#ten's trait of always expecting to be alone in the end but still craving connection more than anything

[aq2003]

my personal hot take of the day is that you cannot fully appreciate ten if you don't also appreciate martha and the dynamic they have

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 9

Newest chapter is up!  We finally encounter other people on the ship, and I have a chance to show that Sophia is not perfect. Also, this is a fluffy chapter, no warnings.

Please feel free to send me any constructive feedback or questions you have regarding any chapters of this story.  I love to answer questions.  All I ask is, if you identify a problem with something, please also suggest a solution to said problem. I am always willing to correct myself provided I know how.

I spent the next several weeks getting used to the routines on the ship. For the first few days, I was still getting a substantial amount of my mobility back; just because I had been given new body parts in perfect condition did not mean they held the same flexibility and endurance as the muscles I had lost.  The Miys had insisted that the muscles should be in correct working order, and struggled to understand that some traits of human motion are not held in genetics, but rather in how we use the muscles to strengthen them and stretch the connective tissues.  In the end, I had to demonstrate my lack of range of motion by trying to do yoga with Tyche.  The fact that I could barely even do half of the poses hurt my ego more than it hurt my body.

“Enhancer,” the Miys buzzed in a questioning tone. “You and Tyche genetically possess both ligamentous laxity and hypermobile joints, causing a greater base range of motion than the Terran average.  Please explain why you wish to be more flexible beyond what you are already capable of?”

I rubbed my stiff spine before answering. “Humans are like that. If there is something unique about us, sometimes it feels good physically to cultivate that.  For example, I had a friend growing up who was able to both perceive and vocally produce sounds with perfect accuracy.  In English, we call this perfect pitch. Rather than just be happy with that, he learned to play every Terran instrument he possibly could, so that he could make music not just by singing, but by playing instruments. He found it challenging: he could already make perfect music through singing, and had a substantial range. But that did not extend to instruments, so he had to actually teach himself to play these instruments with very high precision.”

“I would have very much liked to find someone with perfect pitch,” it hummed wistfully. “However, of those who survived the condition of your planet, none with perfect pitch were found.  I certainly tried. The concept was very exciting, both for me and for my home world. What would they look like?”

Now, I was kind of bummed about it, too. What would Ronnie have looked like to a species who saw through sound? Despite the fact that his face had blurred in my memories after so many years, I do remember how kind he was, and that alone always compelled me to remember him as beautiful and vibrant.  Maybe he would have been beautiful and vibrant to the Miys, too, in their equivalent of crystal clarity and surround sound.  The idea lifted my heart a bit.

In addition to working on returning to my previous peak physical condition (pre-End, before malnutrition was as common as breathing), I focused on familiarizing myself with the ship. After a rowing argument with my food console when I tried to order Shepherd’s Pie, I stomped to one of the communal eating areas and decided to socialize.  I had struggled with the console from the first time I tried it on my own. Most international food worked okay, but comfort food was just not cooperating.  The Miys already confirmed that there was no restriction on my console, as I had no dietary restrictions from a medical standpoint.  It was unable to explain why the console had difficulty with certain dishes, however, as the consoles were specially installed for the Terran cargo. The Miys just ate its standard rations to sustain its several bodies, and apparently that was all they ate, even on their home planet. I was curious enough to tag that for further interrogation later. Right now, I wanted one thing and one thing only.

As I navigated into more populated areas, I paused to compose myself: Stand tall, head up, shoulders back, smile on my face. After all, the Miys expected me to help lead in some capacity; I knew from previous experience on Earth that humans generally prefer to be led by someone who seem confident, but approachable and somewhat likable.  Essentially, this was my public debut to the rest of the ship, so I needed it to be a good impression, whether the rest of the ship knew that or not. Being frustrated and hangry was no excuse.

Once I entered the common area, I immediately saw that it was roughly the size of an Ikea food court: large enough to be left alone, but small enough to be social if you chose to be. Very considerate.  A quick scan of the room showed several freshly prepared options to one side, and a bank of food consoles on the other.  My brows furrowed at the consoles before I made my way over to scan the freshly prepared food. To my chagrin, the fresh food was rather boring but hearty fare.  It looked good, but it wasn’t what I had a craving for.  Miys did not understand the concept of cravings, so this was another struggle I would have to explain at a later date.

In defeat, I shuffled over to the food synthesizers, praying to whatever deity would listen that one of the damned things would produce what I wanted. Three synthesized (and subsequently recycled) meals later, I still could not get my meal.  While considering defeat, I held my arms at my side, fingers splayed, tipped my head back, and took a deep breath to calm myself so that I would not start screaming like a madwoman in the middle of a crowd.  After a slow count of twenty – ten had stopped working at the previous synthesizer – I was about to just order something else when someone walked up behind me.  With survival instincts required by someone who survived nearly a decade in an apocalypse, I whirled to confront what my lizard-brain had dubbed ‘attacker’.

A dark-skinned woman backed up at my aggressive stance, hands in the air, showing they were empty. “I just want to assist you. I know the look of someone who is trying to find food from home and cannot obtain it from the console.”

I shriveled on the inside as I relaxed on the outside. “Is it that obvious?”

She chuckled before extending her hand. “Only because we have all experienced it. I am Arantxa. For me, it was bacalao al pil pil. The console continued to give me battered and fried cod! So angering!  Finally, the console was reprogrammed when I was able to find someone who knew how to make it.”

I took her hand as I melted in relief. “I will gladly try that tomorrow if you can find me someone who can get this thing to give me Shepherd’s Pie. I love trying new food, but right now….” I trailed off.

She gave me a curious look, “Yes, nothing else will do. I see the problem, however. When you name that dish, I only hear ‘language conflict’ in my translator. Do you know what nation the dish comes from?”

“Wait,” I held up a hand in front of me. “What do you mean ‘language conflict’?”

Arantxa tilted her head before responding, “The implants translate any language you are hearing into your native language. Did they not explain that?”

“Not like that, no,” I confessed. “I thought it just translated their language into English.”

She immediately seemed to understand, because she gave a short nod before continuing. “We have people from many nations here, and we would never be able to establish a colony if we did not understand each other. So, the implant does not just translate their language, it translates any language spoken by a person with such an implant into your native tongue.” Arantxa gestured to herself, “I am Basque. My language is a dying one, so I am particularly glad of this. But I do not speak even a little English, as I was so young when Terra died.  So, my implant and your implant are trying to find a common name for the food you are asking for, but there is no exact reference in my language and several references in other languages. This causes a conflict until the database is updated to include your term and its reference.”

I nodded before responding to her previous question. “It’s Irish as far as I know, but anyone from the former UK or Ireland can probably recognize it.”

She looked satisfied as she nodded. She turned and walked over to a particular person before bringing him to me. “Conor,” she said decisively, “this is…?”

“Sophia,” I supplied.

“Sophia,” Arantxa continued. “She is struggling to get the dish she would like, and I think you can help her.” With that, Arantxa waved at us both before returning to her meal.

As I turned to Conor, I held out my hand. “Sophia, from America.”

“Conor, from Ireland,” he shook my hand with a slight smile. “What is it you���re craving?”

I blew out a breath of relief. “Shepherd’s Pie. Please. I’ve tried several different synthesizers, and I....nothing comes out right.”

Conor simply nodded before addressing the console. “Two servings of Shepherd’s Pie, please. And to drink…” he glanced at me.

“Sauvignon Blanc?” I asked hopefully.

He dutifully ordered my drink.  Surprisingly, the synthesizer produced two beautiful, mouth-watering portions of my heart’s desire, along with a glass of wine.  To my surprise, Conor picked up my tray and gestured with his head for me to follow him back to his table.  He had previously been sitting alone, so I was confused as to why he wanted me to join him.

After setting my tray down and chuckling at the groan of satisfaction I made when I took the first bite, the reason became apparent. “The replicators are finicky,” he chuckled. “And they particularly don’t like English. Between the Queen’s English and that hodge-podge you speak, it gets confused a lot.”

“So,” I asked around a forkful before swallowing. “How do I get it to make this for me?”

He grinned and shrugged, “the Miys update the database fairly frequently, so they can simply add ‘Shepherd’s Pie’ to the terms for the dish.”

“And how did you convince the synthesizer to give up the goods?”

“I asked nicely?”

I arched a brow at that, gazing silently.

“I asked in Irish,” he relented with a laugh. Either I was very funny, or Conor was very cheerful.

“So what is the Irish term for this?” I gestured at the serving left after I shoveled the first serving down.

Rather than replying verbally, Conor pulled a tablet out of his pocket and started typing. When he turned the tablet to me, I realized the dilemma.

Pióg an aoire

I nearly choked on my wine. “I don’t think I can pronounce that, honestly,” I admitted. “And I’m willing to bet that you can’t teach me either, can you?”

Conor confirmed my suspicions with a shake of his head. “Nope. It will just translate into American if I try.”

“And how long does it take the database to update.”

“Oh, just a week.”

I could live with a week. However, I thought of another dish that I enjoyed that may need to be added. “Conor, do they already have coney pie in the database?” Despite living on the stuff for several years, I really did enjoy it.

“Rabbit pie is, yes,” he confirmed before leaning forward with furrowed brows. “How likely are you to know the term for something in a different language?”

Slightly confused, I answered, “Well, I really loved to cook and eat before the world went to shit, so there is a lot of food I know the correct term for, or the term in another language. Why?”

He flashed another grin before sitting back and stretching. “You and I,” he ticked an index finger between us, “are going to get along great. I’ve been dying for what Americans call French toast, and all I can get is toasted baguette. None of the French speakers seem to hear the right term for it, all they hear is ‘toast’ apparently. I’ve managed eggie in a basket, but if you can get me that, we are square, and you may be my favorite person.”

I suppressed a chuckle before I asked, “You haven’t happened to have met a much smaller person who looks like me, named Tyche, have you?” I knew for a fact my sister spoke nearly flawless French and could have accomplished this for him before I ever woke up.

Conor simply shook his head. “Only been on board a few weeks. Why?”

“No reason,” I smirked. “When do you want your French toast?”

His eyebrows flew up at that. “Now, preferably. I’ve had a craving ever since I woke up. It’s my favorite breakfast.”

I finished my wine and dropped the glass in a recycler before walking to the console.

“Pain perdu and a glass of sauvignon blanc, please,” I announced triumphantly.

Leading had to start somewhere.  Breakfast is a good place, I thought in amusement.

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[ofdanny]

mmmk so hi !! i’m taylor, i go by she/her pronouns, and i am very very excited to be here. my two muses are danny and todd and i’m not very good at these posts ?? and i also kind of don’t like them so lets just dive right into this, yay !!

HELLO my name is ( DANIEL HARTLEY ). people often mistake me for ( DYLAN O'BRIEN ). i find this very silly but people also tell me i’m ( EASY-GOING ) and ( APATHETIC ). i am born in ( MEDFORD, OREGON ) but i now live in ( SEATTLE, WASHINGTON ). if there’s one song that describes me the most it’d have to be ( WEEKEND by MAC MILLER ). — ( taylor, 19, est, she/her )

to say the least daniel was a surprise to his parents. they had no desire to have kids, but the only plus to him was that he just so happened to be a bouncing baby boy, and his father saw an opportunity to keep the company alive. as a child the only parental guidance he ever received was from his caregiver and homeschool teacher, ana— walking, potty training, puberty, his first kiss… ana was there for him through all of it.

his parents never gave him much attention outside considering they were too busy living their best lives as one of the most well-loved power couples. of course, it hurt him but ana eased the pain. the only time he received any actual attention from his mother was when his father would be working late and little four-year-old danny would walk into his parents room to find his mom. she’d let him brush her long, dark hair, or sing to him when she was in an exceptionally good mood some nights, or listen to him play the piano ( which he was learning at the time ) — those few evenings are engraved in his mind, his love for his mother growing with every short-ended second he spent with her. 

when daniel was thirteen his father told him that he was the heir of the greatest company of all time. to a normal, tween kid this would have sounded like a dream. but daniel loathed even the thought of it.when he was sixteen when his mom left him and his dad without any warning, and the reason for her leaving…? danny has no clue. he wasn’t very involved with his parents when he grew past the age of eight. ana was all he needed to an extent. 

due to his mothers disappearance his father kind of went off the deep end— anger issues, drinking, sleeping with other women. the communications technologies company that his father owned held it’s own for the time being until his father got back on his feet. that’s also when they up and officially settled in new york rather than switching between oregon and new york. all of this would have left danny unphased until his father fired ana out of spite, merely because he saw daniel was fine while he was drowning in sorrow. that’s when things started to go south for hartley. 

he had started to resent his father, his mother, and this posh lifestyle. he started to fight with people in public places, affecting his fathers reputation. he blew off every other new teacher that came in to teach him ( even though, eventually, he finally let up and is learning about business— his fathers wishes, of course. ), and he practically formed an unhealthy habit of spiraling, using booze and alcohol to help drink himself into incoherence. the only thing that helps clear his head is when he plays the piano, and he plays it well considering he mastered it at a young age.

nowadays, his father has him attend meetings and consistently tries to convince him to embrace the wealth and the power he may gain one day, but the discussion always ends in one of them red-faced, steam coming out of their ears. as said before, daniel hates this lifestyle. he never asked for the riches or the power, and he certainly doesn’t want it. you’d think he’d want love and affection, but he’s gone without it for so long that he no longer has a the cravings for it. he has very little for friends, and he prefers to keep to himself. he will purposefully hurt your feelings if you don’t leave him alone when he wants you to, and he won’t think twice about verbally abusing you, hitting your insecurities and things of the sort.

long story short, daniel is 23 years old. he’s very sarcastic, very dead-pan, and if you catch him on a bad day? he’s not nice, and he’s very hard to get along with so good fucking luck loldanny came back to oregon because his father said ‘it’d be good for him to gain some perspective’, but in reality he knew his father just didn’t want to take the time off of work and the thought of coming back to the place where he and his mother were once still together is… catastrophic. daniel didn’t fight against his dad wishes to come to the cabin. although, he also hates how nostalgic the place is. all in all, danny is just here to it in a corner and drink tbh

WANTED CONNECTIONS  ;

long lost friends - he gets to the cabins and runs into someone who looks familiar. turns out it’s his old buddie from when he was just a tot !! and wow you’ve changed kind of and shit daniel you’re still a dick huh lol

drinking buddies - the pair always meet at the same time on the same day, unspokenly, and it slowly grows from causal bar talk from across the counter to them pouring their souls out to each other and laughing until they crY ok how cute i stan

frenemies - the typical banter on these two is expected from everyone around, and at times they may cross the line with their horrid words and degrading insults but in the end they always result to tough love. but, god forbid one of them get’s too mushy with the other… they’d never live it down.

twisted - as toxic as they seem the pair always seem to end up together… in bed… naked. they are so wrong for each other that anybody could take one look at them and know that they wouldn’t last a day. but, somehow, they always manage to sex it out with no strings attached despite the screaming and the infuriating words they say to one another. they are perfectly wrong for each other and they both hate and love it at the same time. but how much longer can they keep this up…?  

HELLO my name is ( TODDERIC TENNER ). people often mistake me for ( THEO JAMES ). i find this very silly but people also tell me i’m ( AFFABLE ) and ( MANIPULATIVE ). i am born in ( MEDFORD, OREGON ) but i now live in ( NAPA, CALIFORNIA ). if there’s one song that describes me the most it’d have to be ( VOICES IN MY HEAD / STICK TO THE PLAN by BIG SEAN ). — ( taylor, 19, est, she/her )

when todd was pretty young he moved from foster house to foster house pretty much until his adopted father found him ( more on that later ). the story is that as a baby, todd was left at child services doorstep so tbh no one has a clUe who his parents are. • his history is the typical sob story of hating every home he moved to bc the people who took him in didn't want him in their home bc he was too problematic  and a "bad influence on their other children". he was just a very angry kid honestly • all that being said, when he was 15 he left the family he was supposed to stay with for another week or so but he honestly couldn't take being around that family anymore so he packed his backpack with the three pieces of clothes he had and left. he didn't know where he was going but when he turned into a dark alley he found two men beating and stomping another man nearly to death. like any kid with the least bit of common sense he turned around and legged it only to run into what felt like a wall but was a man three times his height.

long story short they dragged him back to their headquarters and pondered on whether or not they should just kill him or let him stick around. the man who was three times his height spoke up and they decided to keep him to help with operations.

all in all, Todd was adopted into this huge ass drug industry and was adopted by the super tall man who turned out to be basically this really big drug lord who wanted a son and found one yay !!

so todd basically learned how to lie, scheme, steal, fight, intimidate... pretty much a bunch of negative traits and he was great at it. he didn't like it but he simply did as he was told.

todd's now 27 and on a job that was supposed to be an easy pick up and dip out but it turned out to be a fucked drop bc the feds came and they caught todd and he was immediately put in prison but they soon let him out because they somehow could pin any hard evidence against him so he's now a free man rip

after that whole shabang todd took it upon himself to ditch the whole gang lifestyle and create a life for himself. he got on a bus and hit the road from oregon to california, using the money he made and saved from the past jobs to buy himself a comfortable house in napa and now he sells wine :)

he figured his old gang would come for him but they haven't yet and he isn't going to complain about it either. he's keeling his head low and staying quiet for the time being.

in reference to coming back to oregon is interesting bc after settling down in napa he went on a search for his parents only to find out that his father died in a car crash ten years back and his mother supposedly passed with him too, but they never found the body.

his father had a will written out though and in it stated that there was a house oregon that was left for todd and with it was a note with a simple apology, that hardly explained anything about why they abandoned todd and who they were, and an address that belonged to the cabins

todd is only here to find more information on his parents and history. ( wanted connection: maybe someone who knew his parents ? maybe someone else's parents knew his parents, recognized the name and "i'm so sorry for your loss...."

now his personality? he seems like a typical guy. he keeps to himself most of the time. since he's on a mission to find information he won't be afraid to use someone to get what he wants. if you get in his way he'll find a way around you or a way to move you. simple as that.

WANTED CONNECTIONS ;

roomies - todd and his roommate soon become acquaintances but it’s open for pretty much anything ? todd doesn’t truat anyone so maybe they sOMehow gain his trust and he lets them help find clues or information ? idk lets talk omg

use me - they’re friends but then again they’re not. lovers? yes and no. either way, the sex is great and when either is feeling stressed or sad or whatever the feeling, they text / call each other up and “my place or yours?”

you knew my parents ...?! ( this could potentially include multiple muses !! ) - todd is only here by chance and he is desperate to know who his parents were. one would think finding information would be hard, but the minute he mutters “tenner.” at check-in, some stranger places their hand on his back and whispers “i’m so sorry for your loss...”

  okay !! so this is very general and informal i'm sorry if it wasn't clear ?? if you have any questions or anything of the sort please feel free to ask !! ask me anything pls ill spill my guts to you. also i may be adding more wanted connections over time so please click here just in case i add more mmmk. again, ( i’ll keep saying this ) i’m thrilled to be here h2gkmo

[starsparks]

#ten's trait of always expecting to be alone in the end but still craving connection more than anything#and that leading to fucking disastrous results bc he can't reconcile these two parts of him#is EXEMPLIFIED in his dynamic w martha. you do not see it w rose you only see it like twice w donna#and imo it's one of the most interesting and honestly relatable things about his character#dr who#10 era#ten and martha#when i watched series 3 i didn't see someone who couldn't love someone else i saw someone#that falls in love (/platonic) SO quickly and SO easily and needs to be around people SO bad it actively scares him#btw the converse of this statement is not necessarily true shoutout to all the people who don't actually care for anything in rtd era#except for martha. keep having valid & true opinions in life like that you guys (via @aq2003)

my personal hot take of the day is that you cannot fully appreciate ten if you don't also appreciate martha and the dynamic they have