#i referenced a bionic arm for some of these!

[marvelandimagine]

In My Home (Chapter 2)

Series summary: After Wakanda opens its borders, you begin working in Shuri’s lab as part of an all-women STEM program, and you meet a certain White Wolf. What starts out as mutual bonding over science turns into much more than you ever could have anticipated. 

Loosely inspired by Young the Giant’s “In My Home”

Pairing: Bucky x scientist reader

Word Count: 1,960

Warnings: Language, PTSD, sexual thoughts

A/N: WELP Bucky’s internal POV turned out longer than I thought but I pinky promise chapter three is going to be dialogue for dayzzzz

Reader Tags: @staringmoony @noxxia @mikithekiki @just-a-littlebit-of-everything  @galaxy-siren 

Bucky can’t stop thinking about you. He knows he’s in deep because he finds himself replaying conversations and moments together with you over and over in his head, trying to engrave their details into his memory—the sound of your laugh, how you talk with your hands, the glint in your eyes he thinks he’s seen whenever the two of you end up physically close (which seems to be a lot lately)––that goddamn indecipherable look that’s driving him crazy as he mentally weighs the pros and cons of finally acting on what he desperately wants, to finally bring his lips to yours, to feel your body pressed against his while your tongue slips between his teeth and his hands tangle in your hair––

And he keeps trying his best to stop his imagination right there (often failing) because he’s not sure he can trust his mind on this. Because the thought that you could ever reciprocate, could even come close to feeling the way he feels about you, would ever want to be with him in any sense of really being with someone, that had to just be a dream.

But then his brain tugged at him to recall moments that had happened between the two of you that he was pretty damn sure he didn’t imagine. How welcoming you were when he first met you, how you were willing to open up to him about your past so that it might help him in his present. And when he found himself spilling his guts about his uncertainty regarding whether or not Shuri had really fixed him, not knowing what to do with the lingering anxiety and flashbacks and nightmares––you still didn’t treat him like a bomb that was about to go off. You just treated him like a human being.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced that since Steve snapped him out of his Hydra programming—a lot of people had been kind to him. And he’d done what Shuri asked and hit up a few veteran support group meetings in the city and even livestreamed a few in the States, so he had related to others with similar experiences before meeting you. He just couldn’t explain it, the connection he felt to you, like you both went through life following the same rhythm. As ridiculous and sentimental as it sounded in his head, it was like your souls seemed to be in sync.

You were funny and hopeful and kind and so, so pretty, even in a lab coat and faded band t-shirt. You drew him in without even trying, and the connection he felt with you––that he wondered, hoped, dreamed you could maybe even feel a fraction of––kept growing stronger the more time you spent together. He initially couldn’t even believe you wanted to spend time with him, but he slowly stopped questioning it and tried to just go with it without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He just tried to enjoy being present with you, whether he was reading your loaned copy of Bill Nye’s Undeniable: Evolution and the Science of Creation while you whirled around the lab, or utterly absorbed in listening to you do your best to catch him up on a highlight reel of humanitarian achievements and pop culture while he told you about 1930s New York City and the inventions that blew his mind (he still was waiting for a flying car, but self-driving cars were still pretty damn impressive) over sambusa and the best lamb and rice dish he was sure he’d ever have, confiding and laughing and flirting all over the city.

He may not have been with a woman in literally decades, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice signs of seeming attraction and affection, small actions and comments you dropped here and there that made his heart stop and start at the same time. What he did forget was how maddening it could be, the slow burn of glances and touches and before someone finally made a decisive move. Back before everything happened, he never had a problem making that move, but now, the fear of losing someone who already made him the happiest he’d been in years kept him rooted in place.

It was driving him crazy, especially when it came to hints in your touch: your hip gently nudging him to scooch farther down your lab table; your thigh grazing his as you sat side by side on the Maglev train; your palm swatting him on the shoulder as he made another comment that had you shaking your head but chuckling nonetheless. He savored each of these moments, no matter how seemingly insignificant, his longing for even further closeness with you becoming harder to ignore each time. So he experimented to see if maybe he really did have a shot at this, taking your hand in the middle of the crowded street, raising his voice so you could hear him over the chattering crowd and music echoing around the city:

“I’ll get lost otherwise.”

“You’re right,” you called back, smirking as your free hand gestured to the predominantly Wakandan crowd. “How would I ever find you amongst this sea of white men with bionic arms?”

You didn’t let go of his hand, though, and Bucky felt hope rise in his chest along with his heartbeat.

There was the day when you had made him promise to not let you leave the lab no matter what you said until you finished a new round of cross-referencing your updated personal data samples with the 500 something you had collected while getting your doctorate. But then it turned out that there was a music festival happening two blocks away from the lab, and how were you supposed to focus with the booming sounds of drums and the wafting aromas of roasted street fare, but Bucky wanted to mess with you a bit.

And so he stood between you and the door, trying his best to keep a straight face.

“You said, and I quote ‘Bucky do not let me leave this lab, no matter how much I beg, or plead, or––“

You waved your hands.

“That was old Y/N who was bright-eyed and full of caffeine and optimism. This is 7 p.m. current Y/N realizing that I will literally be here until 3 a.m., which I’ve already done twice this week. Current Y/N Y/N just needs to dance and eat some mandazi.”

“A promise is a promise! What if this was the very night when you were destined to be struck by genius with a breakthrough that changes the course of humanity, but I prevented that from happening by breaking my word.” Bucky shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Not chancing it.”

You sighed in feigned resignation.

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Bucky was thrown off for half a second but your concession, but then you were sprinting past him as best as you could sprint past a genetically enhanced soldier, your cackle turning into profanities choked by laughter as Bucky easily caught you, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Goddammit, Bucky!”

He was barely even holding you, so nervous about hurting you, but it was still enough to keep you locked in place as you struggled, both of you chuckling for a few more seconds before you gave up, going limp in his arms. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest, was close enough to breathe in the bright scent of your perfume.

“Guess I’ll die here.”

Your light tone then turned bitter on a dime, taking Bucky by surprise.

“I lied, I really don’t deserve to get out of here tonight, not when my dumbass has been stuck on the same problem for weeks, and everyone else in that lab has actually been able to do their fucking jobs.”

“Hey, Y/N, that’s not true.” Bucky broke his hold on you, turning you around to face him, watching as you shook your head, chewing at the corner of your lip as you averted your eyes.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know. And I see you, everyone sees you working your ass off in there. Give yourself a break.” He paused for a second before placing his hands on your shoulders, the action prompting you to bring your pained gaze back to meet his.

“You know I’m not actually holding you hostage, right?”

You had mustered a snort of laughter and nodded but still had that defeated look across your face, and Bucky’s instinct to care for you overshadowed his nerves. 

“C’mere.”

And he pulled you toward him and you immediately settled into his embrace, letting out a deep exhale as you burrowed your head in his chest, arms winding around his waist. And as much as he wanted to, he didn’t dare try to kiss you in the midst of your mini crisis, not knowing if you’d misinterpret it as only being given to try to make you feel better as opposed to showing you how deeply he felt about you.

“Thank you.” Your voice was muffled against him and you pulled back, sniffling but smiling. “Sorry I lost my cool there.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Come on, let’s get you some fresh air and some mandazi, you’ll feel better.”

“Good plan.” You both started walking down the hall, and Bucky could feel your stare burning through him, turning and seeing you giving him that look again.

“What?”

“Nothing ... just glad I met you.”

Even with that seemingly picture perfect moment, gnawing fear kept him from showing you right then and there how he really felt, settling instead on words that felt safer instead.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

He’s recalling all of these moments in his head, especially how he’s kicked himself after each one for not making a move. What was wrong with him? How long was he going to let fear dictate his life? The life he had fought for, the one he was still clawing his way out of the past for?

He’s jolted out of his reverie by the rumble of an engine in the distance, and his head snaps up to see trees rustling in the distance.

Even the sheep look startled.

“What the hell?”

And then he sees you come barreling out of the tree line in what looks like a military-grade hummer, except in a rich violet color, wearing sunglasses and a grin, the car’s speakers blaring that one Black Keys (Black Locks? He can never keep all the music you tell him straight) song he’s heard a few times in your lab, and he doesn’t know if he believes in a god, but damn, of all songs to be playing, it’s one hell of a cosmic coincidence that it’s this one.

“Woah, oh oh, I’ve got a love that keeps me hanging. 

I’m a lonely boy, I’m a lonely boy.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Bucky’s heart was beating fast, mind working overtime in a last-ditch attempt to dissuade him from stopping the chess match between you two and taking the chance he wanted to since practically the day you met. He’d been controlled for so long, shoved around with no agency, no say in what he could do.

But this, right here, right now, this was his life. And he didn’t want to waste more of it waiting, waste more of it hanging because of his own hesitation. He had the ability to make choices today, even when it seemed terrifying and vulnerable and could potentially end in disaster. Or, it could end in something fucking great. Something that made him feel happy, feel understood, feel alive.

Isn’t that all he really wanted?

And as you pull up near his hut, he makes a barely noticeable nod to himself. He’s made his decision. Today, instead of choosing fear, he was going to choose you.

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky x reader imagine #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader fic #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #bucky fic #marvel imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes songfic

[asleepinawell]

Neon and Dust: Chapter 1

The Shoot space western AU that no one asked for.

(AN: The rough first chapter of the person of interest space western au that no one asked for. Rough because I haven’t fully finished world building stuff and won’t until I finish STC. It’s a bit long for tumblr but I didn’t want to move it over to ao3 just yet. The hub planets, if I ever write that far, will be more cyberpunk-y thus the neon in the title. Final rating unknown as of yet.)

I just updated this (Dec ‘17). Nothing major, just some minor world building stuff since I’m posting the second chapter…only half a year later. Once I’m more thoroughly committed to finishing it I’ll move it to ao3.

(Chapter 1| Chapter 2)

“Call.”

Shaw looked around the table over the top of her cards. “You boys sure about that?”

The sound of a ship passing overhead roared through the bar and the entire building shook slightly, bottles rattling on shelves. Sounded like a freighter to her, probably headed towards the nearest terminal to blink the hell away from this dusty hellhole on the outskirts of nowhere.

“I said call, you damned cyborg.” The big guy across the table from her had been getting angrier and mouthier over the last few rounds as the little blue numbers on the credits bar in front of Shaw had ticked steadily upwards.

Shaw almost rolled her eyes at the insult; she was pretty sure he didn’t actually know about her arm. She dropped her cards on the table. “Read em and weep.”

She heard quiet mutters throughout the bar as everyone took in her cards.

“You’re cheating.” The man on her left stood up and leaned on his fist on the table, trying to tower over her.

“Maybe you’ve just got shit luck.” Shaw slouched down further in her chair, the smallest of smiles playing around her lips. It was really too damn hot for the fight that was inevitably going to break out. Despite the fans turning lazily on the ceiling, there wasn’t even the semblance of a breeze in the dark bar.

“Well, your luck just ran out.”

The man reached behind himself, presumably for his gun, but Shaw didn’t wait to know for sure. Her left arm shot out under the table and clamped onto his upper leg, squeezing hard enough that she felt something snap. He screamed incoherently, and collapsed to the floor.

There was a long moment of silence and then the other two men at the table both jumped up, reaching for their guns. Shaw finally did roll her eyes and kicked the table over at them. She used the time it took them to recover to unfold herself from her chair and stand up, rolling her shoulders back and cracking her knuckles. The knuckles on her right hand, anyway.

Her left arm, hidden beneath her long coat and a very special glove a friend had gotten for her, was a bit…different. She’d have to pull her punches a little in this place or someone would catch on. (The man whose leg she had just pulverized could be a problem, but it had been so worth it).

Or maybe she could take them all on with only her right arm. Sounded like a good challenge. She wasn’t carrying any weapons today, didn’t want to give the Local Enforcement officers any reason to take a shot at her.

In her peripheral vision she saw five or six other people from the bar slowly moving in.

Looked like it was going to be a fun assignment after all.

When the Local Enforcement officers got to the scene five minutes later, Shaw was the only one left standing. Mostly standing. One of her new friends had smashed a bottle on her leg and done a bit of damage, but nothing too serious.

“Empty your hands and turn around!”

Shaw sighed and dropped the man she’d been holding by the throat. She turned around slowly and raised her hands.

“Don’t want any trouble, gentlemen.” She tried to look harmless, though she was aware that given the large number of injured, groaning bodies around her it was probably a tough sell. But pummeling Enforcement officers was not on today’s agenda so she needed to play along. These guys were pretty pathetic for even Local Enforcement officers, definitely the bottom of the barrel, but they still technically reported into the Interplanetary Republic (and, in doing so, Samaritan) and that meant not causing a scene.

Well, more of a scene.

She should have gotten out of there sooner, but it was too late to regret that.

“Arrest her,” snapped the leader of the squad. “And don’t try anything or we’ll open fire.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, officer.”

Reese was going to have a hissy fit when he bailed her out.

“Finally.” Shaw stood up when the Enforcement officer approached the cell door.

He looked at her and sneered. “Oh, you’re not getting out. We’ve just got some company for you.”

Another officer came down the hall, shoving a woman in front of him.

“Oh, hell no.” Shaw stalked over to the bars. “You are not putting her in here with me.”

“You two know each other?”

Shaw glared at the other woman, took in the mischievous look in her eyes and the shit-eating grin on her face.

“I know her type.”

“I thought I was your type, sweetie.”

Shaw was tempted to give herself away and just punch straight through the bars and knock the woman’s teeth in. Instead, she fumed quietly and made herself step back so they could open the door.

The first officer shoved her new companion into the cell and slammed the gate behind her. Both men turned to leave.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” the woman called after them, holding up her still-restrained wrists.

“Those stay on,” the first officer said. “We don’t want any repeats of what happened earlier.” Both officers disappeared through the metal door at the end of the hall.

“Well, I can’t say much for the hospitality here, but at least the company is excellent.”

Shaw made a disgusted noise. “Why the hell are you here, Root?”

Root pulled experimentally on the metal cuffs. “I got arrested, obviously.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that for even a second.”

Root only smiled and waltzed past her to perch daintily on the edge of the bench that ran along the back wall of the small holding cell.

“The officer who arrested me was quite serious, I promise you. Also very grumpy. These cuffs are way tighter than regulation. He must have been having a bad day.”

“Any day that involves you is a bad day.” Shaw chose to lean against the wall rather than sit anywhere near Root. Her leg still hurt from the fight earlier, but she’d examined it and determined the cuts were very superficial. She’d have a hell of a bruise though.

“Really? Because I can recall a couple days you definitely seemed to enjoy that involved me.” Root did that thing she probably thought was winking.

Shaw wasn’t in the mood to talk about the days Root had referenced, no matter how much she’d enjoyed them. Most of them. Maybe if she hadn’t ended up unconscious in a cheap hostel with her guns (and clothing) missing after their first run-in it would have been a better memory. Her subsequent run-ins with Root had been a lot tenser. Except for one.

She remained silent and, for a few blissful seconds, Root did as well. But good things never lasted.

“The gloves are a nice touch. Those are modulating gloves, aren’t they? Hear they’re pretty hard to come by.” Root had been eyeing her in a way that was far too familiar for Shaw’s tastes, so she was a little surprised that it was her gloves she’d chosen to comment on.

“Friend got them for me. Means to an end. Help me avoid unwanted attention.” They were actually illegal, like any other clothing item that masked the texture and feel of a biometal prosthesis, but Zoe had connections. “Well, most unwanted attention.”

Root only smiled at the jab. “Local Enforcement officers really aren’t the brightest, are they? Most regulations have them practically strip search prisoners. You’re safer here than you would be on a Hub planet, but Samaritan has eyes everywhere. Even out here.”

“I’m only in here for a bar brawl. Not like I robbed a Galactic bank.”

Root’s smirk grew more pronounced.

Shaw stared at her. “You didn't…”

Root leaned back against the wall looking far too pleased with herself. “What can I say? A girl’s gotta eat somehow.”

“That’s a felony, Root. They put you up against a wall and shoot you for that.”

Root shrugged. “They’re welcome to try.”

Shaw thought about pressing the point, but decided it was none of her business. Well, almost none.

“Your…boss…gonna get you out of this one then?”

“She’s your boss, too.”

That was a fairly complicated issue which Shaw had no intention of diving into while stuck in a holding cell.

“How is it they never find that thing in your head when they arrest you?”

Root half-raised her bound hands towards her right ear before stopping herself. “Same way they never spot your arm, I’d imagine. They’re very unimaginative and stupid, and full body scanners cost too much for a backwater place like this.”

Shaw pushed off the wall and took a seat next to Root on the bench. “Let me check it.”

Root retreated fractionally. “It’s fine, Shaw.”

It was the first time Root had used her name since she’d been dumped in the cell and something about the way she said it made Shaw scowl.

“Bionics are a crapshoot. Stuff can go wrong in all sorts of ways, requires frequent checkups and observation. Which I’m betting you’ve never done.”

The smile on Root’s face was forced now, her eyes wary.

“Stop being such a baby.” Shaw grabbed her arm to hold her in place and then pushed the hair back so she could get a look at her right ear. Under the longer top layer, Root had shaved her hair very short. She’d done something or another to it so all the long hair fell around the back and right side of her head, leaving the short hair visible on the left side so everyone could see the design she’d had shaved into the cut. Only Root would think it was cool to have binary code shaved into her hair as a fashion statement.

But Shaw figured the entire look was also to cover up and draw attention away from her right ear.

There was a nasty, curved scar behind Root’s ear. It had healed as well as possible given the circumstances, but she’d had it reopened a few months after the initial injury to get her…upgrade.

The tiny metal jack and mic behind her ear were almost impossible to spot unless someone knew what they were looking for, and the rest of the tech she’d had added was embedded under her skin and couldn’t be seen without a scanner. Shaw checked the area for any discoloration or other signs that the implant was being rejected by her body. Biometal did a damn good job of integrating with tissue, but it was still a long ways away from perfect and she’d seen what happened when the body rejected it.

“Looks pretty clean,” she admitted begrudgingly. She’d been the one to patch it up the first time, when the injury had been fresh. That had been the less-tense meeting she’d had with Root since she’d been so out of it that Shaw hadn’t been worried about her causing trouble. Mostly she’d been worried Root was going to die in the room of the hostel Shaw had been staying in and she’d have to explain the corpse to Enforcement officers. That had been back when the worst Enforcement would have done was just execute them. Before Samaritan.

She hadn’t liked seeing Root like that: scared and half-dead. She was usually so damn cocky and sure of herself, but that night….

“She’d let me know if there was a problem,” Root said, brushing her hair back over her ear. She dropped her cuffed hands onto the arm Shaw was using to hold her in place. “Your arm never gave you any trouble.”

Shaw only felt the faintest whisper of her touch. Even if she hadn’t been wearing her coat, she wouldn’t have fully been able to feel it. Her arm was well-made, a blend of biometal and hard chrome, the best money could buy, but it was only as good as the available technology which meant her sense of touch was very limited with it. Root’s fingers ran down her arm in a gentle caress.

“Don’t touch me,” Shaw growled, grabbing Root’s wrist with her very human right arm and pulling it away.

“You touched first, sweetie.” Root didn’t fight against her though and actually slid away a little once she was free. Shaw had forgotten how much she disliked having her right ear touched or even examined.

A longer silence stretched between them this time and Shaw wondered if she was going to be left in peace until Reese showed up.

“So what did you get arrested for?”

Apparently she wasn’t that lucky.

“Bar fight. Some nice fellows thought I was cheating at cards.”

Root chuckled. “You were cheating at cards.”

“Not my fault they couldn’t cheat better than me.” She hadn’t even been trying that hard. “How’d you know I was cheating, anyway?”

Root just raised an eyebrow as if that had been the dumbest question Shaw could ever ask.

“Oh, right. Your boss is a creep.” Why had she bothered asking if she knew?

Root shrugged. “She protects you more than you know. She protects all of us. Even that big lug who hangs out on your ship.”

“Technically it was his ship first.”

The Indigo Five hadn’t had Shaw’s name on her register until a year ago. She’d started out as their former employer’s gift to Reese and hadn’t even had a name beyond her ship classification type and ID, but Shaw had insisted on naming her and then, after it had just been the two of them left, Reese had decided Shaw should own her.

“You two still pretending to be a transport ship?” Root rattled her cuffs a bit as if uncomfortable.

“If your boss is tattling on us then you know we are.”

“Got a contract from this place yet?”

“Not so much.”

The blistering hot town on the tiny planet in the middle of nowhere that they’d landed on to deal with their number wasn’t much good for finding real work.

“I know someone who might need a lift off this place. They can pay well, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shaw realized about half a second later where this was going. “Oh. No. Absolutely not. You are not allowed on my ship.”

“I can pay. Double your rates.”

Shaw clenched her jaw. They really needed some credits. For food and fuel if nothing else. But she didn’t trust Root in a jail cell and she definitely didn’t trust her on her ship.

“Thought you had your own ship. That pile of junk finally break down?”

“She’s not a pile of junk! She’s unique.”

Shaw just shook her head. The little stealth fighter Root piloted around didn’t belong away from a fleet. The thing couldn’t even go through a terminal on its own unless she snuck it through and it wasn’t designed to deal with the forces blinking between terminals put on a ship. From what she knew, Root got around by using her stealth cloaking to latch on to larger ships going her way.

“Keep telling yourself that.” She noted that Root had avoided her question. If she wasn’t going to tell her why she needed transport then all the more reason Shaw wasn’t letting her on board.

“Please?” Root sounded sincere and it made Shaw shift uncomfortably. “It’s important, Sameen.”

Ugh.

“Tell you what, you somehow manage to get out of here and back to my ship before me, and pay me double, then we’ve got a deal.”

Root was silent for a second and then nodded. “Okay, Shaw, we’ll play it your way.”

Shaw decided the matter was settled and leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes.

Her eyes shot back open when a heavy weight dropped in her lap.

“But playing it my way is definitely more fun,” Root murmured from inches away from her face. She dropped her bound hands over Shaw’s head to hold her in place and scooted forward to get her knees fully up on the bench on either side of Shaw’s legs.

“Knock it off, Root.” Shaw grabbed her by the hips and tried to shove her off, careful not to grab too hard with her left arm. She didn’t really want to break Root in half. Maybe only bruise her a little.

“Say the word and I’ll get up, but do you have a better way to pass the time while we wait?” Root asked.

When Shaw failed to tell her to move, Root pressed herself up against her as much as she could and leaned over to put her lips right next to her ear. “I love it when you put your hands on me. Especially that one.”

“Forgot about your creepy bionic kink.” Shaw made a half-hearted effort to pull Root’s arms back over her head, but she’d laced her fingers into her hair so the whole exercise was only causing Shaw to get her hair yanked which was…not helping with her attempts to remain unaffected.

There was also the small issue of the great view down the front of Root’s shirt she currently had.

“It’s not a bionic kink. It’s just a you kink.” Root pulled back enough to grin at her and then leaned in again to gently capture Shaw’s earlobe between her teeth.

Shaw twitched slightly at the feeling and gave up on trying to untangle Root’s hands.

“Fuck it,” she muttered.

“Mmm, pretty sure it’s me you should be fucking.”

“Shut up.”

She’d forgotten how great Root was at kissing: the quick bites on the lip, the tiny satisfied noises that Shaw enjoyed way more than she’d ever admit, how quickly she opened her mouth for Shaw’s tongue.

This was not how she’d seen her day going, but she wasn’t going to complain.

She pulled her gloves off and ran her hands up Root’s back under her shirt. At the touch of the cold, hard fingers of her left hand Root shivered and pulled back with a small gasp.

Shaw let her hand drift up Root’s side. Her thumb slid around to the front to rest over her ribs, right below her breast. Things didn’t feel the same to her left hand as they did to her regular hand; all the sensations were muffled, and skin especially felt weird, almost like it had a slight electric current running through it. Touching people, running her hands over bare skin, was a strange but thrilling sensation.

“You know, I broke someone’s leg with this arm earlier today,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “Snapped the bones and tendons like they were nothing.” She tightened her grip a little. She could exert just a fraction more pressure and break Root’s ribs to pieces.

Root moaned in her ear, enjoying the situation way more than anyone with even a lick of common sense should.

“Maybe when we get back to your ship you can give me a full demonstration,” she breathed.

“Thought I might right now. No better way to pass the time, right?” There didn’t look to be any security cameras in this crappy jail.

“Sorry, sweetie. We’re about to get interrupted.”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed. She was willing to bet Root had known that before she’d started all this. It would be just like her to get Shaw all worked up and then leave her high and dry.

She grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up and off her. This time Root didn’t resist her at all, getting her feet back onto the floor and lifting her arms back over her head. She straightened her clothes out and smirked at Shaw.

“I do appreciate the enthusiasm, but you might want to put your gloves back on now.”

Shaw cursed and scooped her gloves up off the floor, slipping them on. If she touched someone with her left hand with the gloves on the temperature and texture made her touch feel almost like she had a normal hand underneath.

Root sat back on the bench next to her, rubbing at where Shaw’s thumb had pressed into her ribs. “I’m going to have a nasty bruise there, Sameen.” She sounded quite pleased.

Shaw’s breathing had almost returned to normal. She glared at Root.

“I hope you get shot.”

If anything that only made Root smirk more.

The sound of metal screeching as the door at the end of the cellblock opened announced the return of an Enforcement agent.

“You.” The agent pointed at Shaw. “Made bail. Let’s go.”

“What about me, officer?” Root was doing something Shaw could only describe as simpering. She almost rolled her eyes again.

“You aren’t going anywhere ever again. At least not until someone comes to collect you and have a chat about those missing funds. Then you’ll get a quick trip to a shallow grave if you’re lucky.”

Shaw moved out of the cell as soon as she was able to, waiting as the officer locked the door again. Root moved over to thread her fingers through the bars and smile at her.

“See you later, Sameen.”

“I’d say I can’t believe you got arrested again, but that would be a lie.” Reese sounded resigned.

As if he didn’t do his fair share of getting on the wrong side of Enforcement.

Shaw squinted and shielded her eyes from the brightness with a hand. She’d left her hat on the ship so it wouldn’t get damaged in whatever brawl she’d ended up in. There was always a brawl to be had on worlds like this. She’d worn her coat though, a faded black leather duster that was definitely too hot for the climate but that she’d be damned if she took off.

Reese also had his coat on despite the weather, though his was a normal length and had ridiculous fringe on it that he thought made him look very cool.

It really didn’t.

“Finished the mission, didn’t I?”

“We were supposed to save the guy’s life. You broke his arm in three places.”

“He’s alive, isn’t he?”

She’d warned the guy off in the middle of the fight. Reese had told her he’d already stowed away on a ship headed to another system, injured arm and all.

The main street of the small town was almost deserted in the midday heat. There was a rusted-looking automaton jerkily painting the side of a shop. Damn thing was such an old model it was practically an antique. Shaw wondered if it would fall to pieces if she touched it.

She half-expected a tumbleweed to roll down the road.

“What the hell are we doing in this place, Reese?”

“The Machine gave us a number and it’s a lot easier to get away with stuff like that stunt you just pulled out here in the Ore Colonies than it would be back in the Central Systems.”

She missed the cities on the planets of the Central Systems, especially the ones on the Hub Planets. Everything there was dark alleys, neon signs, and backstreet criminals. No one cared how many biometal limbs you had and, if you had the credits, you could stay at a place which had a real bathtub. She missed bathtubs quite a lot.

Of course there were also some pretty compelling reasons for them to stay the hell away from the Hub Planets these days, though everywhere in the Interplanetary Republic carried some risk for them.

There was a fading sign tacked to the front of the bar she’d partially-demolished that showed a featureless human figure offering a helping hand to another human figure lying on the ground. ‘Samaritan: Helping You Help The Galaxy’ it said under the picture. Shaw rolled her eyes. An Artificial General Intelligence posing as a technological breakthrough in communications systems was somehow the least and greatest of the galaxy’s problems these days.

Speaking of problems….

“Guess who I ran into?” she asked.

“About half the town. With your fist.” There was a small smile on Reese’s lips though.

“Yeah, oops.” Probably the most entertainment they’d had here in years. “Root got tossed in jail with me.”

“Root?” Reese almost missed a step. “Saw her face pop up on the wanted boards network while I was waiting for you. Whoever her latest identity is robbed a Galactic bank yesterday.”

So she hadn’t been kidding about that part. Shaw was genuinely impressed.

“Maybe she was trying to hide out here.” She couldn’t imagine Root getting caught if she didn’t want to be. Especially not by the weak excuse for Local Enforcement officers that this place had to offer. Why the hell had she been in that cell with her?

They reached the edge of town and turned to head down the dirt trail that led out to the shambles of the town port.

“She have anything interesting to say?”

“Uh, no. Not a thing.” Nothing Reese would want to hear about anyway.

“Weird coincidence, I guess.” Reese didn’t sound convinced. Working for the Machine had left both of them highly suspicious of coincidences.

“Guess so.”

The town port was basically a flat stretch of dirt with a rusted fence around it. There couldn’t have been more than five other ships there.

They could see the Indigo Five once they got a little closer since she was one of the larger ships in the small port. She was only a mid-sized cargo ship, not more than 20 meters high, an Interplanet Rapid Transit model. An IRT: Thornhill, to be exact, the only one in existence. And maybe Reese had made a few…alterations when he’d gotten her. And maybe Shaw had made a few of her own since. She was a damn good ship in Shaw’s opinion.

And more importantly, she was home.

“Isn’t that…” Reese pointed towards the Indigo Five.

Shaw groaned. “She didn’t.”

There was a small dock area on top of the Indigo Five meant for a smaller, short-range ship to attach to, though they hadn’t had a smaller ship in ages. However there definitely was a ship there now. Shaw would have recognized that battered pile of junk anywhere.

“Thought you said she was in prison still?” Reese asked as Shaw unlocked the side-hatch and spun the pressure-lock wheel.

“This is Root. She cheats.”

“Says the person who had four aces in their hand and another two up their sleeve.”

“There’s cheating and then there’s Root.”

She found their new passenger in the bridge, her feet propped up on the console.

She was wearing Shaw’s hat.

“Hey, sweetie,” Root said, dropping her feet to the ground and spinning the chair around to smile at her. “Love the hat.” She tipped the brim up with two fingers.

It was a wide-brimmed leather hat that matched Shaw’s coat. She’d broken someone’s nose for looking at it cross-eyed and Root was just…wearing it.

She was going to murder her.

“Well, my ship is attached and ready to go, so I’ll just go make sure Mortimer hasn’t gotten himself into trouble while you sort things out up here.” Root took the hat off and put it crookedly on top of Shaw’s head, giving it a little pat.

“Oh, and here’s my itemized list of possessions I’m bringing on board. I know John is a stickler for procedures.” Root waved a long piece of paper at Shaw who took it out of reflex. Root slipped by her into the narrow hall leading to the rest of the ship, only brushing up against Shaw’s butt a little bit on the way.

Reese was on his way in and stood well clear to let Root pass.

“Uh, hi, Root.”

“Hey, big lug. Long time, no see.”

“Seem to recall you emptied my pockets and took my gun last time we ran into each other.”

“Bygones,” Root said dismissively. “That was months ago. I’m a changed gal.” She wandered away down the ship corridor.

“Shaw?” Reese raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m going to rip her into pieces and put each piece out the airlock in a different system.”

“Well, that sounds fun, but without credits we can’t afford to fly to all these systems. She paying at least?”

Shaw got ahold of herself. “Yeah, she said double our usual rate.” She could probably afford it, too, if she’d just robbed a bank. They’d have to have a chat about how clean her credit lines were though.

“That’s something anyway.” He nodded his chin towards the paper she was holding. “Love letter?”

Shaw reminded herself that she needed Reese alive.

“Itemized list of all her shit.” She shoved it at him, not wanting to deal with it, and dropped into the pilot chair. She needed something to punch. Or shoot. Maybe punch and then shoot.

“Items: One (1) elite space hacker. She itemized herself?”

Shaw dropped her face into her hand. “She would.”

“One super cool space stealth fighter, Paradox. IRT: Turing model.”

Shaw didn’t look up. She was going to leave her face in her palm until he finished reading; it would save time.

“Three pairs of space boots, black leather, light wear and tear.”

“Space boots? What the fuck is a space boot?”

“Three space shirts, blue, red, and black.” He made a face. “I’m pretty sure she just put the word space in front of every item on this list.”

“There is something massively wrong with her.”

“Two pairs steel-reinforced, extra padded…space cuffs with blue fuzz space trim. Uh, what?”

“Oh god.”

“One sparkly, purple space vibra…”

Shaw shot up and snatched the list away from him. “I think I get the idea.”

“I mean, we’re just taking her somewhere and dropping her off, how bad could it be?”

Shaw looked over the rest of the list, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You have no idea.” An item near the bottom jumped out at her. She remembered what Root had said as she was leaving…something about making sure Mortimer wasn’t getting into trouble. “Reese. What the hell is a space cat?”

As if on command, the yowl of an upset feline echoed through the hallways of the Indigo Five, followed by excited barking.

“Dunno but we’d better go make sure our space dog doesn’t chase it into the engine.”

Shaw crushed the list in her left hand. What had she ever done to deserve this?

(AN: For anyone curious, the Indigo Five is a bit smaller than Serenity from Firefly. Similar ship type to that and the Bebop from Cowboy Bebop. I’m figuring out some more details on her still, but I’ve found some concept art that matches what I was thinking. Also thanks to @heyjenocide for the test read, am happy to report she’s now putting the word ‘space’ in front of random words.)

#person of ineterest #person of interest fanfiction #shootweek #shoot #poi space western au #my tumblr fics #poi

[endashemdash]

Preliminary ideas around prostheses

I've only just begun research into prosthetics, but already a theme has emerged: I’m starting to feel that what is needed is to productise prosthetics. This will achieve a few things:

Prostheses are hard to find now, even for those who need them. Most often a doctor will be able to refer a patient to one orthopedist, who will have one prosthetic option available. Don’t like it? Tough luck.

Currently they're considered medical devices, rather than consumer products. This makes sense to you, doesn't it? But glasses were also once considered medical devices, and now are coveted fashion items for many. How would prostheses change if we were able to change their perception from medical devices to desireable consumer products?

Commercial opportunity could encourage development, driving costs of production and ownership down. There's nothing that can make things easier to manufacture like market forces can.

So what are three ways to productise prosthetics?

1. Create a retail store for everyday prostheses.

You're walking along in Soho, peering into the window displays of different boutiques. You come up on a store that has an alluring aesthetic but you don't quite get what they're selling. It's called Super Humans which piques your interest.

You walk in and you learn that it's a store about enhancing human abilities in various ways. There's a sections called Super Sight with eyewear, cameras, braille displays, and echolocation headsets. The Super Hearing section has AirPods, cochlear implants that connect to your iPhone, and bone conduction headphones.

But there's also a Super Strength section with cool bionic arms on display, as well as exoskeleton suits that let you lift heavier weights, or can help you walk if you don't have full leg function. There's a Super Brain section that includes memory aids, smartphones, VR headsets, and meditation products.

Super Humans can be a store where it's natural to want to add things to your body, whether to help you regain function of your limbs, or to simply do things you were already doing but better.

2. Create a universal easy mechanical attachment system for connecting devices to the human body

The idea is that an attachment system could transform anything into a prosthesis. MIT Media Lab's Hugh Herr argues that we "still do not understand how to attach devices to the body mechanically," so maybe this could be a worthy problem to address.

Herr's lab addresses this issue with lots of technology: they use a complex machine to carefully measure the hardness of points distributed around the attachment site, and then combine the data with a 3D scan to produce a socket that varies in hardness and softness in response. This sound spromising and he claims that the wearability of prosthetic legs increases dramatically with this technology, but it would probably be costly to do at scale.

I brainstormed some ideas with Amy and she proposed an interesting low-fi alternative: use a sheet of something like plasticine, with rigid dots embedded in it, and wrap it around the attachement site. Depending of the hardness of the different points on the site, teh dots will push into the sheet at varying depths. This will give you a hardness map and potentially a mouldable surface (the plasticine or whatever other material is more appropraite for this).

Regardless, if devices were more easily attached to the body, then not only would the comfort and wearability of current prostheses improve, but the possibilty for new categories of prostheses could open up. Prototyping an idea where X is attached to the back of my forearm or Y is hanging off of the back fo my thigh would become easier to do. Who knows what that could open up?

3. Design and mock up a prosthesis targeting everyday users

This could be one proof of concept for a prosthesis that is targeted at a general audience but happens to include some medically useful functions. It can then be referenced by others when designing their own prosthetic products.

It could be a third arm, in the vein of the Third Thumb project or the second set of arms designed by a student that are controlled by the wearer's leg movements. It could be a prosthetic tail (which I am envisioning in our Future Wearables class) that acts both as a third hand for holding things, as well as assisting people get out of chairs (potentially useful for seniors and people with muscular dystrophy, for example).

The potential outcome of this direction is harder to predict at this point wihtout doing more research into specific needs of people with amputations, conditions like muscular dystrophy, and others. But the point would be that the prosthesis should be equally attractive to those who need it medically, and those who want it for its everyday utility and aesthetic.

#thesis #prosthesis #augmented humanity #super humans #superpowers #ideas

[charliedonahue]

Conceptual Response 1

1. Right now, I’m very interested in using the torso or back for augmentation--specifically for a skeletal wing-like structure that would be affixed to the upper back. The idea of a fixture so high up on the body gives it some sort of superiority or dominance over the figure. And in the same vein being so close to the head suggests some sort of malevolence similar to mind control or subjugation--it can have the visual effect of seeming parasitic, and this sort of idea feeds into my thoughts on the project conceptually. The human wearer would become more ethereal and the viewer would begin to question who this figure is exactly--I want the wearer to straddle the boundaries between the corporeal and the spiritual and appear somewhat transient. I’ve included the below image because I really liked the linear quality of the wings themselves. My vision would be something much more abstract and asymmetrical--not necessarily being actual wings--but the skeletal quality is what I like most about this below image. 

Going beyond that, this wearable may also encompass the neck or head area, which again follows that idea of a parasitic appendage. I’m interested much in this idea as well and see possibility for some kind of device that could alter speech. Springing from the back to wrap up and around, the structure may somehow incorporated a rather protruding device in front of the mouth that could, potentially, alter the speech and make the performer, in this case, seem more alien still. This idea isn’t concrete, however, and is just a consideration. 

One last area of consideration is the hand. The aesthetic of a bionic arm or hand seems very interesting, particularly considering the reference to a cyborg or robotic creature. Viewer perception of a wearable of this type would likely be more concrete--it would seem more attainably robotic than the idea of wings, which are meant to hinge more on the ethereal, as mentioned. Though I’m certainly leaning towards the back appendage, I’m still interested and open to exploring this possibility as well. I like the below image because it has that linear quality to the fingers that appeals to me--any mechanism of this sort I were to create would undoubtedly have a very linear quality that emphasizes the geometry of the object. 

2. In such a perfect world--specifically referencing the superpower aspect--I’ve always been fascinated by the qualities of a ‘psychic’ mind and would pursue that sort of tech. Teleportation was always something that greatly intrigued me as well as mind reading or levitation; all of those ideas that are attached to a superhuman mind. Another avenue is telekinesis, which feeds into my love of the ethereal. Pursuing a wearable that would harness a telekinetic ability would be quite interesting--I think that idea of suspension and anarchy towards gravity is what intrigues me the most. To create a device pragmatically, however, wouldn’t appeal to me as much as something done entirely artistically. The amount of whimsy and excitement a telekinetic device could elicit in a performance piece would  be something spectacular and would verge on the supernatural or the ethereal, as I keep mentioning. It would be like bringing the stuff of dreams to life and allowing viewers to experience my own imagination. In a sense, one could even use such advanced technology to make a fictional video game character real for a performance, which creates a whole new dialogue with how we can relate or experience things that aren’t real. 

3. I would like this wearable to carry that idea of suspension. There has to be some kind of push against gravity and even if that push isn’t necessarily direct--it’s not about the illusion of the wearable being ‘anti-gravity’ but more so the mood or concept of an object with its own upward thrust. The appendage will very clearly be attached to the figure and the audience will clearly see that it isn’t weightless but that sense of something lifted is much more my goal than anything else. And this all hearkens back to the transient quality of the wearable conceptually. Going along with this, I also want the fixture to be very skeletal and linear and geometric in form. It has to have this sort of cold quality that hangs in the air. This may even go so far as to suggest that the object really is a part of the air or that its particles are one with the breath. All that said, I would like to use something linear yet rigid and thin. If possible, thin, transparent tubing would also be very effective since wire could be spliced and fed through the structure to connect to lights placed throughout the device. That transparent quality would add to the ‘airy’ feel of the piece and allow the viewer to look through the creation, allowing it to meld more with its environment. I’m not interested in it being completely invisible or seeming so but rather that it merely suggests the idea while still being very fixed to reality. Likewise, tubing or rigid lines like this would create a strong sense of suspension since, when adhered together properly, could protrude in a multitude of directions and really seem to defy gravity. And without saying this would be very abstract but still very geometric since the lines could form many different shapes. The first image below exemplifies this a bit--I really like the way the lines are sort of mismatched and frazzled and yet they all operate together to create the whole. There’s an urgency to the parts that develops into a static form, and I really like that dichotomy. I love the second image because of all the 'busy-ness’--the symbols and letters and numbers create this haste that I would like to somehow mimic with a continuous, irregular pattern of lines and lights throughout the wearable. The third image is another example of that hectic linear structure that creates form yet seems so busy and uncertain. It, as well, represents an aesthetic I’d like to achieve. 

4. I think the FLORA is a very incredible device. I’m intrigued by its compactness and design efficiency--the way the creators made sure that even the power supply is easy to use, eliminated excess wires or necessities, and made it as streamlined and simple as possible really appeals to me. This allows the user to essentially take the board and mechanics out of view from the wearable itself, which is a liberating quality. And its programmability goes without saying. I very much love light and color and the ability to utilize a very wide range of hues feels freeing--it leaves more choice in the hands of the artist, which is always a plus. One demonstration I enjoyed was the FLORA umbrella, which incorporated lights that could mimic surrounding objects as well as the rain. The environmental responsiveness is a quality I hope to utilize, specifically through sound, which is another feature the FLORA can accommodate--I saw this sort of integration in a seashell necklace demonstration and a baseball hat. For artists, especially performance-based work, a mechanism that can respond through some kind of action is wonderful--at least that is something I find both exciting and important for the work I would like to do. 

5. This concept of responsiveness leads into the idea of incorporating this technology into more work. Though I have yet to really dabble in the medium of performance within fine art, I am certainly interested and immediately I feel like technology needs to be present in any performance work I would do. And specifically that which incorporates light--maybe even more so than just using technology for performance; I really feel like light is critical to me. Such a FLORA device offers limitless possibilities in that regard, especially since its ‘speciality’ is light-based creations. I could easily see implementing this technology into costumes for performance pieces or even future wearables that have that ethereal aesthetic I’m really infatuated with. And most importantly it would have to be a dynamic technology that is integrated into the performance as a whole--it’s not enough to string lights about myself but rather to give them a purpose and use them as a catalyst for the expression.