[OPEN] i can see clearly now the desert's gone

[groupiedrifter]

CHARACTERS: Newton Geiszler and You!
LOCATION: See each prompt.
DATE: Feb 13th - March 1st
CONTENT: Newton Feb Station Catch-all!
WARNINGS: None that I can think of, will update individual threads if needed!

I. Post Mission Respite | (infirmary; Feb 13th)

[Newt's kind of all over the place, when he returns back to the station. He's covered in soot from detonating those mines, and there's a make-shift wrap tied tight around his calf where a pulsefire burn throbs unpleasantly, so he's a bit of a mess in general. Exhaustion almost carries him to bed, but he visits the infirmary first; too many friends are hurt, too many need to be checked up on. It's easy to feel guilty... because after all, his only real injury is one that's self-inflicted.

Not only that, but that poor old man... It's awful to think about.

Though he has to admit, it's easy to push the events of the mission into the back of his mind now that they're here again. Such thoughts usually take longer to leave him, but he finds himself more determined to just let it go and push forward. He knows a little first aid, so he'll implement it for anyone who needs it, wearily limping his way over to the nearest slightly injured soul to say:]

You're looking a little rough. Let's see those cuts, man.

[God knows nobody around here takes care of themselves (including himself, it seems).

... Newt'll go take a nice long shower after this.]

II. Valentine's Day Chocolate Thief | (lab)

[He's gotta admit, he always loved Valentine's Day. Not just because he's a sucker for giving out candy and all that to his friends and family (and... y'know... lover, if it's one of those years), but he also likes to splurge on candies for himself. The sweet tooth this guy has is ridiculous, and so he pilfers some of those boxes of chocolates for himself the moment they hit the kitchen.

The lab feels nice and homely after being away for two months and change, he thinks. He places some of the leftover Newtrilizers into the glass case he keeps, alongside the monster tissue samples from their very first mission. You just never know when you need to revisit such things, huh? Eating chocolates between writing some meager reports about pulsefire (composition, geographical location, all of the things he'd learned upon studying it under a microscope), he switches between his Artificial Tissue Replication project and picking up his electric guitar and jamming out very loudly; Elthree had gotten him a portable amplifier, after all, so no more frankenstein-speaker needed to get a little nuts! Sorry for your ears!

Every so often he stops to eat some chocolates.

Sometimes he's lying on the floor, plucking out a tune on the guitar lying across his chest.

He likes the floor, y'know? Very cold, very nice on his achy back. He hunches too much.

If he's not playing his guitar while lying on the ground like a weirdo, he's speaking into his handheld voice recorder:]

— besides precise geometric control for the de novo reconstruction of complex structures, biomimetic tissue proxies depend on vascularized networks for sustained delivery of nutrients and oxygen as well as waste transport off-site. Therefore, sacrificial materials were incorporated into printed 3D tissue constructs that can be removed upon demand to generate perfusable tubular structures. I've employed a versatile scheme, wherein sacrificial carbohydrate glass-lattices are printed and incorporated into various cellularized polymers in a mold. Upon lattice dissolution endothelial cells were perfused to line the channels walls mimicking a vascular epithelium —

[Yuck, science.

If he's not doing that, he's pouring over medical textbooks that McCoy had given him a while ago to study. That's kinda his next big focus, anyway — being able to stitch together someone who might be bleeding out, or assess them for a crisis. Like, y'know. Seizures. Stuff like that.

Maybe someday he'll be Dr. Newton Geiszler, PhD, PhD, PhD, PhD, PhD, PhD,... MD.]

III. Do you Wanna Build a Snowman Watch a Movie? | (simulation room, etc.)

Hey.

[Someone prods your shoulder. As it turns out, it's Newton, hair askew and pajamas on as though he'd been considering going to sleep but has second-guessed this concept. Don't worry about why he's not wanting to sleep right now, okay? Focus on the big picture!]

Let's go watch a movie. You get the snacks, I've got the flicks. Whaddya' say?

[In truth, he just wants to keep himself preoccupied with some good company. It's so easy these days to get wrapped up in your own head; why not distract yourself with the fellowship of some good pals? Or hell, even mild acquaintances. Newt's never been picky, especially with the Take What You Can Get system he's employed even since his youth.]

I've got Godzilla.

... And some super fun rip-offs from home.

And the simulation room's probably free, if you wanna make it more than just a white sheet on a wall.

[He usually puts together some big sleepover for the whole ship, but... lately, he's just not interested. They're tired, he's tired, and maybe it's for the best if he cuts down on the obnoxious need to keep everyone's spirits up. After all, they probably don't like it nearly as much as he does. But a smaller watch group? Oh, he's all over that!]

IV. Culinary Arts: Mac N' Cheese Edition | (kitchen)

[It's Yelena's fault, really. She reminded him of one of his favoritest dishes to make, and he got real homesick for it (homesick in the PPDC sense, anyway). So he stands in the kitchen at yet another unnecessarily late hour, having moved from the lab to the stove, and stirs an oversized pot of macaroni that is clearly the easy-to-make boxed mac'n'cheese. Space Kraft.

He hums a diddy by Stiff Little Fingers as he works, but eventually gets distracted playing old videos on his phone. He sets the small screen down on the counter and watches with his arms folded on the surface and chin tucked into them. Mako Mori is complaining at him for filming her as she eats a doughnut, but her mouth is too full and she can't even properly lecture him. Hermann's mumbling under his breath as he draws out long equations on an oversized blackboard, deep in his thoughts. The Sasha Kaidonovsky and Chuck Hansen arm wrestling, tipsy PPDC members hooting around them as Sasha begins to slowly his arm back. Pentecost trying to look professional at the birthday cake presented to him by Choi and the others. A new years celebration, where everyone looks at ease for once.

It's super weird, really. They were always pretty detached from the rest of the PPDC. The science division, that is. But... He had also not realized how many things he'd recorded during the years he spent there. He also can't help but notice just how many people weren't alive anymore in these videos.

It puts things into perspective. He needs to get his regret fixed, so that more of these people can go on with their lives... after the war's done again.

He doesn't notice his water's boiling over a bit. Oops.

...

Don't be disturbed when he squirts a big glob of ketchup into his pasta-filled bowl afterward.]

V. 20/20 Visionary | (armory; end of Feb)

[After visiting the armory, he has a standard-issued Heckler and Koch HK45 built for himself.

It's just something he's been feeling might be of use lately, even if he's still yet to take a life. It's not supposed to be part of his job, right? To take a life. He makes things for the soldiers, but he's no soldier. Still... It's been more and more evident that he needs to take this seriously; with every mission they go on, there's a moment where he could have used this kind of protection. He can't be forcing the others to watch out for him. He's gotta be able to pull his own weight.

No more childishness, right? No more losing sight of what's important here.

In the shooting range situated in the training room, he puts on some noise cancelling earmuffs and practices shooting a target. They're not the best shots, but he's putting the work in to make them better.

Strange.

How is he shooting clearly when he's not wearing his glasses?

Now that's a terribly unusual sight.]

[NOTE: Feel free to throw a starter here or wildcard it up, if you have ideas!]

Comments

iii.

[construing]

Uh—

[ apparently her prize for being somewhat nice to newt one time is…more newt. looking, if possible, a little more frazzled than usual. not that she can really judge considering she's back to rocking her well-loved spider-woman official merch (is it official if she never signed off on rights and doesn't see a cent?) hoodie. the rest of her attire, except for her blue-soled chucks, come courtesy of venom, now forming black fishnets and a short purple skirt.

she could fight the madness. but gwen is sometimes a fast learner so, rather than argue with it, she hops on the for the ride too. all speed ahead, let's go. ]

Sure. I can make corn dogs?

[ though it sounds like a question for the sake of being polite, it is actually a statement. ]

[groupiedrifter]

[Hey, you shouldn't be nice to the guy who craves being wanted. It's giving him happiness, and happiness is a total lie! Which is to say, he looks kind of relieved that she's indirectly agreeing to hanging out. He's a needy bitch, and while he's letting most of the mission's implications fall by the wayside, he does... have a lot of hurt friends in the medbay. It sucks, and he wishes he could do more.

Maybe once he's done studying up on his medical stuff.]

Sounds great! I love corndogs.

... Okay, I love just about anything breaded or greasy. The more clogged the arteries, the better. [.......... He points at her sweater.] Are you wearing your own merch?

[construing]

[ gwen looks down at her hoodie. looks back up. ]

Yeah.

[ something to share with the class, newt? ]

1/2

[groupiedrifter]

[........]

[groupiedrifter]

I'm so fucking jealous, dude! Why does everyone else get merch?

[He gestures with his hands, as per his usual method of casual story-telling dramatics.]

It's totally unfair! The jaeger pilots have action figures and everything! And the kaiju even get shoes made after them, and they're not even heroes. Where's the K-Science plushies of my cute face? Or a rockin' T-Shirt! Like the Obama Hope shirt! Or fucking Larry the Cable Guy. Larry the Cable Guy has shirts out there!

iv

[firstroar]

[Blue had only begun getting used to the musical nature of Newt's conscious patterns before so many disruptions and distractions had taken effect - to say nothing of the fear! the fear of gnashing teeth and alien eyes.

here again, though, the musical draw pulls...and its fading troubles. there's a hesitation in Blue before he all but forces himself to push past his apprehension and seek Newt out, manifesting as that pale specter he's known for.

he's relieved to find Newt not twitching on the floor, but--]

Hello Newt. [hand up in greeting, as practiced.] Please check the stove.

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt moves from thoughtfully solemn to blinking up to grinning widely in relief in 0.5 seconds, as is one of his god-given gifts; clearly seeing Blue up and around and not stuck in a hospital bed like half of their crew is something to get real excited about!]

Hey, dude! What-

[The stove? He looks over to the bubbling nightmare and yelps, moving to try and turn down the heat (and maybe burning himself just a little in the process). He wags his finger and wipes it off on his shirt, looking properly sheepish.]

Totally meant to do that. 100%.

[... His thoughts say he absolutely did not mean to do that.]

[firstroar]

[to be fair, he is in that hospital bed...corporeally. it's 50% freedom, 50% partying with that 50% of the crew in bed-ridden hell.

in any case, he witnesses the small spectacle that is Newt hastily trying to wrangle yet another culinary...happening. Blue won't say catastrophe, because he really couldn't say (and burnt cookies don't seem to be that catastrophic in the grand scheme of food crimes as far as he knows, so Newt's still innocent there, too. mostly).

he smiles mildly, brow pinched a bit.]

Will it still be safe to eat?

[groupiedrifter]

[Dammit, Blue, you poor little bedridden champ. Newt's just got a burn on his leg, which hurts and itches but whatever. Behold as he almost burned his finger off! See, he's got a habit of collecting burns; just ask random small spots on him where he's accidentally gotten chemical burns or what have you.

Stirring the mac n' cheese feverishly, he says:]

Of course! You have to be really bad at cooking to ruin pasta. Literally just boil it in water until it's squishy; that's not rocket science, right? Even ten-year-old me knew how to make it. [He holds up a spoonful of sproingy pasta.] You want some?

wildcard??

[spoilers]

[ The trouble with avoiding the trauma is it eventually catches up with you. No one can run forever. She should know. And Scorpion's Bend had given them all a lot to think about.

She doesn't know why Newt. She doesn't know why she cares. But she does. It matters to her what he thinks of himself and his place here.

And it breaks her hearts that he wants everyone to be okay, because that isn't how the Universe works.

Neither of them ever seem to sleep (she doesn't ask anymore; she has her demons and she assumes he has his) and it's easy enough to find him in the very late hours of night. Or the very early hours of morning, depending on one's perspective.

She knocks lightly on the inside of the wall as she enters the room, not wanting to startle him in her silence. It's a bad habit, that, sneaking up on people. ]

Hello, Sweetie. Busy?

I thought we might have some tea. Or...something.

[ Very subtle. ]

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt's either been pent up in his room or restlessly wandering the lab in his efforts to continue the usual order of business — especially this medical learning business! — and he's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn't see her 'til she's talking. Judging by the way he hops up to his feet, he seems touch manic.]

Oh! Hey, no — no, I'm not busy. I mean, can anyone really be busy during our downtimes? [Okay, they can, and he's proof of keeping busy (sometimes desperately so). But.] I've started liking tea a lot lately. I'd say don't tell Hermann, but he already knows. So.

[Mm. Hermann. His friend. Currently his... very distant, very unsure acquaintance now. Just don't think about it.]

Tea sounds good, is what I'm trying to say.

[spoilers]

[ He's always, well, energetic, but River isn't actually as terrible at reading people as she'd let them believe. And she has come here to check on him, in a sense.

Probably just lack of sleep...

Smiling, she makes a gesture for him to join her. ] Come along then.

[ She glances past him into the room. ]

You're as bad as the Doctor, you know. [ That may be an exaggeration. Also both insult and compliment, depending on her mood. ] You aren't already working on another project, are you?

[groupiedrifter]

[He wrinkles his nose at that.]

... I've got a few projects I'm working on, maybe.

[That's a certifiable 'yes!'. But also, that's sort of something he always needs to do; the more projects he has, the more successful breakthroughs or inventions he has, the more people value his existence and put up with the other parts of him that aren't as helpful. It's a totally healthy way of looking at stuff.

Moving toward her, he says:]

But my biggest thing right now is getting into medical! I'm a doctor, but not an MD, so I figured I'd work on getting an extra two letters tacked on to my credentials.

II

[coordination]

What the hell—

[ Yzak happens upon Newton when he's on the floor with the guitar - the stress still present just beneath the surface briefly spiking in him before he realizes, oh, he's just jamming. Nothing - nothing else bad happened to him. (thank god)

He no longer has a full bandage over the left side of his face, only a few steri strips as his wounds still heal (and scar).

And the general atmosphere on the station has been such a drag that the fact that today's date sucks for entirely other reasons for Yzak allows him to be a little more subdued without seeming too out of place as he listens to whatever tune is being played.

He casts a glance to the collection of chocolates that Newton's pilfered. ]

So that's where most of those went.

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt jackknifes himself upright the moment he realizes who's talking. Everything had been so shitty back at the planet, and afterward wasn't much better — and god, it's nice to see people who needed to be checked out before they could be released back into the wild. Newt kinda just hid his injury and handled it himself; not everyone else is so lucky.]

Yzak! Hey, man. How're you doing?

[He hops up to his feet, relief in his expression as he wanders over with the guitar still strapped around his front.]

I was worried. Everyone needs to stop getting hurt on these missions, man. My stress levels are up to here.

[He holds his hand up really high over his head.]

[coordination]

I'm fine.

[ He says that back to him almost too quickly, but it doesn't sound dismissive. He's frowning, though, because why he answered so fast is because what he witnessed was a lot more than just getting hurt. His state is nothing in comparison. ] This is nearly healed, anyway. I barely feel it at this point. [ It happened to him after the illusion shattered - he was lucky to make it out of that Bouldersnake's scuffle with nothing extra, or worse. Just a few scratches and bruises. ]

But ... [ A huff. ] that's a sentiment I can sure as shit agree with.

[ He gives Newton a curious once over. ]

Are you faring okay, after that?

[groupiedrifter]

[He frowns at that I'm fine, but he admits he could be projecting. It's easy for any of them to just slap an 'I'm fine' on their asses and dodge concerned questions. But Yzak's also pretty responsible, way more so than him, so he should give him more benefit of doubt.

But oh, how the turn tables. Is he faring okay? He looks thoughtful for a moment. Is he okay? Some part of him wants to say no, but there's a resounding yes in his head, so firm and sure that it must be true. He walks in a small circle as he considers this, looking at his guitar where it hangs on him.]

I'm doing pretty good, actually! I mean, other than worrying about you guys a lot. It's not like it's the first time I was in an active combat zone or whatever people wanna call it.

I just wish I could've done more.

But I also feel like I think that after every mission.

I

[unbreachable]

I'm okay, really.

[ Raleigh is insistent despite the lacerations that color his normally pale forearms and torso. A Bouldersnake may have gotten a few lucky hits in, but once Daisy equipped him with a blade, things got a lot easier. ]

It's just surface level stuff.

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt scoffs, waves a hand dismissively. There's certainly an aura of forced casualness following yet another precarious mission. Many of them are hurt and hungry and so tired, and despite his attempts to make this any ol' aftermath, his hands are shaking as he moves to open the medical kit.]

Let me at least sanitize those before they get infections. Who knows what kind of weird bacteria exist on that planet, huh? Last thing I need is you or anyone else getting some funky parasite or disease. So — where did I put those antiseptic wipes?

[His voice doesn't waver, but everything else about him does.

He's not that hurt, really. A burn on the leg, hidden from view. A few scrapes from crashing around Scorpion's Bend.

But he's fine. He's way fine compared to the rest of them.]

[unbreachable]

...Good point.

[ The whole 'alien bacteria' idea has him relenting immediately, pulling a little face as he looks down at a cut on his arm. ]

You okay, man? You seem pretty shaken. [ They all are, but Newt seems pretty upset. ]

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt glances up at Raleigh sparingly, pursing his lips as he begins to dab antiseptic onto a swab and gently start removing the debris and blood. His hands are a bit steadier now as he works, because a scientist needs steady hands to do his job.]

Yeah, well. When a bunch of your friends are laid up in an infirmary, you're not exactly okay. [He's worried for everyone in general. But also, that was a shitshow. Just like Braccia. After a moment, he sighs.] Just a lot of adrenaline still. It's hard to get out of the flight or fight when you leave.

IV

[laviny]

[Yelena is a little late getting back to the station after the mission. She got temporarily swept back home for some new experiences, and now she’s back and not in the mood to sleep.

She wanders into the kitchen, late and sees Newt at the stove. Her first inclination is to just wave at him and look for booze, but she pauses when she gets a whiff of what’s in the pot. ]

Newton Geiszler, is that mac and cheese?

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt leans back and points a wooden spoon at Yelena.]

Of course it's mac and cheese. What better food to make late in the night than a giant pot of mac and cheese? [He's in the middle straining it and stirring in some butter, excuse him.] It's the perfect comfort food. And easy to make!

[Come in, Yelena, come enjoy some cheap, delicious pasta with him.]

[laviny]

Well, you are very right about that.

[About it being the perfect comfort food, that is. And honestly the rest of it, too, but especially that part. She heads on over to join him.]

We could all use some comfort after that mission.

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt blows out a dramatic breath, but he feels it's very appropriate.]

Yeaaah, that was a nightmare back there. Braccia was pretty bad, too, but that firefight at the end was a hundred times scarier with that insta-death fire.

[He doesn't ask if she wants any, just spoons some real hot n' cheesy pasta into a bowl before he slides it over to her.]

I think we got lucky, though; still no recorded causalities.

[... He thinks. Honestly, the people who vanish freak him out a lot.

Who knows if they actually vanished, or if they died and nobody knew?

That's terrifying stuff.]