Synth Recharge Challenge

for the @synth-recharge-challenge prompt that I missed in week… 4, I think? ‘why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

••••

The baby is ten days old, and Mattie, despite the ordeal, is beginning to regain her strength. Visitors are allowed to stay a little longer, speak a little louder. She no longer feels like a china doll. She’s still tired most of the time, but she’s aware enough to be annoyed about it now, so that’s definitely a plus.

She surfaces from an unplanned nap to find that Sophie and Toby have left her bedside, leaving just her dad there, holding the baby close to his chest. He flits his gaze away from Mattie as her eyes focus, as if trying to pretend he hadn’t been watching her sleep.

“Hi, Grandad,” she murmurs.

“Hi, love,” he says.

“Is she okay?”

He shifts Amelia slightly, so Mattie can see her face. She’s asleep, eyes fluttered shut in that gentle bliss peculiar to the young, who know no better. “She’s fine. No sign of hair yet, so there’s still hope.”

“Hope for what?”

“Ginger. Skips a generation, doesn’t it. That’s why you three missed out.”

“Escaped, you mean.”

“You just wait. Little Mimi’s going to wear the Hawkins flames like a crown, aren’t you sweetheart?”

Amelia makes no reply, of course. Joe smiles soppily down at her, the picture of grandfatherly pride. “That’s right. You stay asleep. Dream of carrots.”

Mattie watches them for a moment, her father and her daughter, and tries to see a completeness in the image, tries to ignore the obvious missing piece.

“I wish Mum could see her,” she whispers.

Her father looks up, as if surprised for a second. Then his face clears, crinkles back into a smile. “Well, there’s always tomorrow.”

“What?”

“She had her appeal hearing last week, Mats. As of tomorrow, your mother’s a free woman.”

Mattie’s eyes open wide, her heart skips a beat. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Last week?” Mattie echoes, dazed a little. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He chuckles. “You’ve been pretty out of it. Sophie actually did tell you once, and you replied something about dolphins. Got quite stressed about it. Fred put us under orders not to get you too excited after that, so don’t get me in trouble now. Deep breaths.”

A warm feeling spreads through Mattie. She feels a sensation in her face that’s suspiciously similar to the gathering of tears. “I can’t believe it. What changed their minds?”

Joe shrugs. “Oh, you know. This and that. The pressure groups really stepped it up. The Mia Foundation held a bake sale…”

Mattie rolls her eyes. “Stop it. I can’t reach to hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dare, not while I’ve got precious cargo,” he says smugly, looking pointedly down at his granddaughter. “But alright. It was Niska, of course. She called in a few favours. Said the time was right.”

Mattie grimaces inwardly. She doesn’t want to think about what Niska might mean by that, why “the time” for her mother’s release should coincide so closely with the birth of Niska’s heralded messiah.

No, she’ll let that slide for now.

“Anything else I’ve missed?” she asks wryly. “Toby’s not booked that New Zealand ticket without telling me, has he?”

“No, thank God. Now that Renie’s back in the picture he seems to have forgotten all about their golden ratio.”

“Good.”

Joe looks fondly at her. “You’re looking much better, you know. Practice a nice surprised face for when we get the all-clear to tell you about your mum.”

Mum. The thought is so wonderful. Knowing that she’ll see her tomorrow feels like a vanishing dream, some mythical oasis that will be whisked away from her as soon as she comes within reach.

Amelia blinks awake and begins to loudly protest her hunger strike. Joe hands the baby over, and as she settles down to feed Mattie can’t help but feel that the worst is behind her now, that after the trauma of the early delivery and the worry about the unprecedented bloodchange and the constant fear that everything might fall apart between newborn hybrid heartbeats…. Everything is starting to look a little brighter.

“Who knows,” says Joe quietly, “Maybe a bit of ginge will come through overnight, specially for Grandma.”

Walking in Parallel

In a parallel world, Leo and Mattie meet by chance – or is it?

Sleep eat patrol repeat, sleep eat patrol repeat.

Sleep eat patrol repeat, sleep eat patrol repeat.

That was the regular rhythm of his steps as he patrolled the streets, the dusk clouds blurring the once-bright sky. How long had he been doing this? How long had he kept law and order, kept the city’s citizens safe in their secure homes in their nondescript existence? The sound of his feet treading the same path dulled his mind and lulled his senses.

But tonight was different. Around curfew, sometimes he spotted teenaged lovers disappearing down lanes, hot hands sweetly curled together with longing. To these, he gave a cursory nod, and they fled, frightened by the badge he wore, the badge that gave him authority.

But tonight. Tonight was different. Rounding a corner on the deserted street, he saw the usual view of houses locked up, windows shut tight. Then suddenly he collided with another walking form.

>>> Continue reading on AO3

…

Written for Synth Recharge Challenge > Week 6 > Fanwork prompt ‘Patrol’

What didn’t I want to happen in ‘Humans’ s3, apart from certain characters’ ends? There are plenty of other events – apart from Mia in THAT season finale, or Flash’s fate; or Karen’s – that I didn’t want to occur.

A big one was kinships (Leo x Max) and couples (Nistrid) being split up, yet again.

Niska and Astrid was the biggest, from my perspective. I get why, plot-wise. Niska has to go off on her own, a solo mission, motivated in part by wanting to avenge Astrid’s injuries. It’s her Quest™ that proves her mettle, according to the Synth Who Sleeps.

But really? Did it need to happen like that?

Firstly, Astrid’s just as much of a BAMF as Niska. I wanted them to be surviving together in this synth-hating society. I wanted them to be blazing a trail as a couple, despite the many obstacles.

Secondly, Astrid’s influence on Niska has been to soften her: to humanise her in a way that her creator didn’t, or all those men who mistreated her didn’t. Niska’s a product of her environment – just like we all are – and Astrid brings love, trust and happiness to Niska’s world.

Lastly, we saw a number of couples either fail or thrive in s3. Mia and whatshisface; Leo and Mattie; (dare I mention the angelic pair that was Max and Flash?) Why weren’t Nistrid given their chance to properly re-unite?

So, that’s it. The event I didn’t want to happen. I didn’t want Nistrid to be forced apart. I wanted more love, more trust, more honesty. More Nistridness.

If they come back together – and stay together – in s4, I want more of them as a duo: female forces of nature, fighting side by side. Then going home together, to their own loving stronghold. Even if Niska’s now the synth equivalent of Siri: I want it to work out for them.

some nistrid fluff for the @synth-recharge-challenge prompt ‘flight’ 😌

•••••

After what felt like an age, they were finally lifting off: the trundle of the aeroplane’s wheels came to an end and they left the runway in a sudden upward swoop that made Astrid’s stomach flip over. She gave a little gasp of delight - she loved the sensation of flying, no matter her destination. The very idea of taking to the sky appealed to some deep need in her, the joy of adventure, the feeling of being cut loose from it all. And this flight was even more special than most: it was the first time she was sharing it with Niska, having insisted that her love take a well-earned holiday after everything she’d been through with V.

Astrid took one long look out of the window, watching the city below them shrink until it looked more like a child’s toy set. Then she turned to her other side to share an excited grin with Niska.

Niska, however, could not see the offered smile. She was sitting very upright in her seat - that in itself was not so unusual, especially now that she didn’t need to hide the fact that she was a synth in public. More troubling than her rigid posture was the fact that her eyes were tight shut, as if she had been shut down.

“Niska, are you alright?”

No answer. It really did seem like she’d been powered down - but by whom? The flight attendant, in his last trip down the centre aisle, hadn’t said anything about synths needing to power down during takeoff. Tentatively Astrid reached for Niska’s chin, but a hand flew up and caught hold of her fingers before she could get there.

“No!” Niska barked.

Astrid tried to pull her hand away, appalled that Niska might misconstrue her intentions. “I’m sorry!” she said hastily, “I thought someone had switched you off. I’m sorry. You can let go, it’s only me.”

Niska did not loosen her vice-like grip on Astrid’s hand - neither did she open her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Niska? Are the flight instruments interfering with your head?”

Astrid had read somewhere that it could happen - for the same reason they used to make you turn off mobile phones during flights, back before most airlines had switched to synthetic pilots, and had to change their systems to ones that wouldn’t conflict with the synths’ programming. Niska was an older model than most, though. Maybe she needed some kind of upgrade?

“I’m fully operational,” said Niska, in a strange, stilted kind of way. It was the kind of phrase unconscious synths had used before Proliferation. Astrid’s mind flooded with terrible possibilities. Surely, surely the plane’s computers couldn’t affect Niska’s root code…

“Niska, you’re scaring me,” Astrid said frankly. And you’re hurting my hand, she added silently, but she would rather Niska hold her hand than not, if something was wrong, so she decided not to complain about that yet.

Niska’s eyes snapped open. “There’s nothing to worry about,” she said, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Before Astrid could ask again, she added, “I don’t know what’s wrong. I am fully operational. By which I mean I can’t find a glitch in any of my systems, there’s no error report, but something is definitely… not right.”

Astrid managed to twist her hand so that she was holding Niska’s as well, rather than the one-way arrangement that had served to halt her movement. “Niska,” she said, gently, “Do you think…. is it possible you just don’t like flying very much?”

Niska turned to look at her. “What?”

“It’s pretty normal,” said Astrid, “Lots of people get a bit nervous during flights…”

“I’m not afraid,” Niska said quickly, turning away again. “That would be so illogical. Statistically speaking, air travel is one of the safest modes of transport. Our pilot has synthetic reflexes, and even in the event of a malfunction I or any other synth passenger could take over and land adequately enough to ensure our survival…”

Astrid raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything about logic, did I? Some people just don’t like flying. It doesn’t agree with them.”

“Well, I’m not ‘some people’,” said Niska loftily. “Synths don’t have irrational fears. We’re too advanced.”

“Okay,” said Astrid, “Then let go of my hand.”

Niska was silent for a moment.

“I don’t want to,” she said.

Astrid resisted the urge to giggle. She bit hard on her lip. “Too advanced,” she repeated. “If you say so.”

Niska learned very slightly forward and turned her head so that she could see out of Astrid’s window. Astrid turned to look as well - the clouds looked so impressive from this height, so white and serene and beautiful…

She felt a jerk on her hand as Niska snapped back into her former position.

“Fine,” Niska said through a clenched jaw, her eyes firmly closed again. “Fine, maybe I am… maybe flying doesn’t agree with me, are you happy now?”

“No,” said Astrid, honestly. “I’m not happy.” She reconsidered. “Well, maybe a little happy that you admitted it. And maybe a little satisfied that I was right. And maybe a little thrilled that there’s a situation in which I get to be the brave one…”

“I get it,” said Niska icily.

“My little rainbow,” said Astrid fondly. “It will be worth it once we get there.”

Later, stretched out next to Astrid on a beach of perfect white sand, Niska had to grudgingly agree that the destination had been worth the unpleasantness of the journey. Not that she would admit that out loud, of course… but the beauty of her surroundings and her companion had lifted her mood considerably. She would never take solid ground for granted again, she vowed.

Now that she had a clearer head, and had been reminded of certain physical sensations that she did enjoy, Niska could perhaps accept that it would make sense for there to also be physical sensations she did not enjoy, and that flying was, for whatever unfounded reason, one of them.

It was a pity that something Astrid so clearly relished should fall so heavily on the opposite side of Niska’s preferential register, but it wasn’t as if it was their only difference. They had overcome all the others. Astrid had stuck by her through the entire ordeal with V, through dark periods of that struggle when even Niska’s own family had feared her enough to stay back. Astrid had never wavered. Not even when Niska had wanted her to, had begged her to keep a safer distance. Astrid had stayed.

“You were wrong about one thing,” Niska said quietly, twining her fingers through Astrid’s hair where it lay on the sand between them.

Astrid turned her head to look at her, frowning a little. “Hmm?”

“You’re always the brave one,” Niska said. “Not just when we’re flying.”

“If only that were true, I’d worry so much less,” said Astrid, smiling wistfully.

“You worry, but you stay. That’s what makes it brave.”

She could see that Astrid wasn’t convinced, but Niska didn’t need her agreement to make it any more true. She reached for Astrid’s hand and closed her eyes, this time in contentment rather than fear. Some things were worth the fear of falling, she thought. Some things were more solid than the ground itself.

Fanwork prompt ‘Flight’

@synth-recharge-challenge

…

Mega Reality

‘Stop stop stop stop STOOOPPP!’

But Sophie couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. The sensation was singularly amazing – the swoops and dancing and the feeling of the high-up misted atmosphere with glints of sunbeam lighting on her wings.

And that view…

The glorious spreading of green-brown sunlit meadows as they flew in the sky over the South Downs, a miniature tractor slow-sailing its way over the fields. The lanes streamed like semi-coiled rivulets of water between the blocks of green.

The rush of air. A gasp of delight. The freedom, the sensation. It felt so real. Hyper-real, rendered in HD. She existed as a bird in the sky.

…

Far too long before Sophie wanted to stop, the orange-eyed assistant removed her webbed helmet. ‘You have played Level 1: Mega Reality – Nature Edition. How was your experience?’ they said smoothly; programmed shop-spiel.

‘It was amaaaazing!’ pronounced Sophie. She turned to her friend, their helmet now removed: briefly checked that their contact lenses were still intact. ‘What did you think, Sam?’

‘It was a simulation,’ Sam started. ‘The graphic rendition was adequate.’

‘Sam…’ warned Sophie, although suspicion was beyond the orange-eyes’ core programming.

Sam remembered he was meant to be an eight-year-old child. ‘I mean… it was epic! Can we do it again? Have you got any other versions?’

The assistant nodded mildly and took them over to the display: Sophie all excited anticipation; Sam trying to cover his disinterest.

The many editions of the Mega Reality game stacked the shelves over twelve feet high: a wall of beyond-human experience. ‘Reality is over. Mega Reality makes it more than real!’ unscrolled endlessly on the electronic sign above the racks.

for last week’s prompt, cause I forgot that I’d even started writing it!

warning: in this fic, Mia’s death hasn’t been undone, so please skip it if you prefer the usual Everybody Lives AU

@synth-recharge-challenge

••••

Somehow, in the aftermath, it had ended up in Leo’s hands - a necklace, with an elegant, golden pendant. Mia’s.

For a long time he’d barely been able to look at it. Not because it reminded him of her: quite the opposite. He had no idea where Mia had got it, from whom, or why, or even when. Had she been given it during the period of time they’d been apart, when he’d left their haven with Max and Hester? Or was it a memento from the year he’d missed, languishing in a coma while his siblings tried to hold their world together?

Either way, it was from a part of Mia’s life that he knew nothing about. Worse - a part he would never know anything about. A reminder, dense and tangible and undeniable, that he had not known her as fully as she’d always known him.

So he had pushed it to the back of a drawer and tried to forget about it.

They kept Mia’s memory alive by other means. There were many late nights spent swapping stories, beseeching Max to project his memories onto a screen, now that Leo couldn’t do it himself. They’d watch her together in reverent silence, the crystal clear image of her lighting up the room, so vivid and inviting that Leo could almost forget he was watching the past.

There were quiet moments with Niska, when the pressure on her was particularly hard to bear - both of them wishing wordlessly that they had inherited more of Mia’s gentle wisdom, Leo’s forehead pressed against Niska’s in an attempt to lend her what strength he could offer.

Even when he was alone, he found himself looking up at the moon, as Mia had done so often, pretending that she was somewhere else, looking up at the same patch of sky. In this way, she lived still. Through them, through their memories and their love. Not through mysterious trinkets Leo had never even seen before her death.

He wanted to live in a way that would make Mia proud, and that meant facing up to things, mending things where he could. The rift between himself and Mattie was of his own making, he knew - and over the months following Basswood, Leo worked hard to show how sincerely he regretted what had passed between them, how little he expected from her, yet how much he was willing to give. By the time little Amelia was six months old, their relationship was stronger, surer than it had ever been. Even so, the prospect of moving in together was something that filled Leo with anxious dread.

Sophie and Toby presented themselves at the door of the house he had been sharing with Max, Gordon and Stanley, the Saturday before the move.

“We’re here to help,” Sophie proclaimed.

“Not because you have that much stuff,” Toby clarified, “But because Mattie doesn’t want you chickening out.”

“Me, chicken out?” Leo echoed, a weak attempt at mock disbelief. “Yeah, that’s…. fair.”

This earned him a playful shove from Toby as the two of them came past. Sophie stopped briefly to give Stanley a bear hug on her way to Leo’s room, but once she’d reported for duty she was a force to be reckoned with.

“It’s been a year since we last moved house, so this is overdue for her,” Toby quipped, making for the stairs with his first box. “Sophie lives to pack.”

It was true, apparently, although mercifully Toby had been correct in assuming that Leo didn’t have many belongings to his name. He had never been a hoarder - years of living on the run had made him almost ascetic in that sense. It was foreign to him, this static life, where he didn’t have to buy a new burner phone every third week or try parked cars for faulty locks. He was glad Mattie would be furnishing their new flat with her own things, because his own barely filled this one room.

He emptied the chest of drawers into the last box, not paying much attention to what the items were. He wouldn’t even have noticed that the necklace had been left behind, had Sophie not discovered it right at the back of the drawer, while conducting her “final check” of the room.

She held it up, and the pendant spun lazily on its chain as she looked at it. “You left this,” she said. “It’s pretty.”

Leo stopped in his tracks, rested the box he was holding on a nearby empty shelf. “Yes,” he said, feeling a slight tug on his heart at the sight of it.

“Is it for Mattie?”

He considered the question. Could he give it to Mattie? He wasn’t the best at giving presents, and he had precious little else to offer her in the way of family heirlooms. But he wasn’t sure he could bear to see her wearing it every day, not when it was a symbol of everything he’d lost.

“No,” he said eventually, “It’s… it belonged to Mia.”

“Oh,” said Sophie, softly. She looked away from the necklace quickly, as though averting her gaze from something holy. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to leave it behind. It was right at the back of the drawer, nearly falling down the gap.”

Leo sat down on the bed, so that Sophie towered over him. He held out his hand, and she gently deposited the pendant there, letting the chain pour itself into his open palm. “Thank you,” he said. He gave a small, dry chuckle. “To tell you the truth, I don’t… This is the first time I’ve looked at it since the walk.”

Sophie nodded, though he didn’t see how she could possibly understand.

“I don’t know where she got it,” he explained. “Someone gave it to her, I think, since it’s old and she wouldn’t have had the money to buy an antique. I don’t know, maybe someone will come asking for it it one day. But until then, I just… keep it out of sight.”

When he looked up, he saw tears in Sophie’s eyes, and immediately felt bad for upsetting her. He’d forgotten, again, how close Mia had been to the family - that in Sophie’s eyes, he wasn’t Mattie’s boyfriend, first and foremost - he was Mia’s son.

“Sophie, could you do me a favour?” Leo asked. “Would you look after it for me? The way I am with things, I tend to push them away where I don’t have to look. I think you’d take better care of it. For Mia.”

Her eyes grew wider, the tears still pooling there, unshed. “Are you sure?” Sophie asked.

“Of course.”

He moved to give it to her, and she held out a hand.

“You could even wear it, if you wanted to.”

“It wouldn’t make you sad?”

He thought about it. Giving the necklace to Mattie would have been a solemn event, a memorial service all of its own. It would have reintroduced a weight between them, just when things had been getting easier and lighter. Somehow, giving it to Sophie didn’t seem the same - giving it to Sophie felt like something Mia might have done herself, lending it to the little girl just for the joy of seeing her parade it round.

“No, I think I’d like to see you wear it,” he said. “You don’t have to keep it on all the time, if you don’t want to, but I think… I think it’s meant to be worn.”

She smiled shyly at him, and he undid the clasp.

“Thank you,” she said, once he’d fastened it at the back. She turned back towards him and they shared a moment of quiet reflection, both thinking of Mia.

Then Sophie broke the silence abruptly. “The little ring in the box, though, that’s going to be for Mattie, right?”

I really enjoyed Agnes and thought she deserved much better, and I adored Stanley of course…. but I’m going to have to go for Anatole 😂

I loved how, even though he was suspicious from the very start, he was also so apparently nice that it was difficult to really dislike him until it became more clear what he was up to. He had some funny lines and was arguably a good friend to Max before things started getting…. not so good. And even when his true intentions were revealed… he was just… it’s not really comparable to real life extremism, IMO. Here is where I have to hop off the “Humans is an allegory” bus and say: no, Anatole is forgivable in ways the terrorists he’s modelled on can never be. By very definition his consciousness never developed past one year.

So there’s my apologism 😂

To use a phrase coined by Sonya Cassidy about Hester, Anatole is a “dear unwired one”. I kinda wish Max had managed to turn him aside and that he could’ve teamed up with them for the fight in the finale. No, now I’m thinking about how his ultimate redemption could have come in the form of saving Mia and taking her place as a hero’s sacrifice….. noooo, we won’t go down that route.

Also Anatole gave me too much fun with his name. From fun ship portmanteaux like “Stanatole” to the now-legendary “What’s the planatole”, it was a joy to have his name with us.

Week 4 (2-8 August)

Apologies for the late arrival of this list… insert excuse about rehearsals… You could come and see it if you’re anywhere near Milton Keynes UK  

All the recharge points I know about have been added to your totals, the updated ‘scores’ will be visible tomorrow, I hope. Aaanyway, without further ado:

META: Which new character in series 3 was your favourite?

FANWORK: ‘Keepsake’ // ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

INTERACTION: Join the Humans message board and introduce yourself! (The board was setup by the lovely @epicfics, show it some love, guys)

@synth-recharge-challenge

Bring me to life

Missing Nistrid scene for s2. With Astrid in Berlin, Niska experiences something completely new.

…

It was a Sunday evening in late summer, the sunlight diffused just above the city horizon. The two of them were sat in a Berlin park, hands-clasped, mesmerised by the cyclical turns of a Ferris wheel. They inclined naturally, symmetrically: one towards the other on their bench. A couple.

It was the first time Niska had held hands with another conscious being, and felt life. Happiness. A flourishing of feeling. A soft tumble towards love.

It was also their first truly honest conversation. Normally, she was cryptic: open but guarded; at ease but on the defensive.

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ Astrid’s expression had begun as a smile, then a grin, then a laugh – a crescendo of delighted emotions that Niska was learning to read. There was a degree of disbelief in her tone, that Niska more than matched with her sarcastic reply:

‘They didn’t have things like this.’ She cast a challenging stare towards the top of the Ferris wheel. ‘Not where I lived.’

‘Did you live on the moon?’ Astrid was teasing, but slightly shocked.

‘Yes.’ A gentle riposte. (Yes. Then you appeared, a shooting star in my dark universe.)

In the momentary silence that followed, Astrid’s amusement perceived in profile, Niska saw a leaf that was still green with life, but falling from its tree. It swirled through the air, adrift, and landed before her on the concrete ground.

‘So.’ Astrid turned from watching the steady cycle of the wheel. The touch of her hand was human but reassuring.

‘So?’ Niska disregarded the leaf, vivid green on the dull concrete. (She had absorbed that warning flag, that stark reality: ‘You don’t belong in this world. You are different. You are other.’)

‘So… do you want to try it? It goes quite high, but we can see most of the city.’

‘Yes. I’d like to.’ Niska hesitated for only a millisecond; nothing a human would discern. ‘I’d like to very much.’

It was another turn of the wheel before the machinery slowed and stopped. They climbed aboard and began an ascent, Niska logging each moment, the sights the sounds the entire experience. All of it. She wanted to breathe the air.

They swayed lightly in their carriage, tipping towards the top: a superior vantage point on the human world. The sun lit the roofs of the tallest buildings before them and the multicolour sky was a wash of blue-grey-orange-purple-pink.

As the breeze blew, Astrid shivered, came closer and cuddled in.

No contest: Stanley. Or, as Toby likes to call him, ‘UNIT!’

Why?

- For the laughs:

As Laura’s Commission-dictated bodyguard, he has some of the best, innocently humorous lines – the ‘I don’t get human irony’ type of response that was true of Odi and Anita in s1. Plus, his main interactions are with Laura and her sense of humour is Sarcasm Central!

Take his concern about Laura’s physical health after her post-date smooch… he’s always making the type of emotionally-innocent gaffes that cause him to be such a delight.

The first scene he appears sets up the instant humour of the situation: he’s on Laura’s doorstep introducing himself, and she shuts the door on him mid-sentence. When she re-opens the door, he’s just hanging there like a video on pause, and simply completes the sentence :’D

- For the skills:

He’s a complete cupcake (in the end, anyway), but with extra-amazing fighting skills. Watch the scene where he defends Laura from several attackers. Mid-fight, holding two assailants at arm’s length, he turns his head smoothly and repeats with total calm: ‘Go inside, Laura.’

Which all makes the episodes where he – goes to the Dark Side, as I like to call it – all the more sad/shocking. Plus the fact that the series’ writers have been hoodwinking us as the audience, and Stanley’s been dissembling to the Hawkins, makes it even worse.

Let’s just skip over Stanatole, shall we? Stan loses his way, BUT as he’s now lived with humans and seen their goodness and complexity, he’s begun to doubt…

- For the relationships:

Stan’s interactions with Sam are all the sweeter because of their immense physical difference. But in terms of his emotional development, Stanley is the ‘younger brother’ figure. I could see echoes of the Leo x Maxie brotherly relationship, in the protectiveness and care Sam x Stan are starting to have for one another.

So, Stanley, Unit… whatever you want to call him, is my favourite.

I’m a Stan stan.