders slumped and his expression changed. He remembered, and it still hurt him.

You try to extend an arm to him, but you’re strapped down. Your wrists were bound to the metal arms of a chair, and your ankles to the legs. Bucky was strapped into his chair too, “We’re in the sub basement of the compound. Nat is coming back for us, she’ll find us,” you tried to soothe him.

“She won’t arrive in time,” a male voice sounded from across the room. A middle aged man walked into the vault, followed by a dozen Hydra agents. You immediately recognised him. George Cleardon.

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