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dutchforstrangers · 3 years

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Digimon Astrology Journey - 'Head first' buddies: Koushiro & Taichi

So I’m back with some headcanon Digimon Astrology and I’m diving into it head first! Something fierce leader Taichi would do, however he needs his loyal ‘brains’ there with him and that will be Koushiro. Where Koushiro is a thinker, analytical in every way due to his pragmatic Sun and Rising, Taichi is one of action due to his Moon and Rising (and Mars!). However don’t underestimate them, they have some serious airy energy going on, making them vocal, diplomatic and charming in their own individual ways.

These boys are so different, yet work together very well. They just have a hard time… talking to others or each other about… the complicated, personal specific stuff feelings. Must be the stars, right?

It’s been a while, but you can read back all things Astrology (basics, background, etc.) in previous posts Part 1 | Part 2. Furthermore, exploring Taichi and Koushiro’s birth charts is part 2 of this series, you can read the exploration of Sora and Mimi’s birth charts here.

The important stuff

Koushiro Izumi, August 26th 1989 (around 05.30AM)

Sun: Virgo (earth-mutable)

Moon: Gemini (air-mutable)

Rising: Virgo (earth-mutable)

Taichi Yagami, October 15th 1988 (around 5PM)

Sun: Libra (air-cardinal)

Moon: Sagittarius (fire-mutable)

Rising: Aries (fire-cardinal)

Warning: IT’S VERY LONG! I’m sorry in advance…

A little disclaimer before I start rambling: These are headcanons! Their given birthdays are not canon at all, but just me having fun combining my love for Digimon and my love for Astrology. It can be highly self-indulging, but maybe you can find some truth in it as well! If you want to know how I calculated their birthdays, read my previous posts as stated above. I use these birthdays in my own fanfiction, but feel free to use them as well. Some credit in the form of a reblog, like or mention of these posts and/or my Tumblr would be highly appreciated! See something you want to discuss? I love to learn and talk! As said these are my headcanons, but I’m not afraid to change my mind or to defend what I have if necessary.

Everything charts and the why under read more!

Koushiro Izumi - August 26th 1989

Assigning the Virgo Sun to this boy was the first thing I did, because I myself am convinced Koushiro Izumi is the embodiment of a true Virgo. I could be wrong, as I did not study Astrology and am a simple hobbyist, but everything I read about Virgos always lead me back to this particular maroon headed anime dork for years now. Hence why I gave him the same Sun and Rising sign, because Koushiro is who he is. Anyway, let me try to convince you.

For starters, here are a few (or actually all the) things about Virgos in general, for both Sun and Rising. Virgos are bright, practical, pragmatic, orderly, respectful, critical, perfectionists, security driven, communicative, tidy, nervous, detail-oriented… Can I stop already? Okay, now pick one of the above and tell me it’s not fitting for Koushiro.

…

Hm, I know. It’s hard, isn’t it?

Maybe his tidiness is questionable depending on the situation… But the guy is orderly and the chaos only exists in times when his perfectionism takes over. The nervous part from the Virgo can be seen in shyness or even being obedient. All of that makes Koushiro a dedicated friend who would do anything in his power to make everything work for you. Danger is that he will efface himself, thinking he’s not worth as much as the others. This is what happens in Adventure episode 28 right after he solved the card riddle. On the top left corner either the Agumon or the Gomamon is right, but he doesn’t know which one and he apologizes, which is not necessary at all, with: “I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations,” which is such a Virgo Sun/Rising thing to say..! The Virgo dynamic is alive and kicking.

It’s even more alive and kicking in his other strong Virgo placements: Mercury and Mars. With Mercury in Virgo, Mercury is in it’s sign of its rulership, making it a strong placement. And precisely that planet is the planet of thoughts and knowledge! The combination of his Sun, Rising, Mercury and Mars in Virgo makes him be, engage, think and act like a true Virgo. Detail-oriented, thoughtful, respectful, orderly, practical and curious!

The hardest part for his birthday calculation was his Moon placement. The Moon is all about emotions, needs, wants, behavior, responds, et cetera. I first gave him a Capricorn Moon, but my boyfriend is such a Cap Moon and it didn’t fit the bill for Koushiro in my opinion. So I read and searched and eventually came to the conclusion it had to be an Air sign Moon, simply for the fact that our boy Koushiro is the bearer of the crest of Knowledge and Air signs can be seen as the intellectual ones of the Zodiac! Eventually I went for the Gemini Moon and I’m going to explain why exactly.

One could say Gemini is the bearer of Knowledge just as much as Koushiro is. Gemini LOVE to know things! They are naturally curious and are great communicators, when it comes to knowledge (pun warning if you’ve seen the reboot: they love to bring joy to their knowledge). Gemini tend to be a bit superficial when it comes to having and sharing knowledge and of course we know that’s not the case with our Koushiro here, due to his many Virgo placements, making him more observant and inward. What the Gemini Moon DOES to him is making this boy very talkative! He likes to spill what’s on his mind, he likes to share what he thinks, he likes to ramble and rant. It’s something we see him doing in Tri a lot, especially that one scene in Reunion part 3 (episode 3) where he keeps on rambling about all the strange events and he misses the first part of the conversation between the other DigiDestineds (about the news and Jyou’s ‘girlfriend’ poor guy no one believes him). Koushiro misses the conversation because a) his Gemini Moon likes to ramble and keep rambling, and b) because his Virgo placements can make him a bit unaware of his surroundings quite the time…

That’s not a bad thing per se, Koushiro is just very much focused on his work and d e t a i l s, which is a VERY Virgo-ish trait. But lets not forget that his priority is to help others with that knowledge and that the combination of his Virgo placements with his Gemini Moon makes him a great mentor. Brings me to his role throughout the entirety of Adventure 02: The Mentor. You’re welcome.

Another Gemini Moon thingy is rudeness. Now we know Koushiro is the most polite person out of ALL DD’s, always using honorifics, even saying Hikari-san instead of Hikari-chan, because Koushiro IS respect. But Koushiro is not afraid to tell you what’s at stake in times of ‘danger’, he’s not afraid to tell the truth. There are a few examples for that in Adventure, Adventure 02 and in Tri, but I’d like to refer to one of my favorite moments in whole Digimon Adventure history. Because Koushiro x rudeness brings me back to Diaboromon strikes back when he’s obviously so done with everyone, then Mimi enters the scene and he doesn’t even care. In the English dub she literally says “How rude”. Ooooohhh Koushiro, you little rude demon… It’s not the biggest proof it’s a simple one and my personal favorite.

All of the talkativeness and rudeness is something we mostly see Koushiro doing when he’s most comfortable. So we won’t see him being all talkative all the time -sharing more than just plain, superficial knowledge and instead more personal helpful knowledge- with everyone, but we do see him being talkative and speaking up to certain characters he’s most comfortable with. Now name one boy he’s very talkative to compared with literally all the other characters… You know what? Scroll down.

Last thing and then I’ll stop rambling about this beautiful and lovely nerd. His Venus, planet of values (and love…) is in Libra. What does that mean? Well, I’ve seen quite some fans type Koushiro as a bi-sexual, or something in that direction. Or even better a ‘disaster bi-sexual’. I already agreed on that, but when I saw this birth chart… IT’S (HEAD)CANON! Seriously, Libra is the zodiac sign of doubt, decision making (or actually no decision making, but I’ll get there with the next boy) and relationships and if you have your Venus placed in Libra you’re doomed to be a disaster when it comes to making decisions in your love life both romantically and platonically! Venus in Libra creates the desire for a good and loving relationships, but Koushiro’s Virgo Sun/Rising makes him more shy, his Virgo Mars makes him hold back. Once again, the Virgo Sun/Rising-Libra Venus dynamic lets him efface himself in relationships, thinking they have nothing to offer, but they have!! And so Koushiro gets left behind with his unresolved feelings… the boy has a hard time in love, let’s give him all a hug!

Taichi Yagami - October 15th 1988

The protagonist. Okay, let me compare this goggle headed protagonist to another goggle headed protagonist outside the Digimon franchise: Naruto. This is probably more interesting to people who have watched and know Naruto, so you can skip the part. To me Naruto is the classical protagonist type; bold, adventurous, playful, (a little) obnoxious at some times, hot headed… These are traits we easily assign to fire signs in the zodiac, especially Aries. So I would immediately give Naruto the Aries Sun placement. However, when we see Naruto grow up, his behavior and the way he speaks and leads grows up with him as well. That’s only natural. And based on those changes I wouldn’t necessarily give Naruto the Aries Sun placements, although the Aries placement or another fire placement is very likely to be present in his chart.

Now I could go even further, explain the development from child to adult through Jung’s theory about cognitive functions, but that’s incredibly complicated and a looooong stretch I won’t be making here today. In short, Jung’s development theory is interesting, because it shows how we first see the obvious traits in a child which are the traits the child engages (Rising sign) the world with before it develops the other functions showing the person’s true identity (Sun sign). So we could say we first see someone’s Rising sign more clearly before the Sun comes shining through. Like with Naruto. And the same could be for Taichi in the case of this headcanon.

To tackle his birth chart and big three, I’ll be starting with explaining his Rising Sign before his Sun sign. And the Rising sign I assigned him is Aries Rising.

Like I said above, Aries is bold, adventurous, playful and above all: courageous. Especially the Aries Rising placement which is more courageous than its Aries Sun counterpart. Aries are born leaders, can be extremely competitive, are somewhat restless and desperately need to move. In Taichi’s case with the above birth chart, that urge to move is magnified by his Aries Mars placement. The dynamic of his Aries Rising and Aries Mars makes Taichi a mover, an adventurer, and incredibly determined. This could be both positively, always wanting the best (especially for yourself, as Aries is a pretty selfish sign), and a tad negatively, always going and going and going. In the Adventure series this could be the reason why he makes Greymon dark-evolve, because he wants things too bad and too fast. Aries are hot headed and can grow impatient if things don’t go the way they want. And the Aries Rising and Mars dynamic makes Taichi a very physical guy. Mix that with the impatience and he is not afraid to pick fights and use his fists.

All of this can make Taichi a very stormy and reckless boy (boundaries? What’s that?), but also a fearless leader. The exuberance, the impatience and restlessness comes back in his Sagittarius Moon placement as well. This Sag Moon in combination with his strong Aries placements in Rising and Mars makes Taichi a sportive, physical, optimistic and forward leader that is incredibly courageous and adventurous, which could make him a bit ‘superficial’ as a protagonist. But the Sag Moon also deepens and strengthens his leader skills.

Sagittarius is a sign pictured by a centaur with an arrow and bow. The centaur’s horse legs make the Sag want to move and be free, but the arrow aims in a clear direction and aiming takes knowledge and focus. Sagittarius thus is an adventurous fella, but also a philosopher. Taichi’s Sag Moon placement makes him a pro in seeing the bigger picture and connecting dots next to his never ending energy. He will make sure we’re going in the right direction by overlooking the whole situation. So we absolutely shouldn’t forget Taichi is a true strategist! He sees, understands what’s at stake in a situation, connects the dots, comes with a strategy and like a true leader knows his team and can place everyone in his right spot to get through the toughest of situations (once again referring to Taichi asking Koushiro to pick the cards in Adventure episode 28). Speaking about a great leader, gosh, Taichi, you’re truly amazing! <3

However, it’s his Aries Rising and Mars that often make him act before he thinks, preferably alone (Taichi is a teamplayer, but the selfish and reckless Aries in him makes him act alone. And the sum of teamplayer + acting alone = self-sacrifice mode… which happens ALL THE DAMN TIME). Or actually makes him act while thinking without doing a short reflection beforehand. Seriously, I’m convinced that this reflection in advance could have saved him a lot of trouble throughout Digimon Adventure. Let’s blame it on (t)his (headcanon) birth chart…

Also, all of the above vouches for Taichi having an amazing intellect, but the guys needs to be challenged… Hence why he’s always staring out of the window during classes in Tri, daydreaming away to where the adventure is. He feels trapped, needs to be outside and should use his intelligence for things he finds important (like saving the digital world, soccer and saving friends and the world). The daydreaming could also be his Libra Mercury who can make Taichi lose his focus and could make him lazy. Luckily Taichi has a very active Aries Mars in opposite aspect from his Libra Mercury that neutralizes that lazy and dreamy Libra Mercury.

Okay, back to topic. Now you maybe think: But if Taichi is good in knowing where to go, being the fearless leader, also an intellect who has the knowledge to aim straight and shoot… then WHY is he so lost, down and in doubt in Tri and so unknowing of his future in Kizuna…??!! I have an answer to that. And that answer is his Libra Sun.

I know I know, this is a very VERY unpopular Sun sign to give this goggle leader, but please hear me out. For starters, Libra is the sign of diplomacy and if we believe the 02’s epilogue what’s Taichi’s job? Right, a diplomat. We also know he studies something like political sciences in Kizuna (which I think is AMAZING and vouches even more for Taichi’s intellect! Politics is a tough study…) and to make it in the political field you really do need diplomacy and charms.

Taichi is an absolute charmer, in my eyes at least. I mean, look at his 02 self! He’s such a smooth charmer in every way… The way he sends off Sora to Yamato while acting all cool and collected, phew, that requires some serious smoothness. And still we often see Taichi depicted as a down and broody boy besides his energetic and bold (sometimes indifferent…) character, especially after Tri. That too could be due to a Libra Sun placement.

Like Sagittarius is depicted by a centaur, Libra is depicted by scales and those scales are all about harmony, balance and justice. Libra is the opposite of Aries in the zodiac, but also about weighing opposites in the sigh itself. When we look at the Aries/Libra opposite placement: where Aries can be quite selfish, Libra as an opposite is the people’s pleaser. Where Aries is reckless and impatient, Libra is thoughtful and patient and one could say that an Aries acts where a Libra waits. Where Aries makes the impulsive decisions, Libra keeps deliberating leading into constant doubt and confusion. And how do we see Taichi in Tri? Ah yes, in doubt and confused.

A Libra Sun desperately wants to bring peace and harmony, driven by justice, in a diplomatic way. Libra Suns are deep thinkers which can make them very doubtful, making them spiraling down into a hole of overthinking and doubts. The Libra Sun-Sag Moon dynamic makes this all even more deep and almost philosophical in a way there will always be more and more questions, but never answers because Libra simply can’t make choices. All while being solution-oriented!

As Taichi grows up from a middle schooler to a high schooler, it’s that doubt coming from the Libra Sun that kicks Taichi hard. It conflicts with his carefree and bold Aries Rising nature and as that Libra Sun comes shining through, we see Taichi becoming more cautious and reserved compared to his younger self. The guy has a strong inner dialogue always looking for the best solutions to please everyone and bring harmony (I wanted to say ‘balance to the world’, yes to all the avatar the last airbender cameos) to the people and world(s in case of the digital world) around him he so desperately wants to protect. This is what we see happening in Tri, where he can’t choose what’s the right thing… Most of the time that inner dialogue is hidden behind his Aries Rising (and Aries Mars and Sag Moon).

So under that tough and courageous Aries Rising demeanor (remember that a Rising sign is all about engaging and how you come across to others) is a very soft, sweet, friendly and overall smart Libra Sun boy who has troubles expressing himself because the boy is in conflict with himself (which we see in the Dark Master’s arc in Adventure where he expresses his concerns towards his sister to Koushiro… it’s so hard for Taichi to let it all out, even when he needs it badly). It’s so sad, he’s such a complicated character, but that’s also one of the most beautiful things about Taichi. He’s layered af. He could be the best listener (Koushiro’s feels this, that’s why Koushiro can talk so open and freely to Taichi, because Taichi lets him thank you Libra Sun) if it weren’t for his strong fire placements opposite from his airy Sun sign. But give the boy time and space and he can show you his charms in a way no one else owns those charms.

So Taichi’s Libra Sun is hidden away most of the time due to his strong Aries placements. Usually his Rising and Sun sign being in opposite aspect from each other, should neutralize the placements, but Taichi’s Aries Mars placement makes the Aries Rising overrule the Libra Sun. Still, we shouldn’t forget Taichi is a softy with a big heart. He just needs the right people around him to get his charm on and Taichi definitely has some great people collected in his life who can help him think and make decisions.

A few things I want to point out before I stop rambling, because this analysis is already WAY too long.

Taichi’s midheaven in Capricorn in combination with his Libra Sun and Aries Rising makes him very ambitious on the intellectual side! Directly aiming for the UN and quickly climbing up the promotion ladder (and being successful like a true Cap, let’s not forget that).

His Mars was in transition from Pisces to Aries during his birth. Which means his Aries Mars is highly influenced by Pisces which could also explain why he spirals down as Pisces Mars has a lot of stormy energy on the emotional side (whereas Aries Mars has stormy energy on the physical side). When this emotional energy comes out negative, it can lead to mental health problems (!!! TRI DEPRESSED!TAICHI), especially when close friends and family (can you feel it coming? The whole Hikari-trauma is a thing) are involved.

His Libra Sun makes him in need of a group of friends and he loves being surrounded by them! Though he doesn’t like to admit that due to his Aries Rising. Taichi is such a conflicted boy…

An end note on these two boys: A heart to heart/hard friendship with a lot of mutual understanding and support <3

#DFS Digimon Astrology Journey #head-first buddies #Koushiro Izumi #Taichi Yagami #Digimon #Koushiro #Taichi #Izzy Izumi #Tai Kamiya #Izzy #Tai #Astrology #Reference post #Digimon adventure #Digimon tri #Digimon kizuna #Digimon adventure: 2020 #LONG POST.#Digimon headcanons

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delvalentine · 3 years

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hey *does swaggy lip bite* in case you’re still doing tears of themis match ups, i’d like to submit a request to be psychoanalyzed matched up with one of them hot nxx dudes *leans against a car with messed up engines*

1. i like making jokes but sometimes some of them turn out awkward and not really as funny as i thought they would be in my head, but my friends laugh at them every time anyway because apparently, according to them, the way i keep making jokes despite my self-awareness of the fact that i’m not funny makes the joke hilarious.

2. i’m hardworking, and i always try to fulfill my responsibilities accordingly. i’ve been told by some friends that if they didn’t have a family to turn to, i’d be the one they would assign to arrange a funeral for them when they die because apparently i’m that responsible…or maybe that’s just my innate fear of disappointing others, regardless of whether it’s in their wake or in their death.

3. i’m quite average in terms of looks (i don’t know why this is relevant but here we are). i can be a solid 6/10 if i have makeup on but other than that i’m probably a natural 5. i’m short (149 cm? seriously? did i not drink milk when i was a kid?) and kind of on the slimmer side but quite bottom heavy. i mostly like to wear comfy clothes but i love dressing up if the occasion warrants for it.

4. i love reading and i read a variety of different stuff depending on what piques my interest at that time.

5. i have adhd haha which means i can be quite scatter-brained to most people, especially when i talk. sometimes i can get fidgety especially if i’m doing something that’s boring, but i can hyperfocus on stuff that i’m interested in. i talk a lot and get excited easily, so my speech often becomes animated. some people find it an endearing trait but most of the time, i do feel insecure about it because i can’t control it and i feel like it makes me look childish.

6. i often take up the role of a caretaker for my friends, and they often come to me when they need support or advice, but personally, i don’t have anybody to depend on when i’m upset, or to share good news with if something good happens to me. i don’t ever cry in front of others, only when i’m by myself. i’m pretty independent and i have gone through quite a lot of things alone, which is fine, i guess, but sometimes, i just want to be taken care of just like how i take care of some people. i want someone who can cry with me when i’m upset, and get angry for me when others mistreat me. i want someone to be proud of me, and someone who will still love me even if i fail.

as i’m writing this i realize that i’m actually pretty lonely and aimless in life, and requesting for a match up is my way of seeking companionship and connection, even if it is with a fictional character.

if you decide to respond to this, thank you so much!! i hope you have a nice day, or if it’s already night time, i hope you get a good rest!!

luke pearce

from what i've read you're the very giving type, but even those who give need to take in return. don't be so hard on yourself, love. time waits for nobody... so it's okay to do things only for yourself sometimes.

luke is your person. whatever you need—maybe sometimes even before you know you need it—he's there. he loves to baby you; after all, you're the person he loves the most in this whole world, and he's got so much love to show you that it spills over into anything he does. stuffies. roses. home-cooked dinners. he just wants to wake up beside you and laugh and live and forget the past. he wants to sleep beside you, your warmth resting in his arms as if he's got the world in his palms. you're somebody who's kind, who's good, and he wants to protect that at any cost.

#tot matchups #tot #tears of themis #luke pearce #luke #match ups

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xiaomomowrites · 3 years

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act IV

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole tangent about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

Or, Zhongli and Childe finally have the conversation that was long overdue.

A/N: I’ve been playing genshin for roughly four or five months now, I can’t remember exactly when I started, but boy do I love it. No you don’t understand, I’m obsessed. But these two have been taking up room in my big brain, so I wanted to write for them. It’s been awhile since I wrote for pleasure so hopefully this is satisfactory :,) and tomorrow, I’m back to school, so I thought I’d enjoy my last day of freedom and post this today. Fun fact, I’m minoring in professional writing, so I’m hoping that it’ll improve my writing skills when I write for luxury, too. Anyway, this was a really fun piece for me to write and I hope you share the sentiment.

Also thank you guys for being so patient with our inactivity and just being such a chill audience to write for. Other social media platforms have become so...demanding haha. I appreciate y’all! Feel free to message us or talk to us about whatever :) -u.n.

Find this on AO3!

Spoiler alert: this fic does contain spoilers for the A New Star Approaches arc, so read at your own risk.

—

In Childe’s line of work, he is no stranger to betrayal.

Working as a Fatui Harbinger meant an unhealthy amount of fighting, betraying one person, deceiving another, and then on occasion, getting betrayed himself. It was all in a days’ work. Childe knew he would just have to roll out his neck and move on. He’s done it before, he can do it again. He would think that, after nineteen years of this grueling rinse and repeat, that he’d be able to tolerate a lot in the field. In fact, working with that wretched colleague of his, Scaramouche, and serving the Tsaritsa with a loyalty unmatched explicitly calls for the patience and tolerance of a saint.

Alas, Childe is the furthest thing from a saint. And still, Zhongli’s betrayal stung the most out of anyone else’s, the reason still unbeknownst to him. He tells himself that it’s because he had actually befriended the other man. That, unlike his other missions, he developed more of a friendship with Zhongli than he has with anyone else in the past. Not to mention how he really thought he’d find the gnosis, in all its golden glory, seated deep within the Exuvia, and not within his friend.

Which is why after he watches Zhongli hand over his precious gnosis to Signora of all people, Childe makes haste to return to the inn he had been staying at to furiously pack his things and leave first thing in the morning. Seeing Signora in Liyue so close to Zhongli had triggered a deep seated feeling of possessiveness over him and the city. Liyue was his territory, as far as he was concerned. It was assigned to him by the Tsaritsa and no one else. And yet, despite his unspoken possession over Liyue, its people turned against him and viewed him as the enemy. As if Childe didn’t already know that. As if he hadn’t already grown up with a layered villain complex, subconsciously looking for a fool with a hero complex to match him. Then entered Zhongli, making himself at home in Childe’s life, and he was immediately enamouring the Harbinger.

Screw Liyue.

Screw all their traditions, the stupid glaze lilies, the delicious cuisine, the obvious livelihood that fills the streets in stark contrast to his own icy hometown, screw all those goddamn unnecessary mountains, that fish market with that abhorrent smell he gradually got used to, and screw Rex Lapis. Screw Zhongli, that handsome bastard, for stringing him along like his plaything the entire time.

Childe knows, he gets it, that Zhongli simply did what he had to do because it was best for his people. And what other way for the oldest of the seven to go, if not for a grand finale? And yes, Childe admits, luring out Osial was a stupid move, but it certainly served its purpose for testing the strength of Liyue and its defenders.

Zhongli and Signora knew he would do something stupid and reckless as soon as he caught wind of the Exuvia serving as a decoy. They knew, and they played the game so well, that Childe really thought he was the mastermind puppeteering the whole show.

What a fool he was made out to be.

Childe aggressively shoves blazer after blazer into his travel duffel, angry, pathetic tears pooling at the corners of his eyes without his consent. He sniffs angrily and swipes at his cheek as soon as the first tear falls.

Fuck this, he’s not crying over a god, he still has some dignity.

But still. Pride aside, it hurt. And it wasn’t even necessarily the deceit that hurt the most. He’s dealt with that previously. It was… more personal. More of an internal struggle than an external issue. Childe truly hates those the most. At least he can shove his fist through any external problem, but he can’t exactly do the same with his feelings, or whatever they’re called.

It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole spiel about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

The same eyes that gazed at him with such affection and kindness were suddenly replaced with the eyes of a soldier. And it was only then that Childe fully realized the force he was reckoning with. Zhongli was a withered god who lived too long for his own good. A powerful deity that held the ability to shake the ground with a look; he who had been humbled by time and his sharp edges eroded by the millions of faces that passed him. Simply put, Childe was just another one of those faces. And again, he understood. If he lived for six thousand years, he wouldn’t want to be alive after the first hundred.

It was the duality that dug the blade deeper into his already bleeding chest. He felt used.

“I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, Childe,” Zhongli had said to him on a warm Liyuen night, “a friend of mine, a long time ago, told me that I was… bad at connecting with people. Emotionally stunted, is what she called me. And she is correct, as I have definitely struggled with making connections in the past. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.

Childe is thankful for the discretion that night provides him; Zhongli would have easily spotted the blush spreading across his pale cheeks had it been daytime.

“So you had trouble making a couple friends, so what?” The ginger shrugs, “I wasn’t the best at making friends, either. My mom always said I was too aggressive. Apparently that’s not such an appealing trait, after all.”

Zhongli chuckles, a beautiful sound. “It was a bit deeper than that, I’m afraid. Understanding the complexity of another’s emotions was always difficult for me, whereas she… she was loved by everyone. Adored by the youngest of fawns to the oldest of horses. It came so naturally to her. I was the opposite. Not that everyone hated me, no, people just had a harder time getting close to me. Which is why, upon meeting you, I was shocked to find that we clicked so well. Befriending you was as easy as breathing air.”

Oh, Archons, help him.

“And,” Zhongli continues, as if he hadn’t already wrecked the man six ways to hell and back, “I must sincerely thank you for indulging me once again.” The deity glances down at the bag full of antique trinkets in his lap. Childe’s lips turn upward into one of his more genuine, rare smiles.

“What’s with you tonight?” Childe responds, and Zhongli looks at him questioningly , “I mean, you never had a problem with me spoiling you rotten before. You’ve never even acknowledged it. Why start now?”

Zhongli tears his gaze away from the Harbinger.

“And,” the ginger continues, “it almost sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

Zhongli smiles at him then. He wore a kind look on his face, eyes so impossibly warm that it reminded him of his grandmother’s pirozhki. Hot and steaming from the center, melting on his tongue, dissolving deliciously in his mouth and defrosting his entire body. His smile felt like it wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed the best way possible, fitting him back together in places Childe didn’t even realize he had broken.

“What makes you say that?”

Oh, Childe is pissed.

Fuck tomorrow morning, Childe is leaving tonight.

The memories of last night crash over him not unlike a tidal wave and suddenly, he’s drowning. Filled out the brim with a familiar rage burning through his chest and searing his finger tips, his legs, his fucking toes.

He stands abruptly when he realizes he’s been sitting and resumes his packing. It doesn’t take very long after that. A couple toiletries get shoved into the side pockets, his vision is hooked back onto his hip, and his mask is slid into its’ usual spot on his head. He looks at himself in the mirror on the way out and scowls at the way his hair looks more disheveled than usual. Red rims his dulled blue eyes, forcing him to accept that maybe he cried more than he’d like to admit. Whatever.

He swings the door open and-

“Childe,” lo and behold, Zhongli stands in his fucking doorway, “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s alright.” The man looks slightly disheveled. He’s a little out of breath, Childe notices, like he ran up those ridiculous flights of stairs to get to his room- which, by the way, he never disclosed that information with him.

The man in question huffs a laugh. “It’s not.”

He makes a move to brush past him, but is stopped by an unreasonably strong grip around his bicep.

“Tartaglia,” he pleads, “please.”

Childe snatches his arm back and spits, “don’t call me that.”

He retreats back into his room anyway, hearing Zhongli close the door behind him. He dumps the bag back onto his bed and curses himself for not leaving a millisecond earlier.

“You’re angry with me.” Zhongli starts, face as unreadable as ever.

“The sky is blue. Snezhnaya is cold. Are we still stating the obvious here?” He’s too angry to carefully choose his words. Too hurt to slip on his pleasant facade.

“Tartaglia,” he presses, and Childe really hates how his name sounds on his tongue, “I truly am sorry for the way things had to go. It was not in my intentions to… hurt you to the degree in which you feel. I simply was upholding the end of my contract and doing what was best for my people. I implore you to believe that making you feel used was not my main objective.“

Oh god, his apology sounds so robotic.

“So you’re aware that what you did was a little fucked up.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re aware that almost the entirety of Liyue places the blame on me.”

“Yes.”

Well, shit. “Good talk, Zhongli-xiansheng. If you’ll excuse me, I must begin my trip home.”

He stomps toward the door only to be stopped once again. Archons, if Childe had any motivation left, he most certainly would challenge him to a spar. The ginger huffs, and looks to the heavens in a silent plea for patience.

“Tartaglia, please, I’m not finished-“

“Yeah, well I am.” Their eyes lock. Blue meets gold in a hostile hold, refusing to break. “The second you handed your gnosis over, my business here was done. Whatever… relationship we had is done. You were my consultant and was a Harbinger here for business. A Harbinger that you obviously used for your disposal. So now that that’s over and done with, I really need to report to Tsaritsa, lest she have my head on a silver platter-“

“I spoke with Tsaritsa already.” Zhongli cuts in, his grip tightening around Childe’s wrist. “I asked her for more time with you.”

“You what.”

“Surely you are curious about the deal I struck with Tsaritsa. The contract to end all contracts, yes?” Childe’s wild look on his face eggs him to continue, “I struck a deal that granted you more time here in Liyue. With me.”

Childe is silent for a moment. The ex-Archon opens his mouth to continue.

“And I’d like to say I’ve known you long enough to know that you seek freedom. From what that may be, I do not know. But Tsaritsa has agreed to give you a choice, at the very least, a temporary one. An extended vacation or complete retirement is a choice to be made by you.” Zhongli finishes, looking to Tartaglia with hope.

“THAT is worth your fucking gnosis?!” Zhongli’s gnosis. The entire essence of his being. The very thing that makes him divine (thought it certainly isn’t the only thing that makes the man ethereal), was traded for him.

“Yes,” Zhongli replies with such ease it makes Childe’s head spin. “Among other things, of course.” An aggressive why is lodged in the back of Childe’s throat. Why me? A million questions swirl around his head, knocking him off balance. He would have swayed on his feet had Zhongli not been there to hold him upright.

“That’s insane. You’re insane. You…” Childe lets out a tired sigh, “I don’t understand you.” And he doesn’t. Because one minute he’s a cold hearted businessman, and the next he’s at his door, reduced to a mortal, begging him to stay. Granting him freedom. Really, what kind of fucked up game is this? Why didn’t anyone tell him he was a part of it?

Zhongli smiles. He smiles. “You remember our conversation from the night before, yes?”

Childe rolls his ever-blue eyes to the back of his head. “Remind me, Zhongli-sensei,”

“I said,” the deity starts, drawing both of Childe’s calloused hands between his own, “that I struggled to connect with others. Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust, was the one to bring to my attention my emotional constipation. And like I said, she was correct.”

Childe’s anger withers.

“Unfortunately I understand naught of the depth of your feelings of betrayal,” he continues, “but I do wish to understand how deeply humans feel. And in our time together, I’ve begun to understand through you. Despite your… complexities. And I wish to continue to learn. With you.” I wish to feel human is left unsaid, and laced between his words instead.

“What are you saying,” the Harbinger asks weakly.

“Take me with you.”

“What.”

“Take me with you. Wherever you go, I will follow, if you will allow it.”

Well duh, he’d allow it. Zhongli just had to work for it a little more. He can’t just waltz in here after breaking his heart and ruining his trust, demanding his friendship and companionship or whatever, after everything he was put through-

“Okay.”

Very nice ass to mouth filter, Ajax.

Zhongli’s eyes glow impossibly brighter, “Okay?”

Childe tugs his hands back to his side. “Yes, yes, fine. Whatever. But you can’t just. You can’t just use me again in the name of experimentation.”

“Tartaglia, I would never,” he assures him vehemently, “Of the seven, I was always the one most oblivious to emotions. You may ask Barbatos if you want. But I know that what I feel for you is real and I would not trade it for the world.”

Childe’s mind reels. Barbatos? Feelings?

“‘What you feel for me?’”

Zhongli cocks his head in confusion, as if his feelings were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yes. And you feel the same, no? It need not be said aloud.”

“It really doesn’t,” Childe affirms, “you can save me the embarrassment.”

“Wonderful,” Zhongli’s face brightens, and it’s only then that Childe is hit with the full realization that Zhongli is free. No longer is he tied to the city and burdened with the weight of the people. No longer does he have to associate himself with the likes of the Tsaritsa. Finally, after centuries and centuries, he is allowed the pleasure to smile so brightly despite feeling pained for finally leaving his people. He is Zhongli, and no longer Rex Lapis. Morax is long gone, too. The man before him is a man reborn, and Childe’s heart aches with happiness for him.

“Okay, well,” he clears his throat when he notices he’s been quiet for too long, “it’s been a long day and I’m tired. I think I’m just gonna take a shower and turn into bed and think about the rest tomorrow. Save it for future Childe, you know?”

He pads over to his hastily packed back and zips it back open, pulling out the toiletries he aggressively shoved in less than an hour ago. He digs his fingers into his neck and sighs at the release of tension. Summoning an angry ocean god took a lot more out of him than he anticipated.

“I agree,” Zhongli says, and begins to strip. “Personally I prefer the left side of the bed.”

Childe gawks at him.

“You-!” Truly an emotionally constipated god, indeed. He sighs and his shoulders droop, the fight leaving his body. “Fine. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“I eagerly await your return,” Zhongli comments passively as he slips under the covers, a book he didn’t even know he was carrying tucked under his arm. Childe sighs for the nth time that night and turns to close the bathroom door behind him.

Future Childe certainly has a lot to deal with in the morning.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fan fiction #Tartaglia #Childe #zhongli #tartali #zhongchi #i love them so much it hurts #childe x zhongli #angst #character introspection #when this chapter ended i was incredibly emotional #i just want them to be happy

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someoneintheshadow456 · 4 years

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WE GOT ANOTHER ONE LADS

I think I may have come across another Fandom Frollo (aka - closet MAP who screeches at fiction and accuses everyone else of being sex offenders to cover their ass). First it was IHPAZ, then it was rasinrat, then it was the Twitter Purity Crusade CP ring (yes, that’s ACTUALLY a thing!), and now... I think I might have caught another one of these jokers in the act.

Below the cut: TW for graphic language and descriptions of CSEM

What the hell kind of pedos has this person been seeing? Because they most certainly don’t use Disney villain style dialogues to groom their charges. If they did, there’s NO WAY they’d be able to successfully groom someone because nobody, even children, is stupid enough to go for a devil in plain sight. This is a trait I see of Fandom Frollos all the time – they assign these stupid, over-the-top fictional lines that NO real person would say unironically towards what they believe to be pedos. But they sound very creepy and strangely detailed… almost like they got off on writing that.

Blatant accusations with zero proof – another classic Fandom Frollo tactic. If I accuse everyone else of being pedos, then I’m clearly helping! Look at me protecting the kids! Look at me being wholesome and pure!!

Their response?

WTF?! What the fresh hell. NOBODY said anything about looking at children in such a disgusting way. That’s something YOU pulled out of your behind for some godforsaken reason. How does ANYONE look at “banning cartoons won’t help because pedos will be pedos whether cartoons exist or not” and think “ahh yes, this is saying CSEM is okay!” Also, AGAIN, note the very descriptive and graphic language of something they ostensibly are trying to fight against.

Me: Banning cartoons won’t help. It’s like saying banning guns will stop murderers. The murderers will keep existing, they’ll just move on to knives instead. Comprehensive sex ed and self-defence courses for minors are the best way of stopping pedos. The young generation being armed and informed is always a pedo’s biggest weakness

This clown: Okay! Let’s NEVER do anything to stop pedos ever again!

Why do I have a feeling that’s EXACTLY what this person wants?

“I’m not an abuse apologist! I just think that we can blame the actions of rapists on fiction and that it’s totally okay to call rape victims gross for saying otherwise!”

Again, WHAT’S WITH THE HYPERFIXATION ON CHILD RAPE IN PARTICULAR?! If you’re so disgusted with the idea, why do you keep throwing those evil words around?!

There is ABSOLUTELY no way a person can be this ignorant – especially someone claiming to be a CSA survivor, regarding the use of religion in child grooming. But I gave them the benefit of doubt and explained anyway, and made it very clear that religion wasn’t to blame, it was EVIL PEOPLE twisting religion so they can use it as an excuse to be evil:

Their Galaxy Brained response, which is TOTALLY not a deflection from the shitty things they might be doing:

Ah yes – with THIS icon, there’s no way you could have found out what my race was! Obviously, my profile picture is SO WHITE that nobody could have just, well, CLICKED on it to see that I clearly wasn’t!! Do I need to make another DP with me in saree and a blatant red sniper dot on my forehead just to make things clearer for this hellsite?!

Or how about THIS jackass response that proves, “yes, yes they ARE being intentionally obtuse”

Nobody – NOBODY who actually cares about CSA or abuse, will say something so vile when being confronted with examples of people twisting religion so that they can hurt children.

Yet another telltale sign of a fandom Frollo – a little TOO MUCH eagerness/sadistic glee from punishing pedophiles, and is WAY too vocal about their desire to hurt them. Hating pedos is the DEFAULT Sharon. You don’t get a cookie for basic decency! It reeks of “if I scream at the top of my lungs about how much I want to kill these people, nobody will know that I’m one of them!! I am very smart!!”

“Don’t teach kids how to identify a predator!! They could be ANYONE! Especially me!!”

Keep this in mind:

…for what they say next:

THEY HEARD – “PEOPLE AGAINST SEX ED TEND TO BE PEDO APOLOGISTS” AND ASSUMED I WAS TALKING ABOUT THEM.

Or how about THESE rather chilling accusations that seem to flow out of their mouth as easily as breathing?

A PSA – if you hear “sex ed” and think that it means showing minors pornography… maybe the problem lies with YOU. Maybe the one with a warped sense of sexuality is YOU. Maybe the one who is putting kids in danger is YOU.

Them:

“How dare you call me a sex pest! I’m not a man, so I can’t be a sex pest!” – the calling card of all non-male sex pests EVERYWHERE.

If this creep comes to you, BLOCK THEIR ASS. It’s not clear if they have done anything yet, but they’re showing very dangerous signs.

#tw: csem mention #tw: csa #tw: graphic language #fandom frollos #fan pol #block and avoid #callout #anti anti #pro shipping

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 years

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some thoughts that might seem unrelated but aren’t, i promise:

— in that atomic habits book I read a couple weeks back the author talks about using a specific, action-oriented question repeated throughout the day to help you build or break habits (like “what would a physically fit person do?” or “what would a sober person do?”).

— the aging books i was reading last month noted that people who score high in conscientiousness (on the Big Five personality traits) tend to age most successfully ie enjoy the longest stretch of active years. to quote this article, conscientiousness is “a fundamental personality trait—one of the Big Five—that reflects the tendency to be responsible, organized, hard-working, goal-directed, and to adhere to norms and rules...Conscientiousness comprises self-control, industriousness, responsibility, and reliability. A conscientious person is good at self-regulation and impulse control. This trait influences whether you will set and keep long-range goals, deliberate over choices, behave cautiously or impulsively, and take obligations to others seriously.” I tend to score very high in openness but very, very low in conscientiousness. more on this in a bit...

— my sister and i were talking recently about different kinds of intelligence, and also about core values. one of hers is efficiency, a word that i have all kinds of negative associations with lol but that she explained in ways i found really intriguing. for her efficiency isn’t about, like, Maximizing Productivity for Capitalism but is about methodically searching for the most effective, least confusing or redundant, most easily-communicable-to-others way to solve complex problems. when she encounters a system that has all kinds of weird bottlenecks or inefficient, time-consuming ways of completing a task (esp if the rationale for those methods is just “well.. that’s how we’ve always done it”), she starts immediately examining the larger structures and workflows around those bottlenecks to see if the established ways of doing things can be rerouted or simplified, and then she constructs new protocols or tools for people to use instead of the old inefficient way of working. efficiency will never be a core value of mine, in part because i think my humanities-oriented brain accords more value than her STEM/medicine-oriented brain does to wandering, daydreaming, slowed-down thinking, doubling-back or retracing one’s steps, and other “inefficient” modes of thinking that slow down the process but can lead you in unexpected directions or spark unanticipated epiphanies that illuminate the larger structures differently. i think we both share a keen interest in systems-level thinking and in examining whether established ways of doing things are the most effective ways of doing things, but we prioritize different modes of thinking and problem-solving in figuring out how to alter or redesign those larger systems (which is probably a result of temperament differences + our field-specific training).

THAT SAID, i have been thinking a lot about how one area of my own intelligence i would like to sharpen/hone in both my professional and personal life is like... a mode of intelligence that is linked to rigor, a more methodical approach to problem-solving, and the ability to construct & more methodically test detailed mental schemas. not quite sure how to articulate that but i feel like my thinking has gotten a little fuzzier than i want it to. and I think maybe this sensed fuzziness in thinking is linked to some of my ongoing feelings of restless discontent re: work. I also just in general want to be more conscientious in how I approach and solve problems, or in how I tackle big and small projects.

— this is more tangentially connected but: i feel like one thing i’ve noticed this year is that a lot of the people i admire professionally are really good at seeking out & taking on lots and lots of additional challenges or commitments, and they can do this in part because they tend to be very conscientious people, ie people who have big-picture vision but are also very detail-oriented and good at managing their time effectively & doing things efficiently so they can take on multiple projects without feeling overwhelmed. i feel like my own low-conscientiousness means that i can’t take full advantage of my high-openness—often i want to take on new projects or challenges but i worry that i’ll overextend myself or that the project will become more time-consuming than i anticipate. i think is linked to a different sort of fuzziness, ie a lack of clarity about how long things take or how much time i have — all combined with a deeply ingrained sense of myself as someone with executive dysfunction issues (poor time management, poor planning skills, poor organizational abilities, etc.). i think of myself as a very inefficient and extraordinarily disorganized person, whether this is 100% accurate or not, and that can sometimes lead to me taking myself out of the running for opportunities or limiting the number of projects i take on out of a fear that i won’t be disciplined enough to see them through.

— another thing my sister and i were talking about recently is how within large families, siblings tend to get assigned a “role” or a personality within the family dynamic very early on, and then they get sort of locked into that over time. everyone in the family expects them to always behave in that way, and there’s often a lot of unconscious resistance to letting your family members change or grow or develop in ways that contradict the clearly defined family role that’s been assigned to them, or the family “story” that everyone else in the family tells about them. you can get locked into both positive and negative roles—or like, often the positive role has a negative flipside. we were talking about how within our family, i’ve been “assigned” to be the “deep thinker” ie the introspective one who spends my life writing and thinking and daydreaming, whereas my sister has been assigned the role of being most like my father, ie very methodical, analytical, unemotional, and action-oriented (and therefore not introspective or inward-looking). and we were talking about how both of these have a negative flipside: my sister feels like she doesn’t get to be a “deep thinker,” or an introspective, emotionally intelligent person; whereas i feel like in my family’s story for me i am forever in “lalaland,” as my mom always says—head in the clouds, an ineffectual dreamer, the absentminded professor who has lots of big thoughts and feelings but is incapable of bringing any of my fantastical ideas to fruition because i have very little practical knowledge or stick-to-itiveness.

— as i’ve said many times before, i feel like i can’t solve the big-picture issues with my job right now, since so many of them are linked to shitty pandemic realities. but i was thinking that maybe one way to begin laying the groundwork for this final year in my job might be to work on strengthening my conscientiousness at the micro-level, ie in small everyday habits and interactions. my hope is that maybe by practicing conscientiousness in lots of small, low-stakes situations, i can start strengthening those muscles and building trust in myself as “the kind of person who does ____” (which i feel like is necessary for me to begin challenging the family story i’ve internalized what i am like). i mean, there is a lot of truth to that family story! but i bet that those aspects of my personality are nowhere near as inflexible or as like, divinely preordained as i have often assumed they are. like, i bet that through practice & through building better habits i can actually become significantly more conscientiousness (reliable, responsible, hardworking, efficient, good at follow-through, self-disciplined, etc) than i am now. and while efficiency may never be as central a value for me as it is for my sister, i think there is probably a way for me to see efficiency and conscientiousness as linked to my own core values, if only because those qualities or traits will allow me to better enact/embody my core values. so i think i can see it not as working against the grain of my personality, but as working to build out less-developed parts of my personality to strengthen the parts of my character that i value most.

— anyway this is all to say that for the last week i’ve been asking myself aloud “what would a conscientious person do?” multiple times a day, really any time i find myself at a small crossroads where i have to make a small decision. do i pick up that piece of cardboard and put it in the recycling bin now or leave it till later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i return that call from the plumber now or put it off until later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i take two minutes to pay that $4 toll bill now or put it on the giant stack of “tasks i will definitely deal with when i’m in the mood to deal with them,” where it will inevitably become a $25 and then $50 bill because i forgot about it and now have to pay late fees? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i comment on that student’s draft now when i’d rather be on the couch scrolling through social media? (i could probably do it tomorrow, when i have another block of free time, but what would a conscientious person do?) i have no idea if it will work in the long term!! but it’s been an intriguing experiment so far, mostly because i think it is teaching me that many of the tasks i build up in my head as incredibly time-consuming are actually quite quick, and once you finish them you also free up all the mental energy you were putting into procrastinating on them, and are better able to move onto the next thing. i also feel like it is teaching me that uhh maybe a conscientious person is not like, a completely different species of human being, but just a person who has different habits or patterns of response to daily choices than i do. that feels important too: if we are what we repeatedly or habitually do, then changing what i habitually do can probably change the kind of person i am! i’m finding that there’s something very useful about the simplicity of the question, too. deliberately posing the question to myself interrupts my habitual, unconscious response (which is always some version of “i don’t have the energy to deal with that / don’t want to expend that energy right now -- i’ll put it off till later”) -- it requires me to stop and focus my attention on the present situation instead of sliding right past it without thinking about it. and there’s also something quite satisfying about framing it as a choice or a decision: i get to choose what to do, ie i get to exercise agency, and exercising agency makes your brain feel happy (we like to feel in control! we like making choices!). so throughout the day i get to experience lots of little bursts of whatever gets released in the brain when you make a decision and immediately follow through with it, and i think/hope that this kind of positive reinforcement is helping to strengthen those circuits and lay down the groundwork for new patterns of habitual response.

those are some thoughts this morning!! now i am going to allow myself a few minutes of sloth lol and then i’ll get up and exercise.

#mw #thinking aloud #long post

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iluxia · 4 years

Text

Unsolicited writing advice???

A ton of you have commented with such kind and complimentary words about my Naruto fic Hiding in the Leaves and its characterization through the shifting POVs. Thank you all! I’m gratified to hear that you’re enjoying it. Some are asking how I shift perspectives and still manage to keep the characters in line. Actually, a fair number of readers have asked for actual advice, so here we go. This is a lot of writing babble, I hope it makes sense but feel free to drop me an ask if anything is unclear!

(1) I read a lot. I read all the time. Easily a book a day, maybe two days. And when I do, I practice critical reading—or as they say, reading like an editor, so I can pick at techniques other writers use. Writing is an art you learn largely by example. A lot of what I read influences what and how I write, so when I need to change my tone or voice to fit a different character, I usually read something that matches what I want my prose to sound like, on top of using techniques like changing tenses and playing with vocabulary choices.

I recently had the chance to flex these writing muscles because I went from writing two very distinct human voices (Tony Stark & Stephen Strange) to writing an alien voice (Loki). It was fucking hard; those in the Marvel fandom might know what I mean. Tony and Stephen are both human, born and raised in America, with specific life experiences that inform their daily decisions and personalities. Loki, on the other hand, is an alien: raised in Asgard, stolen from Jotunheim, well-traveled throughout the Nine Realms, and moreover raised as a prince. Just stop and think about that. When your characters do not have the same experiences that you do, they’re bound to not have the same earthbound concerns that you do. Anthropomorphizing non-human (or even non-living) beings is an age-old practice, but to be faithful to his character, I tried my best to twist my writing voice into a different shape—a shape that more befits the prince of a realm that is somewhat humanoid but very different from what we know on Earth. And in order to do that, I did four things:

I changed my prose from past to present tense; it sounds more immediate and assertive

I read three books, written in present tense, where the prose mimics what I imagine Loki would sound like in his own head

I made a huge spread of everything about Loki (both canon and my own orginal additions) that would inform his motivations, internal concerns, emotional responses, and decision-making processes

I drowned myself in Loki fanwork

Immersion is key! If you saturate your brain in a specific type of rhetoric or style, that’s what’s likeliest to come out of your productive process at the end. So controlling what you read/watch/listen to will help control your writing style too.

(2) This further breaks down what I just said in the third bullet point above. Before I start writing from a specific character’s perspective, I’ll take the time to brainstorm and build that character from the ground up. This might take a day or two and includes a staggering amount of detail—just as much detail as mine or your life might comprise. Silly little things like favorite colors and foods, hobbies, dislikes. Oftentimes, if you’re a fic writer, this is easier because canon gives it to you. Those amazing wiki-pages exist to make your life easier in this regard. (Bless.) What canon doesn’t give you is where you can dig in. Go deeper. Pin your character down. Think about more serious considerations like emotional triggers, conscious motivations, subconscious motivations, coping and defense mechanisms. When hurt or under stress, are they the type to lash out or curl in? Are they the type to hold on to a grudge, or do they prefer to forgive and forget? Do they get hurt easily or do they have a thick skin? I imagine the character’s relationships in life, I rank them and network them in my head. Who do they run to when they need advice? Who do they like hanging out with when they’re happy? Who annoys them, who inspires them, who scares them, who do they want to be like? Even if these questions aren’t necessarily things you might discuss in your fic, it helps inform this person you’re writing about, so it helps you keep a clearer and more consistent mental picture of them as you go.

But most critical of all, I sit and imagine myself in their shoes and think of how they perceive themselves. That is a major factor when writing, because that’s what their head-voice will sound like. And if the story is written from their perspective, then that means you, writer, are writing in that head-voice!

Here’s a more HITL-specific example (I’ll try not to spoil too much lol):

Sasuke

How he sees himself:

Ordinary; not very impressive as a shinobi, but not absolutely terrible either – just ordinary

Average looking

A slow, impatient learner

Awkward with people, but polite and with good intentions

Emotionally stable

A good reader and listener

How he actually is from someone else’s POV:

Incredibly skilled for his age and level as a shinobi

Actually quite handsome

An intuitive learner, very tenacious and will keep at a task forever until he gets it just right; perfectionist much

Quiet, polite, notices a lot about how others act

Absolutely does not handle emotions well

Selective listener; sometimes only hears what he wants to hear

Rationales:

He’s surrounded by a clan of perfectionists and overachievers who constantly laud his aniki for being a genius while paying him no attention. Of course he thinks he’s ordinary.

No one ever compliments him for his looks in the clan compound, and what he sees in the mirror looks just like a younger version of everyone around him. Of course he thinks he’s average, even though he actually has looks.

Because he’s largely self-taught (except for when Obaa-sama teaches him), he thinks he’s slow. (Ever learned a new skill or maybe even a new language by yourself? I have. I can tell you that my perception of how much time I spent learning ‘basics’ was skewed.) He also holds himself to a higher than normal standard because that’s what gets him positive attention (or attention at all) within his family. Add the fact that Itachi was there blazing through everything before him, and it’s suddenly easy to understand why Sasuke thinks the worst of himself as a student. But he (and Naruto) are actually fast learners—we see this even in canon—and both of them boast high levels of natural intuition, or as I (the neuroscientist) likes to call it, pattern recognition. Some people are naturally better at this than others; there have been extensive tests done to show it. But we also know intuition can be trained, so the more Sasuke works at something, the better he gets, and the faster he learns the next skill—as long as the learning is patterned. Which is why Orochimaru, who has picked up on this trait, walks them through learning each jutsu in a stepwise manner every time.

Sasuke doesn’t have a lot of social interaction outside of his family. The Uchiha clan in this fic is very segregated from the rest of the village, so if you’re not active as a shinobi, you probably don’t get out of the compound much. Interacting with people probably intimidates Sasuke a lot so he feels awkward about it and reverts back to habits of politeness and silence that he was taught from childhood. That doesn’t mean that he’s not paying attention, however; Sasuke is naturally observant and remembers a lot about how people act (and not so much what they say). I have a theory about this related to the Sharingan but I won’t go into too much here because it would be a straight-up spoiler, sorry. :D

He thinks he’s emotionally stable because he doesn’t remember many incidents of severe emotional upheaval in his life. That’s because he hasn’t had them; apart from the whole thing with Itachi, he’s been fairly sheltered his whole life. But he actually doesn’t handle emotions well—something he’s about to find out soon enough—and for the same reason! He hasn’t been exposed to an extensive range of it.

Because he’s largely self-taught, he has confidence in his reading skills. He also remembers all of Obaa-sama’s stories so he thinks he’s a good listener. Well, he is—to an extent. If he wants to listen, he will. If he doesn’t, he’s just as proficient as Naruto at pigheadedness. (I think it’s an Uchiha trait too lmao.)

That was a lot, right? But you can see that if I’m writing from Sasuke’s POV, I have to keep a different set of pointers than if I’m writing from Naruto’s POV about Sasuke. The way I think of it is like changing lenses or shades depending on the light outside.

A few more techniques/guidelines I use:

Stay consistent with vocabulary. Orochimaru is far more verbose than the rest of them, Shikamaru right behind him, and Naruto uses shorter, simpler words. You can even assign particular words to a character, a word only they would use when referring to something. This applies to how your character addresses other people too, i.e. Orochimaru calls them ‘little ones’; Shikamaru calls his dad ‘oyaji’ in front of his peers but ‘otou-san’ in front of his sensei; Naruto is quick to give people nicknames and most of the time it sticks.

Watch the adjectives; different people describe things differently. Orochimaru uses more nuanced words that can mean different things depending on the situation and mood; Naruto thinks in terms of emotions, a lot of how does this make me feel; Sasuke is very visual and notices a lot of colors.

Use speech habits wisely; how your character talks should reflect their life. Just like accents, speech habits can tell a lot about a person. Sasuke always speaks politely because it’s how he’s supposed to talk at home, otherwise there’d be trouble. Naruto grew up in a poorer district and had no one to really teach him how to talk politely, so he’s very casual. Shikamaru cusses at age eleven because his parents and family are incredibly laissez-faire and honest around him, so he thinks it’s acceptable and normal (and he was never reprimanded for it).

Play with your tenses. Writing in past tense sounds and feels very different from writing in present tense. Depending on your character, one or the other might sound more appropriate. There are some expressions and figures of speech that sound fine when written in past tense but awkward when written in present tense, so that will end up inadvertently changing your prose a bit, which can be useful.

Read your work out loud. Cardinal rule of prose-writing. What looks good on paper doesn’t always sound good when read out loud. If you read it and it doesn’t sound like how your character talks, time for a vibe check. You might need to change a few words and move sentences around, or you might need a complete overhaul… an editor (and I mean an editor, not just a beta-reader) can usually help you out.

A note about editors vs beta-readers:

There is a cardinal difference! A beta-reader is usually not professionally trained but should be experienced enough to point out things that aren’t right. In fandom, I’ve found that beta-readers mostly focus on a story’s general feel, flow and readability, sometimes character consistency, sometimes they point out typos and mistakes. An editor goes further than that. I’m fortunate to have Tria (aventria) who has edited my work for, gosh, 14 years now, fuck, we’re old! I call her my editor because when she goes through a piece, she will fix everything and make my draft bleed and I love it. (I actually get a little upset when she doesn’t fix anything, even if that means everything was good.) As an editor, she does a vibe check and looks for typos/errors, yes, but she also critiques the prose extensively. She can rearrange phrases or entire paragraphs for better flow. She will cut out entire scenes or make me rewrite them if they’re that bad. Like a copy editor, she looks at stylistic inconsistencies, grammar errors, and iffy word use. She’ll usually suggest or replace the offending word altogether. She has a lot of freedom with the work and can actually kick a piece to the curb if it’s really that shitty. She also questions plot progression, character development, and the relevance of a scene. (She’s made me cut out many, many scenes.) – That all being said, it’s not easy finding an editor, much less a good one. It also has to be someone you trust to have this much power over your work. It’s worth it, however, and my writing has gotten so much better because of the help.

If you’ve read this far, wow, thanks! You’re also probably thinking, “Shit, she takes this too seriously. It’s just a fic.”

I have… gotten into fights in the past before because of this. I feel strongly about the stuff I write. Just because it’s fanfiction doesn’t mean it isn’t a labor of love. I’m a perfectionist by nature, so that’s why I put so much time and effort into what amounts to ‘just a fic.’ And you know what? At the end of the day, writing it gives me satisfaction and happiness, so I will keep pouring into it as much as I can. It’s just a bonus to hear that other people are enjoying it too. (Yes, I’m one of those weirdos who intensely enjoy reading my own work…)

Aaand the final point:

(3) I double-majored in psychology for undergrad and have by now accumulated thousands of hours of clinical hours spent using the theories and techniques I learned from those classes on real people. I’m also specializing in neuroscience, so a portion of my time is spent in psychiatry. Characterization was actually not one of my writing strengths at first, but I definitely noticed leaps in improvement after my clinical rotation started. People skills are just that: skills which are honed with practice. It’s amazing how much you learn about how people think and what make them tick when you interact with a whole spectrum of examples: from your neurotypical everyday well-adjusted person, to high-functioning neurotics and obsessives, to patients who have suffered complex stroke syndromes, to encephalitic brains burning under septic fevers, to druggies stoned so high they’ve breached the atmosphere, to patients whose brains are growing insidious tumors, to schizophrenics and catatonics and the depressed. My job also allows me the rare opportunity to interact with people from all walks of life. All I need to do if I wanted insight about how life is for soldiers who served in an active warzone, for example, is to hit up Bill at the ICU and ask for stories about Korea and the Gulf and Vietnam. Or if I wanted to know about how to survive the Rwandan genocide, I could sit down with Amida, who survived it as a barely-teenager with her brother and sister in tow while only “losing my innocence and an eye.” Or I could talk to Heather, who is building a life with her husband and two rambunctious children, for a perspective on the daily concerns and delights of a ‘perfectly normal and ordinary’ working mother. (Her words, not mine; Heather is amazing even if she eats the doctor’s lounge out of Tita Annabel’s cookies.) Anyway, you get my point. When I write, I almost always write about people, so it makes sense that a lot of my inspiration comes from people too. A lot of my original characters—and even some that are not—often speak with the voices and inflections of people I know in real life. You probably have people with interesting stories to tell in your life; you just have to work up the courage to ask and take the time to listen. You’d be surprised at what you learn!

A few helpful writing resources: (most of these are classics)

The Elements of Style by Strunk & White

The First Five Pages by Noah Lukeman

How to Read a Book by Mortimer Adler and Charles van Doren

And more books that helped me get into people’s heads:

Hallucinations by Dr. Oliver Sacks

The Noonday Demon by Andrew Solomon

Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon

The Lucifer Effect by Philip Zimbardo

Admirable Evasions by Theodore Dalrymple

I hope you got something out of that. Again, feel free to drop me an ask if you have any questions or want to chat!

#fanfic #on writing #fandom: naruto #answers

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ashenburst · 4 years

Text

Diffido

Fyogol angst! 4553 words. Something that happens to be largely liked by the audience, and honestly, for a story that’s almost a year old - this aged well.

This is probably the only BSD oneshot that I genuinely like as well, so I’m transferring it here. BSD is what originally got me into diving deep into fanfiction. It would be only right to share some of my works here. Anyway:

'tis but despair. Sickness unto death. The illness of the worst kind.

His will was strong, resolve unfaltering; his health, however, was not.

Blame it on the poor constitution, on the years of neglect, and the current numerous diseases his body was burdened with. Fyodor's state was horrendous, such that the doctors of the modern would certainly get cold feet from treating this ailing man. No matter his mental strength, he would soon crumble, ill, bed-ridden - maybe even dead.

What good is a brilliant brain left with no power supply? He was aware of his condition. This was a pending task, to have his health improved - but other assignments were due, and they were more important than his very life.

Numbers and codes, and the goddamned malfunctioning. Displayed on those low quality displays whose radiation marred his nerves. All of it tired him, yet all of it was essential to his plan - and he had to keep his focus unwavering, his gaze searching for any error or pop-up that might appear on screen. He had to make sure everything went smooth, thus fast. Time was little, and luck was none.

He was still in the race, although they believed to have long surpassed him - he was still there, he was on his feet. And as long as he could move, he would! He would without any doubt crawl his way back, and reach the goal. Others may had mocked him - no, others certainly were laughing at his failure and celebrating their delusional victory. The man in the back did not care. The goal was one, the goal was his purpose, and the goal was good.

However, he was betrayed. His senses slowly abandoned him, one by one - at first it were the eyes that couldn't focus. Curse them! The tiniest specks of his willpower were now redirected to that one problem - his dying sight. He could no longer see clearly, everything became a pleasant blur that he sinfully enjoyed - it invited him to close his eyes, take a moment of rest, ease his strained optical nerves...

But he couldn't! Even when his typing began to cause many mistakes in the codes, the bones of his fingers aching, he didn't want to rest. Even when the faint sense of balance abandoned him, when his head slowly fell closer to his shoulders - he did not, for even a moment, think of taking a rest, much needed rest.

He ignored his bodily cravings and continued the work, sloppily, in some slurred haste. He would soon pass out, he knew, and he intended to make good use of his consciousness while it was still present. He had to think to himself at one point: "Yes, yes! Look at me, those who try to stop me! Look at me! Fear me! Dedication booming, defying desperation. I would cause the envy of -"

And then the inspirational thought would get forever lost, reduced to naught. His concentration would bolt to some rampant mistake that occurred on screen, or simply - die off as well. Now, both his mind and body were screaming murder, ready to kill their owner and put him to sleep. He was somehow still up, but struggling, soon to succumb to these mortal forces.

So it came as no surprise that one blink later, evening became noon. And Fyodor was deeply disappointed.

Having been hit by that awful stench, he was quick to come back to his defective senses. The odor, evidently, originated from him - and although he was used to it, now, it began suffocating him. The dense air of the room was pressing him. There was little to no oxygen left.

He felt as if he was underwater. The restriction placed on his lungs caused his entire body to be perceived as mush by his nervous system. Then, the inability to move struck him as a sign to stay put. He had to gather faith before he'd once again make sense out of his surroundings. For he needed his mind to wake up first, before his body, as it was lulled by the inert predicament. It would take him more than mere devotion to get up, rather - an introverted, silly pep talk.

One would say he had fallen low, and one would certainly be right to some point, but so long this pathetic monologue remained unheard, nobody could deem him broken.

And it remained unheard, and it served its purpose.

The dim lights of the computers broke through his eyelashes, hurting his bloodshot eyes. More and more red lines filled in the white - no, the yellow of his optics. An unsightly sight indeed, such that it forced him to move his head around, and stare at something more pleasant, more... calming. He made sure to place the entire room under solid darkness. That was what blessed his sore eyes.

Yet, as some hair strands fell over his face, he once again was at trouble. Once again, he was reminded that he couldn't breathe. These hairs that tickled his nose with each exhale and inhale... tickled him - and as he took in a deep breath that would turn into a sigh, he reached a realization, more profound than any other.

He had to move. Some deep instinct told him to go out, or he'd die, right then and there. As if death herself took his breath away - he got alarmed, and at last, did something.

Legs wobbly, he stood up - a bad move, as he got dizzy and almost fell. He found some leverage on the table, his elbow almost hitting the burning desktop. And he groaned - the closest thing to a wail that could be heard from him.

Per se, overworking wasn't bad for this young man. He always had someone to take care of him, at least one servant to make sure he had his meals and some normal sleep. He couldn't take care of himself - as if he were handicapped of the ability, God knew why, let alone how. He was now at his lowest, mere moments away from blacking out. This "rest" he snatched did not help him one bit, and in his mind, in those colorful Russian curses, he cursed, for he wasn't productive for hours and did not gain anything from it. Why was the organism so difficult to please? He did not know, and he did not try.

So if sleep couldn't help, he'd have to do something else to bring his state back into... normal, so to speak. But what was it that he wanted, no, that it, his body wanted - he couldn't deduct. He closed his eyes, a long sigh making his aggravation audible, and he slid down to the floor. His arm, once on the table, now covered his face. He breathed into it, into the sleeve of his shirt - and the air there too was sickening, musky. It reeked of stale. Just like everything else in that cursed chamber.

What was he hoping for? This touch he bestowed himself with, what was the meaning of it? He'd laugh if it were actually funny, but - he was hoping to comfort himself.

He opened his eyes to be met with the same black. Comfort? All he needed was to get himself going, and the comfort would be found right there. The demands were clear - he had to get his body in shape, just for a bit, and get back to work.

He barely got back on his feet, the support once again found on the table. His head was held with his other hand. It did not quite throb this time, but he hissed nevertheless. Illness was all around him. The air itself - one great pestilence that poisoned his lungs, the darkness blinding his already awful vision, and the room, a trap, a trap from which he had to escape if he were to continue living.

Strangely, once he felt his forehead, he sensed his body temperature was alright - he believed he had a fever, but nothing was out of the ordinary. But the motion itself tired him, and he moved his hand away, interested to see if it would tremble. If he were to play doctor, then he might as well examine some other body parts. And as the sight was illuminated by the monitors, he gave himself a wry smile: his spread fingers, ah, the entirety of his hand was shaking, and he, as the patient, felt much pain.

A chuckle was what should have come out of his mouth, but his dry throat turned the sound mute. He did not know what was so amusing about this diagnosis, but so long it livened his soul, may he laugh, and may there be a hand to cover his smile, just like that very instant.

He delved deeper into movement, and began walking. Somehow he did not fall. The wall was there, but he tried to venture on his own, arms free by his side. He had always been independent. That word could easily define him.

Because, during work, the forming of ideals and ideas, he was be independent. During dismissing his well-being, he was independent. And even as he kicked some unfamiliar, heavy rubbish, he was independent. He would pride on that one trait of his more than any other.

The object he almost tripped over was some bottle he did not remember bringing in. He ducked, but oh, he was supposed to duck, he however ended up falling on his butt - and examined it. With his both weak arms, he brought the bottle closer - the liquid was transparent, apparently. He couldn't deduct what it was, as he was unable to focus on the kanji. The strokes began dancing right in front of his eyes. And he, he grew agitated.

He lifted the bottle just a little, comparing it against the light of the monitors. And he hoped that, what he laid his gaze on, was water, for he opened the bottle and drank all of its content.

The gamble was fruitful - this clean, pure water gave him life. Filling up his dry throat, then his empty belly, he found another strength to fuel him. Refreshed, with his mind a tad more explicit in thought, he was ready to venture forward.

Rags that covered the windows didn't offer much light to come in, but enough to reveal him his position, along with the position of the door. Next on the door, on the floor, laid his coat, and inside perhaps all of his current material worth. His phone, shut down, the keys of the apartment, and some money. That was what he remembered, at least.

He put on the heavy coat on his shoulders, the unfamiliar burden making his back arch just a bit. This only added more pain to his already hurt spine. The keys were taken by his trembling hand and used to open the door. And Fyodor was met with another dimension he had probably forgotten existed - the life outside this cavern of his.

It was the fresh air that tempted him to move out, forced him to step outside with much rush. He greeted it with a frown, shyly glancing around the hallway. He did not allow his excitement to be shown.

So as he walked, his steps long, calculated, and above all - slow, he thought of what to do, where to go, what to take - ordering food was out of question for sure, since he had to move himself. So why not connect the two, make it both sweet and profitable. He'd go sit down in a restaurant somewhere and order whatever. Something healthy for sure. A salad, perhaps? With a fruit smoothie. Proteins and vitamins combined. Yes, a great pick.

He then walked outside, and the Sun blinded him without holding back. He lifted his hand and winced at its harshness, his eyes rolling upwards to meet the blues and the whites. Could a simple stroll get that unpleasant? He hadn't even started yet, he hadn't even started yet...

He hadn't even started yet, and he was about to fall. A single gaze directed up was what caused him to feel uneasy, light-headed. His head followed the motion of his eyes, swinging backwards. Nothing was felt underneath his feet - the floor disappeared, no - he no longer felt his legs in entirety. He lost control, he was falling, he barely realized - and once he finally immersed himself in that fleeting moment, he was glad.

But his relief was interrupted, of course it was, as a pair of arms yanked him from behind. He let his body weight rely on them, as he closed his eyes, letting his consciousness drift far, far away... and he was, without any remorse, happy. The satisfaction of learning this one fact soothed him, the very fact he came to understand, through which he met himself better, and discovered, he was indeed no more than man. Name him a God, a Demon, or any eternal deity you may figure, but he remained a human being.

He was mortal, and he was weak. He couldn't bear the weight of the world on his sickly chest. He did not surrender to his responsibility, no - he decided this for his own sake, for once, he thought of himself. His grand heart turned selfish - he was no God to love eternally. What a preposterous realization! This fact, that emerged at the edge of his existence, this fact stated:

Fyodor gave up. Fyodor wanted to die. Fyodor wished nothing else but to abandon this horrid world.

"Dos?"

He smiled at the Sun, and the Sun smiled back.

Fyodor couldn't even fathom the scene he presented to Nikolai. He was far more than a sorry sight - to name him so would be an understatement of the worst kind.

If only he could peek into Nikolai's mind, he'd discover a shocking mess. Thoughts running about, rampant, unable to connect with each other. No sense could be made in such a fuss, yet Fyodor would know: he was the one to cause it.

And he loathed it, with the remnants of emotion that were left inside of him. He loathed to look up, and see and feel the rays on his face. He loathed that he wasn't alone, when death seemed to have taken him by his hand. Nobody was supposed to disturb his final waltz into oblivion!

Because, after experiencing attraction to suicide, in that one bleak moment, he got bored of it, and he knew, he would never again sense it that way. He was jealous of those who could keep this ideal going, for he, he would never belittle himself to worshiping death, and he would never be able to view life from that angle.

His thoughts could simulate it, but his emotions couldn't. He tried to grasp that sensation once again, his fingers twitching, barely moving - yet nothing reached them but still air. His smile did not abandon his lips, no - it seemed to curl up even more in self mockery.

The man in the blonde's arms was no more. The smile Nikolai was welcomed with was a sorry sight, and it brought even more sorrow unto Nikolai's heavy heart. This weight inside his chest forced his breathing to a halt - and as a choke captured the words of worry in his throat, he too, much like Fyodor, went mute due to problems with respiration.

Again, how ridiculous, but they were the same.

But unlike Fyodor, Nikolai could move, he still had life - and he was vigorous to use it for his friend's sake. Had he lost consciousness, he couldn't tell, but he knew he had to do something soon.

"Dos?" He once again called out, his voice broken with a single crack. And his dear friend responded with a faint nod, dreary gaze lost in something above, but most certainly not Nikolai. At that particular instant, the Sun seemed especially warm to Fyodor.

Nikolai brought Fyodor back to his feet, his arm wrapped around his friend. Truth be told, Fyodor could black out at any given moment - and he wouldn't be aware of it, he was sure that if he were to blink, the black would swallow him for hours. So long he was awake, Nikolai would help him, and he would be there to witness. Eventually he was carried back into that sullen apartment of his.

The blonde was appalled by the silence. Fyodor would usually acknowledge his presence in... a dull manner, yes, but at least he would be greeted properly. Now however, Nikolai knew, something awful had happened, for he had never seen Fyodor in this state before.

Hands nervously moving around, he opened the door, brought Fyodor into the stench of that darkness. He searched for a futon, for any kind of bed, but he found none. The apartment was a single room, and the room was comprised of three things: the desk with the laptops, the abused curtains, and some sickening stench.

"Why did you pick this place, out of all the hideouts we have..." Nikolai mumbled, disapproving of his friend's methods in vain. Fyodor responded with a sigh and a petite shrug, and the blonde rolled his eyes. He took off his jacket and threw it on the floor. "There, lay on that."

Fyodor didn't object. Nikolai was glad to see that happen, but along with that, he couldn't help but notice - the speed and direction of Fyodor's movements, they were abnormal, characteristic to that of a man under fever or any other severe pain.

It shouldn't have happened. Fyodor would never allow himself fall this low. Both of them were aware of the fact, yet the impossible happened, furthermore, devastated. Both of them had their own flux of emotions streaming through agonizing disbelief.

The weary man cradled himself. Ill vision did not aid him. He longed to look at his old friend, but his eyelids turned into lead, threatening to murk the scene before him. That which he had seen, appeared as an illusion - a young man whose coat danced along his firm movements. That was supposed to be Nikolai.

It could be, a disgusting film of exhaustion did not let him see better. But he heard clearly those mutters, vexed proclamations and horrified realizations, all directed to Fyodor, all concerning him. He was found guilty in front of Nikolai, and he for once felt remorse.

Now would be a good time to sync with his thoughts, and reveal his confusion at all to which happened. It was disbelief that was expressed so: some detached wandering through his memories and scarce connection with reality. The manner forced Fyodor into concluding that he was indeed in a process of sorts, and the more he tried to turn on his consciousness, the more he was horrified.

Physiological reactions followed. His heart contorted in grotesque he did not deem possible.

He would call it a farce and resort to reason to lull him back into apathy, but the present moment was far from farce. Not even once had his friend, the both sad and joyful jester, shown outright spleen.

"Do you have any idea what were you doing?! You literally look like a corpse, you -"

Yes, Fyodor knew, he knew he hadn't eaten for days, he knew he had only water in the apartment. He knew he certainly didn't leave the apartment. He knew he overworked himself. He did not know, but he felt, he pushed himself beyond boundaries. Fyodor let Nikolai number those assumptions, one by one, each and one of them followed by a harsh question.

Fyodor had no intention, nor energy to deny. There was nothing to go against, after all - Nikolai was right in every sense. He could only do him the honor of listening to his tirade.

All that Nikolai accused him was stained with despair, and this deep emotion did not go unnoticed by Fyodor. This Russian's mind worked on the lowest frequency possible, yet it was more than enough to pick out Nikolai's concealed wails.

Whenever the blond's voice would pitch a tad higher, Fyodor would twitch, and his crucial organ would bend and twist more in hopeless attempts of escape. It was far too beaten up, both physically and emotionally, to withstand any more blows.

And as if Nikolai knew, and as if he knew Fyodor's turmoil, he had to grab him by his shoulders, bringing his horrified expression right in front of Fyodor's, and he had to emphasize the one thing his friend did not understand:

"How could you do this to yourself?"

Fyodor was thoroughly arrogant, but strangely, he did not care about what happened to him. That was why his existence was reduced to saving the world, and that was why, when asked that question, he bothered not to respond in any other way than: "It had to be done."

A croak - he shouldn't have spoken up, for his throat itched, and the answer did not seem to satisfy his friend. Then Nikolai certainly shouldn't have asked:

"Do you know how much I care for you?"

Fyodor did however have a heart. Its content wasn't meant for anyone in particular, no - although Fyodor seemed to have lacked the responsible organ, it ticked its pulse for mankind only. It was a strange love, one could say, or a grand lack thereof, but he wasn't selfish, and his apathy was no ordinary.

If he was apathetic, he wouldn't care. If he was at peace with death, he wouldn't see the living. If he had no heart, he wouldn't feel it break. None of it would have happened if he didn't hurt Nikolai.

Yet it happened. He was falling apart from the inside, just like Nikolai was falling apart from the outside. Throughout this senseless torture, Fyodor finally felt alive.

"I do." Fyodor's lie came in form of a wheeze.

"You're lying! You have no shame, you really don't, do you? If only you knew how much you mattered! If only... if only you..." Nikolai fumbled his words rather clumsily. "If only you knew how much you mean to some people. If only you realized we're selfish and that we value some things more than humanity itself! If only you knew how much I care for you. Do you... do you not understand, Dos?"

One wipe later, and the glass was washed off his eyes.

"Your sacrifice isn't worth it."

"Worth what..?" Fyodor smirked in defiance. "I'm fine with losing myself for a better world."

"Well I'm not! I'm not!" Nikolai pounded the fact into Fyodor's blank face, although all of his hits probably missed the point - there was a possibility, terrifying but existent, that Fyodor's empathy wasn't meant for Nikolai.

"I thought we agreed on this... a long time ago," the man beneath began, "that we would be willing to die... for this cause."

"Yeah, yeah. But you don't get me, do you?" Nikolai shook his head. "No, you get me. You do. You just act oblivious." That, yes, and perhaps Fyodor didn't care for him, but the blonde did not wish to inquire. He did not wish to hear the answer.

A huff came, an angry huff, and nothing else. Fyodor surrendered.

Nikolai cupped his cheeks, fingers almost retracting from the dryness of the white skin. "You can't do this to yourself. You simply can't. There's another way. We'll go through this together, I promise. I promise we will."

"Does it matter..?" Fyodor started, soon to be cut off.

"It does! You can't do this alone. You can't expect to... build the organization from ashes on your own. That's too much, even for you."

"It..." He exhaled loudly as Nikolai's words sank in. "It is."

"There, you see? You made a mistake. But, but! Everything is going to be okay. I'm here now. I'll help you get better..."

Fyodor's relief manifested as a softened expression. Nikolai's thumbs caressed him, each and every movement like bliss. He was undeserving of this care, yet it came, yet it didn't abandon him. Fyodor had his very own angel to protect him! And he neglected him!

Who was selfish there, he wondered - he, for ignoring this pure love Nikolai offered him, or Nikolai, for loving a monstrosity Fyodor presented? He couldn't decide, but he knew one thing for sure. The both of them were clowns in this maddening folly, but they were together, and they would be together.

And Nikolai's apparition turned pleasant to Fyodor's bleak gaze; a comforting smile, that was indeed the right picture to fit the frame. A single sympathetic act, rustling his senses, bringing him the warmth of fondness - he did not know it, but he craved it.

The turmoil was gone! The Sun shone upon him, and if only he allowed himself bask in its light earlier, he wouldn't hurt this feeble heart before him, this indeed fragile soul that sacrificed its freedom for him. Fyodor would never ask for a better companion.

"Kolya," he dared whisper, furrowed eyebrows from the strain of his thoughts. Kolya listened, he listened carefully, only to hear, "thank you."

"You're welcome," he responded, moving away from Fyodor, who in turn closed his eyes. He had to take a rest, even for a couple of seconds, even that much. He had seen all he needed, after all.

"I'll go get you something tasty to eat. Something I know you'll like for sure," Nikolai informed Fyodor, then proceeded to open the window. Once he moved the curtains, a splash of dust filled the air around them, dancing around like ghosts of snowflakes.

Strangely, they pleased Fyodor. He looked upwards, and right in front of Nikolai, through the newly introduced sun rays, he discovered some better times. Be they of the past or the future, they did not belong the present, yet they brought him delight. In their background, stood his dearest friend, he too a bright scene.

"Until then, don't forget to breathe. Pretty please!" The man in the light then chimed, trying his best to amuse his friend on the floor. He succeeded, for he lured out a weak, however sincere smile.

"I'll get going... and, Dos, Dos, remember this!" Nikolai stood by the door, his cape fluttering around as he halted his movements. Fyodor peered at him with interest - now what else would he offer, besides this endless love he possessed ?

"I love you," Nikolai announced, hand on his heart as he bowed just a little. Ah, so it was nothing else but a public exclamation.

"I know. I love you too." They exchanged smiles before abandoning each other all over again.

The Sun had a cataract. Another day would soon bleed by, soon to leave a dry corpse. Its sockets gaped at the star, jaw wide open, hollow skull directed to the sky ever since the carcass laid down. It awed, mute, at the celestial wonders above. The Sun could only warm it, for its vision was faulty. It could not see the decaying meat it heated. Its eye was long diseased by the Earth where he died.

#fyogol #fyodor x nikolai #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor dostoyevsky #bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #nikolai gogol bsd #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #bsd fanfic #bsd oneshot #angst #death #hah #omg i actually like my writing #nikolai x fyodor

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saiilorstars · 4 years

Text

Next Stop, Everywhere

Chapter 23: Things Change

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Female OC

(Minerva’s face claim: Victoria Camacho)

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Chapter summary: Minerva finally comes home to see someone very special to her and hopefully raise her spirits a bit.

// Story Masterlist //

The Doctor entered my room with another dessert in his hand, a hopeful look on his face as he approached my bed.

"Doctor, I said I wanted vanilla pudding," I informed, giggling when his hope turned into irritation. It was far too much fun irritating him like that. Since I'd been stuck in bed for a good while, I had to find a source of entertainment somewhere.

"Are you serious?" He frowned.

I nodded, "I said clearly that I wanted vanilla..." But my certainty faded when I started to think about it. This had been happening for a while too. "...or...maybe I did say chocolate...hm...no, wait, pistachio?"

The Doctor sighed and sat down on the chair beside my bed. He wasn't very surprised about my doubt, neither was I by this point. "Don't try to think too hard. It could hurt you."

"Sorry," I reached for the vanilla pudding, "But thank you for tolerating my indecision."

"It's alright, although I'm seriously not okay with you rejecting the banana pudding," he gave me a sharp look.

"I told you, I like banana in everything...except pudding form."

He shook his head, "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, "It's just its yellow color sort of reminds me of like the goop of your brain or something...ew."

"Seriously?" he raised an eyebrow, "That's your excuse?"

"I'm sorry if I don't want to eat a pudding brain," I said as innocently as possible, "It's what it reminds me of."

"Your comparisons are wrong," he pointed.

"And so is this," I waved the vanilla pudding, "I think I did say chocolate."

"Minerva just eat the bloody pudding," he snapped, "Or I'll force it down your throat."

"Ouch, you're rude today," I said innocently as I took a spoonful of my pudding.

"Sorry," he immediately apologized, his genuine sorriness making me feel bad because this wasn't such a big deal. Like I said, I'd been bedridden for some time now and I needed to find fun somewhere.

"I was just joking around, Martian, don't overreact."

"Is there anything else you need?" He stood up and fluffed the pillow behind me, "Are you thirsty? Do you want a milkshake?"

"I'm still eating my pudding," I reminded, waving my spoon as he stepped back.

"Right, right," he nodded, "Are you sure you're okay? Nothing hurts?"

I smiled, shaking my head, "Nope, I feel fine. Just fine. Why do you keep asking that? Martha does the same thing. So I lost my memory, but I'm okay."

For some reason, my memories of the last couple months had been lost. I could barely see the faint images of the Family shooting the Doctor, Martha and I in the TARDIS. And a watch...and Kaeya's necklace. But that was it. After that, I couldn't remember a thing.

About a week ago, I woke up in my room in the TARDIS without a clue of how I'd gotten there. It was a bit scary at first, not knowing what happened to me but the Doctor and Martha had quickly established I was alright despite the small memory loss. They explained two months had passed since we were shot down in the TARDIS. We'd gone into hiding in the year 1913, the Doctor posing as John Smith who was a school teacher. Martha and I had been assigned as his 'inherited' maids. Figures we'd end up serving the Martian. But according to them, we had been discovered a month early and chaos had arose. In the end, the Doctor returned and helped save us again. It sounded right, but I couldn't remember.

All I had as a memory from that adventure was a big ole burnt spot on my neck, which Martha continuously said was the origin of my memory loss. But no matter how many times I asked why she thought that, or what caused the burned spot, she wouldn't answer. I would even ask the Doctor and he would just wave it off or avoid the answer altogether. I knew there was more than they weren't telling me, it was especially obvious in the Doctor.

He seemed guilty, he seemed thoughtful, distracted. There were times where we were talking and suddenly I'd find that he wasn't listening to me; his mind was somewhere else. I wondered what made him think so much. I asked Martha about it but she seemed mad so she tended to divert the answer. She just said that it was his fault and he should know by now. That only made me more confused. I had one distracted friend and another angry friend. I suspected something else had happened in 1913, but neither of them would say more about it and I just couldn't remember anything.

But one thing that I clearly saw was how guilty the Doctor looked. I didn't understand why but I assumed he felt the memory loss was his fault for bringing us to 1913. As much as I told him it wasn't his fault, he claimed he wasn't guilty and that he was alright.

What a liar.

And due to the Doctor's guilt, he had taken the job of aiding me this last week very seriously. While he couldn't cook anything, I was always brought a good meal three times a day, made by Martha. He never left my side unless there was something truly wrong in the TARDIS that needed his services. Every five minutes, he always asked if I was alright and if I needed something. At first, I did care for his extra attention, but when I noticed how unhappy he was, how distracted and absent he was at times, it made me realize how wrong something was. I wanted to know what it was to then know how to fix it and then do it so he could be happy again.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," the Doctor took my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts, "I'm really sorry."

"Sorry about what?" I frowned, liking our hands interlocking but the fact he looked sad took it away.

"You don't remember?"

"Nothing yet, sorry," I shrugged.

He sighed, nodding and patting my hand, "It's alright. You don't have to be sorry for that."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Because you've been a terrible liar this past week."

"Everything's fine," he pulled a small smile, easily fake.

"You're lying," I whispered, watching his eyes intently. He did the same thing no matter how casual he wanted to act. It was fairly easy to catch when he couldn't even meet my gaze for more than a few seconds. "You're broken inside."

"How do you know that?" he tried acting like what I was saying had no relevancy.

"Because just like you could read my eyes, I can read yours. And right now, they're telling me they've seen something that broke you. You're not okay and it actually hurts me that you don't have the sufficient trust to tell me."

"I trust you, I do."

"No you don't, because we tell each other everything and right now you're choosing to hide it. Why?"

"There's just some things I'm not ready to say."

"Is it about Kaeya?"

"What?" He sounded edgy about that so I knew it had something to do with her.

"Kaeya's alive and you've made no remarks about it. No smiles, no happy dances, no nothing. She's the love of your life and you're not even smiling that she's still breathing somewhere in the world."

That was what confused me the most! A week ago, I informed him the love his life was alive and was returning for him. That was actually the only memory I had from 1913; Kaeya's message. As soon as I woke up in my room, her words ran through my head: "I am alive". While it broke my heart that she was coming back, it did make me just the slightest happy that the Doctor hadn't lost his love in the war. I thought he'd be extremely happy, giddy, jumping off the walls out of excitement...

...but there was nothing.

I would've thought he would've started his own search for the princess just to meet even earlier. But instead, he had stayed with the boring ole human that was me. He took care of me, even more than Martha I dare say because she had to go and sleep...but not him. He stayed, literally 24/7 all last week, just because I lost some memories of two months, and the necklace I had worn left me a bit weak. Bad as it was, I liked he chose me this time, even if it was just for a small moment.

"She's not the love of my life.." the Doctor said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"But you love her, don't you? You never stopped even if Rose was able to sneak her way into your hearts. You loved her too but it doesn't compare to Kaeya's love." I was a bit bitter but I think it's understandable.

He frowned, "I didn't love Rose."

"Yes you did. She loved you. I know it." It's not like her attitude or threats had anything to do with the fact she loved him...

"Well, perhaps she did but that doesn't mean I loved her. I mean, okay, yes, I admit it...I did have some affection for her, I was attracted...but love? No. I didn't. I don't."

My eyes widened as I processed his words, "...you...you don't?"

"No," he was smiling about this for some reason, "I don't. I never did, Minerva. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Doctor, you didn't exactly portray just friendship with Rose. You held hands, you were always together...and when I was there...there were times where you two would just...forget that I was even in the same room with you and you'd give each other these little looks that...that just yelled 'love'."

"Minerva, I will never finish apologizing for that time that you felt ignored, really...I am so sorry," he reached for my hand and took it into his. "And yes, I do admit there were times where I did consider Rose being...more than a friend...but something didn't feel right about that."

"Cos she's human?" I asked quietly, looking down as I thought about myself. What if he didn't want me solely because of that trait, that thing that made any fantasy about us being together for a lifetime impossible?

"Cos there was no actual spark."

"But you were attracted to her!"

"There's a difference between attraction and actual love. Yeah, alright, I was attracted to her in the beginning. I won't deny it. But...I don't know, there was just something that made it not happen."

"So...you never loved her?"

"No, I never loved her."

"Oh..." And I was smiling stupidly. Even if Rose wasn't here, it did make me feel somewhat better to learn that she had never gained his love. It was stupid, but...it made my heart skip just a littler faster to know that she had been wrong. The Doctor never loved her.

Of course then I remembered about Kaeya...

"But you still love Kaeya," I whispered, snatching my hand away from his as discreetly as possible.

"I..." he shook his head, "...let's talk about something else, yeah?"

"Why aren't you happy that she's coming back? I mean, she loves you, you love her, why aren't you happy?"

"Cos...cos, um..." He opened his mouth yet closed it as soon as he opened it. Instead, he just...stared at me. Normally, I'd be all giddy and smiley but this was another look he'd been doing all this week. While it did make me blush, I knew there was something more behind it. Something he didn't want to tell me...

"Cos what?" I asked, hoping that this time would be the lucky one that would give me all the answers I wanted.

"Have you ever felt like your head is just so...jumbled up?" He said instead. It was rather confusing how our conversation steered towards the new topic but I followed.

"Um...I suppose, with my family?" I shrugged, noticing how grim he had turned. "Why do you ask?"

"Cos that's what I've felt lately. Like, I think I know what I want, but..."

"There's doubt?"

"Maybe, I don't know," he sighed.

"What are you so jumbled about, then? A suit to wear?" I teased, getting a small laugh back.

"Ha, ha," he rolled his eyes, "I am being serious here."

"That doesn't sound like you, Martian," I smiled, "It must be serious, huh?"

"Very," he stared again for another minute or two.

I coughed, looking away as I blushed for his lingering looks, "What's it about? Kaeya?"

"Um...half."

"Half? What does that even mean?"

He just smiled sadly, "I'm just confused, that's all. But, enough about me, I don't want burden you with more things."

"Oh c'mon, I've told you my whole life story and you think you're burdening me with a small problem?"

"It's not small, it's really important," he sighed, "Consider it as something between life and death."

At that, I grew silent. I looked down to my hands and fiddled with my fingers as a recurrent thought ran through my mind, "Doctor...um...there's something that's been, uh, in my head for a couple of days now..."

"Did you remember something!?" He sounded alarmed for some reason, nearly jumping out of his seat.

"No," I looked up, a bit concerned. What did he looked so...jumpy about that?

"Oh...okay," he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he slumped back on his chair, "What's going on?"

"You told me that I risked my life in 1913, and I can't even remember what I did..." I sighed, "...and it's made me think, cos...what if whatever I was trying to do succeeded and I died?"

"Don't think of that, please," he shook his head.

"It really terrifies me that I can't remember being close to death...I was gonna die..."

"N-n-n-no, don't cry," he reached with a hand to wipe the tears that I hadn't even realized were going down my face.

"I'm sorry," I sniffled, half-smiling.

He didn't even say a word before he got on my bed, moving right beside me to give me a hug, "Okay, I know this is gonna make me sound so bad as a friend but...your life has been threatened a lot of times since you've met me. What's the difference now?"

I chuckled a little through my sniffles, "Because this time I can't remember it. What if I had died? I would've died in 1913, my family never knowing what happened to me...my grandmother..."

"But it didn't happen, it never will because I won't allow it," he moved his hand down to my waist and brought me closer to him, "Human or alien, I shall not."

"Yeah, thanks for whatever you did back there," I patted his hand, "But it's made me think, it's really had an impact on me. I don't want to die and leave my grandmother without the knowledge of my death. She doesn't deserve that."

"So what do you want to do about it?"

Silence.

"Minerva?"

I bit my lip and looked up at him, "I...I want to visit her..." I whispered.

He stiffened, silence falling for a mere minute before he became ecstatic, "Really!? You want to see her!?"

I nodded, "I don't want to die without seeing her again. I miss her so much, Doctor...I need to see her. Do you think I can go?"

"This must be a trick question, of course you can go!"

"So I can get out of bed now?"

"Yes, but no excess of movement," he warned letting go of me and standing up.

"We can go right now?" I barely breathed at the idea of seeing my sweet old grandmother again, "Yes?"

"C'mon!" he pulled me to my feet.

"I have to get changed," I ran to my mirror to get a good look at myself, "I have to fix my hair," I grabbed a piece of my hair, "Brush it, no! I've got to shower! And then brush it! And then find something acceptable to wear. No excessive heels, she hates it! She doesn't like brown either, but it's okay because I hate brown dresses! They make me look ugly!"

The Doctor just laughed, "Brown would look lovely on you and I'm sure your grandmother would agree."

"You don't know what you're saying, brown on me does not look good. But anyways, something serious here," I turned to him, my excitement all gone and replaced with seriousness, "Do you think my grandmother forgave me?"

"What?" he frowned and walked up to me, "What happened to the big smile on your face? Bring it back," he poked my cheek, making me chuckle for a moment.

"I'm serious. When I left, she was destroyed. She lost Olivia, and it wasn't too long ago that she lost my grandfather. Then I filed against my parents, against her daughter. I filed, despite knowing what it would do to her and when I won, I left her. She told me I could stay with her if I really wanted to leave my parents...but I ignored her and I left. I did that to her...I can't imagine she forgave me."

He set his hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eye, "Minerva, you are her granddaughter. The only one she has now. She doesn't have anything to forgive because she's not angry with you. She just wants to see you."

"But you can't be sure of that..."

"You're forgetting I had grandchildren of my own. I could never hate any of them, despite what they could've done. I loved them, and I always will. That's exactly how your grandmother feels about you."

"But is she proud of me? Would you be proud of them if they did everything I did?"

"I would always be proud of them," he smiled softly, "Just like she would always be proud of you."

"Thanks," I whispered, letting him hug me, "What would I do without you?"

"...your life would be a lot easier."

I pulled away, "And miserable," I walked for my closet, the thought of him never being in my life was just so unimaginable. I would never want to live in a world where he never met me. I couldn't.

"I'll call for Martha, then," the Doctor cleared his throat, walking for the door, "She can help you get ready."

"Yes because your sense of style is..." I looked him over, while I wanted to say how handsome he looked, I couldn't very well say that. Apart from my blushing, I would never hear the end of it from is smug lips. "...not so good."

"Says the girl in her nightie," his eyes looked me over with smirk.

"Shush," I hugged myself, "And get out."

"Oh go on then, I'll go call Martha to help you with your clothes. Take it easy, yeah?" I nodded and he pressed a kiss to my forehead, getting a blush from me.

"Yeah," I whispered, both of us smiling at each other in silence for couple seconds before he walked out.

I took a long sigh, knowing it wouldn't ever happen but still...I liked our closeness. Suddenly the idea of leaving the box of wonders and the Martian didn't seem so easy to do...

~0~

"Voila!" Martha clapped, forcing a little twirl out of me, "You know, maybe apart from being a doctor, I could have my own makeover show on the side."

I chuckled, "I'd be your number one fan." We both chuckled until I looked myself over. "Do you think she'll like it?"

"Mhm," Martha nodded.

"Thank you Martha," I hugged her.

"No problem," she pulled away, "I think you're grandmother is going to love it..." she stepped beside me, the usual innocent face she had before she made certain remarks. "...just like the Doctor will."

Ah, those remarks.

But actually, thinking on those two...something had changed. Martha was always telling me that I should tell the Doctor how I felt, but she had ceased to do that since last week. Instead, she focused on just turning his head. I thought it was extremely strange that she would stop altogether like that. But I also believed it was for the best; there was just no point in making a fool out of myself especially now that Kaeya was on her way back.

Martha had gotten right on the job as soon as the Doctor had told her I finally decided to see my grandmother. She had picked out an emerald-green, long-sleeve blouse that was tucked under a black skirt. I wore tights underneath with ankle-length black boots, my hair let down with only a black headband keeping it from my face.

"I really want to make a good impression on her," I sighed as I went for the door.

"Minerva, you're her granddaughter, impression kind of made already," Martha laughed as she followed.

I rolled my eyes, "I'm serious. When I left, I was just fourteen. I haven't seen her in three years, nearly four! I've grown, and I've...neglected her. I ignored her calls and when I did take them I hung up. Martha, I'm very, very, very nervous."

"I noticed," she moved besides me, "The world's noticed."

I bit my lip, "I just really hope she's forgiven me."

"She will, she will," Martha swung her arms around my shoulders and we walked off.

~0~

I stood in front of my grandmother's door and I'm pretty sure I've been stuck like this for a good fifteen minutes. The door was right there but my entire body was frozen in place. There were too many things running through my head and none of them were making me feel better about this. "You know what, I changed my mind," I turned around and moved to walk away.

"I don't think so," the Doctor blocked the way in time, almost looking like he had expected me to do something like this. "Knock."

Martha crossed her arms and nodded, "We're not going anywhere."

I sighed and turned back to the door, "But...what if she doesn't wanna see me...I just got up and left...I can't do this," I shook my head and turned around, determinedly making my way down the front steps of the porch.

They both grabbed my arms, actually lifting me up from the ground and pulled me back to the door. Martha knocked on the door while the Doctor took a tight hold of my arm.

"Martha! Don't do that!" I exclaimed, completely horrified.

"Too late," she smirked.

"But she might not wanna see me-"

"Would you shush it up already?" the Doctor snapped, "She is your grandmother and she definitely wants to see you. That guilt you have is nonsense."

"But-"

The door opened up suddenly, leaving me completely silent.

"Hm, so that's how you keep her quiet, then," the Doctor blinked, looking like he had the answer to the world. "Good to know."

I elbowed him in the ribs.

My sweet, old grandmother looked from the Doctor, Martha and I. She kept her eyes trained on me and when I met her gaze, I couldn't believe she was actually standing there. "...Minerva?"

The Martian let go of me and stepped back, Martha following seconds later.

I bit my lip, the tears stinging in my eyes. She didn't look so angry with me so that was a good sign. "Grandma?"

She hadn't changed a bit! Her short, grayish hair was neatly tucked in her short curls. Her piercing jade-green eyes remained youthful and colorful despite her actual age. She was a bit taller than I, but only by a few inches. Her skin was a bit wrinkled, but not as bad she always used to claim.

"It's you!" She exclaimed, opening her arms and coming up quite fast for a woman her age. She encased me in a big hug with such a tight grip. "It's you! It's you! My Minerva! Oh, it's you!"

Even though I was partially frozen for a few seconds, the sniffling still found a way out. "It is..."

"My granddaughter, my sweet little Minerva. It's you..."

My arms finally found their way around her for an equally tight hug. "Hi grandma," I whispered, resting my head on her shoulder, her sweet familiar caramel scent filling my nose.

"I can't believe you're back! Oh!" She laughed and pulled away, her hands on my arms as she looked me over, "Oh my Lord, you're so big! A proper, young woman. And ever so beautiful!"

"You're not the only one who thinks that," Martha muttered, a small grunt coming out of her seconds later. The Doctor had elbowed her. It seemed my little habit was contagious because now all of us did it to each other.

"You're so beautiful, Minerva!" And I got another hug from my grandmother. I would definitely keep accepting them!

"So are you," I mumbled. I had missed three years of seeing her and it was just now catching up to me.

But she just laughed, "Oh please, I got old!" she started wiping my tears off my face, "Now don't cry. Don't you ever get tired of that?"

"I ask her that all the time," the Doctor said, "Ow!"

Martha elbowed him.

"Oi, I was just agreeing," the Doctor mumbled.

"Well don't!"

My grandmother stared at them with amusement, "Are these your friends?" I nodded silently. She took my hand and walking us further through the porch, "Are you responsible for returning my granddaughter to me?"

"He's the designated driver," Martha pointed at the Doctor, "But I helped too."

Grandma just laughed, "Well thank you both! You have no idea how happy I am to see her back." She looked at me with a soft smile on her face, "So, so happy."

"Told you she'd be," the Doctor smirked.

"Martha," was all I said for her to elbow him.

"I'm gonna be quiet now," he murmured afterwards.

"That would be a first," I smirked.

"Hello there," Martha stepped up, holding her hand out for my grandmother, "I'm Martha Jones, Minerva's current best friend."

"Isadora Lozano," she shook Martha's hand, "And what happened to the other boy? The nice one, Mickey?" She glanced at me.

"Um...he's left for a trip..." I answered, sighing. That would be as much as I would be able to say about Mickey, unfortunately. "..a very long trip."

"Oh, good for him, then," she smiled and looked at the Doctor, "Hello, Isadora Lozano."

"Nice to meet you, I'm-"

"The Doctor," she flashed a grin, turning into a smirk at the surprise we all shared. "Ah, might be old but the memory is still on check."

"Have we met before?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow, studying her.

"Once," she nodded, "Seems like it hasn't happen it yet, huh?"

"How do you mean?" the Doctor smiled, easily confused yet suspicious. By the way she spoke one would think she knew of time traveling...

"Minerva, how old are you?" she asked, still looking at the Doctor.

"Seventeen." There was something going on in my grandmother's head but I probably wouldn't be able to figure that out right now.

"So it hasn't happened yet!" she snapped her fingers, "Right then, come on inside."

"Why does it sound like she knows of time travel?" Martha whispered as we followed.

"Because I think she just might," the Doctor breathed in.

I would've been more concerned but I was in my house, my real house. It hadn't even changed a bit. The living room was up first, two couches set up in the middle and two couch chairs on opposite sides with a table in the center and a television set up on the wall I walked over to a corner, seeing old toys of mine still laying there. Then the pictures of our family were still where I remembered them. Despite nothing really changing, it felt like a lot had. My grandfather's loss was still as fresh as ever and with all the pictures around that consisted of him...it wasn't helping. There were even pictures of Olivia and I...

Oh, things had definitely changed.

"You remember Stacey had a little sister, Tamara," Grandma said, seeing me pick up an old doll of mine, "She loves Lucy."

"Who's Stacey?" Martha asked.

"And Tamara?" added the Doctor.

I stood up with my doll in hand, turning to them, "Stacey was a childhood friend I used to play with all the time. And Lucy was, well," I waved the doll, "She was my favorite doll as a kid."

"Stacey has a little sister, she's about five," Grandma cut in, "She comes around because she claims Minerva's toys are the best."

"Well I did have good taste," I tucked a strand of my doll's hair. It was brunette just like mine. "She really likes Lucy?"

"Oh yes."

I walked back to them, setting Lucy on the couch, "Then I'll bring it over later. Do they still live in the same house?"

"Yes, two houses down, across the street. You know, Stacey left for college a couple months ago. Have you picked one out, yet?"

I made a face. That was certainly a topic I wouldn't have chosen to talk about right now. "Right...about that, I haven't graduated yet," I rubbed my neck.

"Why not? It's nearly October, you should've been done three months ago."

"I've gotten a bit distracted but I promise I am working."

"Let's just say Minerva's focus has shifted a bit in the last couple of months," Martha smirked.

"Martha, come over a sec?"

She stepped back, covering her stomach, "No you're gonna elbow me."

I mock-glared at her for a minute before returning to my grandmother, "I promise I'm still working. It'll just take a bit longer."

"I trust you," she pointed a warning finger at me, "But let's not talk about school, I wanna know what you've been up to. What have you done lately? Are you okay? You're healthy right? You've been sleeping well? Where've you gone lately?"

I chuckled at her curiosity, it was as big as mine, "I'll tel you, don't worry."

"Uh, Minerva, if you want, we can leave for some time," Martha offered, the Doctor nodding in agreement, "We can take a look at the city, San Diego was always a place on my bucket list."

"I don't know..." I did want to speak to my grandmother alone but I felt guilty for leaving my two friends alone in a place they've never been to. Well, the Doctor could handle himself...actually scratch that, Martha could handle herself.

"Oh go on," the Doctor grinned, "I'm sure Martha and I have lots to see in this place. Never been around here, mind you..."

"Please don't go ruining things," I pleaded, half joking yet another half dead serious, "This place isn't like the city, city. It's a small suburb. There are children in the streets, playing...don't start a riot."

"Minerva, you say such things," my grandmother chuckled.

"Oh grandma..." I smiled at her, discreetly showing the Doctor I was dead serious of my warning.

"We'll be out then," Martha walked around the couch, hugging me as I stood up, "Good luck," she whispered with an encouraging nod.

The Doctor came over next, giving me a hug as well, "You deserve it, Clever Girl."

"I still feel guilty," I whispered as we parted.

"All nonsense," he pressed a kiss to my forehead then looked past me to my grandmother, "Mrs. Lozano, you have a very stubborn granddaughter."

I glanced back at her, not even gonna argue on that one just because it was her. If it had been the Doctor all on his own I would've elbowed him already. But not my grandmother, she was just...she was here...I was here. We were here together.

"Sophia's stubbornness," she added, "Lord knows that's how she and her brother got into arguments."

"That's how these two get into arguments," Martha informed of the Doctor and I.

"Oi," we shot her a look.

"And we're off," Martha raised her hands in surrender and walked for the door.

"Don't be a danger," I warned the Doctor, gripping his hands so he wouldn't run off and then claim I never said such thing, "I'm serious."

"I will behave," he pulled for his freedom.

"Yeah?"

He sighed and put on a grin, "Yeah."

"I'm holding you to that," I gave him a warning look, "I'm serious."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, we'll be back later," he chuckled.

I cracked a smile, his laugh just contagious to me, "Alright," and I let go.

I watched them go until the door was shut. I took a deep breath and turned to face my grandmother who wore a smile, which if really focused enough looked more like a smirk, "Grandma?"

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"Hm?"

She raised an eyebrow, it was the same look she gave me as a child when I wouldn't do my chores.

"It's nothing, grandma," I looked around with discomfort. I fixed my skirt in an attempt to distract myself.

"Minerva, you may be almost grown up but I can still tell when you're lying," she took my hand and sat us down, "C'mon dear, it's been nearly four years since we've talked and now that I finally have you in front of me, I see that you're smitten!"

"Oh no..." I looked away from her, this was definitely not what I wanted to talk about with her as our first topic.

"Don't be embarrassed dear, you're forgetting I was married once. I also loved someone."

"I don't lo..." I paused when I really focused on that subject. Last time I remembered, I knew for a fact that what I felt for the Doctor was not love. It was just the first stage, a simple crush. Simple affection. But now that I think of it, as of now, I can't really say that anymore. I felt like, somehow, I was getting closer to being in love. It was like my heart had taken in a fresh new layer of feelings, but why? Why would I suddenly feel like that?

"Hmm?" My grandmother's smirk had turned into a playful, teasing smile, "What better way to start catching up then by explaining to me what's going on in your heart?"

I bit my lip, debating whether this was really appropriate. I mean, this was my grandmother! I'm supposed to talk about cookies and teach her modern phrases...not...not talk about men.

"Minerva? I'm waiting," she gave me a sharp look, "I'll understand you sweetie, if that's what you're worried about. I may not be your mother but we understand each other perfectly, so speak."

"Grandma, I...I never felt like this before. He's just so..." I sighed, smiling softly, my grandmother chuckling, "...unbelievable, to put it at best. He's impossible. Unlike anything and anyone you've ever met."

"Oh and he's got you locked in, doesn't he?" her laughter continued.

"Yeah," I answered quietly, blushing as I pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, "It's that obvious, huh?"

"Just a bit, dear," she patted my hand, "You're very smart, I know you are, but it is quite easy to see."

"Yeah, well, it's easy to see except for him. I'm just a friend," I shrugged.

"And that breaks your heart, doesn't it?" she rested a hand on my arm, sighing when I nodded, "You want to hear a story about your grandfather and I?"

"What's it about?"

"How we met!"

"How does it go?" I scooted closer, curiosity bursting out of me.

"Well, we were just friends. Your grandfather always said that what he liked about me was that I always pushed to learn and do things, not stick to the housewife stereotypes. Most women were preparing for marriage and I...I wouldn't have that," she chuckled lightly, "That's the reason he started talking to me, you know. He said I was like none other, completely different!"

I smiled, "That's what I'd like for the Doctor to see. I'm not like any other human. I'm not Rose, I'm not Martha, I'm me. I'm different."

What I really meant to say what that I was different from all human females. I wanted the Doctor to see that I could keep up with him most of the time whereas Martha or Rose usually couldn't. I wasn't trying to seem better than them because they were good in their own ways, but I just wanted him to see I was different. But nothing could compare to Rose or Kaeya...

"Rose, that was, um, your best friend's girlfriend, right? What was his name, Mickey!" she snapped her fingers, "Yeah! And it was Rose Tyler, daughter of Jackie Tyler."

"Yeah, that's them," I sighed.

"What's happened to them, dear? I usually tried Mickey's number but now it says it doesn't exist."

"They're gone, grandma. They're happy, but they're gone." Well, I mean, Rose wasn't happy...

"And back to the point, you are most definitely not any of them. You're Minerva Joycelin Souza Lozano, the most intelligent, not to mention gorgeous, granddaughter I have."

I smiled warmly, "Grandma, I'm your only grandchild...now..."

"And you expect me to believe you're the opposite? No!"

"It's just...it's hurtful. Cos, he gives me hope, you know, like there's a chance that he could like me back, like, today...he told me he didn't love Rose. I always thought he did love her...I was so sure he loved her and today he tells me he doesn't, that he never did cos something didn't seem right. It would give me hope that one day he could look at me and see someone he could like more than a friend...but then there's Kaeya...the woman he loves for sure. That hurt cos that princess, yes she's a princess," I explained when she gave me that look, "She's so amazing, she did things that I could never do. Even Rose was good. And me...well...let's be honest I won't ever measure up to either of them so I'll never be good enough to earn his feelings, and it breaks my heart, grandma. It just...shatters it to pieces..."

"Oh no, don't cry," she took me into her arms like she did when I was a kid, giving me a sweet hug, "I don't like seeing you cry. I spent years looking for you and all I wanna see is your big, happy smile."

"Did grandpa ever break your heart?" I looked up at her, "Before getting married?"

"No, I was lucky I suppose," she smiled softly, "I was always happy with him."

"It sounds nice," the absence of my grandfather began arising as well. How could it not? I was in his house, with his wife, on a couch we always sat on for games, television and eating.

"I don't like hearing you talk like that, though. You are amazing!"

"Everyone says that but I think it's more to keep me quiet."

"But you are," she pulled away, "And I know he sees that too."

"How? You just met him," I wiped my tears from my face.

She chuckled, "Just trust me. I know the looks and believe me, your grandfather used to give them to me," she sighed with content, "And the Doctor does seem to have the same looks for you."

"Really?" I asked, the little gleam of hope inside rising at her words.

"You just trust your grandmother, alright?" she kissed the top of my head, "I know what I've seen and I've seen a lot."

"Grandma, do you...do you know the Doctor?"

"Mmm?"

"Grandma," I gave her a sharp look, "When Martha's mother met him, she made a whole fuss about what his name was and what he was doing with us, but you...you haven't asked the usual questions."

"I can't tell you, not yet," she patted my head, "But anyways, why don't you tell me what you've done lately, huh? Tell me about you. What have you been doing?"

"Um...just, travelling,' I shrugged, "We went to New York..." In the past. "...to, um, a replication of a guinguette, uh, to China-"

"To China?" She blinked incredulously before laughing, "What were you doing in China?"

"Um...the Doctor surprised me with the festival of Lanterns..."

"Ooh, 'surprised' you?" she raised an eyebrow, a hint of smirk growing on her face.

I blushed and looked away, thinking of what exactly happened during the festival. Looking back at it, I had no idea where I garnered such courage...

"Minerva?" My grandmother nudged me.

"Huh?" I snapped my head back to her, blinking rapidly as I remembered where I was.

"Anything interesting happen there?"

"Um, we had a riddle contest," I shrugged, deciding to leave out who with, "And I won."

"Oh, good," she chuckled, "Smart one, you are. Where else did you go?"

"Just...to so many places, grandma," I sighed with content, "It's all amazing out there."

"You just love to travel don't you?"

I nodded, "One could say it's my life."

"That's what Aaron says," she shook her head, "Somehow I think you're more level-headed than he is."

"How is Uncle Aaron?"

The Doctor had promised to find my uncle for me, but for some reason it was being a bit more difficult. Apart from all the distractions our travels caused, it seemed like Uncle Aaron was a bit hidden. And it did disappoint me because apart from my grandmother, he was the only one I wanted to see again.

"Last time I heard he was in Brazil," my grandmother paused and got to thinking, "No, wait, that was two weeks ago. I think he's in Switzerland...no..."

I chuckled, "He's everywhere!"

"That he is," she looked at me, "You and him are so alike in personalities it's no wonder Sophia had arguments with you."

I looked down, fiddling with my fingers, "...yeah. It seemed like I always disappointed her."

She set a hand on my arm, offering a smile of comfort, "Not to me you weren't. And never to her."

I sighed, wishing that could be true. Deep down, all I wanted was for my mother to forgive me.

~0~

My grandmother and I sat at the kitchen table with a plate of sliced apples in front of us. I declined her lunch offers so many times that she gave up trying to cook something and settled for a simple snack.

"Minerva, why didn't you want to take my calls? Did I do something wrong?" She asked once we were sitting together at the table. I knew it was the burning question she'd been keeping hold of ever since she opened the door to find me on the other side. The way she looked made me feel so incredibly guilty. Here was this sweet, old woman who had done nothing but care for a child that wasn't even hers and how do I repay her? By making her feel like she did something wrong.

"Grandma, when I left home, things were ugly," I began, swallowing hard, not wanting any memories to resurface through my head but that was just impossible. "I just wanted to forget everything for a while. And Uncle Aaron helped me. But when we separated, I started getting phone calls from my mother, well more since uncle Aaron and I were together. The times I did pick up she did nothing but remind me of what I had done to Olivia and her...so when you called, I thought it'd be the same. Cos all mom wants me to do is come back home so she can keep an eye on me like I'm some child with disastrous tantrums that harm people."

"You know very well my opinions over Olivia's death. It was not your fault, sweetie. And truthfully, that is something I shall never forgive Sophia for. She forgot what being a mother was. But you sweetie, you," she put a hand under my chin, lifting my gaze to hers to see her warm smile, "You are innocent. And understand that I will never fault you for Olivia's death."

"I'm sorry," I said before I started sniffling, "I thought about you all the time though. The Christmas I spent with the Tylers, Jackie Tyler made this delicious Christmas dinner, though with turkey..." We both made a face at the food, which she broke with a laughter, causing me to do the same. "...still don't understand that British custom. But anyways, all I could think of were your snicker-doodles. Those sweet, warm cookies you used to make for me and grandpa every year. This past Christmas, actually," I chuckled at the memory, wiping my face of tears, "The Doctor went out and brought some snicker-doodle mix which we attempted to bake."

"And how'd it go?"

"Well, he's not...very good with baking," I remembered the kitchen being splattered with half the mix, shortening our cookie production in half but still actually filling, though I bet the TARDIS wasn't too happy to have her kitchen covered with cookie mix, "So we had about half the cookie mix as cookies. But even baked by my hands, they don't taste the same. Yours were just delicious...I bet they still are."

"Well if you stick around I'll bake some for you," she pointed, "In fact, stop by your birthday and I may have a batch for you done."

"My birthday?" I blinked, forgetting all about that day seeing as it was not important.

"Your 18th birthday! How can you forget?"

"Grandma, I'm already a legal adult. My birthdays have kind already lost significance to me," I shrugged.

It was true. Most teens looked forwards to the big 1-8, but me? I'm already an adult to the law so there was no specialty behind the date. It was just October 31st, another day.

"There is something you have to understand, Minerva. You are my granddaughter, you can be 50 and I'll still see you as the little girl who wanted to play dollies with her grandfather," I chuckled at all the times I had forced my poor grandfather to play with me and my massive mounts of dolls, my grandmother even joining in with a laugh, "I'll always see the little girl I tucked in nearly every night. And so, your birthdays are always going to be special."

"Oh grandma," I shook my head, I had the best grandmother!

"Don't 'oh grandma me', when you have your kids and grandchildren you'll see what I'm talking about."

"Oh dear Lord, let's not talk about that," I tool a slice of apple into my hand.

The thought of being a "mother" actually scared me. My mother wasn't the best and so for me to actually consider becoming a mother to a baby didn't seem like a very good idea. I didn't really have my mother growing up so I didn't know the do's and dont's of motherhood. I could get it all wrong like my mother did and I would never forgive myself for making my own child suffer. I never wanted to do that to anyone, much less someone that came out of me. The best way to prevent that would be not to be a mother.

"Speaking of mothers..." my grandmother slowly eyed me.

I sighed, placing down my piece of fruit, "Grandma, she doesn't want to see me."

"No, no, I've talked to Sophia, she says she does want you home."

"Yeah, to order me around like I'm still some five year old. Besides, she wants to keep me locked up because according to her I only hurt people and she will not allow it."

"She said that?" she frowned, the disappointment flourishing in her eyes.

My grandmother saw all the faults of my mother, and she sided with me in this whole Olivia fiasco, but the fact still remained...Sophia was her daughter. And despite saying she'd never forgive my mother, she would always try to make peace between my mother and I because this was her daughter we were talking about.

"Let's face it, my mother doesn't love me. And she'll never forgive me," I leaned back on my chair, "Ever."

"Sophia does love you," she tried to come with a good comeback but I stopped it with a scoff, "In her own way..."

"She had fourteen years to show it and she failed. I love her, I do. She's my mother, I can't possibly hate her...but I won't pretend. She's made me angry, sad, guilty, everything...she doesn't want me home and quite frankly I don't want to step foot on that house."

"And your father? You know, truthfully, Nick hasn't been the same since you left the house. He used to be energetic, focused, even jokeful...but he's different now. He barely talks to anyone anymore, barely makes a noise. I think he misses you a lot."

"But he's never called me...why?"

"Maybe he was afraid? I don't know, but maybe you should go visit him now that you're back. I bet that'll put a smile on him..." she got thinking, "...hm, haven't actually seen one in years."

I would like to visit my father, but I was afraid of what he'd say to me. Unlike my mother where she completely lost it and outlashed everything on me, he sort of just...shut down. Honestly, he wasn't the best father to me either but the day we lost Olivia was the day I completely lost him too. He stopped talking to me, nearly everyone, he just let my mom take over and speak for everything.

I wouldn't visit my mother because she would yell at me. I wouldn't visit my father because...I was simply afraid of what his words could be.

~0~

"Growing up here wasn't that bad," I remarked to the Doctor and Martha as we walked down the street, me holding my doll Lucy in my arm.

The pair had returned with a couple arguments, Martha claiming the Martian had nearly gotten them thrown out of three city shops for ridiculous reasons. She claimed it was the last time she went shopping with him. In an attempt to calm both parties down, I offered to show them around the neighborhood I had spent most of my life in and my grandmother promising to have some type of dinner started for us. She was so sweet!

So I brought the pair along with me to give my doll to Stacey's little sister. The neighborhood seemed to change in its different occupants and the size of the children. However, it still remained a quiet, calm, suburb neighborhood. Children were playing outside on the front yards, some parents outside watching them. I did recognize a few of the families from my childhood days and some of the children that were a bit older now. But everything was calm, everything was just...lovely. It made me realize how much I missed it all.

Back in my parent's house, which was right smack in the city, everything in the house was either too quiet or loud. On the quiet days, both my parents would be working, at times Liv would be free to play with me, but usually it was just me and my toys...alone. When it was loud, it was either because my mother was yelling at me for something or just yelling at the employees. With my grandparent's house, it was always wonderful! There were laughter, there was baking, there was children besides me. I always had one of my friends over, usually Stacey to play with. There was never anything wrong...

"The neighborhood was always fantastic," I sighed with content, "Still is apparently. All the apple trees are still in place, " I chuckled suddenly, remembering one dang tree that I had a grudge from a kid, "There's one apple tree in the backyard of my grandparent's that I could never reach as a child, even when I was fourteen. It has the biggest and most delicious apples and I couldn't reach them. But," I started smirking, "Now that I'm seventeen, I'll probably be able to get them with no problem."

"Something that's changed?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow.

'Oh yes! But a good thing," I nodded.

"I'd like to raise my kids in a spot like this," Martha remarked, arms crossed as she studied around, "Barely any cars pass by, which is odd because we're in San Diego!"

"My grandparents like the peace," I shrugged, "They said this way they get to stay near their daughter and granddaughters, yet still live in a comfortable place," I turned on Stacey's front yard, opening the small gate and walking in, the pair behind me, "Gosh, I haven't seen nor talked to Stacey in four years!"

"Now would be the time to make it up," the Doctor suggested.

"Maybe," I shrugged, knocking on the door.

A couple seconds later, a bright ginger opened the door: Stacey's mother, Eliza, "Minerva? Minerva Souza? Is that you?" Her blue eyes blinked in shock.

"Hi Mrs. Donovan," I waved shyly.

"When did you get back?" she stepped out into the porch and hugged me.

"About a couple hours ago."

"Well it's very nice to see you again! Oh I'm sure Stacey would love this!"

"I'd love to see Stacey when she makes a trip back," I admitted.

"I'll be sure to let her know!"

I smiled, "...but for today, actually, I came because I heard a certain little girl had some attachment to one of my dolls," I waved my doll at her.

"Oh, I see," Mrs. Donovan nodded, stepping back inside and calling out for the little girl, "Tamara!"

"Coming, Mom!" a soft little voice called, a five year old brunette running up to the doorway a second later, "Hey, it's Lucy!" she pointed at my doll.

"This is Minerva, dear, you don't remember her," Mrs. Donovan shook her head, "She was only one at the time. Tamara, this is the owner of Lucy, Minerva."

"Hi Tamara," I waved, "You like my doll?"

She nodded, her eyes wandering to Martha and the Doctor behind me, "Mom..." she sheepishly moved behind her mother's legs.

"Oh, sorry," I had forgot about those two for a moment, oops, "Mrs. Donovan, Tamara, these are my friends. Perfectly safe and perfectly kind," I looked at Tamara who was peeking around her mother.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Hi!" the pair grinned, waving at her.

"Tamara, I heard you liked my doll," I stepped up, bending down to her level, "And I was thinking, since I'm nearly eighteen, I don't really need my dolls anymore."

"You don't?"

"Nah, I want clothes! Well..." I glanced back at Martha and the Doctor, "...I want to travel, actually."

"So...Lucy..." Tamara stepped around her mother, her hands behind her back, her eyes glued to my doll.

"...can be yours if you like?" I wiggled an eyebrow, making her laugh and nod, "Well then, here you go." I held my doll to her.

She took it and grinned, "Thank you!" she threw her arms around me, "I'll take good care of her, you'll see! I'll brush her hair, I'll give her food, I'll put pretty clothes on!"

"I know you'll take good care of her," I chuckled, pulling away and standing up, fixing my skirt, "Well, that's pretty much it. If Stacey happens to call..."

Mrs. Donovan nodded, "I'll tell her, don't worry."

"Thank you," I turned around, walking away with my two friends, "That felt nice."

"She was adorable," Martha remarked.

"She was just one when I left. She could barely walk...talk..." I sighed, "Makes me realize how long I've been away."

"But you'll be back from now on," the Doctor reminded, "Anytime you wanna visit, just tell us."

"I think I just might," I nodded, never wanting to let my grandmother's hugs slip away from me again. Never again.

~0~

"So how's that apple thing going?" the Doctor called while I desperately hopped to reach for an apple off my grandparent's apple tree in the backyard.

I stopped hopping for a second to glance over and see him leaning against the doorway of the kitchen's back door, "Do not laugh," I pointed before continuing to hop, "You know, I'm seventeen, nearly eighteen," hop, "So why can't," hop, "I get," hop, "A damn," hop, "APPLE!" I waved my hand frantically, one of my nails just barely grazing one apple, "It's been four years!" I rounded the stupid tree, "I'm suppose to grow."

"You did," he walked towards me.

"Clearly not enough," I huffed, crossing my arms and looking up at the apples above me, "My grandfather used to get them for me and I thought now that time has passed I should get them on my own..."

You could tell he was biting back a teasing laughter, "So..."

"Shut up," I let my arms drop to my sides, "I'm getting an apple if it's the last thing I do!" I turned around and began my jumping, "Just," hop, "One," hop, "Apple," hop, "Plea-AH!" I nearly yelled when the Doctor's arms went around my waist, lifting me up, "What the hell!?" I looked back at him.

"Just hurry up, will you?" he grunted, "Those brownies and pasta sure are making you he-"

"Finish that sentence and you die right now," I warned with a deadly look.

"They've sure made you lovely," he finished with a big grin.

"Nice save," I reached for an apple, finally getting one, "Hey! I did it!"

"Um, I'm the one that's technically reaching for it since I'm lifting you so really, I did it," I didn't even have to look down to see he was smirking.

So instead...

"Ow!"

I made an apple fall on his head.

"You did that on purpose!" he cried.

"Whatever do you mean, Martian?" I reached for more apples, having about six of them when the Doctor finally set me down. I bent down and picked up the apple that had mysteriously fallen on his head, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he rubbed the top of his head, "Those apples are gigantic!"

"And delicious," I bit into one, turning to side so he could grab one from the pile I held.

"You know, Isadora says dinner will be ready soon. She says she's making your favorite by the way," he munched on his apple, "We should go inside."

I wagged a finger and moved around him, looking around for a place to set the rest of the apples, "I want to watch the sky for a moment."

"The sky? What for? There's barely any visible stars right now," he looked up to the dark sky, very correct with the amount of stars we could see.

It was night and while there were stars, they didn't compare to being in the TARDIS and actually see them in their true form. But I had a different reason for wanting to watch the sky tonight.

"I really want to stay here for a moment," I spun around, hoping to see something, even a bucket, for the apples, "It's really important, Martian."

He sighed and shook his coat off, placing it on the grass, gesturing for me to place the apples on it. I nodded my thanks and dropped to my knees, placing the apples in a neat pile.

"What's so important about these small number of stars, hm?" he took a seat on his coat, using his arms behind him to support him.

I sat beside him, my legs pulled to my chest, my arms draped over my knees, my head looking up with a sad smile, "My grandfather and I used to watch the sky at this hour, on this spot, with a pile of apples beside us...it's been a long time..."

"You okay?" he glanced at me.

"Yeah, I just figured if I visited my grandmother, I could do this for him. It sort of became a tradition, you know. My grandmother and I would bake minty-fresh brownies and snicker-doodles. My grandfather and I would gather apples and watch the stars, little as they were, but we were always here. It's funny how things change," I sighed, resting my chin on my arms, "Once upon a time a grandfather and his granddaughter watched the sky and now...now the granddaughter watches alone."

"And he watches you from above."

"You think so?" I blinked away some tears before I looked at him.

"Yeah," he nodded, "And, if you want, perhaps I could watch the stars with you?"

"I'd like that," I nodded, knowing it would never be the same with my grandfather and I, but perhaps this could be a new tradition, and it still made me feel all warm and happy.

"Every time we come back, we'll watch them whenever you want. How's that sound?"

"It sounds really nice," I mumbled.

He grinned and laid on his back, tilting his head as he studied the sky, "Well, if you focus really hard, you can see the constellation of Aquarius."

"Seriously?"

"Oh yeah, it's right there," he pointed up, like it would actually make a difference.

"Where? I can't see it!"

"C'mon," he moved a little to the side and patted the ground. Reluctantly, I laid down beside him, my heart beginning to pick up on its beats by our closeness, "It's right here," he pointed again.

"Doctor, I can't see anything," I frowned.

"Dear God you need glasses!"

"Says the man who only wears his to look cool."

"Which I do," he pointed, making me roll my eyes, "But it's right there," he picked up my hand and pointed it up to the damn constellation, "Look!" I would look, if I could stop focusing on his hand over mine, "Can you see it?"

"Sure..."

Not really.

"I suppose it's a bit hard to see with all these lights," he frowned, lowering our hands, yet still holding onto it.

"It doesn't compare to the desert," I sighed, remembering that fateful desert, "The one where I saw a man with your box of wonders."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, remember I told you about it?"

"In fairness, I was a bit distracted."

"Yeah, fixing a part of the console that wasn't broken, Honestly, I don't know why she hasn't locked you out already," I shook my head, "But anyways, it was the same box of wonders, at least that's what it looked like with all the smoke coming out of it. Then there was that man, which I'm pretty sure was you from the future. I'm just sad I couldn't get a real look, but Doctor: bow-ties. That's what I saw."

He made a face that showed his horror, his free hand going to his tie, "You liar."

I chuckled, "I swear I'm not. That's probably the only thing I saw with a good eye. I was more focused on your words...you were talking about me."

"I was?"

I nodded, "Mhm. You said you had to get back to Minerva. Doctor, we're still traveling together even after your regeneration."

"Well of course we are, were you planning on leaving me anytime soon?"

"...no."

I hadn't exactly mentioned to him nor Martha what my plans were for when Kaeya returned. And now that I thought about it, if the next Doctor and I traveled together, it meant things worked out...and if things worked out, then the whole Kaeya mess worked out and I wouldn't have to leave. Good...cos I really didn't. I really wished everything would work out in a way that I could perhaps...stick around?

"Good," I looked up at the sky with a big smile, for some reason feeling a big amount of hope, "One regeneration later and we're still together..." I blinked, realizing how that may have sounded and quickly spoke to fix it, "...no, wait! Not us as in together 'us' but as in...well..." I glanced at him, hoping I wasn't making this all too ridiculous, "...why are you looking at me like that?" he was just staring at me with a soft smile.

"What?"

"That look," I pointed, "You've been giving me that look for the last couple of days. It's like you're remembering something, or..." I shrugged, severely confused.

It was true. Since the fiasco with the Family, he and Martha had taken turns to take care of me and in all the times the Doctor was with me, he'd give me that same look. Sometimes I was just saying things and all of a sudden it was like I had said something grand or hypnotizing because I received that soft look with that soft smile that made my heart skip a beat or two and it was driving me mad because I didn't know why he was doing it!

"It's nothing..." he said quietly, his smile barely starting to fade.

"You're so weird," I rolled my eyes and looked up to the sky again, ignoring my blush with great struggle, "You're lucky I can tolerate it."

"Oh ha ha."

"No, I'm serious, what are you gonna do when Kaeya shows up and turns out she doesn't like your weirdness?"

Silence.

I glanced at him, concerned I had hit a topic that was off limits. I noticed there was a change when I spoke about Kaeya lately. Apart from barely showing actual happiness that the princess was alive, he almost seemed...angry. But what could he be angry for? That she survived? If not that, then...what could make him mad at a woman who supposedly was innocent and noble? Last time I remembered he couldn't stop rambling on about her and now he barely wanted to even touch the topic.

"If she doesn't then oh well," was all he had to say.

"Doctor, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Because I'm gonna believe that?" I took my hand out of his and became firm, wanting to know what had changed in the past two months with the Family.

"Alright, you wanna know what happened?"

"Yeah!"

"I came to the conclusion that no matter how much you care for someone, they are not allowed to hurt any of their friends," he turned to the side, facing me completely, "She hurt someone and I'm sort of in the process of debating whether or not to forgive her."

"Who did she hurt?" My voice became a low whisper as I turned as well, leaving us face to face.

"Someone important. No matter my feelings for her, I don't allow that. Period."

"What's gonna happen when she returns?"

"I...don't know," he sighed, "I honestly don't know."

"Well, a word of advice, if you love her, if you really love her, then it should be easy to forgive her because essentially you'll just want to be with her and be happy."

"It should be easy..." he mumbled to himself, pondering for a moment.

"Oi! You two?" Martha called, "Quit your little moment and get inside! Dinner is done and I can smell mint browniiies!" She sung the last word and hurried on inside.

I sat up, heaving a heavy sigh. "Just a thought, Doctor," I stood up, and picked up the apples, "Love is supposed to make you happy, not all depressive and thinky and stuff, otherwise it's just not love." I shook my head, did I just say...thinky? Oh that Martian was really rubbing off me!

"I'll think about it," he assured, "Really..."

"Well in the meantime, thank you for watching the sky with me," I looked up, "I know he's up there, though watching us now. Things change..." I shook my head and headed for the house.

"But sometimes change is good, isn't it?" He followed behind.

"Sometimes," I whispered, thinking of how my feelings had changed for him. Though I couldn't tell if it had been a wonderful thing or a curse because my chances were so slim.

~0~

"Do you like it?" My grandmother continuously asked as I took a visit of my old, well not so old as it had been refurnished after my departure, room.

"Grandma, it's so pretty!" I gawked, spinning around.

"I had it done in case you came back...fit for a proper young woman," she turned to me.

"Oh grandma, thank you," I walked up and hugged her, hugged her really tight because she was just so grand, "Thank you so much for caring this much for a granddaughter who doesn't deserve it."

"Don't say that," she mumbled, resting her head over mine, "You are my granddaughter, I am your grandmother, I will always care for you."

"Thank you," I pulled away.

"Wooow," Martha's voice made me turn around, seeing her and the Doctor stepping inside the bedroom, "Mrs. Lozano, can I be your granddaughter?"

"Oi! She's mine!" I stepped in front of my grandmother, "Get your own!"

Martha raised her hands in surrender, "Noted."

"Minerva, don't be so rude," my grandmother scolded, "If you keep that attitude up, you won't get any brownies to take with you."

"I'm sorry," I quickly said, the brownies had to come with me.

She chuckled and headed for the doorway, "Speaking of, I better go check on them. Will you three be alright?"

"It's okay, Mrs. Lozano, I'll take care of the pair," Martha smirked at us.

Then the Doctor elbowed her.

My grandmother just laughed and went on her way.

"She is my grandmother and you will not make those types of comments around her," I pointed.

"Yeah, yeah, I really like your room," she walked further inside.

"Very...intellectual," the Doctor remarked.

"It used to be a room for a kid," I looked around, sighing, "It's changed alright."

Instead of my small, twin bed, there now stood a queen size bed, a blue cover with white roses sprawled around. There were two nightstands beside the bed, one of them with a lamp and the other a clock. Across from the bed there was a large, white chest of drawers with an oval shaped mirror in on top of it. To its right, at a corner was my closet. To the far left, there was a bathroom which had its door closed. Beside it was the chest drawers and a medium-sized vanity desk. And beside the bed, to its left, was a bookshelf, all its shelves filled with books.

"There used to be toys over there," I pointed at a random corner, "Oh! My dollhouse over there," I pointed to another corner, "And then my dolls over here," point again, "Then my costumes over here! Oh! And my bed always had stuffed animals."

"You were the complete five year old princess, weren't you?" Martha narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Maaaaybe..." I smiled innocently.

"That's why she's sassy," the Doctor mumbled to her, "She got everything she wanted..."

"Don't insult me, Martian," I warned, moving up to him, "I wasn't spoiled by my grandparents."

"Parents?"

"They were never there so the least they did was get me all the toys I wanted."

"Wasn't enough, was it?" Martha asked softly, understanding it wasn't so glorifying to have all the toys I wanted.

"Never," I sighed and walked away, stopping at my bookshelf, "Sometimes, when Olivia wasn't home or she just didn't want to be with me, I would play with this amazing doll house...and I'd be all happy, rambling on with my dolls...until I looked around and saw I was alone. Then I stopped playing, cos I thought, what's the point? What's the point of this amazing doll house if I have to play by myself?"

"But you know that's not gonna happen anymore, right?" the Doctor walked over, gently turning me around, "You've got us now."

"You won't forget about me even when Kaeya comes back?" I whispered, terrorized by the appearance of the princess that could literally happen at any moment. Even if I did decide to leave, I didn't want him to completely forget about me. I still would expect some kind of visit from him, even a call?

He looked at me for a good minute, making me nervous that he had to actually think about it, "Never," he whispered, "Absolutely never."

I smiled with relief and went to hug him, resting my head on his chest and feeling his arms wrap around me. A couple seconds later, Martha joined us and together we hugged.

Things could change alright, but I would always remember when it was just the Martian, my doctor best friend, and me.

#ocappreciation #doctor who #10th doctor #doctor who fics #10th doctor fics #dw imagine #doctor who imagines #10th doctor imagines #oc: Minerva Souza #fic: next stop eveywhere

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portable-wing-wang · 4 years

Text

Gender, Sexuality & Me

Right, here goes.

I've never properly talked about my gender or sexuality on here and feel as if I need to clear things up for friends, family and even myself.

Of course I'm very gender positive, I think everyone should explore themselves thoroughly in order to better understand their place in this world. What I experience will be different from other people and I may even disagree with others who share my experience as everyone is different. Just good to clear the air before we continue.

My name is Will(iam) Kirton. I was born at 1:04 AM on the 10th of April 2000. I was born with male attributes and was such designated a "boy". I have little problem with this. A baby knows itself very little and cannot comprehend itself properly and so adults assign labels which, for the most part, do help with development as a child is introduced to social spaces (schools etc.).

When young, gender means little and so I thought little of it. I never felt apart or different from my schoolmates. I did however feel uncomfortable and didn't know why. Constantly feeling as if I wasn't explaining myself properly and getting confused easily. I was bullied for this by many of the other boys and when trying to defend myself, I was made an outcast. This led to me to very female dominated spaces.

I tried my hardest to join the other boys (as I thought I was supposed to) but time and time again, I'd be pushed away. I did, however, make good friends with a few boys a couple of which I'm still friends with today. But my fondest memories come from my friendships with the girls and how they shaped me as a person.

I didn't know it then but through them I began to question myself, sub-conciously at first but very soon after it started to dominate my thinking. By the age of 14 I knew something was off for sure, but I didn't know what, so I started researching to find an answer.

First, I started to look at trans-folk and see how they saw it."Trans," Such an illusive word. To me it seemed so simple to begin with. Someone wanted to be something else because they felt uncomfortable. I felt uncomfortable. "Maybe there's something in this?" I thought, so I kept digging here and there with little motivation until I was about 15 when GCSEs took over and I didn't have time to think about it much until the summer of 2016. The thoughts came back in a big way. Why? I started going to parties.

Now it may seem a little silly but getting drunk and forgetting to hide myself allowed me to express myself in ways I'd never had the chance to before. Mannerisms began to appear that I wasn't controlling intentionally. I started speaking differently, stopped feeling like I had to explain myself and started having fun. This was the next big step of my self-discovery.

I then started playing DnD. Now, laugh if you wish but I had a human bard character names Steve who I categorized as a projection of myself if a little exaggerated. While playing as Steve, those mannerisms I gained started to take over even when sober. This was the last proof I needed to know I was queer but I didn't know what labels to use. I settled with saying I just had "queer tendencies" and left it at that but I still felt uncomfortable when I wasn't playing Steve.

So, I'm definitely queer, that's for sure but what kind?

I'm researching properly now. And not just gender, but sexuality as well. Bi, pan, gay, ace, etc.. I looked up everything and kept finding new labels. To help ease my brain, I focused on sexuality first. I knew I liked girls but I also liked boys however both in different ways. I timidly said I was bi for a couple years and then came out properly soon after my 18th birthday. I felt comfortable. For now . . .

I was still, however, confused. I couldn't work out whether I was a boy or a girl and it kept making everything else seem so confusing. At this point (16 or so) most of my good friends were male, I was decent at sports and I had a big ol' bass voice. BOY, right?

But there was something still bugging me.

I couldn't figure it out. Not until the summer before Uni, something slipped into place. I had completed my A Levels, I was out as bi, my shitty friends had left me, all was good. Wrong. I was more tense than ever. All I could think about was gender. Gender this, gender that. Constantly thinking, even with the distraction of the Edinburgh Fringe. I was also listening to a lot of Steam Powered Giraffe who, of course, have a trans woman playing the "Rabbit" character. I was obsessed. I wanted to find out everything about her and luckily, she posted a whole set of videos cataloguing her transition and thoughts all the way through. Finally, someone was essentially saying to me clearly what "trans" actually meant. Things began to make sense. I knew then that I was probably not cis but i didn't really feel comfortable saying I was "fully" trans, if you get my meaning.

But then I went to Uni. I finally had a chance to express myself freely and boy oh boy, did I do just that. I became so much more feminine than I ever had been in my life. It was so freeing. But I still didn't feel trans.

Then, someone introduced me to the concept of being "non-binary". A new term. I hadn't heard of it before. Is it like being trans? Or something completely different. I dived in head-first and came out the other end with even more answers but so many more questions.

Finally, I took the plunge (I'm sorry for so many swimming metaphors).

One evening in February 2019 after Uni I was in the loo before a musicals rehearsal. I hadn't felt well all day and was wearing something particularly feminine and caught myself in the mirror. I studied myself for a good few minutes. Each detail, each curve, how my body felt and looked in the clothes I was wearing. I stood there staring. Luckily no one walked in on me.

And something just clicked. After so many years of worrying and tensing, I finally understood. I was genderqueer.

Now, I should explain (here I go again), I didn't just decide then and there. I few months prior, my new uni friend "tom" (she goes by a different name now) had introduced me to a youtuber called Contrapoints. Before anyone says anything, I know she's caused a lot of discourse but I don't feel as if this is the right time to make any cases. Anyway, she didn't used to be openly trans and used to go by the label genderqueer. At the time, she made a very comprehensive video explaining what is and what it meant for her.

It intrigued me so, naturally, I did some more research and found that it fit my situation quite adequately but I didn't feel comfortable falling myself "genderqueer" yet either.

For those who don't know, genderqueer is an umbrella term for a wide range of traits which are either predominantly female, male or androgynous. It doesn't necessarily have a perfect definition and can be different for anybody who identify themselves as such.

My own genderqueerness could be described as a complete rejection of the male binary and so I carry more female and androgynous traits. This affects the way I speak, move my body, dress and my perspective on greater society. I also experience gender dysphoria. Now, to some, this would mean I was most likely just trans and using this a stopping-point before going further. This I feel is not the case. Whilst I am made uncomfortable by my flat chest, copious hair and broad shoulders, I do not feel the same about my genitalia or Adam's apple.

There are also more political connotations with the term genderqueer over non-binary. Genderqueer is a lot more aggressive but it gets the point across more clearly but I wouldn't say I wasn't non-binary. In fact, I think they're one and the same in practice but I do use my identity as a statement and so the genderqueer label feels more appropriate.

So yeah, I came out as genderqueer that February evening. First to my partner, then my friends and only now, almost a year later, am I attempting with my family.

I am so much happier for it too. I kept myself hidden for so long and have only now started to just accept myself and give in to the voice in my head telling me to let go. I'm much more relaxed too. Since coming out and using more neutral and even feminine pronouns, my dysphoria has become less of an issue. I still get it and I have bad days of course but for the first time in a long time, things are looking up.

I can't change the world, but I've been able to find myself in it more clearly and that helps a bunch.

TL;DR: I'm genderqueer. I'm bisexual. I've been out for a considerable time now and feeling better because of it.

Anyway, if you did read the whole thing, thank you. I'm not saying this'll be the same forever but this is me now and I'm still breathing so come get me world!

Feel free to reblog this, I hope it helps others realise themselves too.

#me #portable wing wang #queer #genderqueer #nonbinary #bisexual #lgbtqia+#rant #sorry it was long

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glitter-asian · 5 years

Text

limerence [part one]

Everything happened so quickly. It started with one meeting and developed into something more. My entire world felt as if it were spinning at some unknown rate where some moments were irritability slow and others being intoxicatingly fast. I guess I should have seen it coming right? But sometimes we choose to ignore toxic traits in others because of our own insecurities. That leads to even worst consequences. Not even you can deny it but sometimes we're fucked up enough to want someone who is totally obsessed with us.

Everything happened so quickly. It started with one meeting and developed into something more. Who knew that one person could change your life so much? Maybe I was crazy for doing this. Maybe I was just so in love with the concept of being in love that I took the first sign of kindness and ran with it. Either way I didn't regret it. I didn't regret the blood spilled, the people who went missing, the boundaries crossed and the fucked up things that happened. Because in the end I got her. I got the girl ~ even if it was for only a while.

warnings: yandere! type behaviour displayed in ‘love’ interest // smut // drugging // toxic relationships // blood // viewer discretion advised

word count: 4.6k

a/n: okay so this is part one because it’s so long and it’s not edited yet ... shoutout to @maknaesdancersrappers for inspiring me to write this type of fic.. check out her amazing stuff! and if you want more yandere stuff check out @neo-cult-ure [a new account that will mainly do yandere stuff]

"Great idea." you mumbled to yourself as you stood by the bus stop, half soaked in rain water as the cold evening breeze caused goosebumps on your skin. "Listen to Lucas. He obviously has a brain" You mentally scolded yourself for letting your friend convince you to leave your comfy, warm apartment and buy snacks for his dumbass frat party. You slipped your hand in your pocket and pulled out your phone, thankfully it was water resistant so it still worked however, you weren't planning on leaving so the battery percentage was pretty low. Your fingers glided across the screen as your other hand held the two plastic bags filled with bags of chips and cookies. At your feet were the other bags of snacks that you had momentarily placed on the ground so you could easily call the younger male.

"Please pick up." you mumbled as you placed the cellphone to your ear and waited for him to answer. He didn't. "Dumbass." You said before ending the call and looking around. Every second you spent waiting here only allowed for the darkness to cover the city even more. The sight itself would have been very aesthetically pleasing if you weren't annoyed at him. Vehicles sped past as you stood alone in the cold, once or twice flinching as a car passed a little too close to a puddle that could possibly cause a big splash if it were to drive in it. It would be at least another 45 minutes before the next bus came and your only other option was to walk to the frat house which was a couple blocks away, however you hesitated considering the fact that you were holding so many bags, and that it could rain again. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard a soft voice. Quickly, you turned around only to come face to face with Bae Joohyun.

Joohyun, otherwise known as Irene, the one girl in university that the boys all wanted but somehow they never got a chance with. You knew about her because even Lucas tried to shoot his shot at her but that didn't end well. Some said that she had a CEO boyfriend and a loaded mother while others assumed that she was a lesbian cult leader. Obviously people think too much and should mind their own business however it was hard to not pay attention to the beauty that was Irene. You had seen her around however she wasn't in any of your classes. In fact she was a year or two ahead of you. She was holding a small plastic bag in her hand, a dark blue jeans clung to her legs and she paired it off with a light pink hoddie. Irene stopped as she approached you.

Hardly anyone willingly spoke to Irene mainly because of this resting bitch face she had. She always acted so prim and serious ~ not even laughing, as a matter of fact you couldn't remember ever seeing her laugh before. As your mind flashed through all these thoughts you felt your heartbeat increase and your nerves stood on edge.

"Are you waiting for the bus?" Irene asked. You looked at her and then back at the road.

"Yes." Your answer came out a little too enthusiastic and it caused Irene to raise an eyebrow at you. "Yeah, I kind of missed the first one." you said in a more calm and collected tone. Your gaze focused on the road as you pushed your phone into your pocket and picked up the other two bags which were on the ground. There was a moment of awkward silence before you spoke up again, "Are you?"

You heard her let out a sigh almost as if she really didn't want to speak and it was a bit embarrassing honestly.

"Actually I just came because I thought I saw a pretty girl here." Irene's words were blunt and unexpected to say the least.

"I've been standing here for almost ten minutes and no one else has passed by." an awkward chuckle left your lips at her comment. You looked back at Irene and her gaze was still on you.

"Then maybe that pretty girl was you." Her tone so in command as if there was no doubt in the statement at all. This came as a shock to you, why? Because you heard exactly what she did to Lucas when he approached her and flirted with her like he would usually do to tons of girls. His techniques had a ninety five percent success rate, however with Irene it failed. You blushed, your eyes looking away ~ but Irene didn't. "I'm not joking." she added, her lips curving into a soft smile.

This was the first time you had ever seen her smile and boy was it beautiful.

It had been almost three months now and you and Irene seem to be getting along fine. The night you both met, she ended up walking with you to the frat house and even stayed at the party for a while ~ mainly trailing behind you as you looked for Lucas. Speaking of your friend, he was a bit skeptical about your relationship with Irene. He claimed that she didn't fit right with you and the rest of your friends. And to some extent he was right. But you just believed that he was low key jealous that you had done what no other boy could do and that was befriend her. She became closer to you a lot quicker than most of your university friends which was surprising considering the way people talked about her.

And her aura itself changed, she no longer was an intimidating senior ~ instead she became a sweet, older sibling type friend. You saw nothing wrong with this. However it was quite unusual how quickly you both became close.

"Are you free tonight?" the text lit the screen of your phone as you sat in your morning lecture. At first you thought it was Lucas so you didn't reply. A few seconds later you received another message but this time it was a pink flower emoji. You took out your phone and read the message which happened to be from Irene, before sending a reply,

"Well I just have some homework to finish up for next week, why?" You sent the message. A few seconds later you received another message.

"I can help you with it if you want, I kind of need you to go with me somewhere tonight." You were reluctant to take up her offer. But then again she was a year above you so she had experience and knew how to do this the right way.

"Okay, you can come over to the apartment around 4." That was the last text you sent her before putting your phone back in your bag.

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts as you stood up and walked over to the front door of the apartment. You looked through the peephole and saw that it was Irene standing there with her bag. It took a few seconds to unlock the door since your roommate, Lana added a new lock to the door.

"Hey, thanks for coming." You stood to the side and allowed her to enter the apartment before closing the door behind.

"It's no problem. I'm always down to help you out." Irene smiled a little as she looked around the apartment. "Where is your roommate?"

You puffed out your cheeks and shrugged, "I have no clue, she didn't come back yet." Irene nodded.

"Well I have everything here, I was just having some problems with the research part for this section." You directed her attention to the notebook on small table you and Lana used as a dining room. Irene placed her bag down on the table and sat on a chair. She began to explain the assignment you were given and even helped you completely plot the entire thing. Once she was finished you felt so relieved and couldn't even begin to thank her for her help.

"Seriously, I don't know what I would have done without." You said casually as you stood up from the chair. "Lucas would have never been able to figure this out." you laughed, but it quickly died down when you noticed Irene didn't seem to ecstatic about your male friend. "Now what was it you needed me for tonight?" You questioned as you recalled the exchange in text messages earlier today.

"Well, there is a party that my .. " before Irene could finish her sentence the front door swung open and in walked your roommate with her boyfriend's hands all over her.

"Oh y'all still here." Lana said, her smile fading, "Didn't I tell you I'd need the apartment tonight?" she asked.

"Right.. " Your voice trailed off, "yeah, we're leaving in a bit.." You managed to say, "By the way this is.."

"Yeah I don't really need to know." Lana said before pulling her boyfriend with her towards her room which was down a hallway, next to yours. You glanced at Irene who looked a bit unimpressed with the person who you had to share a home with.

"Right what were you saying?" you asked Irene.

Irene licked her bottom lip before continuing, "First of all, she's even bitchier in person." she paused, "and secondly, it’s a party, and I need a date so I thought I'd bring you since you seemed so stressed these days with your classes."

You smiled at her, "well that's nice of you but.."

"Come on, it will be fun, and your roommate clearly wants the place to herself tonight."

You thought about it and nodded, what's the worst that can happen? After agreeing, Irene asked you to use the bathroom and you pointed her in the direction, it was also down the hallway, the door directly opposite to your bedroom. you went on to start packing up your school supplies and shutting down your laptop.

"Most of the people here are either in their last year of university or graduated already." Irene told you as she pushed a strand of your hair back. Both of you sat on the couch inside the house where the party was taking place. She looked at you, "Don't worry just relax, I brought you out to have fun." Irene reached for a cup that she had brought you earlier and handed it to you.

"Thanks," You relaxed a bit and looked down at the liquid, "what is this again?" you asked before taking a sip of it.

"It's just some vodka and juice." Irene took up her own cup and then raised it slightly to 'cheers' with yours. You placed the cup to your lips and drank the liquid, it had a low key off taste about it but you brushed it off before noticing an older man approaching you both.

"Joohyun, I see you made it." the tall man said before taking a seat next to her on the couch, she shifted closer to you and ensured that he didn't have any contact with her at all. "And who is this pretty girl?" His gaze trailed away from Irene and went to you.

"Well, this is my girlfriend Y/n." Irene stated without missing a beat, "And this is Leeteuk." Irene looked back at you. You were at a loss for words after she just introduced you like that to someone. It wasn't expected to say the least but when Irene shot you a look you went along with it. Afraid to disappoint the older girl.

"Nice to meet you." you bowed slightly since you all were still sitting on the couch together.

"Joohyun, you didn't mention to me she was so pretty." Leeteuk said before standing up, "I will leave you ladies alone now." he said before saying his goodbyes. Once you two were alone again, you took another drink from your cup and felt the alcohol entering your system again and leaving a hazy after feeling. You had barely been in the party for a long while and already you were feeling the effects of this.

"Are you okay?" Irene asked as she looked at you.

"Yeah, but .. Why did you introduce me as your girlfriend?" you asked. Irene took a second to respond to you and it added to your nerves.

She let out a breath and spoke, "Well you know some men, the only way they'll leave you alone is if you say you're taken." she almost joked about the situation and being in the state you were in you laughed with her. It was understandable and you were always down for helping another girl out even if you didn't like her romantically. Your eyes gazed down to the cup, The liquid seemed a bit cloudy and so you decided not to drink anymore.

"Can I see your cup?" You suddenly asked Irene, she nodded and showed you her cup, she was drinking a black liquid ~ nothing like yours at all.

"Let's dance." Irene suggested as she stood up and placed both your cups down on the table. She pulled you to the area where most of the people were dancing. You were a bit reluctant first since you felt a bit dizzy with the music playing and how everyone was pressed against each other. The heat was starting to get to you as you faced Irene. She flashed you a reassuring smile and you went along with it. A dream like feeling overtook you as you moved to the music, everything looked hazy. Maybe you should leave now and just call Lucas to pick you up. And then almost as if Irene read your mind she spoke up, "Do you want to rest?"

You nodded, unsure of why you were feeling this way. Usually you were good at holding your alcohol, come to think of it you only had one drink. Everything felt like you were in a dream, your senses relaxing and right now the only thing that kept you connected to reality was Irene. You felt her take you in her arms and walk with you to the front door so you both can leave.

"Are we going home?" you asked. "My roommate… can you call Lucas for me?" you tried to string words together and make them sound right.

"It's okay, I'll take you to my place." Irene explained as she walked to her car. "You can stay with me tonight." You were okay with that because you trusted her right?

She looked down at your sleeping figure. You were still in that tight pair of blue jeans and a pink shirt but fully passed out on Irene's bed. The lights were dimmed and Irene stood by the side of the bed closest to you. She took a deep breath, what she was about to do wasn't something she would usually do to anyone. In fact this was the first time she had ever been so invested into someone. Slowly she was going to find a way to have you return her affection. This was not going to be another one sided love where she was going to puke up flower petals again.

"So pretty." she said softly as her delicate fingers glided down the side of your face. Your skin was so soft and beautiful, from the moment she saw you, Irene knew that she had to have you. At first it was based on your features, the way you looked. You didn't look like an instagram model ~ no you looked like something that should be hung in an art museum. Your features different from what she was used to and it pulled her in like a moth to a flame. Then when Irene finally got to know you she couldn't help but feel the need to have you even more.

Irene bit her bottom lip and reached for your shirt, she popped the first button and then the second. Her heart skipped a beat as more of your skin was exposed to her. She leaned forward and proceeded to unbutton your shirt completely. Once she gently opened it out, she saw your skin tone coloured bra which held your chest in place so well. Irene wanted to touch you, she wanted it so bad. For the past weeks all she could think about was you. Finally she had her chance but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Fuck." she mumbled as she pulled her hand away from your body. Irene moved to your pants and unzipped it before sliding it down your legs. It took a couple of minutes to have your sleeping body fully undressed but once it was she stepped back and admired you. Irene reached for her phone and snapped a couple pictures with you. She wasn't going to show anyone these. They were hers, all for her alone. A rush of emotions flooded her body, and she felt a familiar heat between her legs as she knelt on the bed by your feet. She ran her hands up your thighs and gave them a squeeze, feeling your soft supple skin under her touch. She bit down on her lip to suppress a moan as she hovered over your body.

Without warning she flopped her body down next to yours, her hands exploring her own body as you laid beside her unaware of what was going on. She picked up your shirt and raised it to her nose, inhaling the scent before slipping her other hand down her stomach and into her panties. "I wish you loved you." she moaned out as she slid her fingers between her slick folds. The more she touched herself the greater the craving for you became. All Irene could think of was how you would feel. She had never felt this way about anyone before and usually guarded her heart because she was fully aware of how chaotic things can get when she has her sight set on someone.

Her fingers entered her sopping heat as she arched her back of the bed, she pumped her fingers in and out with a quicker pace, her eyes falling back on you as she tried to hold in her desperate moans of pleasure. This just didn't feel the same. She wanted you. Only you. Thoughts came rushing through her mind from the moment you both first met to how quickly the relationship blossomed and you both became friends. Maybe if Irene kept playing her cards right you would be hers. The thought of you being hers, of your body under hers as she kissed your soft lips and touched you in all the right places was enough to push her over and she came all over her pretty fingers.

Out of breath and almost in tears Irene wiped her fingers off on your white shirt and tossed it off the bed, she moved closer to your sleeping form and wrapped her arms around you, next she swung a leg over yours and pressed her body against you. She wished she could have this every night however it only happened tonight.

You awoke the next morning to a pounding headache and a cold room. Slowly you opened your eyes and looked around, this was not your place, and it wasn't Lucas' place either. So where were you? Your eyes scanned the room until you found a picture of Irene and an older woman together. You sighed in relief as you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, you looked down and realised you were wearing a t-shirt which wasn't yours and a pair of sweat pants. Maybe Irene put them on for you last night. That was odd but appreciated to some extent since tight, high waisted jeans and a shirt isn't the most comfortable thing to sleep in.

Slowly you made your way out of the bedroom and down the hallway where you heard a soft voice singing. You had never knew that Irene could sing and you didn't expect her voice to be that beautiful. After you turned the corner you saw her by the fridge taking out some orange juice.

"Good morning." your voice was a bit grungy. You were greeted by a smile as Irene turned around and placed the juice on the counter.

"Hey, how was your night?" she asked. "I hope it was okay, I changed your clothes while you were passed out."

"I passed out?" you questioned. Irene nodded, "really?" you didn't believe that happened last night.

"You drank a lot of alcohol last night." Irene poured you a cup of juice before looking back at your face. You were in a state of disbelief, you tried your best but couldn't remember anything that happened last night. Why was that? "I thought maybe you were just trying to relieve yourself from the stress of university."

Confusion engulfed you as Irene handed you the cup of cold juice. Something still didn't quite fit because you knew you made a promise with Lucas to not get drunk until your final assignments were submitted. In fact you remember telling Irene the promise a couple weeks before. Yet here you were.

"Are you okay?" Irene asked as she walked towards you, she placed her hand ontop of your shoulders, gently massaging your tense muscles before leaning down and pressing the side of her face against yours, "You can stay for breakfast if you want." she teased.

You were silent for a few seconds before nodding, "Sure, but I’ll have to leave right after because I promised my group members that I would be at the library to work on our presentation." You felt Irene's grip on you loosen as she stepped back.

"Oh." the words left her lips in a dejected tone as she walked to the counter to continue preparing breakfast. "you can call in sick, tell them you'll work on it later since you have a hangover." She said after some time.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head, "Nah, I have to present on Monday so I think it's best if I go ~ hung over or not." you stood up from the chair, "by the way, what did you do to my clothes?"

"I put them to wash so I can bring them for you later if you want." Irene turned her back to you and continued to make breakfast.

You sat next to Lucas as he played a game on his phone, it looked like PUBG but you were busy going over your part for the presentation that you didn't really care. A few seconds later you heard him curse before placing his phone down on his lap. Your head turned slightly as you looked at him,

"Language." you said slightly swatting his arm.

"Y/n we're both grown, I don't think that matters." he said with a scoff, "By the way where were you last night? I went over to your place and Lana told me you went out."

"That is none of your business." you said as you turned the page in your note book.

"Were you with Minji again?" Lucas asked, "Or.." his voice trailed off before he sat up and looked at you, "You were with Irene." He narrowed his eyes at you.

"Calm down, we just went to a party." You brushed his gaze off before turning back to your book. "and I may have stayed the night at her place."

Lucas's jaw dropped as you said the last part. "You.." he was ~ for the first time~ at a loss for words. "Is she like your girlfriend now?" He asked.

You shook your head, "what ? No." you pushed your hair back before adding, "I don't.. I don't see her in that way. " You continued to speak in an attempt to defend yourself. " Girls have sleepovers all the time." Clearly that wasn't a weird thing. However Lucas wasn't fully convinced.

"But no one ever gets to go home with the Bae Joohyun aka Irene." he said clearly almost as if he was talking to a five year old.

You rolled your eyes as you shifted your whole body on the bench so that you were now facing him fully, "Listen, we are just friends." You saw his lips curve upwards and he nodded.

"Fine." he paused, "But if you were more than just friends, you'd be down with having a threesome with me right?" he asked as he stood up from the bench and placed his phone in his pocket.

You shook your head before reaching forward and hitting him with your notebook, "You're a pervert."

Her dark eyes were glued on the screen of the laptop as she sunk down on her chair. The doors to her apartment was locked, the blinds closed and the lights dimmed down as she settled in the chair. She bit her bottom lip as she saw the figure of the girl she adored. But somehow you looked tired, stressed, a bit worn out. But still beautiful. Irene was focused on how she entered the room unbeknown to her that someone was watching.

Irene's grip on the leather chair tightened as she saw the younger girl walk to her desk, right in front of the camera and pulled her t-shirt off. She tossed it to the side before looking around the room in only her black, lacy bra and tight short pants. Irene's breath hitched once she saw her fingers move down to unzip her pants, before slowly pulling it off. Irene leaned forward and kept looking at the computer screen as the subject of her fantasies climbed onto the bed, now on her hands and knees as she looked under her pillow for something. Irene didn't care what it was ~ in fact she was more focused on the clear view she had of her ass.

It had been almost two weeks since she had installed the camera in y/n's room and ever since she followed the daily pattern of when she would wake up, go to bed, do homework and even get dressed. Irene had seen so much of y/n that it almost ~ just almost felt as if they were together. Things were going so well so far that Irene couldn't believe it. She crossed her legs as her finger glided over her bottom lip. Her gaze predatory over y/n who was still searching around her room in only her underwear.

A smirk pulled at the older girl's lips as she saw y/n get off the bed and walk forward to stand directly in front of the camera again, she followed her eyes as they searched around the room. However Irene felt her heart jump to her throat as she noticed the change in y/n's facial expression.

Irene leaned closer to the computer screen and y/n's face contorted from confusion to horror. She reached forward and picked up the small device that was transmitting video footage straight to Irene. Y/n panicked as she covered the device and grabbed her phone. Irene couldn't see what was going on but she heard the movements and the words.

"Lucas, get over here now. Please please." Y/n begged, "I'm going to call the police." Irene heard her pause before she continued to speak, "it’s a camera. I think, I don't know just come please." she rambled through what Irene assumed was her cellphone.

Things were finally about to get interesting.

#red velvet #red velvet smut #red velvet irene #red velvet imagines #yandere!irene #yandere!au #yandere!kpop #yandere!redvelvet #yandere!smut #yandere idol #au #irene smut #red velvet scenarios #limerence part one #limerence

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weirdo-and-proud · 5 years

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Cris has ADHD

Okay i’ve been thinking about this since the start of the season, but there’a been too much going on to get into it. But now with this hell I really wanna distract myself so here goes.

Cris has ADHD right?! I mean we all agree on this right? From the very beginning I completely saw it as a fact that she does, and I’ve only recently realised that it’s never stated, so maybe not everybody agrees... but it’s just so obvious. (Also I have ADHD, and sometimes I hyperfocus on ADHD stuff so I do know what I’m talking about)

She’s reckless and doesn’t think about consequences. With the pills, with Ruben, with ruining Hugo’s party, and standing Amira up. Not thinking about consequences is a very common ADHD trait because it’s difficult to look ahead and plan stuff, and the brain doesn’t produce enough dopamine and neurotransmitters which functions as “reward/punishment” and is literally the thing that makes people motivated, and makes them understand “if I don’t do this, there will be consequences” and stuff like that. People with ADHD don’t really feel that pull before very late in the process (e.g. they might not feel the need to do a school assignment before the very day it should be handed in)

And speaking of school work! Cris doesn’t do very well at school, and she’s insecure about it and scared of ruining Joana’s grades. This is very common for people with ADHD, since it’s difficult to concentrate or find motivation to do assignments, listen in class or to read the homework. And many people end up thinking they’re failures who just aren’t good enough, because people keep telling them they’re lazy, even though they’re really trying their best. And we see Cris’ mother telling her that she’s just being lazy, and we know Cris prefers movies over a book and stuff like that.

She’s hyper, and something needs to happen constantly. Like partying and so on, or when the girls couldn’t hang out she made plans with Ruben because something needed to happen. It’s very common for teens with ADHD to turn to alcohol, drugs, sex and parties to deal with their restlessness! And Cris is already an extrovert so it’s quite obvious here.

Forgetfulness. Okay Viri’s present and standing Amira up all of those times! (This also ties in with the consequences thing, but of course many of these are related because it’s just symptoms of the same illness). People with ADHD get distracted super easily and are often quite forgetful so when you add that it’s easy to forget consequences, then stuff like what Cris has been doing just happens.

Impulsivity and trouble controlling emotions. People with ADHD can be very impulsive and have a lot of trouble controlling their emotions. We see this when Cris lashes out at her mom, or Lucas or I guess Joana. Also the impulsive coming out to her mom, or storming out of class. Running with Joana from the bar and just breaking in to the pool. (Remember Isak was quite hesitant about breaking in even though Even said it was his Aunt’s pool). Even her extreme happiness when things are going well, seems so in line with ADHD! I know when I haven’t taken my medication I can get really really happy about stuff, but when things go bad everything comes crashing down.

Anyways, I’m sure there’s more, but I’ve definitely seen Cris as a person with ADHD since the very beginning and then I forget that it’s not really accepted as truth by everybody... So I just needed to get this out there so we can all agree that she has ADHD.

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eligos-venator · 5 years

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Character Interview - Eligos Venator

— what did you have for breakfast?

“Yesterday, hashbrowns and eggs. Day before that, fritattas. Today, shakshuka. Really, it depends on materials left and my mood for the day. I try to vary and be flexible since the same old every morning would grow very, very tiresome and unappetizing quickly.” He explained with a small, lazy shrug and slight smile. “Since I cook for myself and Ibri isn’t exactly picky about her meat, I’m able to be flexible and easily adjust based upon what I have to work with.”

— what can you cook perfectly?

“I don’t like to brag, but give me a cook book, and you get what you ask for. I’m not at the level of a professional, but cooking is a joy to me, so I’ve naturally gotten better at it through experience.” He stated happily as he set his hands together on the table, the right gloved hand covering the left as he leaned forward. “I’m also always interested in steal- I mean learning recipes from any who might have a few that aren’t so easily found in these mass-produced cookbooks you come across in the market often. I’ve a few from my travels, and while spices and herbs can be troublesome, they provide a nice bit of variety so that I don’t have to eat the local cuisine every night.”

— if you could choose a pet, what would it be?

“I already have Ibri.” With a wave over to the side, he pointed out the brown and gray feathered hunting hawk who sat on her perch in a corner of the room. “Raised her from a chick when she hatched at a bad time. I’d been paid to retrieve such an egg for a noble’s son, and well..” The hyur trailed off, chuckling softly as his right hand covered his mouth to try to be polite as he did so. As he stopped, the hand dropped back to his lap and rested there. “She may have seen me first and thus imprinted upon myself. I didn’t get paid for that job, but I did get a family member who is quite sweet, even if not in the way a cat or dog might be.”

— how is your relationship with your parents?

The Hyur stared blankly for a moment, his expression shifting from friendly to a perfect poker face as he considered the question before the smile returned. “We don’t have much to speak about anymore. I didn’t exactly turn out as I was supposed to, and that lead to strain in the family. Suffice to say we’re all better off with how things turned out.” With that simple statement, he gave a blank stare, indicating this line of questioning was over.

— what is your favorite read?

“Hard to say. I suppose an anatomy textbook would be my favorite read. It proves the most useful in understanding and dissecting body mechanics and provides insight which makes my own combat more effective. Next up would be combat manuals and guides explaining the weapons one might run into, and their purpose. For knowing that purpose and the key traits is vital to be able to take full advantage of an enemy’s weapon choice.” He closed his eyes as he relaxed, his arms crossed and resting upon his chest as he thought about the question further. “I am assuming that you mean any book, and not limiting myself to storybooks, at least. Do tell me if I’m wrong.”

— do you put both socks on first, or one sock, one shoe?

“Putting on clothes is like putting on armor. Put on all of each layer at once, and move on to the next once it is done.” With a shake of his head, the Hyur let out a small sigh. “Matter of preference for some, maybe, but for me it’s easier to keep in this habit.”

— do you fold your clothes before bed?

“Technically. If I do it at any point before I sleep, it’s counted, right?” He asked, a brow raised as he leaned back in his chair. “I do it in the morning after changing into the day’s attire. The prior day’s clothes go in the laundry and will be washed before being folded up properly before being stored.” He then blinked, then gave an incredulous look as he mulled over the question once more. “Are you telling me some of the people you interview wear the clothes multiple times before washing? That’s.. unhygienic, to say the least.”

— how do you feel about marriage?

“That old ‘ball and chain’ joke? It’s hardly a joke. I’ve seen marriage tear the soul from man and woman alike, and grind their spirits down into nothing. But on the flip side, I’ve seen just as many thrive. It all boils down to the two being compatible long term rather than short, if they wish to keep the spark alive.” The Hyur stated with a small, brief smile and nod. On realizing that it was a question for his opinion, he briefly frowned, though that frown soon turned to a small, half-smile as yellow eyes watched the interviewer carefully. “I have no strong opinions one way or the other, since it’s not something I’ve ever considered for myself. I can’t tell the future, nor how I might feel in time on a matter never thought about. But I can say that at this moment, it’s not something I can see myself desiring.”

— who was the last person you crushed on?

“You’re hilarious, you know that, right?” He asked with a small laugh, though he was quick to cover his mouth as he did so. “I don’t know if you’re an optimist or what, with expectation that everyone interviewed will be forthright and honest when asked a question like that. The answer is ‘I have no idea’. And if you think that’s true, I’ve got a castrum I’d like to sell you.” The hyur’s lips turned up in a smirk as he clasped his hands together, resting then on the table. “Let’s stick to questions that don’t involve private lives and thoughts, alright?”

— what does your dream home look like? and where would it be?

“I already have it. It’s my cozy, quaint little apartment near the Mists. A beach location, and it’s just the right size for myself and Ibri, with an open area.” The Hyur beamed as he said this, his lips pulled up together in a bright smile. “And it was cheap! The last fellow who owned it was moving to a larger home, and I have to say it was the biggest mistake he made, selling it to me so cheaply. Sure, it needed some repairs, but the loft setup is ideal and helps make even a small space feel massive. Plenty of space for a bed, tub, a desk and pen for Ibri, and even a full kitchen.” He stated brightly as he clapped his two gloved hands together. “Couldn’t really ask for more for myself. If it were any bigger it’d be a pain to dust and clean, and there’s no way in the seven hells I’m hiring someone else to do that for me when I’ve got working arms and legs to do it myself at no cost.”

— what’s your worst habit?

“You know that filter between your brain and the mouth?” Eligos raised an eyebrow as he eyed the interviewer, yellow eyes watching attentively as he tilted his head slightly to the left before righting it. “Yeah, that. Sometimes I just forget to do that. I’ll sometimes just say what I’m thinking as I’m thinking it, rather than sitting on it and evaluating that thought before expressing it. It’s caused me no end of trouble, so I’d say it qualifies as my worst habit.”

— what do you do for a living and how do you feel about your job?

“Now that’s a loaded question. I’m a hired hand. Some assignments I might be acting as a bodyguard. Others I might be hunting a beast that’s caused trouble in an area. There are even clients who’ve sent me to the corners of Eorzea to fetch them samples, and others who’ve had other tasks of the miscellaneous sort, such as paperwork and the like. I tend to prefer combat, myself, but I’m not about to pass up good coin for a quick and easy job.” He stated as he reached to his lips with his right hand, covering his mouth in a polite motion and obscuring it from view as he laughed. As the laughter stopped, his eyes narrowed while his hand remained in place, his elbow resting on the table as he propped his chin up, resting it upon his thumb. “Level of discretion varies between clients. Rightfully, I can’t tell you everything as I’ve been specifically paid by a good many to keep silent. And to break word is to break the trust of clients past and future. Naturally, that’d cause issues for me and be a right headache I wouldn’t be able to so easily fix. Hardly worth it for an interview I’ve not been paid to do.” Tagged by: @regalblossom @ivyffxiv Tagging: I don’t know who hasn’t been tagged for this already, so.. anyone who hasn’t done this yet!

#asks and memes #thanks for the tag!

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dat-fandom-losertown · 5 years

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The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 2: Evaluations

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Andersson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900 (Ritch)

Genre: Fluff, Action, A bit of Angst, Pacific Rim!AU

Warnings: There’s a “controlled” fight and Good ol’ Hank swearin’ it up

Word Count: 10,119

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Ritch wakes up the next morning to the sound of his alarm clock blaring in his ear. He grumbles as he shuts it off, but makes himself sit up so he doesn’t get the urge to roll back to sleep. Out of the twins, Connor has always been the lighter sleeper for whatever reason and has always been quicker at getting up. One would think that being identical twins means everything about them beyond personality traits are identical, but that certainly isn’t the case for them.

Ritch’s brain finally wakes up enough to properly take in his surroundings, and he notices Connor sitting at the desk writing something in a notebook. He has never once kept any kind of journal or record of his daily life, so it’s strange to see him writing when there are no assignments yet. Ritch contemplates asking what’s claimed his entire attention, but he looks really into what he’s doing, so Ritch settles with just getting up to the bathroom silently and leaving Connor to it. Normally he would greet Ritch or do something to acknowledge his presence, but Connor doesn’t seem to even realize that his brother’s alarm went off. It must be important to him.

Ritch quickly goes through his morning routine in the small bathroom before changing into fresh clothes and stepping back into their shared room. Connor is no longer writing in the notebook and appears almost sheepish where he’s sitting in the chair. His leg is bouncing rapidly and he’s picking at his nails, both bad habits that Amanda has scolded him for doing time and time again. He only does this when he’s nervous, anxious, and/or thinking too hard. All Ritch has to do to get him talking is tilt his head and raise one eyebrow just a smidge.

“I’ve started keeping notes about any happenings during my days so I can try to do a better job of not making a fool of myself by being reminded of and learning from past mistakes and successes. That and maybe a few notes about the people I meet so I know how to cater to them so they don’t hate us, cause what I do affects you too. But I also don’t want it to look like I’m desperate for validation since that’s a recurring problem, like you tried to tell me yesterday.”

Ritch’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth morphs into a frown of confusion and concern.

“Did North say something to you yesterday?”

Connor’s head snaps up, “What? No. No, she– It’s not her fault for being curious.” Connor’s gaze falls back to his shoes, “And it wasn’t just her, they were all curious. I just never know when to shut my mouth and now they all probably think we’re freaks or snobbish overachievers.”

“What exactly did you tell them?” Ritch gets defensive, knowing what kinds of strange things can spill out of Connor’s mouth when pushed into a corner. Connor is tearing at his fingernails now, rather than just picking, and his eyes stay glued to his shoes.

“...that we’ve trained for over ten years already.” He finally looks up, “Apparently that isn’t a normal amount of time at all. They only trained a year before they came here.”

That’s what Connor is worried about? That’s it?

“Is that truly all you said?” Ritch tilts his head.

“Yes, but still!”

“If it makes you feel better, they approached me about that during dinner last night. They think we’re very dedicated and will make good pilots. They don’t think we’re freaks or snobbish at all. If anything, they think Amanda is a freak for making us start so young.”

Connor’s leg halts and his hands slow just as his eyes glaze over, seeing something on a different plain of existence.

“...oh.”

Ritch nods. “You haven’t managed to do us in yet, Connor, so calm down.” he responds gently.

Connor shakes his head and Ritch can tell he returns to Earth, “...okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been worried about something as small as that anyway.”

Connor stands from the chair, shaking his head again. When he fully straightens, he puts on such a good mask that even Ritch wouldn’t have been able to tell anything was seriously bothering him if they hadn’t had this chat. Connor’s eyes meet his with the slightest smile in a false show of confidence and content. Ritch knows better than to call him out on the act by now.

“We should start heading out to breakfast if we want to make it to our first class on time.” Connor declares.

Connor then happily spins towards their makeshift shoe rack to put on his boots. Ritch follows his lead but doesn’t move as swiftly as his twin, not feeling any need to rush. There’s no doubt that Connor is feeling embarrassed and maybe guilty about what his mindset was again; another side effect from all those years of living with Amanda.

The thing about Amanda is that she isn’t a bad person, per se, she just has her own way of doing things and has an image in her mind to fulfill. If someone doesn’t follow exactly what her views and goals are, she isn’t very receptive to those changes. That being said, she had an image of what he and Connor should look like as jaeger pilots in her mind, and that image did not include any fidgeting on Connor’s part whatsoever, nor does it include how completely and wholly he feels that people need to “not hate” him, either. It’s seen as a weakness in her eyes, and it did in Ritch’s eyes at one point in time too, because Connor is definitely the kind of person who would put someone’s life over the mission. That apparently isn’t the ideal soldier for Amanda.

She also has certain things against Ritch, but they apparently weren’t as important to “fix” as Connor’s were. Like how Ritch looks like he’s constantly scowling or glaring even when he definitely isn’t– North called it “resting bitch face” yesterday over dinner.Amanda also doesn’t like the fact Ritch wears lighter colors, since they get dirty and stain so much easier than Connor’s choice range of colors. She doesn’t like how Ritch only talks when he needs something or a response is needed and apparently has less inflection to his tone than most people. She also used to get short with Ritch whenever he’d try to prevent or defuse problematic situations because “it’s not your job to make sure there’s no fighting, it’s just your job to end it if necessary.” Ritch easily ignores that so-called “tip” more often than even he feels he should.

Someone ramming into his shoulder in the walkway yanks Ritch out of his thoughts.

“Hey! Watch it dick head!” someone swears far too loud to be standing next to him.

Time to ignore that “tip” one more time, because Ritch wants to curse the brunette with stubble out because it was his fault they ran into each other. As much as it didn’t look like it, Ritch was watching where he was going and he was walking on the correct side of the hallway. This man had to have gone out of his way to bump into Ritch. However, Ritch is not one to fuel or contribute to fights, so he’s going to apologize briefly and walk away, because that’s exactly what this arrogant guy doesn’t want him to do.

“I’m sorry, I guess I was lost in thought.” he turns to walk away, “Have a good day, sir.”

“That’s it?” He huffs. “What a suck up.”

Ritch has to close his eyes and clench his jaw to keep himself from snapping some kind of quip at the asshole. His hands clamp into tight fists for a second before he forces them to relax, then he walks away, disappointed in himself for showing a reaction to the idiot’s pitifully cheap words. He’s almost to the cafeteria when a familiar voice calls out behind him.

“Hey Gavin! Wait up!”

So that was the “Gavin Reed” Pilot Persons warned him about yesterday evening when they ran into each other by the cafeteria entrance. Ritch fully understands now what she meant by “hot headed” and “irritable”. He idly wonders if Gavin has something against the new trainees or if he targets anyone that shows any kind of weakness. He’s willing to bet on the second option, as upsetting as it is.

Ritch finally makes into the food court area and make towards the line. He spots his brother sitting in the same spot as he did last night, at the table Pilot Persons warned was off limits to anyone who isn’t named Hank Anderson. Connor sitting there last night was likely just a mistake, but this morning it’s no doubt deliberate. The only reason Connor’s getting away with it now is because Mr. Anderson isn’t sitting there this morning. The old man probably doesn’t wake up in time to make it to breakfast from the few things he’s heard about him.

For now, Ritch leaves Connor to do whatever he wants for now and sits with the Manfreds and North. He was invited to sit with them again at dinner yesterday after he invited himself to the table and engaged in some admittedly pleasant conversation. He handles the more personal questions much better than Connor, and also asks others less of those kinds of questions as well. When they’re together they balance each other out (which is one thing Amanda was actively pleased about), but alone, Connor is more of a wreck than Ritch is. He just needs to learn how to better manage his emotions, and he’ll be all set.

“Ritch!” North calls out, causing the other three to turn in their seats to see the subject of her shout.

“Hey, Ritch!” Markus waves.

“Good morning!” Simon smiles at him. He definitely fits the self-proclaimed title “mom-friend” of the group.

Josh simply nods at him with a small smile and wave.

“Good morning everyone.” Ritch sets his tray down next to North and sits, “How did you guys sleep last night?”

“I slept okay–” Markus starts to answer while North jokes “On the bed.”

“North.” Josh and Markus groan. North only smirks and shrugs.

Simon takes it upon himself to answer, “The beds are kind of stiff and really cramped, but it was better than the hard floor and chairs we got when we were waiting for the helicopter.”

Everyone agrees with different levels of annoyance at the situation and relief that they didn’t have to stay on the floor last night.

“Hey, where’s Connor?” Josh asks.

“He’s eating at Mr. Anderson’s table this morning, same place as last night.”

Markus winces, “Is he still mad at us for yesterday?”

“No, he was never mad actually. He’s just embarrassed. He thinks he made you guys think we’re both, in his words, ‘freaks’ and ‘overachieving snobs’. So he’s doing what Connor does best and he’s trying to avoid similar situations until he believes you guys have forgotten about yesterday.” Ritch starts eating his food.

“But he didn’t even do anything?” Simon asks, lifting eggs to his mouth.

“You should tell him that yourself, then. He doesn’t believe me when I say those kinds of things anymore.” Not since the incident happened, he doesn’t add aloud. Instead he says “I assume you all know how it is with siblings.”

The all nod, hum, or both then fall quiet. A few beats of silence pass, then North finally does what he’s growing to learn what she does second best (right behind threatening things and people), and breaks it.

“So, what do you think we’re gonna do in training today?”

They spend the rest of the time they have before they have to head off to their first training session talking about what they think said class will entail. They all agree there will be an assessment today, but they disagree on what kind and decide to set a bet. Ritch thinks the pairs will be tested on compatibility through different tests and the singles will watch and learn or do their own thing. North thinks they’ll be pitted against each other to test skill, while Markus instead believes they will be tested on how they react in certain situations for future reference. Simon thinks there will be a written test to see how much they know already, and Josh believes there will be mental evaluations that are more in depth than the ones they had to pass to successfully sign up for this training.

They step into the training room to see that, so far, it’s only Connor, Traci, and Kelly and Leon in the room so far, and they’re all training with different things. Kelly and Leon seem to be in a deep discussion about something, and Traci is in the middle of doing stretches. Connor, on the other hand, is in the back corner going at it on the punching bag, and while the others think he’s just started because he isn’t breaking a sweat, Ritch knows better.

Despite how mentally messed up Amanda left the both of them without anyone really realizing except them, all those years weren’t for naught. She did extremely well in coaching them when it came down to the endurance aspects of their training, which is rather important when fist fighting a giant reptile-alien-monster thing.

Bidding his new friends farewell, he steps to go over to Connor and check up on him, but Simon stops him with a hand on his arm. The only reason he doesn’t freeze and straighten up is because his gentle grip is much different than Amanda’s harsh one was. It’s almost comforting.

“You said it’d be better if we told him that everything’s fine ourselves?”

“Oh yeah,” North begins, “I already forgot about that. Well, we should probably do that now so we don’t have as much of an audience.” Josh stops her from walking over there.

“I think Markus should go alone. He’s got a way with people and words. And if we all approach him he’s probably gonna get all awkward and skittish.”

“That’s a good point.” Simon nods.

“Alright, I’ll go talk to him real quick then. I’ll be right back.”

As Markus walks over to chat with Connor, the other four go off and do their own thing so they aren’t just huddled in a group staring at them from across the room. Ritch doesn’t get to see what Simon and Josh decided to do because North launches herself at the twin in a poor attempt of a surprise attack. Ritch dodges it easily, which makes North swing another attack that Ritch easily dodges again. This quickly escalates into a duel that North never has a chance at winning, but he still goes easy on her so he doesn’t accidentally break or dislocate something of hers. By the time North finally tires and learns that she has no hope of beating him, they’ve gathered a small audience of other trainees.

Ritch steps back from the marked area to look for Connor, whom he finds standing off to the side with Markus, Simon, and Josh. The twins make eye contact, then Connor’s eyes pointedly flick to the right slightly, then back on him, nothing else about him changing. Understanding the code that something’s coming up behind him, Ritch turns around and catches North getting ready to pounce on his back. She deflates almost immediately with a groan and Ritch can’t help but smirk.

“You do realize that starting a duel with someone outside of the designated area isn’t allowed, right?”

“No, I didn’t know that, but it’s not like the instructors are watching or anything.”

Ritch doesn’t give a response, instead choosing to turn around and finally make his way to the group of four. North follows close behind, no longer a threat to him (not that she ever really was, though).

It turns out that Markus really does have a way with people and words, because Connor doesn’t look the slightest bit awkward sitting here with the four exact people that sent him into a mini-spiral this morning. When North starts trying to claim that she almost had Ritch down a couple of times during their duel, Connor calmly informs her that he was going easy on her. Everyone laughs at the offended whine North gives at the information, but Ritch takes Connor’s carefully calm tone to heart. After all, he is the one person who truly knows Ritch’s strength and skill first hand, and is the one person in this room who can match it.

After all of the trainees arrives and have some time to mingle around, Chloe and a huge man with dark skin and darker hair they’ve never seen before calmly walk into the room. Almost instantly, four people move to the right side of the room to line up against the wall similarly to how they did yesterday. Everyone else gets the hint and migrates to that side of the room as well. By the time the two instructors make it to the center of the room, everyone is (hopefully) in the spot they were lined up in yesterday, completely unprompted. This gets a kind, pleased smile on the unfamiliar man’s face.

“Hello everybody,” the man starts with a soothing, low voice, which doesn’t quite match his huge and bulky appearance, “I’m surprised you guys lined up without instruction. That’s really good! With the other groups I’ve taught I’ve had to spend a while getting people in order.” The man looks to Chloe, who looks minuscule next to him, “Did you tell them to do this?”

“No, I have no clue who did this.”

“Chris Miller told us three to do this yesterday, sir and ma’am.” a woman’s– Rico’s?– voice says.

Doesn’t matter. Speaking out of turn leads to punishme–

“Well then, I’ll have to give my regards to him, then. He made my job much easier.” he smiles again, and it reaches his eyes.

Oh. Was that another “just Amanda” thing?

“Next time though, I’d advise strongly against speaking without being directly addressed to. It can lead to trouble. Okay?”

I‘m confused. Everything here is different than expected…

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now, my name is Luther and I will be your instructor and trainer until you either quit or graduate and become pilots. Before we begin, does anyone have any questions?”

The guy standing standing next to Ritch– was it Alex or Allen?– raises his hand, and Luther– or should it be Mr. Luther? He should probably ask that– nods at him.

“How much can you lift with muscles like yours?” he asks impudently.

Ritch sees the mistake immediately, so he raises his hand in hopes that Luther will elect to ignore the dumbass next to him. Luther sighs and closes his eyes before he can see Ritch’s hand; this is obviously far from the first time he’s been asked a question like this. Luther opens his eyes and they land on Ritch. He nods at him without addressing Alex whatsoever, meaning Ritch’s plan worked.

“Do you prefer Mr. Luther or..?”

The instructor doesn’t quite smile, but his face lightens after Alex’s nonsense question, “Just Luther is fine. Mr. Luther sounds too distant and formal. I try to be someone you guys can trust.”

Ritch nods silently. When no one else raises their hand after several seconds, Luther continues on to explain what today’s plans are.

Turns out, everyone at the breakfast table this morning was right in some way.

Every person who came alone is going to start out the day by dueling against Luther one by one, just so he can get a feel for what each person’s skill set and fighting patterns so he can better match pairs. While that’s happening, the people who came as pairs are going to duel for at least five minutes under Chloe’s watch to see if each pair is actually drift compatible, or if they were kidding themselves. After that, they’re going to do physical tests to see what each person’s limit is endurance, strength, and flexibility-wise because apparently the new jaegers that are almost done being built have a much wider range of movement than their predecessors.

After that will be lunch, and after lunch, while they’re tired and sore if Chloe and Luther “do their jobs right”, they will take an extensive test to see what needs to be taught and what can be lightly brushed over. Luther also explains that if anyone gets a high enough score on this test, they’ll probably be appointed as tutors for the slower trainees. With the end of the explanation finally over, Luther steps back and gestures to the two marked areas on the ground and asks if there are any volunteers to go first.

Of course, North volunteers herself and Josh to go first, even though it’s clear that Josh doesn’t want to. That earns an evaluating look from Chloe and a scribble in her notebook. Alex volunteers to go against Luther first, and Ritch cringes at how violent and cocky he sounded. As Alex walks into the designated area, Connor leans over to mumble something in his ear.

“He’s not going to make it.”

“He’s too eager to fight.” Ritch agrees. These types of topics were pretty much the only thing the brothers could talk to each other about without stepping on eggshells throughout the conversation. “I think they’ll push him harder than the rest of us. Put him in his place or make him explode or want to quit.”

“I think he’ll quit if they do that. I don’t think he realizes how hard and how much thinking being a jaeger pilot actually takes.”

“If he doesn’t quit or learn to calm himself and think clearly, they’ll fail him just for that.”

Connor nods in agreement and leans back to standing straight again, turning his head away from Ritch to watch North and Josh spar. Josh doesn’t look too entirely happy to be doing that, but North looks delighted, almost too delighted. North throws the first punch which Josh blocks, then she throws another that gets dodged. The next few minutes go on like this, with North on offense and Josh on defense while occasionally throwing a few counter attacks. Connor leans back into Ritch’s space.

“As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think Josh is gonna make it.”

Ritch nods once, “From the few conversations I’ve had with him, he has more of a peaceful heart, he’d rather use words than force, and North is the complete opposite.”

“They’re compatible, I’d say, with how easily they’re making predicting the other’s moves look, but I don’t think Josh will want to stay until the end, and I don’t think North will be compatible with any of the singles.”

Ritch nods thoughtfully in agreement. Connor stands upright again, effectively ending their little evaluation.

The thump of something hitting the ground followed by a pained grunt and groan alerts Ritch and Connor that Alex just got beat by Luther. Looking over at the other ring, the twins see Alex on the ground rubbing his tailbone and complaining while Luther looks down on him in disappointment. Ritch can’t help but smirk at the sight. If he were a lesser man, he’d probably snort or chuckle, but he thankfully isn’t.

“Alex, you are too eager to fight and throw yourself into danger for the sake of violence. You need to focus on your defense. Slow down and think during battles.”

“I need more practice is what I need.” Alex snaps back.

This isn’t going to be pretty. Ritch can tell that Connor has the same thought even without looking.

“This is the first day, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and not throw you straight into punishments, but know that I will not be as lax with you from now on.

“Think I’m too weak to handle a bit of ‘punishing’? I’m a future pilot, I can handle anything you throw at me.”

The twins look at each other in a way that could only mean “oh no” and silently agree to turn to watch as North and Josh finish up their little test. Luther’s voice catches their attention before they can really watch, though.

“Looks like even the people in this class know what you just said wrong. Do you want take that back?”

“I meant what I said. I’ve been training for three years already! I can handle what you throw at me!”

The twins share another look, this time more of a “he thinks that’s impressive?” kind of look, then turn back to Alex and Luther. Alex has his arms crossed, chest puffed out, and head held high, while Luther just looks tired and already done with the self-proclaimed adult. There’s no doubt in the brother’s minds that Alex won’t survive a week here. Luther crosses his arms and tilts his head, which makes him look much more intimidating than before.

“Three years, huh? That it?”

“It’s three more years than everyone else has here.”

“Seven years less, actually,” Connor scoffs under his breath. Ritch can’t stop the smirk from spreading on his face until Alex glares lasers in their direction. He apparently heard Connor’s mumbling.

“What was that, asshole?”

“Alex!” The young adult snaps his head back to Luther, finally looking a bit worried, “Why don’t you go report to Marshal Fowler, I’m sure he has some intern work you can do. You know, if you’re already set for being a jaeger pilot.”

Alex finally has the mind to not push Luther on this order. He nods once, and “yes sir,” is all he says before marching out with hands balled into fists.

“Now that that’s over.” Luther sighs, “Rico! You’re up! And all of you feel free to learn from the people before you!” Luther smiles nicely, as if that whole debacle never happened.

Thankfully, no one else causes any troubles after that show. After North’s and Josh’s round was over, Chloe tells North that she needs to touch up on her defense, and that Josh needs to be more aggressive in his fighting if he plans on taking on kaijus. Kelly and Leon go next, and they’re a good balance. Chloe doesn’t mention any immediate concerns, either. Then Simon and Markus volunteer to go up next.

They seem hesitant to start fighting– which can be seen as a good thing, considering they’re supposed to always be working together– but once they get to sparring, it’s obvious they’re drift compatible. Even if they don’t do as much actual fighting as the other pairs, it’s partially because they keep anticipating the other’s moves, which ends in a lot of stalemates. Chloe mentions that they were too timid to try to land any proper hits, the other reason why there wasn’t as much combat, and that they’ll probably have to go against Luther so they can get a good idea of what their real skill and strength is.

She calls up the Hallowitt siblings next when no one volunteers. Right off the bat Ritch is sure they’re not compatible and not really skilled. The fight starts with Lily throwing a punch and Maveric being almost offended by that. When he tries to punch Lily back, it’s extremely weak, so it’s easy for her to dodge it, but she still only just barely manages it. Throughout the rest of the time they have to fight they make it obvious that they find the other very unpredictable and unreadable despite their clumsy movements. Where Connor and Ritch can tell when Maveric is going to make a left uppercut and kick out afterward, Lily apparently doesn’t see, and tries to block it the wrong way then almost falls over. Ritch hopes it’s just a bad day for them as they walk to the side of the room where everyone else is patiently waiting to be dismissed.

Then Chloe calls him and Connor.

They slowly make their way to the marked area, not really enthusiastic about being put against each other like this again. At least they’re the last group, so they can immediately take a break after this. Ritch wonders if Chloe did that on purpose after hearing how they were against being paired together yesterday.

Connor shakes his hands out and bounces on his toes a few times while Ritch rolls his neck and shoulders, knowing that those are Connor’s favorite places to target. Ritch takes a deep breath and watches as Connor does the same while maintaining eye contact. They’re both reading and sizing up their opponent.

Chloe gives the okay to start, but instead of getting into fighting stances immediately like the other pairs, the brothers walk to the middle and shake hands like Amanda has taught them to do. With one shared look and a nod from each, they agree silently to hold back, but not so much as to match the skills of everyone else. The last thing they want is to be put through redundant and useless classes and training routines. Besides, two of the three other pairs already know that they’ve had ten years of training, so it’d be weird if they were only as good or just slightly better than the others.

They walk back to opposite ends of the marked area. There’s a moment where they just stand there, but then Connor makes the first move. He bends his knees and raises his fists, which leads Ritch to do the same, then Connor takes a few steps forward, and Ritch retaliates by taking one as well. They both know whoever makes the first move will be at a slight disadvantage for the first couple of moves, and it seems like Connor’s willing to take that risk this time. Connor twitches, and suddenly the entire room and everyone watching them disappears and it’s just the two of them, the timer, and this fight.

Connor pounces, and not anything like how North pounced, no. He is very quick and his fist flies towards Ritch’s face, but he leans just in time to avoid it. Ritch grabs the arm that just swung the punch and twists it so Connor is forced to turn his back to his brother. Before he can try to pin Connor, he kicks straight behind, aiming for Ritch’s knees. Ritch dodges by turning his whole body, which gives Connor just enough room and a good angle to elbow him in the face. He almost succeeds too, but Ritch catches his arm in time, the force of the impact probably bruising his hand.

Ritch realizes his mistake a moment too late because Connor uses the fact that Ritch is holding onto both of his arms to his advantage and pulls them in front of himself while throwing his head back, bashing Ritch’s nose on the back of his head. Momentarily stunned, Ritch loosens his grip, which gives Connor the chance to twist out of his grip and trip him. He goes to pin Ritch on the ground, but he rolls out of the way and kicks Connor in the side with both legs. The move launches Connor away, causing him to topple over and go into a short coughing fit. They both quickly get back up into their default standing positions, Ritch now with a bleeding nose.

Ritch moves quickly and makes to punch Connor, but he blocks it, and the next punch, and the one after that. The forth punch is the one Connor catches, and that’s when Connor throws his first punch of this segment of fighting. Ritch narrowly avoids it by moving his head to the side, and catches his next punch. Now each brother has one of the other’s wrists in their hand.

Connor grips onto Ritch’s other wrist so he’s holding both of them, and Ritch copies him. He uses this split moment of Connor’s stillness to try to knee his twin in the side, but Connor sees it and goes to block it with his own arm. Ritch sees this at the last moment and forces his foot down onto Connor’s foot. They both know it does nothing, since they’re both wearing boots, but it still hinders Connor, who retaliates by yanking on Ritch’s left arm hard, effectively dislocating it and rendering it temporarily useless. It doesn’t bother Ritch much because dislocating his shoulder used to be some kind of party trick that he’d do. He even tried to teach Connor how to do it a few times, and that is the only reason why Connor dares to do it during training; he knows how to do it without seriously damaging his shoulder.

Ritch purposefully drops to the ground like a heavy rag doll, forcing Connor to go down with him. Connor lets go of his wrists to go for the neck while pinning him to the ground. Ritch uses his right hand to shove his fingers in Connor’s face, aiming for the eyes, which makes the other jump back off and away from him. They both know neither of them would actually do something as damaging and painful as digging a finger in the other’s eye, but it’s one of their rules to get away ASAP if the other is potentially able to. The eyes are where the window for the pilots on a Jaeger is, so if a kaiju digs their claws into it, it won’t just be their eyes that get irreversibly damaged.

Ritch doesn’t bother to roll onto his stomach to hop up onto his feet. With a small wince, Ritch fixes his left shoulder like he has many times in the past. Both Connor and Ritch are breathing more heavily than when they started, but not really panting yet. Their eyes never leave their target, except for when Connor quickly glances to the side. Ritch follows the action and sees that there is a little less than three minutes of the five obligated ones left to this fight.

Connor takes a quick step forward and Ritch does the same, meeting in the middle with Ritch starting this round with an attempted kick to the ribs. Connor catches his leg and lifts, trying to set him off balance, but Ritch drops and lands on his hands, leaving his other foot free in the air to successfully kick Connor in the chin. When he flips himself right again, he’s met with Connor’s fist to his throat. Winded, Ritch tries his best to block and dodge his twin’s calculated blows with little luck. Finally, he retaliates, punching Connor hard on the cheek. Next thing they know, their fighting becomes just a flurry of punches and kicks, each brother dodging and blocking the other’s harsh blows, some attempts more successful than others. Then Connor manages to get in a roundhouse kick.

Ritch narrowly dodges it, and pounces on Connor while he’s still unstead for just that moment and locks him into a choke hold. Connor digs his nails into Ritch’s arm and pulls, which causes the other to growl and press tighter against his throat. All of a sudden Ritch’s leg is forced out from under him and he’s falling sideways to the ground, but he catches himself in time and rolls onto his back just as Connor lands on him. There’s no doubt he was going to try to pin Ritch’s arms behind him if he landed on his front.

The next while is spent wrestling around on the ground, focusing on keeping the other down and getting themselves up more than traditional offence. Finally, Connor gets a tight hold on Ritch’s wrists and forces his knee down hard into his gut. Just as Connor’s about to spin him over into a proper pin, Ritch lifts his leg so his foot can push Connor’s left leg down, making him move his other knee off of Ritch’s gut if he doesn’t want to topple over. This gives the almost-pinned brother a chance to fold both of his legs near his chest in preparation to kick Connor off of him with both feet. He rolls off of Ritch just in time though, and stands up and backs away. Ritch hops up onto his feet once more, albeit more painfully, though he does a good job of not showing it.

The timer counts down from 54 seconds.

Connor’s chin, nose, and lip, and forehead are bleeding, and bruises will probably form in many different areas later. That gives Ritch a disgusting sense of pride that is no doubt subconsciously fueled from the praise he always got from Amanda whenever he’d win one of these fights. Connor’s putting less pressure on his left leg than he was before, and isn’t raising his right arm as high as he normally does. Yet, despite these injuries, he still stands as sturdy and still as a stone. If it weren’t for the spots of blood on his shirt and pants, Ritch would assume that’s all that’s wrong with him. That and how Connor is controlling his breathing, so his chest or ribs must hurt.

Ritch is panting rather painfully too. His left arm aches from earlier, his shoulders and back ache from being tripped and slammed to the floor. Ritch quickly wipes the blood from his nose that’s running over his lips and dripping down his chin and flinches when his hand brushes against his nose. There are sharp pains on the insides of his cheeks and lips from being punched and his teeth cutting into them, and there’s pains on the outside too where his lip is split and the bruises blossoming on his face. It hurts like a bitch to stand on his right ankle for whatever reason, but Ritch refuses to show weakness. Yet, noting how Connor glances down at that exact ankle, maybe he’s babying it more than he thought.

Ritch makes a face that he hopes comes across as more apologetic, and Connor lifts his left shoulder in a hint of a half-shrug that Ritch assumes and hopes is an acknowledgement. Ritch almost limps a step forward and Connor does the same–

“Alright, that’s enough.” Luther calls.

Connor spins to glance back at the timer– frozen at 51 seconds– without breaking their stances, then look to their instructor.

“I think I’ve seen more than enough for now.”

Both brother’s eyes widen. That phrase only meant corrections and/or ridicules growing up, why else would a fight stop early? If they were doing well, whoever was watching would let it continue. The twins immediately straighten up to a normal, standing posture– Ritch feels his face twitch at the twinge in his ankle– and fold their hands behind their backs– Connor winces slightly then. Connor has the balls to speak up, albeit with his head tilted down.

“Did we do something wrong?” His words come out a tad breathless from him trying to control his breathing, but they’re clearly understandable. That’s why neither brother knows why Luther and Chloe look as baffled as they do.

Luther’s face changes to something slightly more concerned. “Did you do– No!”

Chloe explains, “We were more afraid you were going to seriously injure each other if you kept going.”

“Oh.” Connor states blankly.

I thought we were holding back enough, especially since the padding isn’t thick. Apparently not, Ritch notes.

“Where did you guys train?” asks Luther.

Ritch doesn’t really want to talk about this, and he knows for a fact that Connor doesn’t either.

“Just in our yard,” Ritch answers, absently mourning his white shirt as it now has red stains on it, “But we had obstacles and such set up and have been training for a while, so...”

“There’s no way you guys are completely self-taught.” Chloe states, but the silent question “Who was your trainer?” is ironically loud and clear.

“I guess not completely, but mostly?” Connor jumps in, “I mean– We had, guidance from our stepmother and the occasional combat trainer that would visit her, but we did learn a lot of it on our own through trial and error, ma’am.”

Ritch nods in agreement. Now that he thinks about it, they really did do a lot of the training and learning on their own. Amanda would only intervene if she saw something wrong or if she wanted to do yet another evaluation. When she wanted them to learn something new, she either ordered an instructional video or book to study from or called in an instructor to come in for a week or two to train them hands on.

Thankfully, Luther stops Chloe’s onslaught of questions with a wave of his hand.

“Leave them be, Chloe. All we needed to do was to assess their skill and strength, not where they got it from. And I say that they’ve easily passed this part of the evaluation.” Luther turns to the injured brothers, “And you two refuse to work with one another?”

“Yes sir.” they confirm at the same time with the same level of false confidence.

Luther nods, “Marshal Fowler states here–” he lightly slaps the two files in his hand “–that you two have to be paired until proven incompatible. And I think this duel proved the exact opposite.”

Connor and Ritch lower their heads again, both coming to terms that they may not become jaeger pilots after all. How could they if everything they do proves that they’re drift compatible when they absolutely refuse to be in each other’s minds?

“Well then, it’d be a real shame if you found someone else to pair up with before you graduated from this class, now wouldn’t it? Especially since you still have to go through at least three more evaluations before it’s even an option.”

Did Ritch just hear that right? Are they being given an out? By an instructor?

“Sir?” Apparently Connor’s thinking the same thing.

“But you didn’t hear that from me.” He smiles that same genuine, kind smile from when he first entered the room. “You two should go get yourselves checked out then head out to lunch, we’ll finish your physical testing at a later date, since you’ve really done a number on yourselves.” He then schools his expression into something more blank as he raises his voice for people to hear. “Alright! Everyone else, listen up! We’re going to be doing flexibility next, and I need everyone to understand how to do these moves safely so no one gets hurt, okay?”

A choir of “Yes sir”s is the last thing the twins hear before leaving the room.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson is not one to wake up before noon. Maybe sometimes at noon, but never before, which is why he’s confused as hell as to why he’s awake at fucking 11:26 in the morning. Lunch– or in Hank’s case, breakfast– hasn’t even started yet. There’s still 34 god damn minutes until he can get his daily dosage of comfort food to try to help lessen his never-ending hangover. Well, it’s not quite never-ending. He doesn’t have a hangover when he’s drunk, which is yet another tempting reason to just say “fuck it” and start drinking early today.

Too bad Hank’s stupid fuckin’ conscious gets in the way of that.

“Don’t start drinking yet!”, it says, “You’ll have a worse hangover tomorrow if you start now!” it tries, “Try getting to lunch early today! Get food sooner!”

That finally manages to convince him.

With a groan, he rolls himself off his lousy excuse for a bed to go wash his face and change. He stumbles a bit to the bathroom, not quite prepared for the wave of nausea that crashes through his body, but he makes it just in time to empty what little contents he had in his stomach into the toilet. He flushes the toilet with slightly shaky hands once he doesn’t feel as horrible. Hank manages to get himself up and off of the ground and to the mirror to wash his face, but one look at his reflection makes him pause.

Hank knows he’s a slob and he’s let himself slip, but that doesn’t mean he should walk around without showering for the past few days, or without shaving in much longer than that. So he does exactly that. He forces himself to take a speedy shower because god damn it he’s starting to smell like a high school locker room minus the Old Spice and Axe, and if he can smell himself, other people sure can too. Once he’s out and dressed in– what outfit did he blindly grab today? Ah, a stained, dark grey shirt and one of his cleaner pair of sweatpants, that’ll do for now– he wastes some time half-heartedly trimming the bush on his face. There’s a difference to not caring how you look and having a full-blown redneck beard and hair, and Hank refuses to cross into that territory.

By the time Hank has his socks and shoes on and the aspirin finally starts working, the clock glows with the numbers 11:58. Two minutes until lunch, which means no meandering down the halls or awkwardly waiting for the food court to open by the time he gets there. He can just get from point A to point B, and that’s exactly what he does.

Walking into the food court, Hank immediately notices how relatively vacant the place is and makes a mental note to maybe start waking up a bit earlier if only because of this. He walks over to the almost nonexistent line for food (which quickly builds up behind him) with a calm ease he hasn’t felt in a long while. The cafeteria workers know Hank’s order now, and they also know to not try to engage in any small talk with him either, especially during his breakfast/their lunch time. They simply put his preferred, greasy food on his tray and hand it to him. Hank nods politely at them like he normally does (because he may be an asshole, but they’re just doing their jobs) and walks back to his table.

Hank’s a little more than halfway done with his meal when the food court starts getting even louder than what he’s used to. Hank thought he found the secret to a quieter, more peaceful lunch, but all he’s managed to find were fucking lies. People are crowding into other tables, trying to talk over one another, and laughing loudly. Normally Hank wouldn’t mind people having fun, but today it’s just too much for his poor head to handle with the addition of the bright lights.

Hank rarely gets hungover anymore, but when he does, it’s usually bad.

He leans forward and puts his elbows on the table and his head in his hands and groans. Hank doesn’t know how long he sits like this, just trying to block out the lights and sounds. The sound of a cup being placed on the table directly in front of Hank pulls him back into the real world. Hank somewhat blearily looks up to who set the cup down to find the kid from last time standing in front of him with a half smile. It would be a full smile, if it weren’t for the three bandage patches on his face.

“It looks like you could use this more than me.”

The guy– fuck, what was his name?– nudges the cup closer to Hank with one of his wrapped hands, then moves to the other end of the table. He’s barely babying his left leg, and his face twitches as he sits down. He presses the edges of a cooling patch on the back of his head, and the angle allows Hank to see a fabric brace around his right shoulder under the collar of his black shirt. All in all, this fucker has definitely seen some better days– proof being yesterday evening– and Hank can’t stop himself from being curious.

“The fuck happened to you?”

The younger man drops his head and frowns at his food, “Just the beginning of jaeger pilot training.” He turns his head to Hank with another half-smile, “It looks worse than it feels, I promise.”

What kind of fuckin’ training? I’ve only seen these new kids around for a day or two, so they aren’t doing the serious stuff yet. And even then it still wouldn’t look like this… Should I check with Jeffery about this?

“What’s your name, kid?” Hank takes a well-earned sip of water.

“Connor, sir- er, um. It’s Connor.” The guy– Connor– starts tapping his fingers on the table.

“You sure it was training that beat the shit out of you today?” Hank should really stop talking. He doesn’t want Connor to think that he’s interested in being acquainted with him.

Connor’s finger-tapping speeds up and his foot starts tapping too.

“Yes– Yea.”

“There a reason you fidget so goddamn much?”

That must be the wrong thing to say because Connor goes completely still and shrinks into himself, muttering an apology. Honestly, Hank’s just surprised this Connor guy still wants to sit here. When the younger man doesn’t offer up an explanation, Hanks asks another question, this time slightly more gently. Hank ain’t a stranger to feeling like shit.

“Why’re you sittin’ here today? I get you wanted a break from people yesterday, but I’m not exactly well liked y’know. If ya stick around here you won’t get any friends.”

Connor turns his head towards him with a face of... determination?, “They may not like you, but I don’t know enough about you yet to form a proper opinion of my own. So far, though, I don’t think you’re that bad to be around.” Connor turns back to his food, taking another bite, “I tend to be too awkward for friends anyway. My brother’s more of the socializer.”

“You sure you’re not trying to fix me? You knew my name yesterday even though I never told you it.” Checkmate, Hank thinks as he watches Connor tense up immediately.

“I admit that I used to… follow your work before you retired, but I promise that that has nothing to do with why I’m sitting here now. I just don’t do well around people.” He takes another bite of food, “Also, I don’t believe that there’s any way to ‘fix’ people, per se. The only people who can really fix people are our own selves, no?” Connor starts spinning that god damned fork around his fingers again.

Normally by now, Hank would be causing some kind of scene trying to a person away from him and his table, but Connor is different. Not different like in the books and movies where “it’s a gut feeling” or whatever the fuck they call it, no. Connor’s different because, despite admitting to knowing who Hank was, he really doesn’t seem to be here to try and “fix” him or get close to his “idol”. He’s just here to mind his own business, and Hank can’t be fucking bothered to put in the effort to actively dislike the guy for wanting to be left alone without being alone. Hank knows exactly what it’s like.

So what if Hank can somehow see some of himself in this lonely fucker and is willing to put up with him for a bit? This kid just better not think that he’s going to stay here long term. He better find other friends and skedaddle on away from this table real fuckin’ soon.

“Our own selves, you say? Is that a general term or are you including yourself in this self-pity party?”

He opens his mouth, then hesitates. “Is this a test or a semblance of curiosity?”

Hank huffs amusedly, “I don’t test people, kid.”

“Then yes, I am inviting myself to the ‘pity party’. And I am 23 as of tomorrow, I am no longer a kid.”

Now he’s starting to grate on Hank.

“Maybe not, but I’m 41. You’re still a kid to me.” Hank can’t keep the sharpness out of his voice, not that he tried to, anyway.

“...I suppose that’s true in a way. I apologize.” Connor bows his head and eats.

Wait a minute, why the fuck doesn’t he just go sit with his brother? What gives?

“There a reason you aren’t sitting with your brother? You said he was here, right? I’m sure you could share friends.”

Connor takes the last bite of his food. He didn’t take nearly as much as Hank and ate much quicker too. Connor stands up after swallowing.

“We just don’t quite get along. I assume you know how siblings are. Besides, he isn’t having lunch yet, he had something he needed to do.”

He picks up his tray and untouched cup of coffee and turns to leave. Connor drops his gaze to his feet as he makes his way to leave. He briefly pauses in front of Hank first, though, to set down his coffee in front of him, picking up the now-empty cup. Hank takes a breath to tell Connor off for assuming he needed something to drink and for treating him like a child, but Connor stops him with a half-hearted smile.

“I don’t really drink coffee, it just makes my heart rate skyrocket, and you look like you need this more than I do, too.” He gestures to himself, “I’ve been thoroughly woken up already” Connor huffs in amusement at himself, and before Hank can get a word in, he walks away to put his dishes in the designated containers. He passes Hank again to leave the food court. “I hope your day gets better, Mr. Anderson.”

Hank doesn’t grace him with a response once again.

What a fuckin’ weird kid.

Hank finishes his food and downs the instant coffee, then puts his trash and dishes away. Usually after his breakfast, Hank will go back to his room as long as he isn’t needed for something because, yes, he may be an old drunkard now, but he still used to be a jaeger pilot, and a damn good one at that, so his sober words are taken seriously by Jeff. He doesn’t have anything planned for today, but he still turns left to where Jeff– oh excuse him, Marshal Fowler– is likely going to be in his office instead of right to the bunkers.

There’s no way a trainee gets that beaten up during the first few days of training. Maybe later when weapon training starts, but Luther would never lay a hand that heavy on one of his students. The gentle giant is just way too passive and sweet to ever do that. Besides, Connor is definitely not the delinquent type. Although, if they’re testing baseline skill today, then that means Connor went up against his brother, and he did say they didn’t exactly get along. Still, though, why wouldn’t Luther or Chloe stop the duel if the poor kid was getting pummeled?

Hank is two turns away from Jeffery’s office when he hears a very familiar voice sound up from around the corner.

“Don’t, Alex. Gavin only does this to get a rise out of people. Just keep walking.”

Connor knows who Gavin is, too? Then again, who around here doesn’t.

“Keep walking?” another man’s voice, presumably Alex’s, snaps, “And let this fucker think he can push me around?! I don’t think so! I can take him on–”

“I assure you that you can not. He is a real pilot–”

“Aw, c’mon kid!” There’s Gavin, fuckin’ asshole, “You ran away last time, you’re really gonna run away this time too?”

“Gavin!” Hank barks, turning around the corner. All three men snap their heads towards him. “That’s enough. Do what you were gonna do and move along.”

“Fuckin’ Anderson!” Gavin smiles sarcastically, “Finally sober enough to walk in a straight line for once? Congratulations!”

“Fuck off, Reed. I’m not playing your fuckin’ games today.”

“Suit yourself, then” Gavin sneers with a cocky shrug, and moves on, leaving this Alex guy and Connor behind.

Except that’s definitely not Connor.

This guy has Connor’s face and Connor’s voice, but that can’t be Connor. First of all, he’s wearing a brace on his nose and, rather than having gauze/bandages on his face, Connor’s doppelganger has several bandaids and more bruises than anything. On top of that, this guy is wearing a light grey shirt with grey pants, rather than a black shirt and navy pants. When Connor said he had a brother, Hank didn’t think he meant a fuckin’ identical twin. Although, he guesses not many people would.

“Why’dya stop him? I could’ve taken him!” The Alex guy shoves not-Connor.

“Alex, please, you’re a fool if you think–”

“Hey asshat. I’d knock it off.” Hank makes his way to Gavin 2.0.

“Oh yeah? What’s an old guy like you gonna be able to do to me anyway?”

“Get you kicked out of training faster than you can say ‘jaeger’ because my old partner is Fowler himself.” Hank pauses briefly for dramatic effect, “And it seems like you’ve already had to do some… What do they call it? ‘Intern work’? How was clearing out the old pipes, Anix?”

“Alex,” he growls.

“I know.” Hank smirks, knowing he’s already won. ”Get outta here. I imagine you’ve got somewhere to be, punk.”

“Yes, sir.” he grits out. Alex then turns and walks down the hall and around the corner where Hank just came from.

“Thank you Mr. Anderson. I appreciate the help with those two, they’ve already proven to be quite troublesome on their own, they’d be a nightmare if left together without proper supervision.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” Hank hesitates, but ends up continuing anyway. “All you have to do with Gavin is show him little you’re affected by him without picking a fight. He’ll back off eventually.’

Not-Connor seems to genuinely appreciate that advice, “Oh. Thank you. It’s good to know that I’ve been doing the right thing so far.” he pauses, “I apologize for my brother, Connor, sitting at your table. I’ve tried telling him to leave you alone, but he’s rather stubborn and is rather awkward and nervous around groups of people.”

“Yeah, I gathered as much already.” Hank wants to leave the conversation now. He only wanted to shit on some people, not have an actual talk with someone who shares a face and voice with some dude who has been sitting at his table.

“Give him a few days at most. I’m sure he’ll move on to please other people and leave you alone if you really don’t want him around. He may be stubborn, but he’s not stupid or blind to signals of disinterest.”

Hank almost grunts and nods to end the conversation, but thinks otherwise at the last moment. Curse his damn curiosity and possible mild concern for people’s well-being.

“Please other people?”

Not-Connor’s eyes widen, “Not in that sense, no. He simply hates the idea of being disliked by people.”

“One more question for ya,” Hank suddenly feels like he’s in some cop show or something with all of these questions, “Did you and Connor do this–” he gestures to not-Connor’s busted face “–to each other?”

“Ah,” the trainee looks away in obvious discomfort, “Our instructor was seeing what our baseline strengths and skills were, and Connor and I apparently didn’t hold back enough and we ended up worrying them. I just got done talking to Marshal Fowler about it, since he insisted it’ll interfere with our training for the next few days.” Not-Connor looks back to Hank, and must see something in his expression because he quickly ends the conversation.

“My name is Ritch, by the way, and I always wear light colors and Connor only wears dark. I know we can be overbearing sometimes, especially him, so when you need him off of you for a while, feel free to tell me.” Ritch, nods his head to Hank in respect. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time already. I’ll be on my way. Have a good day, Mr. Anderson.”

Hank does his signature grunt and nod, and Ritch takes that as his cue to hurry past Hank and around that same corner again. Hank stands there a moment, processing everything that he just learned. Mixing this new knowledge with his gut feeling, he’s pretty sure he’s going to be running into those twins far more than once or twice more.

Whelp, goodbye for now peaceful meals, I already can’t wait until you return.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Hello again! This was my first time writing a fight scene (and it shows, but I can’t figure out how to fix it 😫) but I hope it wasn’t too horrible to read through 😅 I almost just skipped through that scene so I wouldn’t have to write it, but there will be a ton more action, so might as well get some practice in now so it ain’t as bad later on amirite? Well, I hope y’all liked this chapter and are liking this fic so far! I’ve got a lot planned so I’m excited! I’ll be back with next chapter before the end of the month! 😁

#reed900 #gavin reed x rk900 #reed900 fanfic #reed900 fanfiction #hankcon #hannor #hank x connor #hankcon fanfic #hankcon fanfiction #hannor fanfic #hannor fanfiction #hankcon au #reed900 au #pacific rim!au #The Drift Between Us #chapter 2

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abyssiniana · 6 years

Text

«Have a Little Patience»

A Svemelle fanfic for @svenweek! I wanted to share my love for this underappreciated bean even though I’m a bit late for the event ;;;

Read it on >> AO3 << or under the cut.

The notion of time was something that very easily slipped between Sven’s fingertips, the sand in the hourglass showing palpable signs of passage in its rising levels but no footsteps whatsoever. He existed, he could think, he had needs and desires and fears, and shed a tear or two when he stubbed his toe like any healthy human being.

But time in space was a complicated matter, too slow or too fast or around dinner time, and in the enormous galactic scale, what was another loaded gun pointed at an Altean? The sense of purpose was diminished into a crushing nothingness in a reality where time was as ephemeral as life itself, a rush to get home earlier on a friday evening but the highway is never ending and the sun isn’t quite setting and you ignore the warnings about the ice on the sides of the road, keep your heavy boot on the accelerator and the road comes to an early end and you keep begging “It’s too soon, so soon, there’s so much to do--”

Now that he thought of guns, he realized, a frown darkening his Northern features - not like space had a credible “North” with associated general traits, he had to fix his vocabulary -; he never missed a shot unless he meant to, but he missed her head for more than a few inches, like, it wasn’t even close. It haunted Sven for nights in a row, but not the shot, the hell with the missed green light shot, it was her who tormented his mind. Gorgeous blanched gold in her hair and eyes of an amethyst freshly pulled from the depths of hollow agates in volcanic caves, skin pale but rosy on the cheeks and the tip of the perky nose. She was beautiful and perfect and the walking epitome of sugar, spice and everything nice but then…

Her marks.

Little crescent moons laying on top of her cheekbones, a gentle turquoise to go with her righteous attitude, determination worthy of a warrior in the eyes of a princess, delicacy and passion, simple attraction and downright want, a contradiction when Sven fought against everything her mere existence stood for.

An Altean. A sinfully, painfully, deliciously beautiful Altean.

Sven wasn’t sure of the nature of the contents the alien bartender had spilled into his glass, but whatever that lilac liquid was, it had traveled right down and hit him in a nasty spot; if he knew his intolerance well, which he did, the alcohol would be traveling right back up his throat soon enough. Nunvill more like Dumb-ville, Sven Holgersson’s hometown. Total population: one (1), en, uno, just this dimwitted nerd right here, with the buzzing neon arrow shaped sign above his head that read “THIS IS THE SOLE CITIZEN OF DUMBVILLE, THE IDIOT WHO ASKED AN ALTEAN, WHOM HE WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL, OUT ON A DATE”.

His forehead met the flat surface of the black counter at the intergalactic bar with a thud muted by the loud music that drowned the whole environment in this hazy cloud of induced comfort.

But time, yes, he had a point earlier. Time was an issue, much more so in space. Time zones were confusing enough back home on Earth, but with several quadrants and a multitude of gravitational pulls and people who simply did not carry a watch or share the same calendar, the blond Altean was late. Or so Sven thought. Maybe he was the one who was there too early; or maybe she wouldn’t come at all. Perhaps she was laughing with her assigned platoon, mocking the rebel fighter who had the nerve to forget his place, his ethics and morals and soldier training, for the selfish request of a pretty lady accompanying him for dinner.

Time was consuming and Sven was nursing it further away with a bad drink and broken hopes.

A pair of mutant gorillas regulated the entrance, determining if certain attendants were allowed inside - that seemed like a pretty useless or poorly done job since Sven had walked right in without being asked anything at all, the two guards excitedly discussing something in their native language. The bartender had several arms poking out of his sides, similarly to his friend Slav, only he was not nearly as chatty, thank the Lord. He offered no more than a nod at the orders and brought them back without as much as a smile, and that was as much as the customers were allowed to ask of him. That worked just fine for Sven. His exploring gaze evaluated the whole glass structure, the bubble shape of the aquarium in the center of the circular bar showcasing a pretty mermaid-like creature, her golden trinkets glistening in the faint blue glow as she danced with virtually rehearsed moves to a nearly mute rhythm, eyes like lifeless marbles. Was she even alive? Hard to tell. Almost as hard was to hear the ambiance music; unless he closed his eyes, it would be impossible to feel the theta binaural pulses, sound waves with a frequency that resonated in the theta range. It numbed the weight of his mind like some sort of auditive drug. Where was this lo-fi vibe coming from? Had he drank enough already, he would believe it was coming from inside his body rather than the embedded speakers in the limits of the area.

Why had he chosen this place anyway? The rush of the assault to an Altean commoner base allowed little time to chat with the enemy, and a pamphlet for this lousy establishment in an otherwise vacant moon was the closest thing he could grab and hold towards the girl with the excuse of an invitation.

Oh, how embarrassing it had been; were it physically possible to merge with the counter and hide his shame any further, he would, at the memory of his dumbstruck face pointing at the damn paper and then handling it to the girl with a collection of grunts because what were words when he practically brain farted in the presence of the most beautiful girl in the Universe? He hadn’t even gathered enough balls to open his mouth to speak; he didn’t ask her name nor offered his own. He simply pointed at the paper advertising the anniversary special with live music performances and and hoped she would pick up what he meant. She nodded so he assumed as much...?

You’re making an idiot of yourself, Holgersson.

Sven considered getting up to leave more than once - if he didn’t look anyone in the eye on his way out he might sell the lie that he had planned on going by himself all along and not been shamefully stood up - but when he glanced at the hooded figure who approached him, he immediately changed his mind.

In fact, his mind fuses went short-circuit and stopped working all together mid-action, as he was awkwardly half-standing up half-about-to-sit-back-down on the bar stool. It was her. She had come. He stuttered; after so long waiting, he hadn’t even thought of what to do should she actually join him.

Her dark blue cloak covered most of her face, nervous eyes glancing from side to side. He couldn’t help but to notice the bandages that covered the highest point of her cheekbones. Her marks were occult, skin reddened enough to make her beautiful eyes teary. Was she hurt?

“F-Forgive my lateness…” She whispered, as if it were a secret. As if they were a secret, but then it hit him that they really had to be. Were an Altean general to show up alone in a public bar, chances were she’d be glared to death, her presence terrifying those who were there. Certainly, she wasn’t allowed to leave her post as she pleased. Her absence could be reported to the Empress. Sven was aware that Empress Allura was nothing short of relentless when it came to underlings straying from their duties. This gorgeous Altean was taking a huge risk just for standing here, fraternizing with the enemy.

Was that why her marks were hidden?

Oh, she was breathtaking.

“I meant to appear sooner, but... There’s been a little incident.” Her face grew flustered as she fidgeted, her gestures frantic in a lack of words to explain. Sven wanted to say it was okay, that he was glad for the simple fact that he got to see her again - heck, he could die happy right about now - but his mouth hung agape, no words daring to spill through his parted lips. Her hand curled around his wrist and he was tugged towards the back of the establishment, a corridor leading to the bathrooms.

There were several outcomes to escaping to the darkest corner of a night bar; it was either the elected spot for a heated makeout session or the perfect crime scene. His body wouldn’t be found unless someone decided to take a piss, or when the closing hours approached and the establishment owner would come to check the bathrooms to make sure the clients had all left.

Whatever the sequel to this scape, Sven was enthralled enough to accept.

Good God, she was stunning.

“D-Don’t laugh.” She made him promise as soon as they were away from prying eyes, with an adorably prominent pout - which he did, immediately, with a series of nods - before she pulled her hood off, having it rest around her shoulders. Indeed there were bandages covering the upper cheeks of her face, a bunch of tiny outbreaks of swollen, pale red bumps.

“I wanted to hide my heritage marks… should anyone recognize me… I didn’t want to cause you trouble for being seen with me! My friend lent me her cosmetic kit but then my skin became swollen and it stung a lot and it burned and now it’s like this!” She explained rapidly, the words overlapping each other in the rush, only ceasing when Sven rose his hand to touch her face, inspecting the allergy from up close, the rash confined to the area where the cosmetic had been applied. “You’re probably regretting even asking me to come… I’m sorry, I look hideous!”

No. God, no, that was not it.

He had no way with words, being the stoic-faced introvert his friends always accused him of being; thus, resorting to a more physical language, his lips came in contact with the surface of the bandages, a soft kiss placed on each, ceasing the tears that had been absorbed by the gauze. She became redder, to be quite honest, but Sven didn’t pay much of a mind to it, keeping her cute face framed by his big hands, thumbs caressing her jaw with affection.

“Never say that. You’re beautiful.”

As a young kid, Sven had this little night lamp to help him overcome the fear of the dark (it wasn't cool for boys to be afraid, Ma said at the time); and it did help him, that device made him fall in love with darkness because the cutout stars and dots on the surface of the lampshade created a small universe in the confinements of the bedroom, making it so much more immense and deep and fantastic and full of mysteries beyond the cracks on the walls or the stains on the sheets. It made him dream of being up there, bouncing from star to star, riding on a meteor or sliding on the rings of Saturn. His dream did come true, however in a more practical sense. There was no sliding off rings - if anything he'd fall through them -, he didn't ride meteors unless he had a crisp to death wish - he was close to, at times -, and the concept of bouncing off stars was less of a theme park kind of thing and more of an everyday task that involved vargas of voyage between astronomical bodies and the bounce effect was felt with gunshots, screams and scrapes in his armor. It wasn't until Sven reached the vastness of space that he realized he had never really lost his phobia; he had simply... Accepted it.

He lay back down in the rented bed of a lodging in a distant Solar System, sweat making the sheets stick to the end of his back. He thought of Earth, he thought of home, and then realized the magnitude of the distance between that little mountain house in Norway and his training in the Galaxy Garrison. He thought of Voltron and how they failed to answer the call of the Universe, petty humans who blundered the only chance, how his friends had died for nothing and his former partner strayed from good to side with his Altean heritage.

Truth was so dark, so raw, so sad. A jarring stab wound that drained the blood out of a nearly dead corpse. The Universe fell enslaved to a race of crazed mind-controllers, driven by the fake belief that peace had to be implemented in people’s minds rather than achieved through fair negotiation and common-sense. Enough blood had been spilled, ten thousand years of turmoil, death, fear, a peace-through-strength kind of permanent panic. When would the Alteans come for the two lovers who defied their rule?

Sleeping Romelle shifted in bed next to him, cuddling closer to his side, her delicate little hand resting over his abs, her cheek pressed against his bare chest. He traced a finger near her eyes, calloused fingers hovering the soft skin; the signs of allergy around her markings had disappeared so long ago - it had been close to a year since they began their occasional encounters, their I love you’s hushed by the opposing sides of the war they stood for.

In this rented bed, there was no war. No slavery. No death. Just them and their unscrupulous love, handwritten by Shakespeare with the inevitable imminence of tragedy. She had snorted at the funny name when Sven first mentioned it, her accent making it hard for the playwright’s name to roll around her tongue. He developed his point further in that conversation; they were both risking so much for the little they had, but in the universal scale of their flaming hearts it was so worth it. Love was worth withstanding anything that was sent their way.

She represented the cutout stars in the darkness, the spark of light in a world swarmed by danger, consternation and the permanent fear of being caught.

Sven had come to terms with his childish fear of the dark, but only for as long as he had the stars in Romelle’s eyes.

#projects #svenweek #Sven Holgersson #sven x romelle #svemelle #guns of gamara #gog AU #VLD Sven #VLD Romelle #alteans are bad #Voltron: Defender of the Universe #Voltron legendary defender #vld #vld fanfic #Sven is a pining fool #a poet as someone pointed out on the Alt-Shiro BB server

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