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wisteria-lodge · 3 years

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bird primary (system in progress) + burnt badger secondary (really loud bird model)

Howdy! I’m still trying to figure out my own houses and was wondering if you could provide some insight. I haven’t exactly mastered the system so I don’t know how accurate/inaccurate my claims are, so bear with me.

The “why”/Primary: I am extremely motivated by knowledge. I want to know things, not just out of intrinsic curiosity (though that does play a role), but because knowing why things work helps me protect myself more effectively.

One of the trickiest things about this system is separating motivation from method. Because yeah, they are related, but they're also really different. Like this example: "I protect myself by learning things." That's a how, that's secondary stuff. (Bird secondary of course.)

A recent example is this— a group of my former friends all ditched me because I discussed a heavily stigmatized mental disorder that I show symptoms of. And my first response (other than bawling) was to ask them why. And when I got the answer, I was hurt, but I understood. I don’t say this for you to show me pity, but rather because it illustrates this model in action.

This is a really interesting example. Your friends acted in a way that emotionally hurt you. First you processed your feelings (which you talk about in a dismissive, lighthearted, jokey way) then you asked them for more information... which hurt you, but also made you more secure. This is very Bird primary. You feel feelings, but they're whatever. What actually bothers you is not having the data.

(I suspect you're going to end up being a Double Bird. And Double Birds are unique in that their morality and problem-solving are SO interconnected, that they think I'm crazy for saying that for most people, they are in fact two very different things.)

When I got the why and processed my emotions, I cut off ties and realized that their severe judgy-ness had hindered my life for 2 years. And now that I know the “why”, I won’t bring up said disorder again until I know it’s safe. It might never be, but I still have hope.

You updated your system, and you cut away the parts that aren't serving you anymore. Bird primary.

Morally-speaking, I am very sensitive to the views of others around me.

External primary.

I’m not proud of this. In fact, it’s a detriment.

A lot of Birds feel this way. It's a big part of why they tend to like Lion primaries. Lions are much more able to dismiss things with "sounds like that's a them problem."

I won’t go into details, but my parents are… bad. Not wholly, but they are bad. I’ve tried for years, and still do, to escape their opinions because I know it’ll influence mine.

Parents are sticky. They do that. I've been a happily UnBurnt Lion primary for a while now... but I still sometimes hear that voice in my head that sounds like my mother.

And, much like them, I tend to get over-passionate in what I stand for. Unlike them, I’m willing to change if evidence supports this change. I always, however, carry the burden of my former hatred. I always feel guilt over my old beliefs. Even if I’ve changed, the pain I’ve done can never be reversed. And this guilt eats me alive, this shame of being fundamentally wrong.

Okay. You got really emotional on me really quickly here. This could mean a couple things. Your parents sound like fairly toxic Idealists, either Exploded Lions or Exploded Birds (I'm sort of leaning Lion due to the more emotion-heavy words like "passion" and "hatred.") Birds can feel bad, feel guilt, feel shame when looking back at an older version of themselves that they now consider morally repugnant. (Birds are human.) Idealists struggle with the angst of worrying that they are fundamentally wrong about the world. So you could be a guilty Bird, especially if your emotions feel wrong or unhelpful somehow. But you could also be a very Burnt Lion modeling Bird - because Bird seems safer, and you don't want to be a Lion the way your parents are.

When the friend-event happened, I thought that I was in the wrong, and that I had once again fucked myself over because of my passion and sureness in what I have.

"I thought I was wrong because I was acting like an Exploded Lion primary." Yeah, I'm thinking there's some sort of outside influence here that needs to be unpacked.

It took a lot of convincing and evidence for me to see that they were the assholes (albeit I wasn’t pure either— I was their friend, after all).

I'm definitely leaning Bird for you. A bird surrounded by Lions maybe, who sometimes uses Lion terminology. But Bird.

I am a planner and system-lover at heart. I’m not proud of it, but it’s just part of me.

What's with all this negative language? Being a planner and a system-lover is a wonderful thing to be. There's some Burning here.

The caveat— I have autism, so I’m not sure if it’s due to that or not. Hence the shortness of this section. Take it as you will, regardless of if it’s evidence or not.

I have autism and I'm a Lion Badger. People are different. The only real pattern I've observed is the way nerodivergent people disproportionately build Bird secondaries as coping strategies.

Honesty is maybe not the best policy, it’s still an admirable one. I wish, frankly, that my moral system was more honest. I feel like I have no set morals. That it all comes from elsewhere. Lion primaries have this set, intrinsic morality that I envy. My friend is a lion primary, and while my views have radically changed, hers haven’t inched. She’s always been honest about herself and what she holds true.

I'm doubling down on Bird primary for you. This is the perspective of a Bird looking in on a Lion. Lion morality isn't set or intrinsic - it's built, and it changes, but it builds and changes differently than a Bird's does (more slowly, usually). But there really is a pattern of Birds seeing it as more moral/easier/better.

And I’m still trying to figure out what “truth” means to me. I mean, yes, I’m a dry and blunt asshole, but that’s not really the same as gut morality. Internal honesty is what I want, and external honesty is what I have to some extent.

It sounds that you are going though a lot of very intense shifts in your life right now. You've got a diagnosis that has you questioning your place in the world. You've followed your parent's system all you life, and are now deciding that you don't want that. But now comes deciding what you do want, and that's a lot harder (especially for a Bird, who has to build it from the ground up.) You like the way Lions do things, but Lion primaries do not feel accessible.

I’m very clear with who I like. I can admit their faults, and even get annoyed or angry at them, but not even betrayal can stop me from loving them. I’d compare myself to the Twelfth Doctor from “Doctor Who” and Ponyboy Curtis from The Outsiders in that regard.

So maybe you are building a system with very Snake values.

Loyalty is one of my weaknesses. I get overly-attached to people, and so if/when they leave me, it shatters my world. But my brand of loyalty is mostly to people, not philosophical ideas.

... but you're not *really* comfortable with Snake either, if you consider it to be a "weakness."

I would consider myself somewhat philosophical (well, as much as a fucking teenager can be)

Teenagers are *extremely* philosophical, stop being so down on yourself.

but I can be somewhat vague in my beliefs.

Because you're still building them, give yourself a *second.*

If I were to rate the likelihood of what primary I think I am, it’s something like this:

Bird: 9/10 probability (maybe burned)

Snake: 7/10 probability

Badger: 6/10 probability (maybe burned)

Lion: 2/10 probability

What is it with Birds and numbered lists?

The “how”: I feel like I change in order to fit in. I mean, to some extent, we all do, but it’s far more drastic for me. With the lion primary friend, I act as a “Jason Todd” to their Batman. I challenge them, egg them on, crack jokes and become violently passionate and act like a nerd, and she simply watches, usually adding her own comments but mostly sitting on the sidelines by choice. We also joke that I’m the Ferris Bueller to their Cameron Frye. But, with another friend, I’m a parent figure. I listen most of the time, and sometimes jump in with creative ideas and we talk for hours about it.

I'm guessing Actor Bird, both because you can specifically list out the qualities that you "act" out. And because you're invoking and basing your performance off specific [fictional] characters. Which is a HUGE Actor Bird thing.

I go with the flow of a given situation as best as I can (with the added caveat of being autistic, because that does affect how well I can read a room). However, that’s where the adaptation ends.

Huh. I'm hearing Burnt secondary language here. "I'd like to go with the flow and read the room - but I can't, because I'm autistic." You can definitely *learn* how to read a room. Why do you think I'm so interested in (and good at :) personality systems? This is how I learned to use my Courtier Badger. I used to model Bird secondary like crazy, and I kind of don't bother anymore. I don't need the training wheels.

Planning: like I stated before, I’m a planner. I try to learn the most about a situation before jumping in. Sometimes, however, I stall the inevitable and miss my chance, so I jump in and wind up nearly drowning. And this dichotomy repeats. I overcompensate for a lack of knowledge in a situation by micromanaging, or I wind up sitting bored when I’ve already done everything I need to do. And yes, stress and boredom are equally as destructive for me. I try so hard to plan to avoid both of these outcomes, but it only works half the time. So, I guess I’m a bit of a “planster” overall.

I want to learn about a situation... but sometimes I "stall" or "drown" (Burnt language.) But planning also leads to "micromanaging" and "getting bored" (model language.) I think you've got a really loud Bird secondary model... but there might be something else underneath.

Collecting things is fun. Postcards, candles, lighters, crystals, rocks, 1940s hats, knowledge, stories, music, (original) characters, the list goes on. I’m a collector of whatever I can get my hands on. Hell, by this point, I can’t tell what’s my special interest and what I just enjoy (again, autism).

Oh my goodness gracious 'my special interest' and 'what I enjoy' are not two different categories!

But my systems and collections are my coping.

Figured.

I can’t say, though, that they hold any weight outside of emotional release. There’s nothing practical about knowing how they shot The Outsiders movie, or how crows have a flat tail and ravens have two main sections on theirs. All of this knowledge almost feels useless to me. I mean, sure, I’m great at school, but what else? Nothing, it seems like. And being good at school and nothing else makes a person go crazy when they can’t achieve their academic goals. But that’s a bit besides the point— I’m a collector, but I’m unsure how well this really fits into a secondary beyond a model.

Bird secondary model.

I invest in others more than I care to admit.

Oh man, are you a Badger secondary like me?

I genuinely believe in the goodness in humans, no matter how impossible it becomes. Even those who I don’t see any good in aren’t wholly evil. My perception isn’t law.

^ That's primary stuff. Maybe a more Badger-flavored system is going to work better for you than a Snake-flavored one.

But some people trust me: with their secrets, with homework, with relationship issues, with their religious struggles. And I try to help. I might not be good with it, but I do try to help as best I can.

Kinda sounds like a Badger secondary.

I use my planning and my categorizing skills and my knowledge to benefit others. I show up, I do what I need to do, and I don’t usually expect much to come of it. It’s nice when something does, but it’s not expected. And sometimes, these investments into others' lives and grades and relationships do pay off. I make friends. Those friends stick by me, and I trust them. I continue to invest in others, because I am a lover even though I’m cynical.

I think you're a Badger secondary.

And when that trust is broken, like the example in the beginning, I go to people who won’t abandon me to get a second opinion. When I say that I love someone, I mean it. So it hurts when they leave. It always does.

Oh that's your friends leaving hit you so hard. It's not an abstract morality thing at all, it's practical. You're a Badger secondary, and they were your base of support.

I’ll be frank on this— I’m almost entirely sure that I’m not a lion secondary. I’m fiercely efficient and some people see me as a good leader, but that’s it.

Lion and Badger are the two Inspirational secondaries. They're the one who sort of manage to collect armies or families as a side effect of existing.

Even with the leader example, I prefer interpersonal relations or to be alone. I’m not a big fan of group settings.

That's fair. I am also a Badger who really, really likes my own company. Or small groups of interesting people.

If I were to rate the likelihood of what secondary I am, it’s like this:

Bird: 7/10 probability

Badger: 6/10 probability

Snake: 5/10 probability

Lion: 0/10 probability

Other systems for comparison: I’m aware that MBTI and enneagram are, at worst, pseudo-science, but I still enjoy them regardless. At best, they’re fun self-help tools, and that’s how I try to use them.

MBTI: INTJ (Ni-Te-Fi-Se)

Enneagram: 5w4, tritype 514

Sagittarius sun libra moon cancer rising in astrology

FLEV or LFEV in attitudinal psyche

sx/sp (sexual and self-preservation) in instinctual variants

MBTI, Enneagram, and astrology are all fun in their own ways. (I don't actually know the last two!) And I can talk about them on their own terms. But this system was the best, and the most useful, when I went looking for words to describe myself.

I hope this is enough information, and thank you again if you do happen to do this! If you don’t, that’s totally okay. Have a good day!

Thank you for writing in. That was a journey! Thanks @thesketchykid for the submission.

#sortinghatchats #sortme #wisteria sorts #bird badger #birdpri #badgersec #bird secondary model #badger secondary vs bird secondary #autism stuff

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painted-crow · 3 years

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hey so i'm looking to figure my sorting out. i'm p sure of my secondary but honestly i've gone in circles so many times that i'd believe anything lmao

so i guess to start like. i'm fairly sure i'm an idealist, but with a twist. i care about making the world a better place-- i'm kinda infamous among my friends for being a little TOO outspoken about my opinions. on a small scale, i have strong opinions about a lot of things, but on a larger scale... idk. i don't think any one person can know what an ideal world looks like cause there really is no such thing. there are literally countless variables when it comes to implementing even small systems, countless ways to fuck it up, so i don't think i'd be choosing some grand ideal over the people i love anytime soon.

that being said, i think my idealist streak gets directed into something else most of the time. i'm very focused on understanding myself to a fault. i want to know why i do the things i do, why i believe certain things over others. when it comes to my beliefs about the world, they're strong but take it or leave it, but when it comes to myself they are not a good idea to push. i've ended relationships over not feeling like myself with them or feeling like i'm losing myself or they're pushing me to be someone i'm not. i make strong instant decisions about what the "right" thing to do is when it comes to how it impacts my perception of myself, especially with intimate relationships (i'm a lot less impulsive with things like friends and things i'm less personally involved in). i NEED to know who i am, way more than i care about any one specific person or thing. obviously i love people very deeply and would do just about anything to have both, but if i don't know who i am, if i'm not true to myself, then i have nothing. losing people happens.

the issue is, because i'm prone to doing that and not thinking as much about how it'll impact people, i've been called selfish a lot over my lifetime. recently i've started thinking more about how my actions impact people and their feelings, and i'm feeling a lot more torn. i want to do what i want to do, what i feel is best, but i feel immature for doing it a lot. i've started worrying a lot about being a bad person and hurting people, and i've been thinking about how the "right" way to be is. i went through a phase where i was repressing myself to make the "moral" choice, but i just felt so flat. ultimately i realized that it doesn't really matter how good i am if i have to repress myself to get there, cause then all it is is performance. tldr is i feel super guilty for making "selfish" choices rn, especially as i've gotten more aware of other peoples' feelings.

what i think is probably going on is that i'm an idealist primary with a badger model, but i'm not sure between lion and bird, and i'm still open to badger. pretty sure i'm not a snake.

the section on my secondary's gonna be a lot shorter, sorry this got so long! so i'm p sure i'm a badger secondary. considered lion and snake secondary too. whatever i am, i have a p loud lion model over it. i've always had a gift for making people trust me, for acting. i kinda blend in and become what i need to to both help them and get them off my back so i can do what i need to do. i have a serious passion for helping people with tough love (i like to think of myself as a p good advice giver, since i can both tell people what they need to hear and really get in their shoes and be kind where other people might not). i think i judge myself the least when i can kinda toe that line between pushing boundaries and stepping back-- i track where peoples' boundaries are constantly so i can push them to the limit without stepping over them. i'm very fluid when it comes to presentation in reality, even though i think people actually think of me as kinda controversial. i tend to see people who are ACTUALLY overstepping boundaries as lowkey selfish at times, even though i also really respect them. i like to do things the "right" way as long as i give a shit about them. the catch is, i don't want to blend into the background, and i don't think i do. a partner of mine called me a fox cause he noticed the way i constantly toe that line where i can get people to notice me and still keep them off my back, still make them comfortable. i'm also NOT a planner. people constantly give me shit for only ever feeling things out in the moment, and honestly thinking about the future freaks me out. i don't want to plan how i do shit i'd rather just get in the zone and figure it out from there. tldr i'm pretty sure i'm a badger secondary? but i could be convinced of snake. definitely see elements of both but my gut's telling me badger so take that how you will

anyway! thank you so much for taking the time to answer this, i know it's a lot.

also sorry one thing i forgot to add about my secondary! i think my lion model got so loud because when i do the shifty presentation thing, i have a tendency to lose myself and start perceiving myself as whatever i'm presenting. it's made it really hard to figure out who i actually am and so i started just being as clear about it as possible.

for my primary, i really care a lot about being right. i try to take every side into consideration to make sure i get the best conclusion. i can be super stubborn when it comes to certain things, but i don't want to just... hold to perceptions that are wrong. that being said it's important to me to trust my gut and i take it as a big input. i'm very felt out for most things, don't really have a strong system of how to be. i really wanna be able to trust myself but i just don't. i have a big habit of relying on other people to tell me what to think, which is uh. yeah.

Primary

You're a Bird primary with a Lion model, and you're trying on some Badger ideals. That's one of the easier Sorts I've done, lol! Possibly because your primary and models actually House match mine :p

Your reasoning process screams Bird xD and so does your writing style and just the length of the ask. Birds love self-analysis, it's part of how we make sure our systems stay as close to true as we can make them.

You've got some Lion too, but it's a model. It sounds like your Lion and your Bird have come into conflict before, and like most Birds with Lion models, it bugs the snot out of you when your Lion's intuition (which is important data!) doesn't line up with what your Bird knows.

You've prioritized Bird's conclusions before, but (as with many Birds) you don't entirely trust your own system and you're wondering if your Lion might have been right and you should give its reasoning more weight.

Also, you're consciously deciding that maybe Badgers' way of doing things is more moral than yours, and you're pulling in some of those ideals. That doesn't make you a Badger primary. Birds are notorious for this kind of thing actually 😂

The line between whether some ideals you've pulled into your Bird system vs. what counts as a model is fuzzy. It's up to you really, how important those pieces of Badger are to you.

For me, I think the line might be--is it wired into your sense of self on its own, or does it get filtered through your Bird and Lion? It really sounds like your Lion is a strong part of your sense of self: if you ignore its advice, you feel not totally like yourself. You don't have to feel all your models equally strongly, but thinking of it that way might help.

(It's also hard because Birds often feel like they kind of are their systems, or they are their ability to reason, that's a core part of their identity. ...It's complicated.)

Secondary

You sound really really Snakey. I'm not sure where you're getting Badger, actually!

Badgers are more than the mirroring ability. They also bury themselves in work or community, and it can sometimes look like they're neck deep in so many responsibilities that they couldn't possibly handle any more problems--and then they do have a problem, they do need something, and they stand up and all that stuff they were buried in turns out to be armor and tools.

Snakes, otoh, are improvisational and tend to be very aware of their surroundings. Unlike Badgers, the Snake brand of social shapeshifting involves a lot of keeping track of other people's reactions to what they're doing--trying something and then watching the response, then adjusting, rinse and repeat. You turn yourself into exactly the right person for this situation.

Badger mirroring is usually simpler. You reflect the other person's energy back at them: it's an empathetic response that says we're alike, I accept you, you're safe. A lot of Badgers do this without thinking--it can be hard to turn off.

Snakes also don't go in for prep work as much, it tends to trip them up (Snakes with Badger or Bird models notwithstanding). They're Improvisational secondaries, unlike Bird and Badger which are Built and rely heavily on some form of preparation.

The Lion model sounds legit, but just check for yourself: you might be learning to use Snake's neutral state. Snakes will sometimes drop all their layers of acting and maneuvering and suddenly they're just themselves. Different Snakes have different relationships with neutral state. For some Snakes, it's a relief to drop the mask; for others, it feels vulnerable and they only trust certain people with their full authenticity.

It does sound like you really admire Lion secondaries, though, so you might indeed have a model there! This is just something else you could check on.

Hope that helps!

- Paint

#first post in a while huh folks #gotta remember how to tag...#ravenclaw primary #gryffindor primary model #slytherin secondary #gryffindor secondary model #asks #paint speaks #sortinghatchats

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myimaginarywonderland · 4 years

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Okay, so this post will talk about Lance but I will also give my opinion on the Lando situation since I think it is important.

First off, I think it says a lot about Lando that he made an apology. Now, be it because of the backlash he faced, because he actually saw the harm he was causing or because he genuinely regrets it, that is something I don't know. What I do know is that by apologising for it, he acknowledges that his behaviour was wrong and that is really important because it shows that he reflected on himself.

While I do still feel irked by something about the message, be it that he isn't naming Lance or Lewis who he both targeted with his actions in different ways and apologise to them directly which he might have done in person, so I am not able to judge it or be it the weird sorry at the end, I can put aside my feelings and say that this was the right thing to do and is also setting an example for his fans who were one of my main issues with all of this. They then know that saying that was not right and might learn from it themselves.

But this post isn't about Lando. This post is about Lance.

As most of you might have heard, Lance was really affected by what happened on track. He can clearly see that he is anxious and uncomfortable in his post race interview and what happened afterwards tells the story (I don't really want to talk about it because this is something private that he did not share and it is like with the story on Twitter something that was shared by other people who he didn't give the right to share it too so I don't want to spread it any further.)

This is who Lance is.

Someone who is sensitive and takes a lot of things personally.

You want to know why? Because he has, as a person, always been blamed for his dad's wealth. As if he choose to grow up with a billionaire dad. As if he is somehow responsible for it.

And he has always been painted out as someone undeserving, someone that doesn't have talent and totally owns his position to the money of his dad.

Now, let me just give you some data because I want to totally discredit this made up stuff with no roots.

In 2015, he won the Toyota Racing Series. He won by a bit over 100 points. The second finisher was his teammate. You might now some of the other drivers who competed in this series for example one Callum Iliot or Artjom Markelow.

Or in 2016,his first season in Formula 3, he finished fifth. The winner of that year was Felix Rosenquvist (a great driver) who was also Lance teammate and had only one DNF in comparison to Lance 5 and a DSQ. Now, there are two other drivers, one that was the runner up in Antonio Giovinazzi and a fourth who was Charles Leclerc. Pretty competitive field if you ask me and to finish 5th as a rookie,is impressive.

Now, fast forward a year to when he won the F3 championship. He won over his teammate by a margin of over 150 points which is so impressive, even with the two more DNFs his teammate, Maximilian Günther (another great driver) had that is quiet a lot.

Now, if you really want to use the argument that he skipped F2 against him, there is another driver you should be discrediting just as much. You guessed it, M*x V*rstappen. He also went straight into F1 which was a definite mistake but nobody ever likes to say that. I would also like you to remember that Lance did not drive for F1 as a regular driver immediately after he won the championship, no in 2016 he was a test driver, so he could slowly get used to F1. (This is not official but I would guess it's the thought process behind him being a test driver.)

Now, in 2017, his first F1 season, he was teammates of Felipe Massa. Might have heard of him, lost his championship to Lewis by one point, was teammate of Micheal Schumacher and a generally way more experienced driver. Yeah, you wanna know what the difference between him and Lance was in Lance first season? 3 points. And Lance had 2 more DNFs. You know what else he got in his first season? His first podium. In his first season, he became one of the youngest people to ever achieve a podium. With just 7 rounds into his first F1 season, in an okay midfield car with a way more experienced and older driver he was up against, he achieved a podium. And during the entire course of the season, that would remain the only podium for the Williams team that year.

Now, onto 2018. Williams was not as bad as in 2019 but they were still nowhere in terms of pace and he still didn't finish last in the championship (but I don't think we can count this season.)

In 2019, Checo became his teammate. And Checo in my opinion is one of the best midfield drivers, so there was already a lot he had to go up against and he was still so young and had less experience. There is a 30 point difference between them. Make of that what you want but for me, sure it was not Lance greatest season but now you have to think if Racing Point where really that good go be the fifth best car or if maybe, Checo just got more out of the car with his experience and talent. And than, you have to consider that he was still young and only had one season where he was truly competitive (that 2018 Williams was not something you could truly challenge anyone with.) And to then be up to one of the best midfield drivers who is widely appreciated and adored by the paddock, is a lot. Maybe for some of you it was too big of a gap which is alright.

However, don't dismiss his talent. He has had a good junior career and was up to some of the drivers you love and call talented, he even beat some of your faves. Maybe you don't see him as the next great driver but he is not a bad one and truly deserves a seat if you consider his achievements. Maybe he could have proven himself more if he had a season in F2 which is fair but that doesn't take away from anything he has achieved.

And even if you don't see him as talented, that gives you no right to bully him online. He can't change who his dad is.

Now,onto the money. I see a lot of people saying that he is only in F1 because of the money (which I hope you have by now realized is not the case.) But really, let's talk about the money.

Money is something that sadly plays a big role in F1. F1 is above all still a business. And businesses want money. So, why not take someone who has money and talent like Lance? Where are you all saying Michael only got his seat because of money (he is a pay-driver after all or at least he was one when he came to F1.) And now let's talk about his move to Racing Point. Can you truly blame Lawrence for wanting to make his sons dream come true? Wouldn't any father if they had the resources do this? Wouldn't any father want to fufill his son's dream, even if it might be seen as unethical by some or criticized? Would you really care if you saw how happy your kid was? Would you really care if you saw the glow you kid had? I don't think so.

I already said it but he was at Williams before he was at RP. His dad doesn't own that team or have any chairs in it.

Let's forget his profession for a second. Let's say you don't find him talented as a driver or just don't like him, fine. You are entitled to your opinion and sometimes we just don't like people, it happens.

What else would you have against him?

He doesn't post on social media often because people already bully him enough for his family. There is basically nothing you can dislike about him there.

And as a person? He is quiet and basically does nothing to anger people. He is literally just a normal dude. He goes on trips with his friends, he does sports to stay in shape and watches sports. He is not even posting personal stuff because he doesn't want to give people more room to bully him.

If you saw him on the street, would you think he is from a rich family? He does not look like it at all, he looks like that guy from your local sport who is literally just a college student trying to get through life.

And not only was he discredited for all his accomplishments because of something he had no control over but he also saw another driver proudly display a symbol that has been used by people who killed people who belonged to his religion. He saw a driver weat that symbol in cooperation with a company whose boos seems to be a Neo Nazi.

Lance has had to go through to so much shit just because his dad was rich (which Nicky's and Lando's also are, yes I know it's less but it's still more than any of us will probably ever have.)

This boy does nothing wrong.

Did he make a mistake with the maneuvers on Lando? Yes. But he is still so young and also new to F1, he can still learn and is growing as a person and driver. He is expected to perform more just so he proves his worth which he already has because people discredit him for having a rich dad.

Have you seen what he has done this season? He would be in the top 5 had it not been for the last races where none of the DNFs where his fault. Neither was getting Covid or being ill but people literally made fun of him for being in pain, saying stuff like "Did Daddies boy have a little stomach ache?" Yeah, because F1 drivers aren't trainex to perform no matter what, aren't putting their health last when it comes to these things and might have to be really bad if they can't drive and are not even going out of their room.

He has improved so much, he is not blaming other drivers even if they clearly hit him (see Charles) and he stays calm. Because he can't afford to be to emotional since some people would hate him for rightfully calling out others mistakes and just maybe saying that their faves are not flawless and make mistakes (like Charles.)

He has to act a certain way or be a certain way because what would happen if he just showed more of his personality? You call him dull, boring but you don't even try to get to know him. You don't even look up videos where he is more open and comfortable.

He is awkward infront of the press because he has to fear to be discredited or to be questioned about his worth every second.

And all of this pressure, this mask and this pretend eventhough he is just as human as the rest of us. And you see how hard it is, how much he questions himself, how his self-doubt increases and ultimately what happened has happened.

Because while it is just an easy insult for you that you can post anonymously online, it is one of thousands for him.

And you know, he didn't grew up in Europe. Sure he competed with some of the European drivers later one but he didn't have any of them when he started racing and he might already have been an outcast because people would already have seen him as different since his family didn't need to make sacrifices to get him to wear he is now. At least not financially ones. And then, when he came to Europe there were these already formed friend groups and it wasn't easy to get into them. The only friend he had was Esteban and I am so glad. This seems like such an unlikely friendship because they are from totally different backgrounds but that might have been what connected them in the first place. So, with basically only Esteban who liked him from the competitive times, it must have been pretty bad (not to say that the others hated him but I don't think they really cared for him.) I am so glad to see that he now also has Checo and that they get along and I hope that stays this way eventhough all of what has happened (which is also not his fault and I am sure that if he had any say in it, it would have been done differently.) Maybe we can even see their friendship when Checo stays on the grid. And with the potential of Seb next year, that might be the only other friendship or friendly connection he might form.

He is so strong for having to endure the dislike of so many people and he is still so kind and so sweet.

This has been a long post but one that I have wanted to make for a long time. If you got this far, I applaude you.

#f1 #lance stroll

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idontknowijuststartedsomething · 4 years

Text

Gravity, Ghosts, and Gems

Part 3/???

The New Kids

Part 3

Steven could see his answer did little to reassure or calm his trembling roommate. “Hey, I’m still me. A-And I’m not going to hurt you! I just..... Let’s just talk.”

“So, how did you get white hair and a cool jumpsuit?” Steven tried to talk to Danny more casually, as he could see his panic from their shared dream had not gone away.

“Well, to understand you would first have to know my parents are ghost hunters. Or ghost scientists they never really make it clear.”

“Wait, like spooky horror movie dead people ghosts?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait ghosts are real?!”

“Yes” Danny’s voice was growing more annoyed.

“I’ve gotta tell Sadie” Steven whispered to himself, stars in his eyes.

“What?”

“Uhhhh nothing. Continue.”

“So yeah my parents study ghosts. And for years they’d been working on a portal to the ghost world. They wanted to prove to everyone that they weren’t crazy, and they also just wanted to learn everything about ghosts.” Danny became less tense as he told his story. He’s had to keep it a secret for so long that now telling anyone felt like a major relief. “So after like years they finally got it into working order. Except it didn’t turn on. No matter what they tried it just wouldn’t go. They were really bummed and got discouraged for a while, but me and my friends still wanted to check it out.”

Steven listened intently as Danny told him about the accident. Sam, Tucker, the jumpsuit, the flash. Everything just sounded so painful. Part of Steven just wanted to reach out and hug Danny, but Steven restrained himself because he knew they weren’t there yet. After all Danny probably still though Steven was a big scary pink lady. So Steven just kept listening as Danny told him everything. About Vlad. About his parents hunting him. About Danielle. About his older self. By the time Danny had gotten to him revealing himself to his folks, Steven was ready to cry. Steven could never imagine how much pain Danny had gone through. And yet he could see it vividly. He could see it in his own life story, stretched out over years and galaxies, and only now being properly dealt with between him and his therapist.

“So yeah, I’m half ghost and I protect the world. Well mostly my town but you get the point. And nobody knows but my family and friends. And I guess you, now. So what’s your story. Did your parents make a portal that fused you with some pink lady?” Danny had said that jokingly, but Steven’s emotions were still weird, both from hearing Danny’s story and now having to tell his own.

“Well, I’m half gem, so I’m kinda like you, but my gem powers didn’t come from an accident. You see, my mom was a gem who...”

“Wait, wait, wait. What are gems? I know you have that thing on your stomach but like, what does it do?”

“Ok so now I have to go way back. Gems are an alien species whose physical forms are just projections from their gemstone. All gems have one, and they can all do different things. Some gems also come together to make...”

“Wait back up. You’re saying you’re..... an alien?”

“Well technically half alien on my mom’s side. But I’ve spent my whole life here on earth.”

“So aliens actually exist?” Danny could barley process what he was hearing. Every NASA scientist he had looked up to was wrong. All of their data and calculations were disproven by the mere existence of this kid standing infront of him. Could he be the first junior astronaut to make contact with alien life?

Danny could tell that Steven was waiting for him to stop being confused. His look said it all. So Danny put back on the chill persona he had had before and let Steven continue. He was gripped by the rich tapestry Steven had woven with his words. A rebellious princess(that’s who the big pink lady was), a secret taken to the grave, a war for the fate of the planet, a tale of love found and love lost. All to produce the spunky little kid who was Steven Universe. He told Danny about his similar face offs with villians of his own kind. About the new family he found along the way and how he saved two planets with love. Steven told Danny a bit about his breakdown following Homeworld’s reconstruction, but left it very vague. He mentioned that he hurt Jasper and that he reached his breaking point and blew up in front of his family. But he just left it at that. At least for now, Danny didn’t need to know about the monster that terrorized Beach City. At least for now, Danny could see him as kind of normal.

“So that’s basically it. And then I wanted to experience life outside of gem stuff. So I got in my car and started exploring and being more human. And then I found this job offer online and though it would be a good experience for me, and so here we are.”

“That’s wild.” Danny said, reacting to Steven’s life story. “And that’s kinda what happened to me to. I wanted to get away from ghosts and stuff for a bit. I found this job offer and my parents assured me that they could take care of any ghost business in town, so I packed some stuff and flew here last night.”

“That explains why you were so tired today!”

“Yeah. Even at 112 mph, Illinois to Oregon is a long trip. And I was carrying a bunch of my stuff and had to avoid any major city areas.”

They both laughed, their defenses completely down, as they recognized a trust between them that hadn’t been there before. Neither of them had got entirely comfortable when Steven remembered another thing he had noticed earlier.

“Did you see the room of that Dipper kid who lives here? His walls were covered with conspiracy and supernatural related stuff.”

“Yeah. I was able to recognize part of my parents in that kid.” At that thought Danny came to a realization. “Which means we probably shouldn’t tell him about any of this.”

“Yeah.” Steven agreed. “He’s either gonna want to ask us a million questions...”

“Or strap us down to a table and rip us apart molecule by molecule.” The tone of the room got considerably darker, as Danny realized what ‘being like his parents’ actually meant. They both sat silently for a few moments, neither knowing how to respond. Finally, Steven spoke.

“So no one finds about about us? At least until we know we can trust them. Like be 100% certain that they’re gonna be cool with us” Steven was trying to stear the conversation into a more hopeful direction, and it kinda worked.

“Yeah” Danny answered, lifting is head, a slightl smile now returning to his face. “Besides, is not like there’s evil ghost or aliens running around here. In Gravity Falls. So we should have no problem keeping our powers on the down low.”

“Yeah” Steven laughed. “Everything seems normal here. What do we have to worry about?” With that, both decided to finally go to sleep, secure in the knowledge that nothing weird happens in Gravity Falls.

Right?

#steven universe #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfic #phanfiction #gravity ghosts and gems #gravity falls #invader zim #don’t worry dipper and dib will get here #eventually

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coldkryptonitecupcake · 3 years

Text

“Risen”, Ch. 18

"So tell me again how you thought trying to stab an angry, magicked-up half-Ogre was a good idea?," Poppy inquired jokingly as she and Sienna did their best to relax in the Trickster's cave, each nursing their own wounds. "Or was it more of a spur-of-the-moment thing?"

"The big guy said he needed a distraction, and that's what came to mind. Besides, it's not like I could strike up a conversation with the thing, I could barely stand to look at it," Sienna chuckled before wincing in pain. "Ah! Ooh, that smarts." She clutched her side and looked to Harrier. "Nothing you can do about that, little Light?" The Ghost shook his shell, a hint of guilt in his eye.

The cave was silent for a moment, and the pair sat, each lost in their own thoughts. "Incoming message from Banshee. He says he's got something Narvuk might like, but he didn't get his feed earlier," Sonni piped up, snapping Poppy out of her daze.

"Huh? Oh, thanks, Sonni. Tell him I'll be by to pick it up soon. Make sure he knows that it's me coming, not the big guy. Though maybe leave out the part about the Shore, yeah? We don't need him accidentally telling anyone about... y'know," she told her Ghost, who nodded and began composing the reply.

"So what - nh! - what now?," Sienna asked as she sat up, looking around the cave like she was trying to memorize each and every crack. "Are we just gonna sit here and wait until Narvuk gets back here?"

"We don't have much choice, girl. He'll be back when he's done. Until then, we're kinda stuck here. I just hope no one shows up looking for trouble."

"Too llate for that," a familiar growling voice sounded from the entrance. Narvuk leaned against the door as as though exhausted, a tiny smirk on his face. "Though the feeling iss appreciated, my friend," he said, walking down the steps to join his friends.

They looked at him, puzzled and curious. "Your friend DeMarcus decided to stop by, some of his friends as wwell. Nothing to worry about." He shrugged as he seated himself at the base of the rock in the center of the cave, forming a triangle with the girls. "He and I had... words." Poppy and Sienna gaped for a full ten seconds, looking at each other and at Narvuk, before they launched a barrage of questions his way.

"What do you mean 'had words'?"

"How did he even find us?"

"He brought friends?!"

"Why didn't you call us?"

The questions continued for several minutes before Narvuk threw up a hand. "Enough, please! My ears can only take sso much before I go mad!," he cried, silencing the others mid-sentence, their mouths, still open. "He found us through yyou, Sienna. You're the only one he got close enough to for it to make sense. I could not call ffor you because they threatened Zivath. Yes, he brought friends. The same ones from the hangar, before you ask."

"Oh, cos that makes us feel so much better! You come back after almost two hours and tell us you were all but attacked, they threatened your Ghost, you won't explain what happened, and somehow they found you through me! And you're here just trying to brush it off?," Sienna exclaimed incredulously. "We haven't even been here for a day and we've already been discovered! We'll have to move you again, probably Nessus, Failsafe is good at keeping secrets..."

Poppy laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Take it easy, girl. There's no guarantee anything will come of this. Hang on, what is" - she plucked something from Sienna's armor, a small red blinking light on it - "this... a bug. Of course. He had your coordinates the whole time." She crushed the device in her hand and let the pieces fall to the floor of the cave. Sienna balked at the pieces, confusion written all over her face.

"Wha- how? I didn't even notice... guess I need to brush up on my counter-tracking skills. Wait, if he knows where we are, he could tell Zavala!," the Hunter realized, her head shooting up. "Hell, he could be telling him right now! Harrier, wipe the last travel data on the ship's warp drive, see if you can replace it somehow." Harrier nodded, and he turned away as he started working.

"Sienna, there's no reason to think he'll tell anyone. If he does, he gets thrown to the Praxics for trying to kill another Guardian and all his friends are suddenly under direct Vanguard supervision," Poppy explained, gesturing for her friend to calm down. "Besides, the humiliation alone is enough reason for him to keep quiet. He'd never live it down." She turned to Narvuk, a question already on her lips. "Narvuk, you said Edal stopped DeMarcus, right? Or at the very least, he spoke up?," she asked, and the Knight nodded.

"He also told me to call hhim if DeMarcus tried again. Perhaps we are still safe here. That is, I will be ffine for now. You two should get bback to the Tower, you'll be missed before too long. Besides I have much to think on after what we discovered," Narvuk explained, waving thegirls away.

"I'll be back soon, Banshee said he had something for you. 'Til then, stay in here and try to stay out of any more trouble, yeah?," Poppy half-joked as she helped Sienna stand, pulling her to her feet. "I think there's been enough for a few days at least." Narvuk nodded, grinning. The girls left the cave, Sienna's limp not quite as noticeable as she went. After the sound of their footsteps had faded, Zivath materialized and turned to her Guardian.

"Y'know, I had a thought when we were coming back here. If we can get ahead of the whole 'Great Disaster' situation, the reactions might be better than if we let others find out for themselves. It'll make a better impression, you'll come off as open about your past," she suggested, her shell shifting around her eye as she hovered. Narvuk's eyes flicked to his Ghost for a moment before going to his Cleaver. He was silent for a few long minutes, and Zivath was growing concerned. She was about to say something when he spoke.

"On one hand, I think you're right about this. Openness is valued in Human culture, to a degree. Hhowever, we must consider consequences. To freely admit invvolvement in such a thing, one that, if Sienna is to be believed, left scars that have yet to heal..."

"What're you getting at, Narvuk?"

"Some might see it as a chance to avenge the lost, but my concern is for those like Eris. To take revenge is not her way, I think, but it might cause rifts between those who do not wish to fight," Narvuk thought out loud, the only visible sign of tension his fist clenching on his sword. "Perhaps it'd be better if we stayed out here."

"What are you on about, big guy? The Vanguard need every Guardian they can get after the Red War, and it's not like you're completely without friends. Sure, some people might be angry. Let them! If even some can move on, the rest have no excuse. We've all lost people. Most of them weren't even alive for the Great Disaster! Shaxx and Zavala are probably the last Guardians who were, and they already made it clear that you're fine by them," Zivath half-lectured, her shell whirling in agitation. Narvuk huffed and waved her away, but it lacked any enthusiasm. "Look, I understand, I do. These last few days have been pretty hectic, and you haven't had a lot of time to process all the changes. Maybe... maybe we should stay here, at least until you can figure some stuff out. I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner, you've been all over the place--"

"It's alright, little shell," Narvuk interrupted his Ghost's rambling apology. "We hhave time to learn from each other. Where shall we begin?" A small smile formed on his face as Zivath's shell slowed and stopped.

"Wellll, let's start with the different political factions in the City..."

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny fallen #destiny hunter #destiny hive #destiny eris #Eris Morn #Zavala #destiny zavala #ikora rey #destiny ikora #eliksni #Hive Knight #destiny 2 fanfiction #destiny fanfiction

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 14/14

“FORD!”

The scientist in question snatched his hand back, just before the carnivorous plant he had been studying snapped at him with a second slime-coated mouth. A second mouth! It was located under the bulbous head’s primary maw, smaller but sharing the larger one’s distinctive jutting spines that seemed to function like teeth – hooked back to prevent prey from getting away. The infant plant was only as long as his forearm but when it was fully-grown the secondary mouth could easily be large enough to pick up small mammals from the forest floor, maybe even large raccoons or the occasional gnome.

Hmm. They might make for good pest control. Ford studied where the plant’s stem met the forest floor, trying to ascertain how deep the roots ran. If he could get his hands on a pair of good, sturdy gloves for protection he might be able to replant it in a pot and take it back to his lab for further testing. That would certainly be easier than trying to run tests on the fully-grown specimens dotting the forest. How old was this one, anyway? Ford pulled out his tape measure to record its size.

Stan slapped his hand away when it neared the hissing plant. “Don’t touch it! Didn’t you just say this thing was poisonous?”

“Venomous, not poisonous.” Ford corrected.

“You know what I mean.”

Ford waved away his brother’s concerns. “Don’t worry, it’s only a juvenile. Its venom hasn’t developed enough to do any damage. The worst it’ll do is itch.”

“I still wouldn’t be touching it if I were you.” Stan said doubtfully, hunkering down next to Ford to get a good look at the creature. The plant hissed and spat at them and generally made a nuisance of itself.

Ford smirked. “Look Stanley, it’s just as friendly as you are.”

“Hey!” Stan brandished a finger in Ford’s face. “I’m a friendly guy! Just not to weird-ass plants that try to bite my brother’s hand off.”

“It’s not like you didn’t try to bite my hand off when I reached for the ice cream yesterday.”

“Fuck you Ford, I called dibs and you know it.”

Ford rolled his eyes, reaching for the spade in his pack. He’d missed the easy banter between them. It had been missing during the whole Rebus fiasco, obviously; there was only so much sarcasm a wolf could convey through its eyes alone, and only so much a scientist could babble to his canine friend without it being�� just sad. Even once the brothers had reconciled, Stan’s mind restored, Ford had worried that after nearly ten years apart the differences between them were far to great to bridge.

But in seemingly no time, Ford had fallen back quickly into the habit of trading quips and joking insults, laughs and rolled eyes and body language that sometimes spoke more than words. It felt far more natural than the forced conversations he’d attempted to make during his time in college. Ford had forgotten the comfort of having his brother nearby.

Of course, an adjustment period was necessary – perhaps made longer by the added factor of Stan readjusting to having a human shape. It was rather concerning, the number of times the man would forget to cook his food and instead tear into it raw and bloody. The first time that had happened Ford had been in the kitchen as well, and he’d stared with popping eyes as Stan nonchalantly sank his teeth into a raw steak.

Stan had hesitated, chewing slowly and swallowing before speaking in his gravelly voice, not bothering to wipe away a trail of blood rolling down his chin.

“…okay, yeah, I see what I did there.”

And of course, they were wildly different people who were bound to have disagreements. It had taken Ford quite some time to convince Stan that while they may argue, he was in no danger of losing his family again. He wouldn’t be sent away, punished or abandoned again. Not while Ford was still breathing.

The plant’s hiss brought him back to the moment. Ford frowned, considering his plan of action, before settling on the plain approach. They could simply carry the thing home.

“Can you get out one of the sample bags? I want to bring this specimen to my lab and they should be large enough to hold its roots.”

Stan rifled through the pack while Ford sized up the agitated plant. He would be able to dig up the roots if the darn thing would stay still! He would have to design some kind of muzzle appropriate for two mouths when they got it back to the house.

Ford made a lunge for the creature, trapping its stalk against the ground with one hand so it couldn’t bite him as he dug up its roots. The plant snapped at him fruitlessly. Ford quickly loosened up the soil enough to lift the whole thing and settle it roots-first in the awaiting sample bag.

Stan groused at having to carry the plant all the way home (one hand gripping behind its head, obviously, to stop it from biting). The whining was pretty unfair considering Stan had demanded to carry it so he could keep an eye on the snappish thing, but Ford supposed he could appreciate the intent.

(…on the other hand, that left Ford to carry the heavy pack. He was beginning to think that this wasn’t a purely altruistic move on Stan’s part.)

“When I took the job I didn’t realize ‘research assistant’ meant ‘gardener’.”

“I don’t pay you to whine, Stanley.”

“You don’t pay me.” Stan countered.

“Oh – don’t I?” Ford could have sworn he had been. Stan tended to handle the money so Ford had just… assumed that Stan was receiving some of it. He frowned. “Why don’t I pay you?”

“’Cause I live in your house? That’s kinda payment enough.”

“No it’s not!”

“It was when you thought I was a wolf.”

Ford spluttered. “That – that’s because you were a wolf. Wolves don’t need to be paid to act as research assistants-”

“Oh, are you saying wolves don’t deserve to be paid equal wages?” Stan shook his head in mock disappointment. “Gosh, Ford. My own brother-”

“Oh, shut up! You know what I mean!”

Stan snickered. He only laughed harder when Ford punched him lightly in the shoulder, careful not to jostle the creature in his grasp.

Ford glanced at his watch, taking note of the time. At this pace they would reach home well before dark. Maybe they should take a detour to check on the size-altering crystals? Ford had covered the Warped crystal with a tarp to prevent the light reaching it, but he really should check that the covering was still in place after the blustering winds that had recently swept through. He didn’t want any unsuspecting forest life to wander into its beam.

Then again, that could wait for another day, and they had a carnivorous plant to re-house.

“…I really do need to pay you, though.” Ford muttered as they walked.

“You really don’t.” Stan shrugged. “I’m not doing anything useful anyway.”

The nonchalance with which he spoke made Ford want to sigh. Stan never acknowledged his own value or input! Ford wanted to shove it down his throat and force his brother to acknowledge that he was important, goddammit!

For the moment, he settled on arguing his point.

“Shopping for food is useful; plus, the people in town know you better than me and I’ve been living here for years, so you’re basically handling public appearance. And collecting data from my monitors is useful.”

“That’s just walking and taking readings.” Stan argued right back. “A monkey could do that data-collection stuff.”

“Babysitting Tate while Fiddleford and I are busy is useful.”

“The kid’s easy, he just wants to spend time with a dog all day.”

“Defending the house from griffins is useful.” Especially since they seemed to have it out for the Pines twins and would come by every so often with claws and beaks bared.

“You woulda just found a better way to keep ‘em away.”

Ford gritted his teeth. “You handle the money and pay the bills.”

“It’s your grant money, I just budget it.”

“Exactly! That is exactly what I should pay you for!” Ford flung up his arms in exasperation. Stan merely shrugged, and – smirked? He was enjoying Ford’s misery! “Ugh, whatever.”

Stan continued to look smug. Ford silently resolved to start paying him, even if he had to sneak the money into his brother’s bank account. Or just leave some around the house. Apparently Stan was too proud to accept payment but the guy never passed up an opportunity to take it if it was there.

“…anyway, about the whole money thing, I was thinking.” Stan mumbled, a little more subdued. Ford glanced across.

“Yes?”

“Eh – well, y’know how there are so many cool things around here? If Pa’d let us come, we woulda loved it here when we were kids.”

Ford imagined himself as a child – bright-eyed and eager to learn, marveling at everything around him – and was inclined to agree.

“And just yesterday you were sayin’ about how no one appreciates this stuff. Really, I’m kinda surprised no one’s made something of this place before, snatched it up for a tourist attraction. I was thinking that it would be pretty cool to give… tours or something?”

Ford opened his mouth but his brother was already rushing ahead, a nervous scowl affixed to his face.

“It’s all good if you don’t want me to – probably something about the scientific integrity of the place or whatever – but, it’s kinda something I’m good at. Tours, selling stuff, talking to people, that stuff. A-And I know you love teaching people about things, so if you wanted to help? Like, write up information sheets or – or do classes or whatever. Obviously I’d be spinning some yarns, that’s the fun of these places, but I know people would love to see some of the weird stuff here and actually learn about it too, so I dunno, I think it would be cool?”

All of this was said rather quickly, with few breaths taken in between, so when Stan finally ran out of things to say he took a few heavy breaths. Ford blinked and took a few moments to process this.

“Stan, are you asking my permission to open a tourist trap?”

The werewolf cringed, grip tightening fractionally around the uselessly-wriggling plant creature. “No, ‘course not. I’m just… seein’ if you’d be open to the idea.”

“Well…” Ford adjusted the straps of his pack. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with my research, I think it’s quite an interesting prospect. It would be nice to be able to share some of the things I’ve learned. If you think you can pull it off I believe you. You don’t need my permission, of course, but you certainly have my support.”

“Wait, really?”

Ford laughed as his brother perked up. That was another thing he’d had to adjust to since their reunion – canines tended to express themselves heavily through body language and Stan had apparently picked up that trait. He had no tail at the moment but from the straight posture and slight vibrating, Ford imagined it would be wagging.

“’Cause I’ve got so many ideas.” Stanley gushed. “I was thinking I could get a place set up, probably in the woods closer to town – maybe contract that lumberjack guy you talked about to built it? Anyways, I’d fill it with attractions, some of the cool shit that lives around here. Like, you know that weird-ass bird we saw the other day, the one you said we shouldn’t bother to look into?”

“Having a second head is a fairly common mutation. I’ve studied several animals with that phenotype in my time here.”

“People eat that stuff up, Ford! And I could do tours around some of the harmless places – and charge a pretty penny for it too. You know how many shmucks are happy to get ripped off by dodgy fake tourist attractions? And this one would be real! I’d have a source of income, and you’d have somewhere to put the stuff you’ve finished researching, and people to teach if you want to. Plus this crummy town could use some tourists to give business a boost.”

Wow. Stan had evidently thought this whole thing out – and the excitement was contagious. Ford wondered if this was how his brother felt, when he himself became giddy about a new finding or breakthrough. Stan was grinning like a kid.

Ford laughed and elbowed him playfully. “It’s a sound plan. And it’s nice to see you’re putting aside your history with Dan. You growled at him last time we came across him – you weren’t yourself then, of course.”

Stan shot him a weird look. “Who?”

“Dan. The lumberjack.” Stan continued to look confused. “Matilda’s boyfriend?”

All at once the werewolf’s eyes widened. “The shovel guy.”

“Er – shovel?”

“He hit me with a shovel.”

“Oh.” Ford had almost forgotten the circumstances of their meeting, with himself rescuing Stan from being beaten to death. Ah – with what he knew now, the situation seemed a lot more dire. He strongly resisted the urge to grab up a shovel and see how Boyish Dan like being smacked into the ground.

Obviously Dan didn’t know it was a person he had assaulted, not a wolf, but still. It would make Ford feel better.

When no words came to him, Ford said the first thing on his mind. “Didn’t you try to eat his mother’s dog?”

“Dog? Fuckin’ thing was more of a bug than a dog. I was starving anyway, gimme a break!”

“I’m not judging. Anyway, I’ve seen you try to eat so many things-”

“Can it, Poindexter.”

Ford began to count on his fingers. “Squirrels, gnomes, the mayor’s hairpiece, our father, my kitchen cupboard, a whole watermelon for some reason-”

“I was outta my mind for half of those!”

“My phone, the multibear somehow, several lemons – why you kept coming back to them after knowing you hated them remains a mystery to me–”

They arrived back at the house before Ford could continue his list.

“We should get this thing planted before it dies or somethin’.” Stan shuffled the plant around in his arms to hold it more comfortably, ignoring its hiss of displeasure. “Where do you want it?”

“The porch should be fine. I don’t know how much energy it gets from its prey as opposed to the sun – it might need sunlight to live.”

“Right. You got a pot around? I can get Chompy here planted while you find something to stop it biting anyone who gets close.”

“’Chompy’? You named the plant?”

“You were too slow.”

Well, Ford couldn’t argue with that logic. He’d just have to be faster with the next creature they came across. They had a lifetime, after all, to squabble about names – among other things.

(For example, whether Ford was terrible for pretending to toss Stan the car keys but hiding them behind his back instead. It took Stan an embarrassingly long time to realize and once he did, Ford could barely see the withering glare he received through his snickering.)

(That evening, in revenge, Stan fell asleep on the couch lying across several of Ford’s books. Upon attempts to remove him Stan simply shifted into a wolf and thus became heavier and harder to move.)

(But these are stories for another time.)

#final chapter #my writing #my fic #gravity falls #werewolf stan au #werewolf!stan #dang #this took a while to finish #mostly because it's the last chapter!#i wasn't sure how to finish my baby #anyway the main story is done now #i may write a couple one-shots from this au in the future #who knows?#i hope you enjoy

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squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 15

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

Everyone has some questions.

It’s been a long week.

“No! No, this isn’t okay!” Martin paced a few feet from the others.

Saha frowned. “We thought saying something might mess with how things worked normally-”

“So that makes it okay to not tell me at all? I could’ve disappeared completely!” Martin turned and pointed at Tim. “And you tricked me into doing it with all the ‘oh, aren’t you supposed to clean’ talk!”

Tim took a step back. “I thought we could pull you back before anything happened. You were walking slowly, but it all just-”

“Oh, yes, that makes me feel much better!”

Tim winced. Out of the three, guilt was the most plain on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It was my idea,” Sasha interjected. “I convinced them this was the best way to get results in the time crunch we have. And I still think it was, for what it’s worth.”

Martin looked away from her, crossing his arms. “Good to know where we stand, then. Glad I could be a data point for you.”

Back by the couch, Jon said, “This is to help you. We had no intention of letting harm come to you-”

“Who said it didn’t?!”

For a minute the others said nothing. Martin filled the silence with large, shuddering breaths. That was a thought, wasn’t it?

Eventually, Jon rubbed the back of his hand and asked, “Are you… do you feel any different?”

“How should I know? Apparently this has been going on every week for months.” The final break in his voice was horribly audible. Martin laughed, dragging a hand down his face.

Months. How much time was wiped from his memory? Where had he been going? Were there other places he would’ve disappeared to if they hadn’t stopped him midway? God, his skull was splitting itself in two.

“You should sit back down.” Jon placed a hand on top of the couch, his brows knit together. “You’re right. We should have told you beforehand.”

Martin saw Jon’s sorry face and faltered despite himself. Still, he glowered. “Yeah. You should have.” Glancing at the other two, he retook his place on the couch and threaded his fingers together.

Sasha sighed. “I just thought it would be our last shot at finding something and getting more time. You need this figured out more than any of us.”

“Very convenient for you, then,” Martin spat, leaning his elbows onto his knees. He looked down at the scuffs on his boots. “I get it. It’s not okay, but I get it. Now I know… something?”

“We know more, certainly, though I can’t say it’s all that much.” Jon leaned back against his arm of the couch. “One moment you were walking up the steps, but then instead of turning you walked straight into the wall. Ten minutes pass, you come out and continue up as if you hadn’t noticed anything.”

“Which I didn’t, because I have no memory of any of it.” Martin rested his chin on his fist. “God, ten minutes.”

“You’re telling us,” Tim said, taking the other couch arm. “Listen, don’t think we weren’t freaking out the whole time.”

Martin snorted disdainfully. “Great. Clearly I’m in safe hands.”

“Hey, we really did try, but the wall was solid just as you went through it.” Sasha shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “My idea just needed more time for workshopping, time we don’t have.”

“Well, if this doesn’t get your boss invested, he definitely has something else going on,” Martin said. “Impossible spaces with invisible entrances that lure people in for a weekly cleaning can’t be that common.”

“You’d be surprised at how mundane impossible rooms can feel.” Jon tapped his knee. “But the lack of intent or memory on your part is too much to ignore, even if we leave out the, ah, contractual obligations.”

Martin accepted this with a tired nod. “Okay, so, what next? Do I just… I’m not going to have to try and go back in, am I?”

“Oh no, absolutely not,” Tim said. “That’s for later, when we hopefully have more time and resources. Trying to mess with the… the normal processes of this place, that’s something we aren’t going to try yet. Observation first, then theorizing, etcetera.”

Sasha hummed in agreement. “But we did discuss Naomi’s message before we came in today, and we all agreed that with her testimony it would be less of a risk to try the panel. With everyone present of course.”

Martin perked up. “Wait, really? Tim, you’re okay with this?”

“Not quite the word, but I’m leaning much more toward the ‘trapped person’ theory than my mimic idea. At the very least, I think…” Tim seemed to struggle for words, then set his jaw. “I think Naomi needs the truth.”

“The plan is to minimize the time spent communing with it,” Jon said, gathering his notes. “The yes-or-no method was a good start. We’ll see if it retained the echoed words and work from there, using questions we prepared ahead of time.”

Sasha chimed in. “We think alternating speakers will keep any side effects from getting to one person too quickly. There are also a few words we might attempt to, well, feed it, if necessary for communication.”

They continued half-explaining, half-talking to themselves. Martin got the impression that they were attempting to keep him present, as if zoning out was even an option for him anymore.

Soon enough, Jon’s hand was on the panel. Tim stood nearby and alternated between crossing his arms and flipping a pencil between his fingers. Sasha sat waiting in a chair with an old handheld camera (“Can’t put it on mobile recordings. Only ancient techniques allowed for this stuff”). Through the viewer, Jon and Tim were just in frame with the panel in the center.

Martin didn’t know what to do with himself and chose to keep his hands in his pockets and stand by Sasha.

“Let’s hope they wake up faster this time.” Jon waited for Sasha’s nod, then twisted the dial. A moment passed in the silence, and then-

“HELP?” Martin’s voice boomed, the edges of it rough and distorted, morphing the question into an unbearable scream. No one answered, the overwhelming sound bouncing around them with such force as to make Martin’s eardrums want to burst.

Again, as the reverberations began to wane, “PLEASE?”

Just as Martin could feel another boom coming, Jon gripped the panel and shouted, “Can you hear us?!”

And with that, no other outburst came. Jon’s voice echoed in that strange, elongated way until there was nothing left but the breaths Martin refused to release.

In Martin’s more true-to-life tone came a simple, “Yes.”

“Much better,” Jon gasped out. He straightened, making a show of brushing himself off. “We can get on with things, then, if you don’t mind.”

Picking up his notepad, Jon began, “We are researchers investigating on behalf of the current lighthouse employee with whom you recently made contact with. We believe we know your identity, but we would like to confirm some personal information as a precaution. Is that amenable?”

As they waited, Tim and Sasha composed themselves. Between this and Jon’s calm demeanor, Martin suddenly felt very silly about how quickly his conversation had spiraled into panic and confusion.

Actually, no, being stuffy and professional at a possible ghost was silly. Incredibly so, and the longer Martin watched the harder it became not to interrupt the process with snickering. Jon especially was making such a bold attempt to not only sound but look serious to a person who couldn’t see him.

“Yes.” Martin chose to believe the being was just as dumbfounded by how this was going so far.

“Excellent.” Jon then began to list numbers 0 to 9 in order, allowing each one to be fully absorbed by the lighthouse walls. “If you’ve got all that, can you please tell me the number of your mobile phone?”

Sure enough, Jon’s voice recited a series of numbers, familiar enough by now that Martin was convinced after only the second digit.

Tim slumped, though whether in relief or something else Martin couldn’t tell. “Well, sorry for making you wait, but you can’t judge us for being careful. We can’t talk for long periods of time for safety reasons, but we’ll try to get a lot out of this first go.”

Tim sifted through some of his notes as his echo faded. “Your vocabulary is limited, so for now we’ll stick to yes and no. First: are you in a location that can be described using words?”

“Yes. Quiet.”

“Okay.” Tim scratched the answer down. “So the place is quiet. Can you tell where we’re coming in from?”

There was a longer pause. “No. From? Up. Downstairs? Outside? Here.”

Sasha clicked her tongue. “Rules out a more physical location. Not surprising. As far as you can tell, do you have a physical body?”

“Half.” A moment, then quickly, “Now. Yes. From? This.”

Martin leaned back, his voice falling to a whisper. “He doesn’t mean like… this, does he?”

“If talking helps give him corporeality, it’s a good sign that he’s telling us up front,” Tim replied, his reassuring tone not quite matching the look on his face.

Martin spoke up, unable to stop himself. “Hi? Um, sorry for leaving you like that, but I’m not really a professional at this? Anyway, earlier today I learned that when I go upstairs for cleaning I unknowingly walk into a secret room? Do you know anything about that?”

“Yes. No. No. Me. Worry. Then?” After a few seconds, the thought continued, “No. Me. No. Me. Okay? NO. ME.”

From across the room, Tim dropped his pencil, letting it roll until it hit the wall. “He’s-”

“Yes, I understood,” Jon said, tapping his foot with a new energy. “You mean Naomi.”

“Yes. Naomi. Naomi. Okay? Worry?”

“Well, yeah, of course she’s worried!” Tim half-laughed out. “I mean, yes, she’s okay. We got a message from her yesterday. She’s the reason we ended up talking to you.”

“Okay.” The being who was almost certainly Evan Lukas paused. “Okay. Questions?”

The shift in mood caught Martin off-guard. Jon had started to pace. Sasha was scribbling something down with her free hand. Tim had changed gears entirely, scooping his pencil off the floor and flashing Martin a thumbs up.

It (probably, definitely) wasn’t a monster according to the professionals. This wasn’t part of the horror house that was his workplace. They were doing something.

Sasha remained seated, keeping the camera as steady as she could while flipping through her own notes. “Okay, so. Thank you for offering up extra confirmation. Back to a previous topic, the place on the stairs. Naomi mentioned experiencing the moment you went in. Did you ever attempt to go in with any sort of recording device?”

“No. Here. Before? Think. It.”

“Okay, safe to assume that’s all you know about that part. Would you say you ended up wherever you are by accident?”

“No.”

Martin squeezed his eyes shut. He had assumed as much, partially to take comfort in Evan’s fate not being a random happenstance of bizarre construction that could happen to him, but-

“Someone did this to you.” Sasha continued.

“Yes.”

Before responding, Sasha lowered the camera and switched it off. “Your family did this. I assume it was Peter.” The final word sank into the quiet.

“PETER.”

Everyone covered their ears as Sasha’s voice was thrown back, twisted and loud and furious. The table shook, papers scattering off its surface in the shockwave. Jon stumbled away from the panel and tripped backwards onto the floor. Shaking off the buzzing in his head, Martin hurried over to help him to his feet, Tim joining him a moment later.

Sasha walked to the panel and placed a hand on the dial. “Look, Evan? We will help you, but if you keep doing that we’re going to shut the channel off.”

“...From? Here?”

“Yes, that’s the plan. But you yelling is much louder for us and gets you nowhere. Save it for when you have someone worthwhile to scream at. Understand?”

“Soon. Please?” Martin’s voice implored, disjointed and quiet.

After being pulled to his feet, Jon legitimately brushed himself off and fixed his tie. “I’m not sure if time means much where you are, but yes. We will help you as soon as we can.”

“But,” Tim said, rubbing his temple. “We’ll probably need to break for now. Even without the shouting, something about this place messes with your head, and talking to you is no exception.”

As Tim spoke, Martin finally paid attention to the stabbing pain behind his eyes. “Ah, right, I forgot this was part of it.”

Predictably, Jon and Sasha just looked at the other two with concern. Jon cleared his throat. “Yes, perhaps now that we have a baseline of communication, it would be good for all of us to think about next steps.”

Tim nodded. “Evan? We’re going to turn the dial off for a while so the echoes don’t break our skulls open. Sit tight, and we’ll be back soon to cover what you remember, all right?”

“...Okay.”

And Tim turned the dial.

After all the excitement and goings-on, it was only ten in the morning by the time they made it downstairs.

For the sake of a complete observation, Martin finished his normal janitorial duties. The air was thick with tension as the others kept watch for changes in his demeanor or direction, but nothing happened. Before long he was stowing his supplies into the closet downstairs and collapsing onto his desk.

Tim leaned against the table. “If it makes you feel any better, we won’t tell if you slack off.”

“Yes, you’re all very good at not telling people things.”

“Hey, from now on it’s full disclosure. I promise, I’ll never let Sasha convince me of anything ever again.”

Sasha rolled her eyes and looked past Tim from the far end of the table. “I am sorry, whether or not you believe me. If something like that comes up again, we’ll find a way to handle it differently. But like you said, now you know.”

“Yeah. Now I know.”

Across from Tim, Jon sat at his laptop quietly typing away as the conversation unfolded around him. There was a twinge of irritation at the back of Martin’s mind, but his head was killing him and, well, there were more important things for all of them to be thinking about.

The numbers swam in front of Martin and he pushed the paperwork aside, folding his arms under his head. He probably wasn’t going to have his job much longer.

“So, once your day is about done and the headaches clear, we’ll check in with Evan and see if the sky is messed up. Two-for-one,” Tim said with little enthusiasm. “My bet is we’ll look out the window and see Simon Fairchild falling past us like a screaming ragdoll.”

At some point, Martin did just fall asleep at his desk. Every once in a while, he would wake up to see another hour had passed with the three researchers still seated at the table. He managed to stay up long enough to eat his lunch around noon, but after that he was out like a light. His cohorts may have been used to the sort of hours and excitement of the past week, but there never seemed to be enough sleep for him.

They were nice enough to leave him undisturbed.

“Sorry, let me see. You went to work that day. Peter was there, and at some point he took you upstairs for some reason?” Sasha said, writing something down.

“Yes. He. Needed. Something.” The mix of voices had an almost computer-like quality after a while now that they’d started getting proper sentences.

They’d been working for a bit, trying to fill in some word gaps while probing Evan’s memory. Martin and Tim sat on the couch, facing purposefully away from the windows. Sasha was back in her chair, while Jon stood nearby and kept an eye on the outside.

Martin’s shift had ended about ten minutes before. Apparently whatever it was the woman had alluded to, it was meant to be happening ‘later today’, but both up- and downstairs so far had been… nothing. The same gloomy sky down below, the same bright expanse up above. It was as normal as things could’ve been.

“And what was it he needed?”

“He. Needed. Me. Working. Upstairs? Something. Off. Smug. Bastard.”

“God, he is.” Martin chuckled. Did Evan count as a coworker? This felt like a coworker thing to talk about.

Sasha tapped her pen to paper. “Did he say anything else once you actually went upstairs? Anything about plans or reasoning?”

“Family? Disappointed. Normal. Stuff.”

“And then what happened? Were you pushed into something? Did you see anything before things changed?”

“No. Smug. Talking. Then. Here.”

“Were you facing the windows, or toward the panel?”

“Windows. Not. See. Panel.”

Martin would have to get home, soon. Should he have been running home the moment he had the chance to make sure his mother was all right? What if this thing happened while he was still at work? He should’ve called earlier that day, now that he was thinking about it, but now it was too late. He wasn’t about to walk downstairs alone for some privacy.

Would asking the others to come home with him after this be weird? Yes, that would be weird. He could text Tim if there was a problem. If it was big enough of an event, them being around wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway.

Would a timetable have been so terrible? A nice ‘Simon said look at the sky around noon-ish’?

As Tim and Sasha alternated with questions, Jon kept glancing out the window and clenching his jaw. Even if Martin was still miffed about that morning, the sight made his stomach twist in sympathy.

If Simon had some sort of plan, Martin wished he would get it over with already.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #evan lukas #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au #jonmartin

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pinkjeanist · 5 years

Note

I’d like to request something for the valentine event. Can I have a Reader x Dabi where the reader is infiltrating the league of villains to take them out from the inside. She’s kind of a natural caretaker though and always cleans up after the villains and reminds them to eat and sleep regularly just out of habit. Dabi ends up developing feelings for her and craves more attention and ends up falling for her. I guess the tropes are enemies to lovers and forbidden relationship. Thank you!

fire flower || dabi

a/n: the stuff i just churned out for this request doesn’t match what you wanted word for word, but i actually feel really good about how it came out! please accept the near-2,000 words as an apology!!!! also, the song i chose for this one is really chill and kinda-sorta gives me dabi vibes, i highly recommend listening to it!!! {valentine event} [masterlist and requests]

desc.: That night, you learned two things about Dabi: 1), he already knew that you were working for the heroes and didn’t really care, and 2), he sucks at flirting.

w/c: 1,863

“Anything new?” Hawks closes the door behind himself and watches you scale the room back and forth looking for supplies. You let out a sigh and kept your gaze away from him. These check-in’s were starting to make you more nervous with each passing one.

“Nothing.”

“You’re around one of them almost all the time. You’ve met Shigaraki, and you still don’t have anything?” You knew he wasn’t trying to be rude, but he had every right to be. You’d been under cover for three months with Hawks and had only given the heroes scraps to work with. But it wasn’t that you couldn’t get any information- you had a whole stockpile of data in the back of your mind- but it wasn’t anything too important. Or, at least, anything that was important in the moment. “The directors are getting angry.”

“I know they are, but I’m doing what I can,” You replied. You finally found the aid kit you were looking for deep in your wardrobe and set it on the bed. “There’s only so much I can get out of them without seeming suspicious.”

“They aren’t suspecting you. If anything, they should be suspecting me.” Hawks leaned against the door and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was right- they’d probably be more assuming of a pro hero than some random healer they found on the street (or so they thought). “Look, you hang around Dabi a lot, right? You know he’s one of our biggest targets. He likes you. Get something out of him.”

“He doesn’t like me,” You argued, the fatigue leave your lungs with your voice. “He’s using me. All he needs me for are those scars of his.”

You finally looked up at Hawks to find a blank stare in return, which was never a good thing coming from him. It was the look he gave people when he was trying to read them- which really wasn’t good for you, seeing as how you currently harbored a lot of details you’d rather he didn’t know.

After a few long moments, he turned and left without so much as a goodbye, which was to be expected. You sighed again and began hauling your healing supplies to the main floor of the building, where you assumed Dabi had curled up with a drink as he waited for you to tend to his wounds- again. It was his fault for going out on missions instead of sending LIberation members to do his dirty work, but it was also your fault for worrying over him. It sounded ridiculous until you reminded yourself that he was the enemy.

When you arrived downstairs, you found Twice beaten all to hell and Toga standing over him, whispering amongst themselves. A nurse was tending to them already, but Dabi was nowhere in sight, and you could already tell that Twice had more than a few fractures.

“Where’s Dabi?” You asked, about to dismiss the other nurse.

“Oh, he’s over in that broom closet,” Toga gestured, seeming more than a little upset. “He used too much of his quirk and got himself burned, again.”

You sighed, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She seemed relatively unscathed, save for her torn-up knees. She really needed to stop wearing skirts on missions. “I should help Twice first…”

“No, go to him.” She wasn’t smiling, and deciding that the nurse was doing a good enough job, you complied. You’d probably find Twice and help him later, anyway.

You approached the closet and knocked gently, and not hearing a reply, you let yourself in to find Dabi with his back propped up against the shelves. He tensed as you closed the door behind you. His pants were torn and his legs were scratched up underneath, but his sleeves had been burned clear to his biceps, and the scarring had been wiped away to leave fresh wounds. It would scar deeper than it had before with the help of your quirk, but you worried about whether or not he could stand the healing process it would take to get there.

“I thought I told you not to be so hard on yourself,” You said, kneeling beside him and setting your kit aside. Most of the items in it wouldn’t do you much good, now. He didn’t reply as you pulled a liter of water from the kit (an element necessary to making your quirk work) and watched as he visibly flinched. “I’ll try to be gentle. Hold still as best as you can.”

You took a rag from the kit and stuffed it between his teeth before uncapping the water and slowly beginning to pour it up the expanse of his injuries. He huffed and shook, but refused to make any sound. When you finished, you briefly took the rag from his mouth as he was left panting.

“I’m gonna have to touch you.”

“…I know.”

“It’s gonna hurt.”

“…I know.”

You sighed to yourself and carefully stuffed the rag back between his teeth. With a weight settling heavily on your chest, you took him by his burnt hands and activated your quirk.

When you heard a knock at your door that evening, you almost expected it to be Hawks, until you remember that he did most of his sneaking that late at night. Instead you opened it to find Dabi, leaning against your doorframe, a rather expensively-seeming bottle of wine hanging at his side. His arms were wrapped in bandages, but you were sure he didn’t need them hours after you’d put them on him.

You swallowed. “I’ve got plenty of wine, thanks.”

“Oh, no, this is for me. I just wanna talk.”

You felt your chest tighten. Had he overheard something? How much did they know? Where was Hawks? And then, against your goodwill, your heart had the audacity to reply, “He wouldn’t hurt you. You’re practically one of them, anyway.”

So, you stepped back and let him inside instead of lying that you were too tired or something of the like, and he made a languidly-paced beeline for your seldom-used balcony. He opened the wine, and you hurried to get the glasses from the cupboard.

When you emerged onto the balcony, he’d already been drinking generously from the bottle, but took the wine glass, anyway. He poured your drink and took one last drink before using his glass properly. “You’re lookin’ radiant tonight, sweetheart.”

You felt the heaviness leave your chest with a sigh, replaced with a different kind of weight. It was a weight that pressed downward but didn’t choke, and kissed your lungs until you blushed. “Did you come all the way up here just to flatter me?”

“Ah, well, gotta butter you up, somehow.” He poured more wine into your glass as if to prove his point. “You are lookin’ fine, though. Deadass.”

“Um. Thanks.” You drank enough wine at once to be deemed “socially improper” at his “compliment.” God, he infuriated you. He irked at you and picked at your heart until it felt full. And sad. You couldn’t look at Dabi without being sad. “What did you wanna talk about?”

“What, is this not enough?”

“If you just wanted to flirt with me, you wouldn’t be trying to get me tipsy.”

He humphed. “Yeah, seems right. Well, anyway, I just…had a question.” He poured himself more wine to his already half-full glass. The both of you would run out in minutes, at this rate.

He leaned against the railing. “Now, I know that you’re only here because we’re paying you, and because you’re working for Hawks and all-”

“What does that mean?” You inquired, hand tightening around the glass. “”Because I’m working for Hawks?””

“It means, I know you’re working for him and the heroes, but in your case, I really couldn’t care less. Care to know why?”

You shake your head, but he smirks and continues, anyway: “He isn’t in the circle. He never was. He’s been giving us intel on the heroes and we’ve been giving him bullshit in return, and he’s taken every bit of it back to wherever the hell he came from. But you- I’ve given you every bit of information you need to tear down our entire League, and you’re still here.”

You look up at him and swallow. “You’re testing me.”

“I already did. And congrats, you passed!” He poured more wine into my glass. “Now, my question, which I’m sure you’re gonna be thrilled to hear: when are you gonna stop pretending to be one of them?”

Your hand tightened around your glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t bullshit me, now. I know you.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I don’t have to know someone’s tragic little backstory or whatever to know how they act, what they want. You want to be here. And really, I want you here, too.” He stepped into my space, and I felt my nerves shoot up at the sudden closeness, though not so much out of fear. “I like you. The others like you too, but that’s not the point, right now.”

“I thought that was the point, seeing as how you’re trying to recruit me.”

“Well now, I’m trying to woo you, so shut up.” You found yourself huffing in amusement, even as your hands trembled around your glass. He was looking at you so intently you could feel his heat, his passion, and you burned beneath it. It was intoxicating, and worrying, and suffocating. “You know, I’ve been watching you for a while, now.”

“Oh, I figured.”

“Shh. Anyway, you look pretty cute, running around trying to save our asses every time we come home a little more than bruised. Especially my ass. I also like it when you wear that perfume, the uh, the flowery one, the…”

“…the cherry blossom one, yeah.”

“Yeah, the cherry blossom one. It really adds to that sensation your quirk gives me. I’m addicted to your quirk, by the way. It suits that pretty face of yours.”

“You suck at flirting.”

“But it’s working, isn’t it?” He downed half of his glass with a smirk, and you shift your feet at the weight of his words.

His bandaged hand reached up to rest on the side of your jaw as if he were about to pull you close, but after standing there for a few long moments, he suddenly turned and walked back towards the room to your bedroom.

A part of you panicked. “Where are you going?”

He set his wine on the nightstand before he threw himself down in your bed and grabbed the remote to your television. “Netflix.” He grabbed his wine again and glanced at you over the rim. “Won’t you be joining me? I think I need my bandages checked, after all.”

He knew damn well you didn’t need to check his bandages, and you knew damn well what he wanted. But you also knew what you wanted, and you also knew that you’d sank too deep into this pit you’d dug for yourself to climb back out of it.

He really was a pain in your ass.

#dabi x reader #bnha dabi #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha hawks #mha hawks #mha twice #himiko toga #reader insert

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shintorikhazumi · 4 years

Text

A Real Girl Chapter 2: Feelings 2.0

A/N: Just like my other story in LWA (that I can’t focus on huhuhu), I’m composing this update while in the hospital, watching over my dad. There isn’t any internet so I guess I can focus quite a bit haha. I feel like the pacing of this chapter is off, or awkward somehow? I should’ve extended the first chapter more. Welp, too late for that. I guess I’m trying to expand the background information on how this universe works? It’s quite close to canon-verse where Sayo used to not really get along with everyone, and slowly improving lately, but tailored to the Sayo of this story??? I’m braindead, I’m sorry hahaha.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

A Real Girl Chapter 2: Feelings 2.0

Sayo did not like having feelings.

It wasn’t that she hated all the mushy drama that came alongside it. It wasn’t that she particularly disliked the anxiety of having negative- and even positive- feelings. No, it wasn’t that at all.

She simply didn’t fancy the complications it brought to her practical lifestyle. She had yet to fathom such things, and more often than not, her system could not process the actions and reactions brought about by emotions. Moments when she did try only ended up in the usual overheating, and sometimes confusion and jumble of information running through her head, always rendering her unable to organize the sensory data she was receiving from her body.

She just couldn’t seem to handle all that. It was a system overload. Something she couldn’t hope to control. And control was what she understood she needed; control over this life of hers. If she could not contain the wild horses that were feelings, she could not live her life to its realest, most authentic capacity. That was what she believed. And she believed that Sayo Hikawa was incapable of having feelings.

-//-//-//-//-

The dinner that followed her regular meeting with her parents had been… fine, Sayo supposed. It wasn’t all that awkward. To her it wasn’t, at the very least. She tried to scan her other family members for any signs indicative of discomfort, and upon finding nothing unusual, she had released a small sigh of relief that did not go past her surprisingly perceptive sister.

Hina then asked her if anything was wrong, to which she would reply her usual assurances; that she was fine and there was nothing to worry about, offering a calm smile before proceeding to eat her food to hopefully signal to the younger twin that this particular conversation was over.

Hina understood and seemed willing to relent, dropping any plans of further interrogation. She instead turned to her parents, continuing one of her many ridiculous tales. This one happened to be of how she may or may not have tried to convince the school principal to go bungee jumping with her off the school’s highest building, which was probably what had been the cause of this week’s call to the office for her parents.

Sayo felt her facial muscles work to form a small smile outside her manual prompting. Something deep down inside told her it was because she was amused with her younger sister’s antics. Quite an uncommon occurrence as Hina’s antics were usually nothing short of headache-inducing.

“Feeling quite cheery, aren’t we Sayo?” Her father piped up, noticing the smile on his eldest daughter’s face. Albeit miniscule to some, to her family and friends, it was a clear indicator that Sayo was in a pleasant mood, and that made them happy as well.

For some reason, having her whole family’s attention on her made her feel warm. Warmer than “normal”. Oh, this was troublesome. Sayo had been having these heat flushes far too often lately, it truly was messing with her system.

“N-no? I… or, yes, I… I suppose I am not in a foul mood, Father.” She responded, rigid as ever, but with a stutter she inwardly cursed at. Was she experiencing lag?

Despite her words, her family had gotten used to her responses and translated it as a positive ‘yes’. That was good enough in their books.

The rest of dinner remained clear of any suspense, and each Hikawa was grateful for that.

Hina had volunteered to tidy up the kitchen afterwards as their parents were preparing to take their leave, so Sayo was left with the task of seeing the pair off by the door.

…

There were a few moments of tense silence as Sayo watched her parents. Her father avoided her gaze by leaning down to tie his shoelaces, the action taking a little too long compared to the average time; while her mother was the complete opposite, staring a little too intently back at her. She didn’t know what to make of this situation. Her sensors picked up body language cues that translated to them having something they still wanted to say before leaving, but the longer they took to make even a squeak, the more Sayo wondered if they were all just burning away the precious seconds that could have been spent on safe travel for her parents, and dedicated guitar practice for Sayo. She would have preferred spending her time wisely, even if it was a Saturday night. She had band practice tomorrow, after all.

“Sayo-“ Her father had finally began, reaching a hand up above the said girl’s head. Sayo felt her heartrate pick up, eyes glued to the motion, waiting, before her father retracted it back to his side. The action brought about a physical weight increase in Sayo’s chest area, and she almost asked her father about it; but the question died before even leaving her mouth, a different hand catching her off-guard.

Her mother had cupped her cold cheek with her warm hand, eyes glistening somewhat, searching for something Sayo could not figure out.

“Mother?”

A beat of silence.

“We really do love you.” The older woman whispered, still looking into Sayo’s eyes, still searching, not knowing if she’d find what she sought. “We really do.”

Sayo had no idea how to respond to the sudden affection, and simply nodded her head silently. What she did know was that what had previously weighed in her chest seemed lighter, though not completely gone-

That familiar large, calloused hand that belonged to her father- it now lay on her head, patting a few times before his thumb stroked the top of her head, then swept across her forehead, moving her fringe aside for a moment to clearly display her surprised face. The weight had completely dissipated, and Sayo would admit that she was slightly in awe, and curious as to if this was part of whatever update had taken place, and if her parents had a new manual for her to read so that she could better understand and control all these odd mishaps with her body as of late. They hadn’t really made those in recent developments, only verbally instructing and vaguely explaining to Sayo functions she could and could not perform.

Her musings were cut short by the words she was still getting used to.

“We love you and…” The man she labelled as her father started, “We’re sorry we’re late”. She felt her brows furrow, a wrinkle forming between her eyes.

“What do you-“ Before Sayo could even ask what those words had meant, Hina’s familiar singsong voice had interrupted the exchange.

“Huh? Why are you guys still here?” Seeing as she was now here, Sayo inferred that the Kitchen and dining room had been cleaned up, and that they had lingered by the doorway for far longer than she thought.

The ribboned girl looked between her parents and sister, confused at the atmosphere shrouding them.

“S-sorry, sweetheart. Just had a lot of things to remind your sister.” Mr. Hikawa smiled, moving forward to wrap his younger daughter in a hug. “You know, reminding her to take care of you, and not overwork herself.”

“Oh yeah, Onee-chan does that a lot.” Hina agreed, seemingly buying it. “I do try to tell her to have fun and stuff, but she never listens!”

“You never listen to the voice of common sense, either.” Sayo quipped. “And your idea of fun is fairly life-threatening.” She whispered the last part to herself.

“Anyway! We also had to talk the usual budget for you guys, and just… stuff.” Their father finished the little white lie fabulously.

“Right!” Hina nodded, believing every word… probably.

With a cough from their mother, Hina escaped her father’s hold and gave the eldest woman a gentle, but enthusiastic embrace.

Once over and done with Hina’s affectionate goodbye’s, the Hikawa couple bid their daughters a farewell, leaving hand in hand until their figures escaped Sayo’s line of sight.

Breaking out into a sigh, Sayo locked the door behind her as the twins headed for their respective rooms to retire for the night.

Sayo felt dissatisfaction stir within her. She had so many questions she wanted answered when she found that it was time for her parents’ regular visit, but now that they had left, she had even more than what she started with instead of less as she had planned.

Mumbling her goodnight to her sister, she closed the door to her room with a silent click.

Unlike her usual graceful manner of carefully sitting or laying down on her bed, Sayo had unceremoniously plopped face-first into the soft mattress, once more unknowing of the reasons as to why she performed this action.

Something was off with her lately. Even more-so after these last few updates. She seemed to be dancing to subconscious promptings, acting with less thought and calculation than she usually would- should, according to everything that was initially written in her learning manual.

She had thought her parents would spot these errors without her having to mention it, but somehow it seems things had only gotten worse.

The way the two were acting towards her lately only further supplemented her confusion. All these ‘we love you’s were not something she was used to, at all. She had only begun to get comfortable with Hina’s overbearing affection the past few months, and now her parents were being… odd.

Burrowing her face into a pillow, Sayo found herself thinking back to her past as a child. She had always known that there was a difference between her and Hina. There was a difference between how her parents addressed her, and how they fawned over her younger sister.

She recalled the stiff interactions, the formal instructions, the commands, the rare, but still awkward praises when she accomplished tasks she was supposed to better than expected, and the… times she would look on from afar as her sister received what she later on learned to be “hugs” from their parents.

Something she never had the pleasure of receiving as a small child. At least from them. Hina- bless her soul, Sayo would now say- was the only one willing to ‘teach’ her these things. Other kids at school never bothered to interact with her either. She was too expressionless, too scary, too serious, too-

Too Unhuman.

She would’ve laughed had it not been such a hurtfully accurate notion.

In comparison to her experiences, through clear lens, Sayo observed that Hina and their parents communicated with warmth; how the girl was guided with affection and encouragement, and lifted up due to her sheer genius.

In all honesty, Sayo had to admit she envied Hina then, that genius she had. She sometimes pondered the thought of being programmed to perfection, without flaw, weakness, or struggle. Would that have made her a genius too, at least in the eyes of normal men? Would that have earned her praise even if it wouldn’t matter to a freedom-less girl like her? -Was she even a girl at this point?

She might not be.

Still, she envied it quite a bit. Yes, the fact that Hina was a genius was what she was jealous of, nothing more.

She had read on it in an article once; how children could often feel jealous if attention and care were not distributed fairly by parents, leading to feelings of neglect and lack of relational connections. Had Sayo been a normal girl, maybe this would’ve been so; however, she believed that it would not apply to someone like her… someone like her… something like her…?

After all, there… was no reason for her to desire anything like love, adoration, or care, was there? Being able to perform as she was designed to, being able to do what she had to- those were what mattered in this “familial” relationship between her and her parents.

Right?

…

Rolling onto her belly, she stared up at her ceiling, body not up to the usual task of devoted guitar playing for tonight, it seemed.

She sighed.

Blinking once, twice, she noticed and remembered that up on her ceiling were glow-in-the-dark stars that Hina had insisted to put up in Sayo’s room, along with a lone crescent moon that paired with Hina’s sun in her own quarters. For some reason, she couldn’t help but compare that to their own social situations at the moment.

If people were stars, Hina belonged with the stars as the sun was still a star. It might be more prominent and more known to most inhabitants of the earth, just as Hina was someone popular to many, even to strangers; but still, she was one of them. Even if she had to shine alone in the morning sky, people still knew she was- and still grouped her as- one of the stars. She was most definitely a star too.

Sayo, however, could not relate. Hina had told her she was the moon, and even if it tries to shine alongside the stars, it will not- and never be- a star. And in the moon’s moments, where the city lights drown out all the stars, even the moon’s shine is dulled and it is truly alone; and though it is seen on the same stage, in the same night sky, no matter how much it would try to blend in with the crowd… it would never be a star.

Sayo would never be a star.

Another sigh. A toss. A turn.

Again, her line of thinking drifted to the changes she and her family seemed to be going through. Somehow, she found life somewhat easier back when everything had been so professional. It may have seemed like she was neglected and alone, but such negativities could be adapted to, could be grown out of. Sayo could simply get used to it, suck it up like the mature person she was, and move on. Or at least that’s how it was to the outside onlooker. To Sayo, it was just normal for there to be distance. She wasn’t really a part of their family.

She wouldn’t be able to understand it anyway.

So why did everything have to take a turn?

Actually… When did everything suddenly take a turn?

Was it when she had first met Yukina? Was it as Roselia progressed into a proper band? Or was it when they became friends, bound by music, never to be broken apart?

Was it when Lisa stepped up to help her with Hina after Sayo had gone too far with her distancing? The gentle hand on her back, drawing circles as the brunette listened intently to her confusion and woes, and taught her a little bit more about what relationships were? Was it that?

Sayo had no clue.

One day, everything just seemed to morph; her reality was changing. The improvement of her relationship with Hina may have marked the most significant wave of change. Sayo found herself able to decipher her constant home companion bit by bit. She could guess what the girl was up to, she could figure out her moods, and keep up with her whims (she hoped).

Then suddenly, her parents showed up more often than the usual check-ups. They listened intently during Sayo’s parent-teacher conferences, they no longer constantly reminded her of their expectations for her, they would actually send her messages outside the usual appointment updates, or information briefing, or requests. They would tell her how they saw a guitar model that Sayo might like; texted her that if she wanted anything for Christmas, she could tell them.

She would catch her mother’s stare many times, before the woman offered her a nervous, or kind smile. Her father would constantly ask her about her preferences for updates.

And what unnerved her most of all, was the fact that they had been offering her physical affection (sure they were limited to pats, touches, or handholds, but it was odd enough) and constant “we love you”s. Something they used to only do in public setting to show that the family was on good terms with one another.

-not saying that they weren’t, because Sayo deemed that her being alive was enough proof that they were on good terms.

…such a scary thought, she now realizes.

Anyhow, it just so happened that even in private, her parents were now actively performing those aforementioned acts towards Sayo. Were they trying to build rapport with her? Trying to get on her good side? She had no complaints about their relationship in the past, so why did they have to try to change it up now?

And of course, the thing that bothered her the most… feelings.

Suddenly, the “feelings” prompts in her mind were no longer just emptily flashed words of alert with instructions on how she should act. They now did all these odd reactions to her body, made her lose her control, put errors in her usual calculations.

She didn’t know whether she liked it or not.

There was something within her whispering that this was what she wanted. Because it made her real, or at least pretend to be…

But her practical mind told her it would only serve to continue to burden her. This, she truly believed.

If that were so, why couldn’t she have it removed? Whatever program in her that involved these dreaded feelings? Her parents had told her she could always express her desires when it came to her recent upgrading. She was told she could ask for anything. So why wouldn’t she ask for one simple removal? One that would solve all her current distress, and quite possibly benefit her by giving her the efficient life she wanted?

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know why she was trying to cling to fragments of a false reality, a world where she wasn’t what she was. A lie in which… she was a real girl.

She just didn’t know.

And to these thoughts, her world shut down.

-//-//-//-//-//-//-

It was the weekend; what most students considered their free time- time to waste, time to slack off. They simply had so much time, away from the usual school day. And simply having this much time was all the more reason for Roselia to spend it on practice instead.

Sayo arrived early. She always did. It was part of her internalized time-table. She had one for almost all occasions. For school, for weekends with student council work, and without. Today, her schedule consisted of waking up, preparing breakfast, washing up and getting dressed. Then she would eat, get on the seven-forty-five train, arrive at circle and ask for the reserved room, grab a sweetened coffee by the vending machine, down it in ten, and enter the practice area to tune her guitar and do warm-ups until everyone else arrived. Everything she did was performed on the dot, down to the very last second.

There were days where tiny deviations from her predicted happenings occurred, but nothing that would throw her off completely. They sometimes came in the form of any other member arriving earlier than her. In the case of Minato Yukina, she guessed it wouldn’t be all that odd. At the beginning, they would simply regard one another with a small nod before continuing onto their individual warm-ups. As Roselia’s relationship improved however, they often exchanged small talk, or opinions on the band and each other’s personal progress, seeking advice. If it were Ako who got there before Sayo, she would only pray that nothing was out of place, and that there were no soda spills on the carpets. She’d rather not have a repeat of one certain incident.

Rinko and Lisa were rarely the first people in the studio. Sayo dealt with is as it came. They would offer greetings and pleasantries, and focus on warm-ups, and that was it.

Or well, that was then.

It came little by little, but things were certainly different now. There were days when Sayo would come in just a few seconds before an Ako barreled right into her, apologizing, but not letting go without a quick hug around Sayo’s waist, and irresistible puppy eyes that almost always asked Sayo to pat her head before the younger girl would break out into a grin, satisfied, and ready to warm up. She really did remind Sayo of all the videos of dogs she’d watch out of some form of habit, possibly; filling up a personal database file all on their own.

Rinko, she-…

Well, she wasn’t as scared of Sayo anymore. That could be noted as some sort of improvement. It wasn’t as if they never got along before, but work in the student council felt just a tad bit more relaxing, and quite enjoyable lately, if Sayo were to be honest. Rinko was like a breath of fresh air amongst everyone else’s eccentricities- including those other band girls outside their own.

Then… there was a pair that had suddenly been throwing her for a loop.

Minato Yukina and Imai Lisa. One so cold and aloof, avoided like a harsh winter day; and the other heated and sociable, passionate in dance and music like the summer… At least, that was how Sayo saw them at the beginning.

It came as sudden as all the other surprises in Sayo’s present life. Sayo spotted a silver songstress on her knees in a hidden corner of the park, leaning down towards a tiny kitten in what she saw was a shared eskimo kiss. She felt a stall between the beats of her heart. And it became a memory she’d never forget, sometimes replaying itself in her moments of slumber. Sayo realized that Yukina wasn’t just the snow, she was also the spring that came in turn right after.

The bassist, on the other hand, proved to also be the fall. A beauty to behold, making you forget the coldness it actually had. Lisa had days where she would doubt herself; days where her silence would issue warning sirens in Sayo’s poor confused system, prompting her to offer gauche comfort- the only kind she could manage in her uncertainty.

It didn’t help that the girl wore the scent of cinnamon and pumpkin spice pie, and all the sweet little guilty pleasures hardwired into Sayo’s poor mind (It was a weakness she would never admit to- she wondered if her parents added such a detail in the blueprint for personal amusement); and the fact that she’d casually offer an embrace that caused those fragrances to overwhelm the stiff guitarist was an additional trigger, along with a Yukina who smelled of vanilla and cookies- though the latter was probably just due to the crumbs from Lisa’s treats that the unexpectedly clumsy leader of Roselia got all over herself.

She often tried to ignore the way Lisa would cling to her and Yukina’s arms as they walked to or from the studio, or to a gig; she would try to ignore the warmth that suddenly spread from the point of contact between them to her entire body. She would also ignore the jitters and “flutters” she would feel when her eyes would meet Yukina’s mid-song, and the tiniest of smiles would play on the singer’s lips and- was that a wink, Minato Yukina?!

It irked Sayo that almost everything she had gotten used to and inputted into her data bank of memories over the course of her seventeen- eighteen years of existence were slowly changing; herself and Hina, their parents, and now, even Roselia and the rest of their girls’ band peers. Heck- even the students at school had begun to greet Sayo as she monitored the halls (which was already quite the feat, as they usually screeched or shuffled their merry way out of hers), even when she wore her usual- as Lisa and Hina so fondly called- “resting bitch face”; stoic and devoid of emotion.

How could everything just be so confusing-

“..yo? Sayo! Sayo?”

Ah. This voice sounded plenty confused as well.

“Sayo, is something the matter?”

A hand on her shoulder, and another in a worried clasp around her bicep, pulling her to spin around, face-to-face with furrowed green eyes almost matching her own.

Had she been lost in thought?

“Imai…san.” Sayo regarded with a slow nod, each syllable carefully spoken.

A hand shot out to touch her forehead, accompanied by the concerned question of, “Are you sick?”.

Well, good morning to you as well, Imai-san.

Despite the lack of proper greetings from everyone, the guitarist decided to simply answer the question before things went for worse. Sayo shook her head no, the action allowing her eyes to notice that the room was complete with all of Roselia’s members staring at her, perplexed at the bizarre, unusual Sayo they had just stumbled upon, guitar slung over her shoulders, but staring at a blank wall for who-knows-how-long before the rest arrived.

“Are you sure?” Lisa pressed, though that wasn’t the only thing she was pressing apparently, as one of Sayo’s hands was clasped between both of Lisa’s and was currently held against her fairly mature che-

“Sayo, I believe we’ve had a talk about this before, but if you are sick, one must not overexert themselves as this would trouble our band in the long run.”

“Yes, thank you, Minato-san.” –‘for taking my mind away from somewhere I’d rather it not be in.’. Sayo completed the sentence silently, hoping no one suddenly developed the powers of mindreading. “But still, I am fine and most certainly healthy.”

“You are most welcome.” Yukina gave in reply. “But I also don’t believe you all that much, Sayo. Not with your history of overwork.” Stepping in closer, the shorter girl took Sayo’s other hand in her own, giving it a squeeze. “So do tell us if you need a break today, and you shall have it.”

Oh, it had started again. Those thumps and irregular skips in Sayo’s pulse, the desire to run to the comfort room with her coolant for just a bit, the shaky breaths.

“I- I truly appreciate your kindness, but I am certainly fine and I would love to never burden you with something like a missing member due to negligence with my health.” Sayo once more tried to convince them of the truth. It was difficult.

“Really?” Gold and green interrogated, moving the slightest bit too close into Sayo’s personal space and mental safety barrier. Did they really not trust her to regulate and discipline herself with her health, much more after her first blunder?

The answer seemed to be yes.

Even Rinko’s tiny whispers of, “Hikawa-san” relayed her sincere worry for Sayo’s well-being, along with Ako’s less-than-subtle fidgeting. And while she was grateful for their sincerity, it felt a bit overbearing.

Sayo sighed for… some numbered time now. She’d done that a lot lately.

“Really.”

That seemed to have worked as everyone visibly relaxed, Ako and Rinko continuing on with their set-up and warm-ups. Sayo would have hoped that this would influence the other two in front of her to do the same; and they did. They did get to that…

But not without a gentle squeeze on her hands, a pat from Yukina, and a blown kiss from Lisa that only made it feel much hotter.

And why this was?

She still could not fathom.

And she hated that fact.

-//-//-//-

She would definitely have to apologize later.

Practice had gone nowhere. Sayo’s perfect, calculated playing, everything done with precision and a charm solely hers… it just wasn’t there. And all because of her damned updated mind that kept bringing up two pairs of warm hands, and faces that seemed to be glowing in her eyes. Then there was the matter of Lisa’s… upper… half…

“We stop here for today.” Yukina’s usual stoic voice commanded, though Sayo could hear the frustration oozing out. She clearly was not pleased, and that was all because of Sayo’s lackluster performance.

Everyone nodded in reluctant agreement, each moving to fix up their instruments, securing them in their cases.

As they were ready to leave, lights turned off and door open in wait for the guitarist to be the last member to step out, Sayo spoke, stopping under the shadow of the darkened room in a bow. “I apologize. I’ll do better next time. Today’s subpar performance was clearly due to my lack of concentration and I shall do my utmost in correcting my-“

“Sayo.”

Said girl looked up from her perfectly ninety-degree bow.

“It’s okay.”

Scanning each of her bandmates’ faces, their expressions all responded with the same thing.

It’s okay.

“Really, Sayo-san, you should tell us if you feel a little sick! You work so hard, taking a break shouldn’t be a problem for you!” Ako laughed, but it had this little nervous color to it that expressed her care for Sayo.

“Ako…chan… is right. Hikawa-san… you already… play so well. You’d never…fall behind even if… you missed one session.” Rinko gave one of her most comforting smiles, and Sayo felt the desire to smile back. And she did.

“Even if I held you all back?” Sayo asked.

“What nonsense. A member of Roselia would do no such thing!” Yukina stated with conviction. “And in the impossible case that you did,” She grabbed Sayo, pulling her out of the dark room, and into the light, in the bright hallway with everyone else. “-then we’d pull you right along. We’d do that for each other, for any comrade.”

“She’s right. We’d do it in a heartbeat.” Lisa latched on to her arm, resting her head slightly on Sayo’s shoulder, almost nuzzling the spot, which would have been bad for Sayo’s processors. “I’m sure we all feel that way.” The brunette added good-naturedly. But those words held a not-too-pleasant weight for Sayo.

‘We all feel that way.’

All.

Feel.

“Right. Of course.” Sayo nodded, covering up the sudden shakiness in her legs by taking a firm step forward, still attached to the two same-year best friends.

Like wild horses being held back that suddenly broke their fence, her thoughts ran. Roselia trusted her. As a teammate, a bandmate, a comrade… a friend. So how was she to tell them she wasn’t like all of them. That she didn’t know how to feel? How was she to explain that their warm, heartfelt sentiments were things she could not return genuinely?

How could she explain that the so-called emotions she portrayed were automatic, programmed responses? How could she possibly tell them that even she did not know her own sincerity towards the band, how she no longer knew if what she was doing was out of necessity and a must for self-preservation- a “professional” type of relationship; or if it was because she harbored what they had in their own souls. A love for other people.

No. It couldn’t be that.

She knew what it was. But that was textbook knowledge. She could never apply that to her own understanding and utilization.

She wasn’t meant to be able to do that. It wasn’t in her manual. Feelings never were. No matter how many years had passed. She’d never get to understand it.

Humans smile because they are happy. They cry when they are sad, they get angry because of unpleasant things. These little facts were what she was introduced to as the basis for telling emotions.

But then Hina smiled even though Sayo hurt her; Lisa cried when they got her flowers she loved for her birthday, and celebrated with her. Yukina got angry when another presumptuous producer offered to take them to a world stage.

It didn’t make any sense. Their reactions brought about by feelings were nothing like the manual. They were nothing so simple. They were so complex.

Too complex for a non-genius… nonhuman, non-girl like Sayo to understand.

But how could she say that to people who trusted her? That she wanted to offer a genuine trust in return to, but couldn’t possibly do so.

Again, she was far too deep inside the caves of her mind, peripheral sensors crippled to the world causing her to misstep, lunging forward for a faceplant-

…that never came.

Two bright smiles, warm eyes, and soulful emotions.

They teased and taunted, made Sayo heat up, heart threatening to explode at the sheer speed it pumped, but the notions also enough reason for her blood to run cold with unjustified envy- one that should not be able to exist within the teal-haired girl either. Because why should they be able to feel the way they do and bask in the enlightenment feelings brought. Why couldn’t Sayo? But then again, why did she care when it shouldn’t have mattered to her in the first place?

Confusing. Vexing. Frustrating.

And as Yukina held one of her hands, and Lisa clung to the other just as they did hours earlier, Sayo only felt more disdain for the concept she labelled as “feelings”. They made her bitter deep down, not because of their good intent, but that she knew not what these meant. They just weren’t for her. Feelings would never be hers to attain, they would never let Sayo own them; understanding of them constantly slipping from her grasp.

So she ended up hating them. Hating having feelings. Hating feelings.

Feelings that could never be felt by Sayo’s cold Mechanical heart.

A/N: And that’s a… wrap?? I honestly… was stuck. I guess I’d rather treat this as chap 1 and the other as the prologue haha. My brain is so dried out tbh. Um… reactions? Comments?

~Shintori Khazumi

#hikawa sayo #sayo hikawa #hikawa hina #hikawa twins #yukisayolisa #sayolisa #yukisayo #minato yukina #imai lisa #fanfic #ARG #bandori #bang dream #mechanical? au

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thescatterbrainedwriter · 4 years

Text

Just Some Coffee

After finally getting her dad to open up about her mom, Jessie notes Emily seems to like his company and suggests he take her out for coffee or something to talk

Word count: 2,993

Warnings: none, just some fluff

Flash Fanfic

**Note: at this point in time, none of team Flash know what Estrata’s real name is. Estrata = Emily. Also, Emily is my personal character. I just like to stick her in places 😅 Enjoy!! 🥔 🎨

———

Harry didn’t want to do it. He was already on good terms with team Flash, he even became friends with Cecile. How much more socializing was he supposed to do anyway? This never would have happened on Earth 2, he had his lab he could hide in whenever he wanted. He was actually starting to miss the days where people left him alone because they were afraid of him. ’She seems to genuinely enjoy your company,’ Jessies voice repeated in his head. ’I think she might actually like you.’ Henry growled in irritation as the sentences played on loop. He didn’t want to admit it but, since she would often sit quietly in the corner of whatever lab he worked in, he didn’t mind her company either. At least she knew how to be quiet and her occasional inputs were actually pretty helpful. He growled to himself again, standing in the middle of Cisco’s lab having no where else to really wander to once Jessie left for Earth 3, trying to get back into the mindset of working on the Thinker problem but couldn’t quite do so. He couldn’t tell if it was from the mishap with the thinking cap he built or the suggestion Jessie made beginning to worm its way into ‘good idea’ territory. With a huff he decided to do something about it and nearly stormed out of the lab in frustration.

Making his way into the cortex he found everyone enjoying some down time doing mundane tasks on the computer or looking over data sheets. Emily was sitting at one of the desks with her usual holoscreen up reading something. He couldn’t tell what it was but it didn’t matter, he had a question and only she could answer it. So he strode over and stood awkwardly stiff just outside of her peripheral. Emily glanced up having felt his approach and smiled. “Oh, hey Harry,” she greeted before looking back to her screen. “Hey, hi,” he said rather forced. She continued looking at her screen for a moment, Harry still standing there, before she looked back at him with a curious face having not felt or heard him leave. “Can I.... help you?” She asked, Cisco and Ralph observing in curiosity and amusement.

“No, well, yes,” Harry stuttered. “I suppose, suppose it depends on your answer. Anyway...” Emily cocked an eyebrow turning her full attention to him sitting up straighter from her slouched position over the desk and now everyone else was beginning to quietly observe what was going on. Harry paused suddenly unsure if he should go through with his question or just bail to return to Cisco’s lab to sulk as usual. “Would you... want to go for some coffee?” he asked sounding somewhat constipated. Now it was Emily’s turn to freeze at the unexpected question. Cisco got a really amused smile on his face also not expecting this and eagerly anticipated the conclusion as did Iris, who had been sitting at a computer, and Ralph.

“What?” Emily asked with a confused chuckle.

“Coffee,” Harry repeated. “Did you want to get coffee?” She blinked still processing the question making him more uncomfortable than he already was. “Jessie.... suggested it....” he added. “For socializing purposes. I guess.”

“Yeah, ok,” she agrees with a smile. Harry continued standing stiffly for a moment not quite knowing what to do now. “Good. Great. Ok,” he said before turning and beginning to leave.

“Hey wait! Harry!” Emily called making him stop and turn around again. “You never told me when,” she said still smiling.

“When what?” Harry asked oblivious.

“When you wanted to get coffee,” she replied with a little sigh. “You wanna go now? Later? Tomorrow?”

“Now is fine. Does it work for you?” He asks.

She grins again, a little wider, reaching a hand toward the holoscreen still open on the desk and makes a fist closing it. “Yeah, that works,” she agrees standing. With out much of a nod he turns around again and briskly walks toward the exit, Emily trying to keep up, while everyone watches them leave with amused smiles. Her drones Medi and GP float behind talking amongst themselves.

“Are they going on a date or something?” Medi asks. “Looks like it?” GP confirms. “Should we follow to watch?” Medi asks uncharacteristically mischievously. “Definitely!” GP agrees enthusiastically.

“You will not,” Emily scolds turning around just before leaving and pointing at them.

“Can’t stop us,” GP taunts.

“Oh yeah? Steadfast Protocol,” she ordered. Medi and GP groan in disappointment as the protocol initiates preventing them from leaving S.T.A.R. Labs property. Emily smiles triumphantly turning back round to follow Harry to Jitters. She vaguely heard the drones trying to beg Tinker, her third drone who had moseyed over and was not under the protocol, to follow them on their date and Tinker refusing as he wasn’t interested in their stalking activities.

——

Unacceptable. Simply unacceptable, Harry thought to himself as they walked. How is she so amicable? We’ve been talking about nothing in particular and it’s been.... nice? Not in the least bit annoying? They opted to walk to Jitters and in their awkwardness, had begun making small talk about nothing really in particular. It only took a few minutes to arrive and Harry opened the door for Emily then chose a two seat table toward the back of the shop sitting awkwardly in silence. Emily was somewhat amused by his odd behavior, she had never seen him act like this before, and just studied him sitting in the seat directly across from him. Shortly after they seated themselves, a barista came over to take their order. “Hi,” she said with a smile. “Welcome to Jitters. What can I get you?” Harry’s head turned so fast to her out of surprise Emily thought he may have snapped his neck. “Just a regular coffee, black,” he said.

“And I think I’ll have a hot French Vanilla, small, just cream please,” Emily added with a smile. The girl nods before heading off to fulfill the requests. More silence with Harry staring everywhere but in front of him amusing Emily some more. “So....” she says trying to garner his attention, “what do you wanna talk about now?” Harry finally looks her in the eye looking like he suddenly became constipated and couldn’t talk. “I think you should pick the topic,” he deflected. “I invited you out after all.”

Emily got a mischievous idea and shook her head. “No, it’s ok. You pick.”

“No, I really think you should,” Harry insisted. “I don’t have anything interesting to talk about.”

“Well, what topics do you have to talk about?”

“Well.... mostly science stuff.... technical things.... You know, not interesting things.” Harry attempted deflecting. Just then the barista came back to deliver their drinks. “Oh, thank you!” Emily said with a bright smile. “No problem!” the barista smiled back. “Let us know if you need anything else alright?” Harry nodded and she walked off back behind the counter to help other customers.

“Oh, I don’t mind listening to those things,” Emily said getting back on topic. “Friend of mine would go on and on about the things he made and going into detail about his mechanical and engineering feats. Even discussed coding and programming.”

“Really?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Mhmm,” she confirmed nodding her head looking into her coffee. “You know my drones right?”

“Yeah?”

“He helped me make them,” she smiled. “I came up with the concept, he helped me fabricate the parts and program them and told me how to fix them if I ever needed to. Now I can do their maintenance and any upgrades blindfolded.” She leaned her head against her hand while leaning over her side of the table. Harry blinked in impressed disbelief. “I was also the one who programmed their personalities in,” Emily added running her finger around the rim of her cup.

“That.... doesn’t surprise me,” Harry commented.

“What’s that supposed to mean??”

“Just that, well, they seem like different parts of your core personality,” he explained casually before sipping his coffee. Emily squinted suspiciously at him. “Explain.”

“Well, Tinker is your creative, GP your inquisitive, and Medi your protective.” Emily looked at him thoughtfully and was surprised he picked up anything like that about anyone, least of all her. “That, and they’re a touch annoying,” he concluded.

“Yeah, they are huh?” Emily agreed staring off into space reminiscing about their usual hi-jinx. Harry raised his eyebrows curiously. “You’re... not going to protest that?”

“Nah,” she dismissed casually. “I’m fully aware I can be really very annoying. I just have a hard time turning it off sometimes,” she said sitting up and finally drinking some of her coffee. “Well at least you can acknowledge it,” he said amused.

“Of course! I did make it a mission of mine back home after all,” she grinned. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle and sipped his coffee again. “So, why don’t you choose a topic to change to,” Emily proposed. He shook is head in response. “No, I told you. I don’t have anything interesting to talk about. Jessie and even Cisco could tell you that I’m... well... long-winded.” Her face soften and she smiled thoughtfully. “Hmm, ok, theeeeeen.... tell me about quarks?” He looked at her puzzled. “You..... want to know about.... quarks? Really?”

“Well, maybe not but. You know about quarks, and I don’t really know about quarks, so talking about quarks would probably be a good place to start,” Emily half rambled before sipping her coffee and trying to look innocent. Harry just looked suspiciously at her trying to figure out if she was serious or not. “What?” She asked noticing his staring. “I may be primarily geared toward entertainment but I still like learning about this stuff too.” He just sighed in amusement. “Ok, alright. Fine. I’ll talk about quarks,” he relented lighting up Emily’s face in anticipation. He felt weird noting it had been a while since he felt something similar; back when Jessie was a kid he would sometimes talk about scientific principles to her even when she couldn’t understand what he was saying. He was pretty sure he explained atoms to her when he fed her that mush trying to pass as baby food. Whenever Jessie asked about something science related he was always happy to over explain. “So, a quark is a type of elementary particle and a fundamental constituent of matter,” he began. “Quarks combine to form composite particles called hadrons, you probably know them better as protons and neutrons.” Emily settled in and sipped on her coffee quite invested in his epic monologue.

——

He had no idea how long he had been lecturing but eventually Harry became aware of how much time had passed. Their coffees had long since gotten cold or finished, the light outside was not as brilliant, and the place had gotten noticeably more quiet. Emily was still very much invested in what he was saying and would occasionally glance at passing customers, so when he wound down his topic she became a bit unhappy. “Eh, so nanotechnology can have more practical applications in medicine and general sciences than, well, making Barry’s suit more portable,” he concluded. Finally giving Emily more than a fleeting thought, he realized she was still waiting for him to say something else. “Ah, it’s getting late. I didn’t realize I rambled so long, sorry.” She smiled a little straightening her posture with a deep sigh.”oh no, no need to apologize. I really enjoyed listening to you.”

“Really?” Harry asked not really believing her. “Mhmm,” she nodded in confirmation. “You light up when you loose yourself in your knowledge and go head first into explaining you passion projects.” Harry just stared not sure how to respond. She stood grabbing her long empty cup and stretching. “You should smile more you know. You have a nice smile.” He stiffened at the unexpected compliment making Emily smile in amusement before she headed toward a near by trash can. “Should probably get back now, don’t you think?”

“Hem, yeah. Yeah we.... should,” Harry agreed standing quickly and grabbed his cup to toss out. Smiling awkwardly he ushers her out and back to the lab.

——

It was relatively late when they got back, sun was getting really low but twilight was still holding onto the sky in defiance of the night. They continued to make small talk, pauses between topics becoming longer and longer as they began running out of things to say, but Emily noticed a bit of difference in is speech patterns. He seemed to be deliberating on what to say next for longer periods than usual. Before she could ask about it, they rounded the corner into the cortex where Cisco and Caitlyn were still around. “Oh hey guys,” Caitlyn greeted with a smile.

“Soo,” Cisco stared turning around in his chair. Emily lifted an eyebrow in preparation for whatever he was about to say. She could tell by his tone it was going to be something tease-y too. “How was your coffee date?”

“It.... wasn’t a date...” Harry tried denying.

“It was... kind of a date,” Caitlyn agreed. Harry looked at Emily for help but she just nodded making the ‘little’ hand gesture. “It was very nice,” Emily continued looking around Harry to Cisco.

“It wasn’t a date!” Harry denied again a bit more frustratedly. “We just went for coffee! We socialized!”

“Coffee can be a date,” Cisco challenged.

“Well, doesn’t always have to be a date date,” Emily countered trying to defend Harry at least a little bit. “Coffee dates can be among friends and colleagues too just to talk or something.” Harry pointed at her turning to face Cisco as if to say ‘yeah see?’. “Besides, we talked about quarks, quantum mechanics, astrophysics.... he even went into detail about what the pipeline does.”

“Ok yeah, definitely not a date,” Cisco relented.

“That’s what— been trying to tell you!”

“Alright, we’re sorry Harry,” Caitlyn apologized. “Just teasing you a bit. That’s all.”

“Well, regardless, I had fun,” Emily semi-teased smiling up at Harry. He just looked down at her unamused and unable to think of a rebuttal. He just huffed and turned to leave. Turning her attention back to Cisco and Caitlyn, Emily just smiled cheekily. “You guys gonna head out?”

“Yeah, we were waiting for you guys to come back so you could tell us all about your experience,” Cisco said standing to stretch. “But it sounds like nothing happened really.”

“Well, he was pretty awkward, didn’t really have much to say other than going on and on about sciences,” Emily explained. “But, I didn’t mind.”

“You.... actually like that stuff?” Cisco asked. “You never really seemed like the science type. Not like us anyway.”

“Yeah, funny thing. Some of the things I can do require a basic knowledge of science. Haven’t had much opportunity to learn the more complicated stuff so it was nice to have someone talk enthusiastically about it.”

“Well I’m sure you made him very happy listening to him,” Caitlyn concluded picking up her things preparing to leave. “Have a good night, Estrata.”

“You too Caitlyn,” Emily returned.

“Sooo, Estrata,” Cisco started sauntering over to her. Emily sighed smiling a little at him wondering what he would go on about now. “Did you actually have a good time?” Emily just looked at him sighing again. “C’mon, you can tell me the truth. Was it really horrible?”

“Cisco...” Emily said placing a hand on his shoulder. “It was fun, honestly, I had a good time.”

“Hmmm, yeah. Ok,” he dismissed not fully believing her. “See you tomorrow. You and Harry behave now,” he teased pointing at her as he left. Emily just left him with a highly unamused look. “Goodniiiiight Cisco.” He just smiled smugly as he left leaving Emily in the cortex. Flicking her hand in a downward gesture, like one would do flipping off a light, the lights went out as she left the room herself. Wandering the halls making sure everything was set for the night, she found herself drifting off into thought and nearly collided with Harry. “Oh! I’m sorry!” She squeaked taking a quick step back. “Lost in my own head, didn’t see you.”

“What are you doing?” He asked kind of sternly.

“I’m.... uh.... locking up for the night? I was just about to go downstairs to check everything before heading to bed.”

“Ok,” he replied flatly. Emily stood there staring at him wondering if he would say something else, and he seemed to do the same before making a move to turn away. “Hey wait, I have a question,” she piped up. “What?” He asked turning around again. “I, uhm, noticed you seem to pause, a lot more often than you used to. Which was basically never.”

“....And?”

“You didn’t.... use dark matter with your thinking cap.... did you?” Emily asked nervously causing Harry to pause. “Because that would probably be a bad idea. Especially after you told Cisco you wo—“

“I didn’t,” Harry interjected. Emily paused studying his face. “Ok,” she said dropping the conversation. “Ok, I’m gonna go, do a once over downstairs and theeennnn.... go to bed.”

“Ok,” Harry said nodding.

“If you need anything you, know where to find me,” Emily stated turning away to head down the hall. “Yup,” Harry replied flatly again turning to go his separate way. “Oh, by the way!” Emily turned around walking backwards down the hall now. “Thanks for coffee!” She smiled wide turning around again disappearing around a corner. Harry stood for a moment watching her go before cracking a smirk. Dangerously charming, he thought continuing on his way. Not the worst thing I suppose.

————————••••••••————————

~Fin~

#flash fiction #the flash #harry wells #harrison wells #barry allen #fan fiction #my ocs #funny #cisco ramon #oc x canon

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hottestthingalive · 5 years

Text

Roses

Roman and Deceit like each other and are hopeless pining gays about it, Remus and Patton are useless but supportive wingmen, and Logan and Virgil are manipulating everyone but not in a bad way.

Just to avoid any confusion, when the text Deceit is saying is bolded, it’s his lies poking through his regular speech! I know this is a bit of a change from my first fic, but my Analogical heart has more than enough room for Roceit, so that’s what y’all are getting!

tw: mild cursing, sexual references (because Remus)

It was Remus who figured it out first, strangely enough. But then again, he was half of Creativity, albeit the more chaotic part, and both he and Roman had always had a sense for romance.

So it was Remus who figured it out first. While in the process of stealing Roman’s shoes, he noticed a vase brimming with roses on his desk. In itself, this was not unusual: Roman liked his flowers, and Remus personally believed that there were enough plants in his room to fill a small forest. But the flowers were a pale, soft yellow, and as far as he knew, Roman tended to stick to red roses, or pink.

Remus blinked. “Well, that’s odd,” he said out loud, dropping the shoes he was stealing onto the bed. “What’ve you got these for, Ro?”

So he did a bit of snooping, eventually settling down at Roman’s desk to read a leatherbound notebook. Perched on the legs of the chair, the top of the backrest balancing precariously on the fluffy rug, Remus munched on Roman’s deodorant and flipped through the pages.

It turned out to be a diary.

After finishing his reading, and the deodorant, Remus threw it across the room, spinning on his precarious perch. “Ew,” he rolled his eyes. “He writes over and over and over about his huge crush on Dee, and doesn’t once mention any sexy stuff? Blargh.”

“Hey,” he realized after a second, “doesn’t Dee like Roman?”

A grin spread across his face.

From Roman’s room, Remus took three things.

His left shoe

A bottle of conditioner

A rainbow friendship bracelet with small, colorful plastic beads.

Oh, and a newfound desire to set up Dee and his brother. But that one wasn’t edible.

Logan learned next, when Roman burst into the living room with Deceit’s hat in his hands, running for his life. Virgil glanced over from where he was perched on the fridge, scrolling through his phone, and shrugged at Logan, in a “Well, what can you do?” gesture.

The Logical side, who was baking cupcakes (in the hopes of teaching Thomas how to do the same) sighed, returning to the batter he was mixing. He did notice, however, when Dee appeared in the room, instantly making his way for Roman.

“I didn’t tell you not to touch my shit, right?” he snapped, brushing back his brown curls with his hand. “Give it back, Roman!”

“But I like your hair,” Roman protested, a mischievous grin (one Logan would have more expected from Remus) playing around his lips. “It’s cute!”

Dee turned bright red as he scowled, attempting to grab the hat from Roman’s hands. The snake-like side was taller, yes, but Roman was quick, and escaped quite easily. “Roman!”

“You’re going to have to come and get it,” the creative side grinned, before tossing the hat, past Logan and towards the refrigerator. “Catch, small, dark and lonesome!”

Virgil fumbled to grab it, luckily managing not to fall off, and hissed at Roman.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked him after Roman had dashed into his room, Deceit following close behind. Neither seemed to be aware (or to really care) that they’d left the bowler hat behind.

“I’m fine,” he nodded, though he was staring at Roman’s door, perplexed. “What just happened?”

“I have no idea,” Logan sighed, returning to the mixture. Only a little more, and then he would pour it into a cupcake tin and begin making the icing.

But he did have an idea, kind of. It had almost seemed like Roman and Deceit were flirting with each other, in the ways that much of the media Thomas indulged in portrayed romance.

Well, it did make sense, he mused as he meticulously poured the batter. They had been spending more time together lately, although (Logan winced as Roman’s door was flung open again, Deceit now the one sprinting as he carried Roman’s sword in his hands) they almost seemed oblivious to their own feelings.

He slid the cupcakes into the oven, setting a timer on his phone, and glanced over to where Roman was simultaneously raging at Dee and laughing as he ran down the hall after him, a faint blush visible on his cheeks. Not completely oblivious, then, just apparently unaware of the reciprocation of their feelings.

Logan glanced at Virgil, who was watching the two sides with a sort of amused befuddlement. Should he tell him of his newfound hypothesis?

No, he decided. It was Roman and Deceit’s business, firstly, and besides, Virgil was intelligent. He would figure it out quickly, if he hadn’t done so already.

In the anxious side’s defense, he had suspected that there was something going on between Deceit and Roman for a long time. But Virgil was well known for paranoia jumping to conclusions, and was often wrong. So he’d stayed silent, brushed his suspicions off to the side, and, although he kept an eye on the two sides, he waited until he had enough evidence to be certain of anything.

Staring at the list he’d made, which now filled an entire notebook and was making its way through a second, Virgil wondered if he had enough evidence yet. Perhaps he ought to wait until he’d filled the second. Or a third. Or a fourth. Or a fifth--

No. He was spiraling. In, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

Breathe, Virge, he told himself. The stress of this was getting to him, apparently, and that incident in the kitchen a few days ago hadn’t helped things. It certainly had seemed like they were flirting (and besides, they’d been blushing far too much) but what if he was taking things too far? Maybe they were just very, very good friends.

Maybe he should ask Logan? The logical side was always good at this kind of thing, and usually helped to ease his anxiety, as logic often did for the mental condition. But what if by doing so, he betrayed Roman and Dee’s secret? Did they even have a secret? What if Logan thought he was being an idiot?

He groaned, grabbing the notebooks. If things kept going on like this, it’ll start to affect Thomas, he told himself, as he shut his eyes and appeared outside the door to Logan’s room, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” he heard, and opened it, hood up as he stepped inside.

Logan turned in his desk chair, concern evident in his eyes. “Virgil? Are you alright?”

“Hey, L,” he waved awkwardly, clutching the notebooks to his chest. “Can… Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Certainly,” Logan nodded, fully facing him now. “Is there an issue?”

“No, everything’s fine. I’ve just been noticing some weird stuff lately, and I can’t tell if I’m jumping to conclusions or if there’s actually something going on.” Virgil hesitated. “Is there something going on? Between Princey and Dee, I mean?”

“What do you mean by ‘something’?” he asked, words oddly cautious.

“I’ve been keeping an eye out for a couple weeks now,” he explained, handing him the notebooks. “And I haven’t been like, stalking them or anything, I just did what you’re always saying to do -- gather data when you have the opportunity? I wrote it down to make sure I wasn’t imagining stuff, too.”

“You noticed all of this?” said Logic, incredulous, flipping through the pages.

“I’m a bit more observant than the rest of you guys, generally, because I’m Thomas’ flight or fight instinct.” Virgil shrugged, biting his lip. “I just kept an eye on them, wrote down what I saw.”

“So, you believe Roman and Deceit are, or desire to be, in a romantic relationship with each other?”

“They aren’t, yet,” he said immediately. “We would have noticed. They’re disaster gays, Logan, they’d ask for help to get together, and Patton can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“You would notice, maybe, but I’m not sure if it would be so apparent to the rest of us. Still,” Logan adjusted his glasses, looking up at Virgil, “I am glad you came to me. I have had my own suspicions about those two, and it is gratifying to see them confirmed. Although, in the future, if you have a notebook’s worth of substantial evidence, you can generally consider your hypothesis correct.” He stood, holding out the evidence in question.

“Got it,” the anxious side nodded, taking the notebooks and making for the door. He slowed, turning back. “Hey, Logan?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“What… what do we do? I mean, they’ve been pining after each other for weeks now, probably longer. Shouldn’t we do something?”

Logan sighed. “I’m not sure there’s much we can do. Until they decide to consult one of us, or Remus or Patton, I suppose we should let them figure things out on their own.”

“Yeah, that’s probably best,” he agreed, opening the door. “Bye, L.”

“Good night, Virgil,” Logan said, returning to his desk.

But what if they don’t do anything? the emo side wondered as he hurried down the hall, headphones on and MCR blasting in his ears. Those two are emotionally-stunted idiots!

Later, in his room, Virgil would decide that Logan was right. It wasn’t his business, anyways, and he had other work to do, like ensuring Thomas didn’t make an utter fool out of himself on social media.

Thus it was Patton who learned of the budding relationship last, ironically. In Morality’s defense, however, he had noticed that Deceit and Roman were growing close, and had simply brushed it off as the two sides learning to get along. He was glad, really, that Roman was escaping his habit of assuming villainy of the others, and that Dee was befriending the Creative side. It would be good for both of them.

So he didn’t learn of the two sides’ true feelings until Deceit came up to him one night. Roman and Remus were spending time together in the Imagination and Virgil and Logan were playing chess in the living room, and with the others thus distracted he had quietly asked if he could talk to Patton for a minute.

He agreed, of course, and followed Dee to the front steps of the house which manifested in the Mindscape. Virgil often warned them not to leave the steps, so both sides were careful to stay put. (“It’s dangerous, okay, Pat?” he’d snapped one night when pressed a bit too far. After calming down and apologizing, he’d continued “Think of it like this, okay? Thomas’ conscious mind manifests, at least for us, like a home to live in. But outside of the conscious mind, or the home, we don’t have as much power. You could fall into the subconscious, or accidentally affect him, or worse. Just… It’s in all of our best interests if we stay where it’s safe.”)

“What did you want to talk about, kiddo?” Patton asked after both had settled comfortably, noting how Deceit was nervously twisting his hat in his gloved hands. “Is everything okay?”

“What if I didn’t want to ask someone out?” the snake-like side asked, looking anywhere but at Patton. “How would I do it?”

He squealed. Loudly. Dee looked slightly pained, but put up with Patton grabbing his shoulders and exclaiming “You like someone? Aw, that’s adorable! Who? Or, well, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine too, this is just so cute!”

Deceit turned bright red, messing with a friendship bracelet on his wrist.

Patton was no idiot. He wasn’t the most book-smart of individuals, admittedly, but he was remarkably perceptive when it came to emotions, and surprisingly skilled at logical deduction. But, being representative of Thomas’ Morality, he disliked making assumptions, and preferred to wait for actual information. (“After all,” he’d chirp, after having lost his fifth consecutive game of Clue because he’d waited too long to Accuse, “to assume makes an a-word out of u and me!”)

Presented with enough evidence, however, the puzzle pieces instantly clicked for him. Roman had made friendship bracelets for everyone a few months ago for Christmas, because he enjoyed the craft, and Patton recognized the specific gold thread he’d used in each of the presents woven between the red and yellow strands. And hadn’t Dee and Roman been spending more time together lately? And hadn’t Virgil and Logan been giving each other weird looks whenever they saw them together all week?

“You like Roman?” Patton realized, eyes brightening. “That’s simply adderable!”

Dee snickered at the pun, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t like Roman. But I don’t know what to say to him, or how to bring it up, or if he even likes me back, so I thought I’d ask you.”

“Me?” asked Morality, touched. “Why, kiddo?”

“You control a lot of Thomas’ feelings, you’ve said so yourself. And I am good at this relationship stuff, and you are, so it was the logical conclusion.” He rolled his eyes. “Listen to me, ‘logical conclusion’. Logan would be proud.”

“Well, I’d be happy to help!” he exclaimed, grinning. Checking his watch, he stood. “I’ll tell you what, though, it’s almost time for dinner. So let’s go inside and eat with everything else, and we can talk tomorrow? That’ll also give me some time to come up with ideas, of course.”

“Sure,” Dee nodded, smiling. “That wouldn’t be great, Patton.”

“Of course!”

Later that night, the center of Thomas’ feelings woke up in the middle of the night to see Remus, hanging above his bed from the ceiling like a bat. He started to scream, but the chaotic half of Creativity clamped his hand over Patton’s mouth. “Heya, Patty-batty-chatty-cakes!” he chirped.

He gently pulled the hand away from his mouth. “Remus,” he said, fumbling for his glasses, “bud, it’s really, really late. What’re you still doing up?”

“You’ll never guess what Ro-Ro told me four hours ago!” the other side grinned, turning so he was sitting cross-legged at the end of Patton’s bed. “He has a crush! On slimy-boi!”

“Deceit isn’t actually slimy, Remus, you know that,” Morality chided him automatically, before his eyes widened. “Wait, Dee likes Roman!”

“I know!” giggled Remus. “It’s as perfect as a unicorn being turned into mashed potatoes for a princess’ birthday dinner!”

Patton ignored that last comment for the sake of his tenuous sanity. “Well, we have to get them together, then!” he beamed, holding out his hand for Remus to high-five. “Let’s team up to make sure they finally get together!”

Remus licked his palm, before slapping it against Patton’s. “Yay, Team Get-Those-Gays-Laid!” he exclaimed.

“...We’ll work on the name,” he decided. “Now, we’d better both go to bed, okay? Or else we might disrupt Thomas’ sleep schedule.”

Remus nodded, chirping “Bye, Pat-a-dat-a-ding-dong!” before grinning, and, like the Cheshire Cat, fading away. It took a solid minute for his teeth to finally vanish.

Still, Patton couldn’t sleep. He was just so excited!

It had been two weeks since Patton and Remus had formed their team, which, despite its constantly fluctuating name, appeared to be going strong. They had been coaching both Deceit and Roman, respectively, had made lists of their corresponding interests and dislikes, and had been working day and night (much to Logan’s annoyance). All in all, it was going well.

“But they aren’t doing anything,” Virgil groaned, as he placed down a blue three. “I know they’re trying, but it would be great if Team Whatever-Their-Name-Is-Now had actually done something already!”

“Last I knew, they were titled Team ‘Sparkle Cat Boy and Stinky Trash Rat Make A Snake Kiss A Prince, Hopefully Before We Die Of Old Age’ by you, Virgil,” Logan replied, topping it with a blue reverse card. (Much to his chagrin. As there were only two of them, Logan had argued that they ought to remove the reverse cards entirely. Virgil had insisted that they keep them in.) “And remember, we decided to not get involved? If they wanted our help, they would have asked for it.”

“You’re right,” Anxiety nodded after a beat. “We shouldn’t do anything. If Pat and Re need help, they’ll ask. Same goes for Roman and Dee.”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“It’s the logical course of action.”

“As I am Logic, it would be foolish not to stay as we are.”

“Yeah. They can handle it on their own.”

Logan hesitated. “But, knowing the four of them, will they be able to handle it effectively?”

“...No,” Virgil sighed, adding a plus four card. “Uh, red. Take four. Well, what can we do about it?”

“They won’t want us involved, of course. None of them know that we have any idea of what’s going on,” he mused, taking his cards. “My turn is skipped, so go ahead. Perhaps we should simply push them in the right direction. Do you know what they’re planning so far?”

“Pat and Remus have decided that they’re going to trick them into going on a date in the Imagination. They’re going to have Remus get those two oblivious lovebirds to enter Roman’s room while Patton finishes “making a place for them to confess their undying love”, direct quote from Pat.” Virgil placed a red six. “Uno.”

“But Patton is not skilled at manipulating the Imagination,” Logan protested, frowning, as he put down a blue six in turn. “How do they expect him to do it?”

“Wait, he isn't?” the anxious side said, startled. “I thought he’d be the most likely to be able to control it out of any of the rest of us -- it’s just feelings and dreams, right?”

“Not entirely. Yes, feelings and dreams and happiness and all that is needed, but also a knowledge of structure, of depth, of space, and that’s just the basics. Roman has often mentioned his creations are best when he can root them in science, or concepts he knows a lot about. It makes Patton and I both quite inept at its manipulation.” He frowned. “But of course they cannot have Remus do it…”

“Then what do we do?” asked Virgil, the singular card in his hand seemingly forgotten.

There was silence for a moment, before Logan’s eyes brightened. “Aren’t you always imagining those scenarios of things going wrong? To better protect Thomas?”

“Well, yeah,” he nodded hesitantly, “but that’s also kind of counterproductive for a date, Logan.”

“But to go wrong, it has to begin from an ideal point, one where things were right!” grinned Logic. “What if that was what we did? We pretend to spot Patton entering Roman’s room, and offer him our services when he cannot create what he wishes. You imagine it, and I relieve your anxiety before anything malicious can occur, thus fixing the problem!”

“What about Remus?” challenged Virgil, though his eyes had brightened with hope. “Do we really want him being the one to get Deceit and Roman, come up with a valid excuse for them to spend time together in the Imagination, and then trust him not to do something vulgar or disgusting?”

“Perhaps we drop hints for the next few days that preparing something ahead of time is better than doing it at the spur of the moment,” Logan mused. “Hopefully, it will influence Thomas enough that Patton is affected, and decides to create the environment in the Imagination ahead of time, making him the one to bring them there.”

“This plan still has major flaws,” Virgil grumbled, but sighed, eyes filling with a sort of brazen determination rarely seen in the embodiment of anxiety. “But let’s do it.”

“Agreed,” he smiled.

“Oh, by the way, I win,” he added, dropping his Wild card onto the pile. “I always save one, just in case. You know that, Logan, come on.”

“I do now,” Logic nodded, but he couldn’t stop a smile from creeping onto his face. “Good game, Virgil.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, before his face fell. “Oh no, do we need one of those stupid team names now?”

“I think not,” decided Logan, rolling his eyes. “Besides, we both know they make you too conspicuous. We figured out that Patton and Remus had teamed up because they kept whispering about their team name and making ‘team puns’.”

“True,” laughed Virgil. “Alright, Team Without-A-Team-Name, let’s manipulate our friends to set up our other idiotic gay friends.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” he said automatically, before looking up, appalled. “And we said no name!”

Virgil was still laughing as he sunk out.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that their plan worked perfectly. Remus was employed to distract Deceit and Roman by leading them on a wild goose chase (literally) through his half of the Imagination after lunch, while Patton transformed the part of the realm that usually appeared as Roman’s room, exactly two hours before he would have to go find the lying and creative sides.

Patton was panicking. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t make it work right! All of his ideas, as beautiful and dreamy as they were, quickly became unsubstantial and appeared like blobs of paint. But he couldn’t ask Remus for help, or else Dee and Roman would end up having their date in a swamp, chased by a man-eating kraken!

“Patton?” came a familiar voice from the door, and he turned to see Logan standing there, Virgil peering around his shoulder. “Is everything alright? We noticed you entering Roman’s room. I thought he was out with Deceit and the Duke?”

“Oh, hey kiddos!” Patton exclaimed, trying for a cheerful smile but (judging from the sympathetic looks on both of their faces) not entirely succeeding. “I was hoping to make a surprise for Dee and Ro, but… As you can see, it isn’t going very well.” He stared sadly at what he had hoped would be a rose bush (“Yellow and red!” Remus had told him, oddly insistent) that instead looked like a green background to a trypophobic nightmare.

“Well, that does make sense. Neither you nor I are particularly good at such things, Patton; we don’t have enough balance between feelings and knowledge to produce them.” Logan hesitated, glancing at Virgil, who was crouching and staring at Patton’s attempt at a cat. “Perhaps Virgil could aid you, if he is so willing.”

“What?” asked the side in question, that had gathered the wispy brown mist into his arms and was stroking it gently, causing a faint sound (almost like a purr, but not quite) to ripple through the Imagination.

Logan cleared his throat, seemingly flustered, as Patton internally squealed because it was just too cute. “I said, ‘Perhaps Virgil could aid you, if he is so willing.’”

His eyes widened, cheeks reddening, as he cautiously put down the cat. “Uh sure. Yeah. Um… Paternal figure, if you tell me what to do, I can probably do it, as long as Logan makes sure I don’t ruin it.”

Logan rolled his eyes as Patton giggled. “Don’t talk bad about yourself, kiddo,” he warned, momentarily frowning, before he brightened again. “But anyways, that would be really helpful!”

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready,” Virgil said, still holding the misty cat, although its fur had changed to a soft grey.

“Alright, so I was thinking a sort of forest at dusk, maybe? And a path through it, all lit up with pretty lanterns with little candles inside, coming from the door to a clearing.” He paused, watching the trees grow around him, the sun begin to set, the cast-iron lanterns growing and hanging themselves from branches, candles inside flickering merrily. “Oh! And maybe faeries, like the ones from Legend of Zelda, little spots of light? Those would be pretty everywhere. Plenty of animals, too, but no creepy-crawlies, and a couple harmless snakes.”

At this point, Logan lay a hand on Virgil’s arm, the snakes (that had begun to grow long fangs dripping with venom) writhing in the grass. “Breathe, Virgil. You can do this.”

The anxious side nodded, and the animals in question shrunk, till they were small, harmless corn snakes that quickly slithered away.

“Lots of flowers and plants everywhere,” Patton continued with a smile, “and especially rose bushes, with red and yellow roses. And then in the clearing…

“Make it flat, so there are no bumps, but plenty of grass! And a big checkered picnic blanket off to one side, right underneath a cherry tree, a flowering one, where the petals don’t fall too often -- just occasionally? An apple tree here or there, maybe some pears. And I brought some food for them.” He pulled a big picnic basket out from behind him, placing it gently in the center of the blanket.

“It looks ideal. I’m sure Deceit and Roman will confess in no time,” Logan nodded, pleased.

“I certainly hope so!” Patton chirped, before his eyes widened. “Hey, how’d you know that?”

“...Context clues,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses, as Virgil snorted. The cat in his lap, which was now black with big yellow eyes, and far more defined, purred loudly.

“It looks great, Pat,” Virgil said, standing, his new friend still held firmly in his grasp. Patton sneezed, and he tossed him his allergy medication without even thinking about it, as he was wont to do. (It had been Anxiety, strangely, that had taken the motherly role among the sides. Remus found it hilarious.) “Good luck.”

“Thank you so much, Virgil!” he exclaimed, catching the smaller side into a bear hug. “I never would have been able to do it without you!”

“Y-You’re welcome,” he stuttered, face pink. “Take your meds, you’re already sneezing. C’mon Logan let’s go--”

Hurriedly, the anxious side pulled them out of the Imagination, sinking out to the living room.

“It really did look good, Virgil,” Logan remarked after a beat, noting how the cat had escaped the Imagination with them, and was now stretching, kneading its paws into the rug. “You did an excellent job.”

“Now we just have to see if it works,” he muttered, pulling a board out from under the television. “Monopoly?”

“Ro! Dee!”

The two sides turned, spotting Patton running towards them. “Patton?” Roman asked, lowering the balloon sword Remus had given him at the start of their adventure.

“Hey, kiddo! Um… there have been some weird noises coming from your room, and I was starting to get a little worried,” the feelings-based side explained, coming to a stop, panting. “Do you have any idea what’s happening?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Roman frowned, summoning his actual sword. “I had best go investigate!”

“I had better not come with you,” Dee told him, adjusting his hat. “If something is actually wrong, I can provide backup.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea!” Patton nodded furiously.

“Shouldn’t we say goodbye to Remus?” asked Roman as Patton ushered the two sides out of the darker half of the Imagination and into the hallway.

“Nope!” called the side in question, popping up out of the dirt. “Go get laid, Ro!”

...It was probably good, all things considered, that Patton had already closed the door by then.

“I don’t hear anything odd,” Roman said, ear pressed to the door. “Do you, Dee?”

“I do,” he shook his head.

“Patton, are you sure you heard--” he straightened, looking around. “Patton?”

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Dee remarked, sarcasm dripping through his voice. “We’d better go in.”

“Shouldn’t we find Patton first?” Thomas’ Creativity asked, perturbed.

“He probably got distracted, you don’t know him,” sighed Deceit. “And he didn’t ask us to check on what was going on.”

“True,” nodded Roman, and with that, opened the door.

Time in Roman’s realm hadn’t changed since Virgil had altered it, so it was into that magical moment just between sunset and night that the two sides walked. They looked around, eyes wide, Roman admiring the plants, Deceit cooing at every animal he could find. The path was like something out of a story. One of the tiny faeries landed Deceit’s finger, and Roman, looking over, half thought that the other side’s eyes were going to pop out of his head, with how stunned he looked.

The clearing was beautiful too, and both were enraptured by their surroundings as they sat on the blanket.

“It isn’t so beautiful,” Deceit said softly after a long, peaceful silence, glancing over at Roman.

“It is,” he agreed, looking at him in turn. The meeting of their eyes seemed to fluster them both, as they simultaneously turned red and focused on the basket between them.

It took awhile for the awkwardness to be over (the duration it took for them each to consume the sandwiches that Patton had packed, specifically) but finally Roman, lying on his back and observing the first stars of the night that had begun to peek through the trees, said “So, we should probably talk.”

“I suppose we should,” Dee nodded, turning to face him. At some point, his hat and gloves had been taken off, and there was a small corn snake, only a baby, really, nestled in his curls.

“How did you have time to sneak in here and make this?” inquired Roman, after neither of them said a word. “I was with you the whole day!”

“Wait, I did make this,” Dee told him, before scowling in concentration. “I didn’t make this, I mean. I thought you did!”

“No, I haven’t been in the Imagination since a little before lunch, and then it was just my room,” he frowned.

“Well, why would it turn into this while you weren’t there?” Dee asked, looking around. “I mean, it clearly isn’t for the both of us -- could you be any more blatant with the roses?”

“I don’t know,” Roman admitted, but he sighed, then. “Or… I do. I just didn’t think it would get this out of hand.”

“What wouldn’t get this out of hand?” It must be acknowledged that despite his best efforts, Deceit was having trouble mustering enough concentration to focus on speaking the truth. (Not while Roman was right next to him, weaving together flower crowns from the roses, the warm light from the lanterns making his face glow.)

“A few months ago, I realized that I… have feelings for you, Dee. In a not entirely platonic sense.” His face was as red as the flowers still in his hands, but Roman hurried on, “It appears that the Imagination has been affected by those feelings a great deal more than I suspected.”

“You don’t like me?” the other side asked, Deceit’s voice small as he stared at him.

“I do,” confessed Creativity, sitting up, placing the two finished crowns beside him. “And I would never want to force you to reciprocate those feelings, but I thought… You ought to know. You probably would have figured it out yourself, after this, anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be forcing me to reciprocate those feelings,” Dee told him after a beat, nails digging into his palms because he had to concentrate, to be honest. “I… I don-- I like you too, Roman. Not platonically.”

“You do?” he asked, and he looked so shocked, so confused, that it almost broke Deceit’s heart.

“I do,” he nodded, and he could feel a grin breaking out across his face. “And you don’t -- I mean, you do too.”

“Can I kiss you?” Roman asked, because of course he did, because he was always a perfect gentleman, even to Dee.

It wasn’t fireworks or rainbows or flames of passion, not really. It was more like coming home, the sense of two halves of the same whole slotting into place, connecting for the first time.

When they came out of the Imagination, each wearing flower crowns of red and yellow roses, holding hands tightly, Virgil and Logan grinned tiredly at each other. They had long ago finished Monopoly, and had moved on to sitting on the sofa, wrapped in blankets. Patton had fallen asleep beside them, head in Virgil’s lap, and Remus was snoring from under the couch. (Virgil had been kind enough to abandon his perch on top of the cushions for Patton, or else it would have been very uncomfortable for the both of them.)

“You arranged this, didn’t you,” deadpanned Dee, after taking one look at the smirk on Virgil’s face.

“Patton and Remus are currently unaware that we -- how did you phrase it, Virgil? Oh, yes, masterminded the entire thing. As far as they know, we were only minorly involved,” Logan told them quietly, moving over so the two sides could sit together beside him on the couch. “I would appreciate it if you did not inform them. Congratulations on finally acknowledging your feelings for each other.”

“Good job,” said the anxious side succinctly, clearly already half asleep and ready to pass out now that his work was finished. “Hey, Dee, guess what? I did the roses. I made allllllll of the roses.”

“You did the entirety of the creation, Virgil, and you did so wonderfully,” Logan informed him, patting him on the head awkwardly. “Now… rest, please.”

“Thank you,” Roman told them both quietly, his hand warm on Dee’s. They’d left his gloves and hat in the Imagination, but they could always fetch them later. Besides, Roman liked holding hands. “We’ll thank Patton and Remus in the morning, too, but… Thank you.”

“Of course,” Logic nodded, smiling at them. “I believe there are blankets on the chair that Patton insisted we leave out for you should you wish to sleep here on the couch with us tonight.”

“I think we won’t,” Dee told him, standing to grab said blankets.

They fell asleep that night all curled up together, these six sides of Thomas Sanders. When they woke up the next morning and Patton cooed over the flower crowns and Remus made vulgar jokes at them, when Virgil grumbled at them good-naturedly and Logan, the only one ever truly awake in the mornings, made breakfast, they would thank them. The crowns would eventually go on shelves, first in their individual bedrooms and then, when they moved in together, on a singular shelf just above their bed.

They would have their spats, as lovers do, and they would make up. They would have adventures, would create a garden all their own, would pet Virgil’s cat (which he titled Wisp) as they ate breakfast together, would eventually tell Thomas and his viewers. They would have a future together.

But not yet. For now, they slept.

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jurassicsunsets · 5 years

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Paper summary: Harrell et al., (2016). Endothermic mosasaurs? Possible thermoregulation of Late Cretaceous mosasaurs (Reptilia, Squamata) indicated by stable oxygen isotopes in fossil bioapatite in comparison with coeval marine fish and pelagic seabirds.

[This paper is freely available, by the way!]

Hi all! This is the first in a new weekly series I’m going to be doing, in which I will be doing a short paper review each Thursday. We’re starting off big this week, with a delve into the world of stable isotopes.

But Hayley, you say, what in the world are stable isotopes?

Okay, time for some backstory!

The part with the backstory

Isotopes, as you may be aware, are atoms of the same element that have different numbers of neutrons, and therefore different atomic weights. If you think back to chemistry class, or forward to chemistry class if you haven’t taken it, in which case this might help you get a leg up, you’ll remember or just be learning that each element is defined by the number of (positively charged) protons in its nucleus. So each atom of carbon has 6 protons, and if it has more or less, then that’s a problem, because then it’s not carbon. But within the same element they can vary in numbers of (neutral) neutrons. Neutrons are important for holding together an atom’s nucleus, because if you get a bunch of positive charges together in a nucleus they start to repel, just like if you get a bunch of elementary school-aged children together. Different isotopes act basically the same, and I can guarantee you that right now some of the carbon atoms you are using in your body have six neutrons, some have seven, and some have eight. These are referred to as carbon-12, carbon-13, and carbon-14, respectively, and that number refers to the number of (protons+neutrons) in the nucleus. [Sometimes some isotopes are unstable and undergo radioactive decay. Carbon-14 does this. But that’s not really relevant to what we’re doing today.]

(Image: This is a carbon-12 atom. The yellow and red bits in the middle are the protons and neutrons. Not remotely to scale.)

Different isotopes of the same element act mostly the same (besides sometimes being radioactive and going berserk), so animals can take them up and use them. But they don’t act entirely the same, and that information can be used by palaeontologists to learn really cool stuff about past life.

A big thing that isotopes can do differently is something called mass-dependent fractionation. That’s fancy-people-speak for “it’s easier to move things that are less heavy”, and it means that it’s easier to move things that are less heavy.

One useful aspect of this deals with oxygen isotope fractionation. You are breathing oxygen as you read this, and if you are not then you will not likely be reading this for very much longer. Oxygen is also present in water, though, and water covers 70% of the Earth’s surface and makes up 70% of your body. It’s kind of a big deal, if you’ve never heard of it, and for our purposes it comes in two main flavours - water with oxygen-18, and water with oxygen-16.

Oxygen-16 makes up 99.76% of all oxygen on earth, and oxygen-18 makes up 0.2% (the rest is oxygen-17, which no one cares about). This means that about 0.2% of water is heavier than the rest of water. This water is harder to move, because it’s heavier, and when evapouration occurs, oxygen-16 is more likely to evapourate because it takes less energy to move it.

But wait! Putting in more energy makes it easier to move heavy things, and this is exactly what happens. If temperatures are warmer, more oxygen-18 gets evaporated than does at colder temperatures.

We need something to compare this to, because otherwise we’d just be measuring samples and it’d be hard to know what different numbers are referring to. For oxygen, we use the standard of Vienna Standard Mean Ocean Water, or V-SMOW. It’s not super important to know what that is.

What is important is delta notation: δ18O (delta-eighteen-O) refers to how different the ratio of oxygen-18/oxygen-16 is from the standard. We use the symbol ‰, “per mil”, which is fancy people talk for 0.1%, for this, because the differences are really little. +1‰ means that there’s 0.1% more oxygen-18 in the sample than normal - that is, it’s 0.1% “heavier” than normal water.

So, to get that all neatly said: Higher temperatures = More heavy water evapourates = the water that is left behind is lighter.

The part with the actual paper

Oh yeah, the paper! That’s why we were here. Okay, so mosasaurs were a group of big marine lizards (not dinosaurs) in the Cretaceous period. I wrote a little about them here. They looked kinda like this, and could get up to 17m/55ft long.

(Image: A mosasaur, a streamlined marine reptile with a large head, flippers, and a vertical tail fin. Image by Dimitry Bogdanov.)

Being lizards, mosasaurs have been traditionally thought to be cold-blooded - perhaps a reasonable assumption, as all living lizards are cold-blooded. However, it has been suggested various times in the literature as well as informally that mosasaurs may have been warm-blooded, owing to their assumed ecology as fast-moving pursuit predators and the fact that other marine reptiles have been demonstrated to be warm-blooded.

In order to quantitatively test this, teeth from three species of mosasaur from the Mooreville Chalk in Alabama were collected and analysed to find the isotopic composition of oxygen. We need a control sample, though, to ensure that some geological process or change in atmospheric oxygen won’t mess up our data by adding or removing some heavy oxygen. In order to do this, the authors also tested samples from fish, turtles, and aquatic toothed birds that lived at the same time and place. That way they could place the mosasaur fossils in a reliable context.

And the results they found are really interesting!

(Image: a graph showing δ18O values of different fossils from the Mooreville Chalk. I’ll do my best to explain what’s going on in the following paragraphs.)

Okay, so first things first. The fish and turtles tested have very similar δ18O values to each other. They both fall around the +21.2 to +22.0‰ range, or 2.12% to 2.2% heavier than “normal” water (because the “lighter” water has evapourated and left). This corresponds to a temperature of about 26-29°C (79-84°F). This is consistent with estimates of the temperature of the formation. This is what we expect from cold-blooded animals. Good! The method works!

Okay, next step. We can pretty safely assume that these birds were warm-blooded, and thus had a higher body temperature than their environment. Those tested had a δ18O value of about +18.5 to +19.5‰. That’s still heavier than normal water, but it’s less heavy than the cold-blooded animals (because the higher body temperatures led to more of the “heavy” water evapourating and leaving the body). This corresponds to body temperatures in the range of 36-39°C (97-102°F). This is right in the range of modern warm-blooded animals, and it’s another verification that the method works.

Okay, so what do the data say about mosasaurs? Well, it’s kind of a broad scatter. The δ18O values of the samples fall in the range of +19 to +21‰, which corresponds to a range 30-38.5°C (86-101°F). In other words, we’re getting body temperatures that are consistently warmer than the environment or cold-blooded animals, and in some cases are as warm as birds from the same environment!

What can we conclude from this? We can conclude that mosasaurs were probably warm-blooded, or, from the fact that some fall between the two, maybe “lukewarm-blooded” (which I wrote a bit about here). Either way, don’t think you’re safe just because it’s cold.

#palaeoblr #Paper summary #stable isotopes #chemistry #mosasaur #paleontology #palaeontology

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