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[sweatersproducer]

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[imonawholedifferentlevel]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐰 - 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏ/ɴ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴇx ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ꜰɪɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ɴᴇᴡ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱɪɴɢɪɴɢ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ, ᴋɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ꜰᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ, ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ, ʜᴜᴍɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ

I joyfully strolled towards my boyfriend of half a year Jason with his favorite blossoms in my hand, spotting him seated on a bench at the park he requested me to meet him at.

I was perhaps 40 steps away from him when I halted in my tracks, observing Cherry Wilson, the head cheerleader, approach him. They conversed for a brief moment before she plants a kiss directly on his lips in front of my eyes.

My eyes welled up with tears as he reciprocated her passionate kiss. I threw the flowers to the ground and hurriedly fled from the park, hoping they hadn't noticed me, although something tells me they wouldn't have cared.

I sprinted all the way to the only person who I knew could console me, my best friend Carol, who despised Jason and always claimed he was a womanizer.

But I never heeded her warnings. I felt droplets of water hit my skin, drenching my hair and black dress, but I didn't pay it any mind.

I knocked on the door, and after a few minutes, Carol answered, her eyes widening when she saw me. She immediately ushered me inside.

"Y/n, what happened?" she inquired.

I remained silent and simply embraced her, crying into her shoulder. She slowly returned the hug and comfortingly stroked my back.

"He cheated on me, Carol," I muttered. I felt her body tense up beneath my embrace, and she quickly recoiled while still holding my shoulders.

"With who?" She inquired.

"Cherry Wilson, you were correct all along. I should have trusted you from the beginning," I cried, and she simply embraced me.

"Do you want me to kick his ass?" She inquired, and I chuckled.

"Oh no, I have a superior plan," I said, using my cardigan to wipe my face.

"Do you remember the song I was composing for the talent show?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, what about it?" She asked, and my expression transformed into a smirk.

"Well, I believe I will need to make some modifications to it because I intend to publicly humiliate that jerk," it was now her turn to smirk, and she wrapped her arm around my shoulder.

"That's my girl," she said, playfully bumping her hip against mine. I chuckled, feeling a strange sensation in my chest when she referred to me as her girl.

I mean, it wasn't the first time she had said it, so why did it make me flustered now?

It was the day of the talent showcase and the auditorium was filled with all of the children and it was finally my turn to go I felt anxious but I knew that this had to be done I wasn't gonna let Jason do this to me.

"You ready?" The girl asked me and I nodded she motioned for me to walk out and I did when I reached everyone's sight I heard applause and cheers.

"This was a song that I composed for a very special guy in my heart Jason I love you" I felt like I wanted to vomit when I saw him sitting with Cherry some people cooed while some of his friends hit his shoulders.

He pushed them off and blew me a kiss I nodded to the girl and the song played.

"Oh, how 'bout a round of applause?

Yeah

Standin' ovation

Ooh

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"

"You look so dumb right now

Standin' outside my house

Tryin' to apologize

You're so ugly when you cry

Please

Just cut it out"

I heard a few individuals exclaim "ooo" and Jason's grin gradually faded.

"Don't tell me you're sorry 'cause you're not

Baby when I know you're only sorry you got caught"

I sang rolling my eyes.

"But you put on quite a show

Really had me goin'

But now it's time to go

Curtain's finally closin'

That was quite a show

Very entertaining

But it's over now

(But it's over now)

Go on and take a bow, oh"

A few young ladies in the forefront applauded for me and I felt a surge of self-assurance as I gazed directly at my former partner's countenance while he and Cherry appeared stunned.

Grab your clothes and get gone (get gone)

You better hurry up

Before the sprinklers come on (come on)

Talkin' 'bout, "Girl, I love you, you're the one"

This just looks like a re-run

Please

What else is on? Oh, oh

I crooned, sensing my fury intensify as more and more lyrics escaped my lips.

"And don't tell me you're sorry 'cause you're not

Baby when I know you're only sorry you got caught"

I sang gesturing towards him and some individuals glanced at him the jerks face was crimson in shame precisely what I desired.

"But you put on quite a show

You really had me goin'

But now it's time to go

Curtain's finally closin'

That was quite a show

Very entertaining

But it's over now

(But it's over now)

Go on and take a bow"

"Oh, and the award for the best liar

Goes to you (goes to you)

For makin' me believe

That you could be

Faithful to me

Let's hear your speech, ohh"

I sang beginning to grow more furious with each word and feeling tears obscure my vision.

"How 'bout a round of applause?" I chuckled fake clapping

"A standin' ovation"

"But you put on quite a show

You really had me goin'

Now it's time to go

Curtain's finally closin'

That was quite a show

Very entertaining

But it's over now

(But it's over now)

Go on and take a bow

But it's over now"

"You can have that fucking slut because I'm much better than you think and I could find someone better have fun with your Barbie Doll" I said and dropped the mic hearing everyone erupt in cheers as I walked off the stage.

The individuals behind the scenes applauded and gave me gestures of approval, and I felt a grin appear on my face.

As I left the performance hall, I spotted Carol sprinting towards me, and I hurried towards her, colliding into a heartfelt embrace.

"That was absolutely incredible. I always knew you possessed a gorgeous singing voice," she remarked, and I smiled.

"Yeah, and now I realize that Jason was never the right one for me. Someone else was," I shared, leaving her puzzled and not catching the implication.

"Who?" she inquired.

I chuckled, gently holding her slightly plump cheeks and softly kissed her lips before pulling away.

"You, Carol, the one who has been there for me since the beginning," I declared, gazing into her large, dark brown eyes.

I witnessed her face gradually turn crimson, her eyes rolling back as her body collapsed backward. Swiftly, I caught her and laughed when I realized she had fainted.

"I love you, Care," I whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead, hoping she would regain consciousness before the talent show concluded.

[ofgreaterthings]

[ wakeema hollis, cis-woman, she/her ] Look who just landed! THALIA TURNER-SEWELL, I sure hope you packed all you need. Perhaps you’re not worried as A POLITICIAN for THE CITY OF NEW JAKARTA. The city has plenty of spots for a 36 year old HUMAN like you. You’ll be known in the city soon enough as THE SUN, being CHEERFUL and CUNNING. ( moth, 28, EST, removed for discretion )

THE BASICS

full name: thalia iris turner-sewell

nickname: tally, lia

date of birth: june 21st, 2369

gender: cisgender woman

pronouns: she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual (with female preference)

romantic orientation: biromantic

modification: human

affiliation: unaffiliated

birthplace: brooklyn, new york city, new york

current location: sora

occupation: politician

known languages: english (native), japanese (fluent), mandarin (fluent), indonesian (intermediate), thai (intermediate)

INSPIRATION

quote: "nothing can dim the light which shines from within"

label or archetype: the sun - a person who radiates positivity wherever they go

tropes: the sunshine character,

media parallels: mel medarda (arcane), tiana (the princess and the frog), cruella de vil (cruella), leia organa (star wars), miranda priestly (the devil wears prada)

theme song: here comes the sun - the beatles

PERSONALITY

positive traits: cheerful, eloquent, resourceful, confident

neutral traits: analytical, diplomatic, objective, decisive

negative traits: manipulative, smug, demanding, prideful

peeves: people talking about her behind her back, being reminded of her past, being wrong, dishonesty, betrayal

fears: losing her status as a politician, unruly crowds, earth's environment becoming unlivable, negative press

skills: debate, painting, strategic thinking, creative writing, mindfulness, emotional regulation, understanding mechanics, critical thinking, interpreting data, problem solving

goals: becoming a successful politician (achieved), improving the environment on earth, becoming a member of high society

APPEARANCE

faceclaim: wakeema hollis

height: 5’10” (178 cm)

eye color: brown

hair color: black

clothing style: always immaculately dressed for public appearances, usually consisting of a blazer or cardigan with a top underneath and trousers. footwear can be flats or heels depending on the occasion. for formal events she dresses in gowns, with a preference for knee length or longer style dresses. thalia’s outfits are accented with blue or yellow pieces.

jewelry: exclusively wears rose gold pieces. has her singles and doubles pierced, for her singles plain studs and for the doubles a small pair of diamond earrings, a plain band ring that she wears on her left ring finger, and a faux moonstone ring she wears on her right index finger. the plain studs double as surveillance cameras for her security(the camera feature is disabled when in the confines of her home), and the diamond studs have signal jamming properties, when activated they render any electronic device within a 300 foot distance temporarily useless. the plain earrings are occasionally swapped out for hoops that can emit an energy shield for up to 20 minutes. the plain ring also acts as a smoke machine, it can deploy smoke that dissipates after half an hour and the moonstone ring functions as a projector.

tattoos: a black and white lotus on the back of her right bicep

marks/scars: none

modifications: none

scent/fragrance: orange blossom, bergamot, and lemon

FAVOURITES

likes: reading, green and herbal teas, debates, the rooftop gardens, nature, hiking, beaches, sunny days, cooking meals for loved ones

dislikes: rainy days, unintelligent people, redundant (or rhetorical) questions, pollution, cold weather, snow, winter, betrayal, dishonesty

hobbies: painting, cooking, gardening, creative writing, historical research, volunteering, meditation, yoga, pilates, tennis, robotics, philosophy and ethics research

habits: tendency to be overdramatic, assumes others have bad intentions, talks with her hands, holds grudges, talks fast when excited, hums when bored, gossips about others

one cherished item: a real moonstone ring - the ring that her wife put on her finger on their wedding day

AESTHETICS

sight: blinding white, a radiant light

sound: birds chirping on a tree branch outside your window

taste: the tart bite of a ripe, juicy orange

touch: the warmth of sunlight on bare skin

thought: a new, completely blank journal - new beginnings

THE BACKSTORY

(death mention tw, terminal illness tw)

EARTH

thalia was born to a lower class family, where she witnessed her parents work several jobs for years in order to provide her with opportunities for a better future. her mother and father worked tirelessly to ensure that she could get into a private school, only the best for their daughter. one of her most cherished memories is her mother telling her "you're going to do great things, thalia." after one of her teachers commended her on creating an outstanding school project.

thalia considers that phrase to be her life motto; she heard it in her head when she first took an interest in politics, when she was accepted to her first choice university, when she won her first election. it shaped her into the driven, ambitious woman she is today. it reminds her that no matter how many times she fails, she will always get back up and try again. she was destined for greatness, it was written in the stars. so far, the stars hadn't steered her wrong yet.

these words were the last she heard from her mother, months after receiving a terminal prognosis. the disease had been caught too late, any treatment would only extend her life for a matter of months. despite how fate had turned, her mother never let her forget that she was capable of great things, she witnessed it with her very eyes. her mother's smiling face and her hand grasped in thalia's is the last memory she has of her mom, burned into her memory.

it was after her loss that she began looking into extraplanetary prospects, running into new jakarta as she was researching. she had heard the name before, something in her history books about the first settlement on an extraterrestrial planet. from what she could tell, the politics there were booming; the perfect opportunity for a young and upcoming politician. leaving her grief behind with her, she made the decision to move to new jakarta.

MARS

ten years after moving to mars, thalia is a known and established politician on the planet of mars. she's known for her activist views in regards to the relationship between the overseers and the gangs. she largely believes that so long as they limit their activities to petty crimes, the gangs should be left to their devices and the overseers should stay out of it. both before and after she moved she researched the political climate between the overseers and the gangs in new jakarta extensively.

after researching the gangs, reading every piece of information she could get her hands on, she came to the conclusion that from an economical perspective the gangs were too important to get rid of. they were largely what kept the slums from completely going bankrupt, at least in her opinion. they provided sora and mawar with products as well, just maybe less than legal ones. but some things thalia can turn a blind eye to.

thalia also focused her attentions on x academy and hextech, recognizing them as important elements in the economy of new jakarta. even with how new hextech was as a company, thalia could already recognize that this was going to be a game changer once it was available to the general public. furthermore, she could see how the technology could be implemented to benefit upper class society. she's especially interested to see how the politics surrounding hextech might come to be.

she also found herself being invited to high society events after a couple of years as a politician on mars. suddenly she was being invited to galas, art shows, film festivals, charity events. this was new to her, when on earth she sometimes received the odd invitation but now it was a regular occurrence. thalia found herself living a cushy, lofty life that she was only just beginning to grow accustomed to. know that she knew what she was missing out on, she certainly didn't want to lose it.

[benjaminhugo]

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[semixfenz]

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[furyborne]

A Delicate Matter

Personal struggles, below the cut in case the subject matter could be triggering to anyone. It’s a long one, folks...

Struggling with some intense dysmorphia and dysphoria. Haven’t felt this awful about the way I look in a long time. Not sure if it’s particular dates that are influencing this, or if it’s just my brain being... my brain. :/

I’ve never been comfortable with the way I look. Assigned female at birth, I was a “tomboy” my entire youth, with having three brothers being sufficient reason for my “need to fit in”.

Puberty hit like a freight train, and I suddenly had to wear size D cup bras. When one is “trying to be one of the boys”, you can imagine the kind of attention that can draw (not any kind I feel comfortable with now, but then I craved the validation that my body was worth something).

And while this led to a whole new array of therapy-inducing issues, one of my biggest hang-ups was the fact that I didn’t feel comfortable in my body.

I wanted to be attractive. I wanted to be sexy. I was a size 12 throughout high school, and built broad (like a brick house, my da once said), and I hated looking in the mirror and seeing this..... “masculine” physique plastered with sizeable breasts.

Aside from the backaches I used to get frequently, I was becoming more and more uncomfortable with my chest. I grew up incredibly sheltered, thought even the word “sex” was taboo and embarrassing to say, so I didn’t have a vocabulary to explain my feelings, and just leaned into, “the size of my chest is making my back hurt.”

It was said often enough that even my father mentioned he’d pay for a reduction if he could afford it, as one of my great aunts had had done when her bust size became an issue for her health.

Now. How many teenagers, children really, do you know that nearly plead for such drastic body modification?

Needless to say, due to financial circumstances, I never got that surgery.

Fast forward to getting married, having children, and my bust went from a D to a J and I was slowly dying inside. I liked the attention from my husband, but even HE could see that I wasn’t comfortable in my skin.

After our youngest was born, he discussed putting some money away a bit at a time until we had enough to afford the reduction I so desperately wanted.

And then, he died, and for while, that was the only pain that mattered.

I lost a bit of weight and went from a J to a G cup. And still, through my grief, I felt anger at not being able to exist without the bitter tang of my discomfort with my own body.

I bought so many outfits. So many things I never would have thought to wear. So many dresses and shoes and cardigans, trying to embrace my own image. I bought things for ME.

And a few times... A few times, I felt legitimately beautiful.

Then, I was propositioned by a married man because he liked the way I dressed and was dissatisfied with his own marriage, and I was doused in a violent wave of disgust yet again.

That is the moment in which I can pinpoint exactly where my current level of self-loathing started.

I stopped wearing those outfits. Stopped caring about my appearance. Stopped dressing up just to please ME.

Now, it’s been ten years, and the raw ache is still present, and I’m not where I wish I could be, health-wise, weight-wise, appearance-wise...

And the appearance thing is gnawing at me. I look in any reflective surface and feel little but disgust and frustration.

I took to wearing my son’s flannel shirts (as he’s over 6 feet tall, and they fit well on my average, but quite overweight frame) because I could pretend that I was just “that heavy” and not have to look at my chest.

And it BURNS me inside...

I remember a few times, as a younger me, that I tried taping my chest. I new it could be dangerous, but I NEEDED to try it. Similarly, staring longingly at a sharp blade and wondering what it would be like to just slice the bags of fat off my chest.

And I fear, I’ve circled back around to that way of thinking again.

I cannot even begin to figure out how to feel any better about myself...

[introloves]

*coughs* bokuto au thoughts?

— thought of this au a while ago with @chaotickatts

› tattooed/pierced and big jock energy bokuto meeting and falling in love with shy and very diligently studious music major! reader.

› both meet at a charity event, he has to be there in representation of the college volleyball team- she’s there to represent the fine arts club.

› they meet and suddenly bokuto realizes he’s crushing on this person he met like an hour ago... very hard... it’s kinda funny how fast she snatched his heart.

› of course she’s weary, i mean look at him, he’s kinda intimidating! but rly he found body modification just a form of self expression, he’s basically a big puppy.

› much to contrary belief... reader is a little vixen, but bokuto with his very jarring exterior is actually the biggest virgin ever- fast forward a couple dates... like, many many dates bc he’s a lil old fashioned; she has this big tattooed jock laying on the bed, straddling his tattooed torso... he’s so hard and has a white knuckled grip on her thighs.

› her cardigan is the only thing draping her body, wanted to make him comfortable by not being the one to strip fully, takes that matter into her own hands and now she’s dripping down into his stomach and he can’t breathe- eyes just glancing down at her cunt stretched open for him, right there.

› it takes a little but finally she touches him, he nearly cries, embarrassed that her small hand is making him crumble, seeing her reach back and touch him while she’s grinding on his tattoos, eagerly pressing herself against the ridges of his stomach... it’s all too much.

› tries warning her- but she knows... wants him to cum all over her hand, wants to make him feel good- he’s being so good and receptive and loud... feels his fat cock swell and spurt so much, sososo much cum all over her cute oversized cardigan...

› poor bokuto lays there, dazed- in wonder at how someone so shy and... small and almost unassuming could bring him to near tears with just a small hand.

› nearly passes out when he sees her lick his cum from her hand, frowning a little at the way most of it clings onto the fuzzy material draping off her shoulders, simply looking at him with a small smile and whispering out, “you got it all dirty.”

› he thinks that he might have bitten off more than he can chew with her...

[unfortunate-arrow]

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 | hphl character profile

warnings: mentions of illness, deaths, and premature birth

✧ IDENTITY ✧

Full Name: Georgiana Reva Parsons

Nicknames: Georgie, George

Name Meanings: Georgiana → English, “farmer” ; Reva → Hindi river name or Hebrew, “rain” ; Parsons → English, “the parson’s son” or “the parson’s servant.” 

Date of Birth: January 31, 1881

Gender: Female ; she/her

Sexuality: Bisexual 

Blood Status: Muggleborn 

Nationality: Irish, South Asian heritage 

Residence: India (birth to 8) ; the Parsons family’s Townhouse, Dublin, Ireland (8 to 21) ; TBD

✧ APPEARANCE ✧

Faceclaim: Simone Ashley 

Height: 5’10”

Build: Average but on the slimmer side 

Hair: Black hair that’s often pulled back and tends to make her look older than she is 

Eye Color: Brown

Scarring:

Childhood & Hogwarts: Georgie has a small y-shaped scar on her upper right arm and a small jagged, diagonal scar on her right knee. Both were the result of a tumble out of a tree and into a bramble bush when she was ten and was trying to retrieve something for her sister.

Adulthood: None

Modifications: (glasses, piercings, tattoos, etc.) Georgie’s ears are pierced. 

Other Distinguishing Marks: None 

Clothing Style: Darker colors ; jewel colors ; dresses ; tights ; slippers ; cardigans ; skirts ; blouses ; boots 

Accessories: Necklaces ; bracelets ; a claddagh ring from her paternal grandmother ; bangles 

What’s in Her Pockets: Wand 

What’s in Her School Bag: Textbooks ; quills ; ink ; parchment ; gloves ; a novel ; a miniature painting that her sister did of her beloved corgi, Bertie 

✧ SPEECH & LANGUAGE ✧

Voiceclaim: Simone Ashley 

Accent: Irish

Dialect: Dublin English

Languages Spoken: English, some Hindi terms of endearment

Languages Understood: English, some Hindi

✧ PERSONALITY ✧

MBTI Type: ENFJ — the protagonist 

→ ENFJs are idealist organizers, driven to implement their vision of what is best for humanity. They often act as catalysts for human growth because of their ability to see potential in other people and their charisma in persuading others to their ideas. They are focused on values and vision, and are passionate about the possibilities for people.

Enneagram Type: 1w9 — the idealist 

→ Enneagram Type One wing Nine personalities have all the main characteristics of the Type One, but also resemble the Type Nine in some ways. These Ones are generally calmer than other Type Ones and they possess a strong sense of right and wrong. They are more open to new ideas and perspectives than a typical One. They may appear quieter and more withdrawn than other Type Ones as well. Like Type Nines, this type seeks peace and avoids conflict. 1w9s are drawn to careers in psychology, social work, journalism and politics.

Positive Traits: Intelligent, kind, friendly, open-minded, reliable, altruistic, charismatic, responsible; outgoing, organized, courageous, practical, hardworking, diligent

Neutral Traits: Idealistic, stubborn, reserved about her personal life, can be intense, empathetic, persuasive, rather serious, straightforward

Negative Traits: Bad with her own emotions; struggles to put herself first, can be indecisive, self-sacrificing, can be rigid about certain things, can be overprotective

Common Stressors: Her responsibilities ; during exams ; when her sister is sick ; when work piles up 

Comforting Things: Bertie ; Being with her sister ; watching snow fall ; watching the waves break on the beach 

Interests & Hobbies: Reading ; embroidery ; scrapbooking ; horse riding ; croquet ; watercolors

Description: A kind and intelligent woman, Georgie has a tendency to put everyone else in front of herself, especially her sister. In addition, Georgie is incredibly stubborn and can sometimes be prone to grudges. However, she tries to see the best in everyone. She enjoys being around people, but keeps her personal life very private. Georgie doesn’t mind confrontations, but doesn’t seek them out and she refuses to keep her opinions to herself just to avoid a confrontation. She has a big heart, which is often noticeable.

✧ MAGIC ✧

Wand: Georgie’s wand is made of larch wood with a dragon heartstring core and it is 10 inches with an unyielding flexibility. 

→ Larch wands had a reputation for instilling confidence and courage in the user. The celebrated wandmaker Garrick Ollivander found that larch always created wands of hidden talents and unexpected effects, which likewise described the master who deserved it. It was often the case that the witch or wizard who belonged to the larch wand might never realise the full extent of their considerable talents until paired with it, but that they would then make an exceptional match.

Other Magical Abilities: None 

Patronus: Chestnut mare 

Patronus Memory: A walk in a Dublin park with her sister, father, and corgi shortly after the family moved there. It was the first time that Georgie felt a modicum of peace after the death of her mother. 

Boggart: The pale, thin, and consumption-ravaged figure of her sister or her love interest 

Riddikulus: The consumption-ravaged figure turns out to be a butter cookie person

Amortentia:

Georgie smells like thyme, lilies, lemons, and peppermint.

Georgie smells cinnamon, chocolate, leather, and cologne. 

Mirror of Erised: Georgie sees herself with her parents and sister smiling together, her mother without the ravages of consumption.

✧ HOGWARTS ✧

House: Gryffindor 

OWL Classes:

Astronomy — Acceptable 

Charms — Outstanding 

Defense Against the Dark Arts — Outstanding 

Flying — Acceptable 

Herbology — Acceptable 

History of Magic — Outstanding 

Potions — Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration — Exceeds Expectations 

OWL Electives:

Care of Magical Creatures — Acceptable

Study of Ancient Runes — Outstanding 

NEWT Classes:

Charms — Outstanding

Defense Against the Dark Arts — Exceeds Expectations

History of Magic — Exceeds Expectations

Study of Ancient Runes — Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration — Outstanding 

Extracurriculars: Prefect from her fifth to seventh year ; charms club ; ancient runes club ; quidditch for one game

✧ EMPLOYMENT ✧

Affiliations: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ; The Law Offices of Baxter, Bones, and Livingston ; The Ministry of Magic, Department of Law Enforcement

Professions:

Age 16 to 18 - Seamstress 

Age 18 to 26 - Clerk in a law office

Age 26 to 30 - Apprentice lawyer 

Age 30 to 73 - Lawyer and barrister

✧ FAMILY ✧

Father: Kiran Rohan Parsons [deceased, 1854-1897]

Kiran was born in 1854 in Dublin, Ireland to George and Sonia Parsons. He was their only surviving child as his younger sister passed away as an infant. George and Sonia weren’t the wealthiest, but they had a stable wealth which allowed them to have a few luxuries. Unfortunately, in 1870, when Kiran was sixteen, his mother contracted typhoid fever from her workplace. It miraculously missed Kiran and George. Sonia’s fatal case of typhoid fever would be the first of three diseases to define Kiran’s life.

The next illness came just three years later, when Kiran was nineteen. His father was diagnosed with cancer. Kiran paid a substantial sum for a surgery to remove the cancer. Unfortunately, like many surgeries of the time, it was quite unhygienic and George Parsons passed away from surgical complications. With little money left after his father’s death, Kiran decided to take a position on a merchant’s ship that was to sail west to the Americas and then east to Asia.

When Kiran was 24, his ship landed in a port city in India. Purely by accident, Kiran stumbled upon his future wife, Priya. He fell hard and fast, quickly offering to buy her a bauble or sweet. Five months later, Kiran and Priya were married. They spent their first six months of marriage learning about one another. The next eighteen months were defined by Kiran’s attempts to find a new shipping job that required less travel and their struggles to have a much desired child.

At the age of 27, Kiran’s eldest daughter was born five weeks prematurely on January 31, 1881. Kiran and Priya christened her Georgiana Reva Parsons, in honor of Kiran’s late father. Shortly after that, Kiran nicknamed his daughter “Georgie” and it stuck. Two years later, at the age of 29, Kiran’s youngest daughter was born on September 13, 1883. Kiran adored his daughters, and his wife. He worked hard to provide for his family, but always made sure to dedicate time to spend with his daughters.

The third and final disease to marr Kiran’s life was tuberculosis. In the summer of 1885, his wife was diagnosed with consumption. Her remaining two years were stressful, but Kiran kept an optimistic face, even as things were starting to fail. Eventually, his wife passed away and Kiran was devastated. Ten months after Priya’s death, Kiran moved his daughters back to Dublin. He threw himself into his work, often at the expense of spending time with his daughters as he refused to fully accept his wife’s death. He left his daughters to fend for themselves, with the exception of the governess he hired for them. 

In April of 1897, when he was 43, Kiran was involved in a fatal shipyard accident. He died of an infection two days after the accident. 

Prior to her mother’s passing, Georgie was quite close with her father. She really looked up to him. Sadly, their relationship began to disappear after her mother’s death as Kiran began spending more and more time at work. Georgie loved her father fiercely, though. It was a love that lasted up until, and beyond the day that  he died. 

Faceclaim: Himesh Patel

Mother: Priya Nishet Parsons [deceased, 1857-1888]

Priya was born in India in 1857 to Navin and Madeline Carter as their only daughter. She had a stable childhood and knew what her parents expected of her, even after they died suddenly in an accident. However, it was that event that led Priya to meeting her future husband, Kiran Parsons, when she was 21. They married five months after their first meeting. 

On January 31, 1881, when she was 24, Priya's eldest daughter was born five weeks prematurely. Those first few months with Georgie were quite stressful, as Priya and Kiran were always on edge with the fear of losing their new daughter. Thankfully, they grew more comfortable with their daughter and two years later, on September 13, 1883, Priya's younger daughter, Divya, was born. Priya adored both her daughters and wished for more children, but was told that it would be unsafe by a midwife. Therefore, she doted on her two daughters, lavishing them with love. 

Sadly, Priya was diagnosed with consumption in 1885. She tried her best to fight the disease, even trying a TB sanatorium for six months. After determining that the sanatorium wasn’t very helpful, Priya spent the remainder of her life at home in quarantine in a separate building. She communicated with her daughters through the windows and doors, while her husband visited once a week. Eventually, though, Priya succumbed to consumption in 1888. 

Georgie was close to her mother and held mostly good memories of her mother, even during her illness. She loved her mother and Priya never forgot to remind her daughters how much she loved them. After her mother’s death, Georgie tried her best to emulate her mother to the best of her abilities. Priya was Georgie's version of the perfect mother. 

Faceclaim: Shelley Conn 

Sister: Divya Kamilah Parsons @endlessly-cursed

Born on September 13, 1883, Divya is the second daughter of Kiran and Priya Parsons, two years younger than Georgie, and a Hufflepuff. Georgie is very close with her little sister. However, she does take on a bit of a parental role with Divya, especially after the death of their mother. Georgie gets along quite well with Divya and they rarely fight. However, when they do fight, it can get quite nasty and bad. 

Faceclaim: Charithra Chandran 

Pets: 

Childhood: A corgi named Bertie 

Adulthood: A corgi ; an owl 

✧ ROMANCE & CHILDREN ✧

Love Interest(s): Angelo della Rovere (by @potionboy3)

→ Story details are TBD, but their relationship can be characterized as rivals to friends to lovers.

Son: Giovanni Deangelo “Gio” Rovere-Parsons

Hufflepuff | Keeper | Prefect | Demisexual | b. March 7, 1909

Georgie has a good relationship with her eldest son. In many ways, Gio is probably the child that takes after her the most, personality wise. This does cause some friction between mother and son, but they have a good relationship. Georgie is very proud of Gio and tries to support him in everything that he does. She loves him very much and wants to see him succeed and be the best version of himself. 

Faceclaim: Ali Hadji-Heshmati 

Son: Enzo Roy Rovere-Parsons

Slytherin | b. November 13, 1912 

Georgie has a good relationship with her younger son. She is very proud of Enzo and tries to support him in everything that he does. She loves him very much and wants him to succeed.

Faceclaim: Aidan Gallagher

Daughter: Reva Kamilah Rovere-Parsons

Hufflepuff | Prefect | Heterosexual | b. February 25, 1916 

Georgie has a good relationship with her daughter, and they are, perhaps, a little closer than Georgie and her sons. Reva takes after her father more in personality, but has Georgie’s desire to take the world by storm and show them what she can do. Georgie is very proud of her daughter and tries her best to support Reva in everything that she does. She loves her daughter dearly. 

Faceclaim: Swayam Bhatia 

✧ OTHER RELATIONSHIPS ✧

Best Friends: TBD

Close Friends: TBD

Friends:

Ivy Anders ; Oliver Gerard ; Siobhan Llewelyn (by @kc-and-co)

Albert Burke (by @madelineorionswan)

Carmine Elderberry (by @potionboy3)

Vinnie Wakefield (by @gaygryffindorgal)

Acquaintances: TBD

It’s Complicated: TBD

Hogwarts Dormmates:

Anouk Fairchild (by @hufflefluffs)

Seraphina Hopper (by @thatravenpuffwitch)

Eleanor Parkmoore (by @ellie-e-marcovitz)

AVAILABLE

Rivals: TBD

Enemies: TBD

✧ HISTORY & BACKGROUND ✧

Place of Birth: A port city on the Western coast of India 

Hometown: A modern townhouse in Dublin where Georgie, her sister, and her father moved after the death of her mother

Childhood: 

Georgiana Reva Parsons was born five weeks early, on January 31, 1881 to Kiran and Priya Parsons. Due to this, the doctor believed that Georgie would not survive as she struggled to breathe in those first hours of life. However, a midwife with her own knowledge of childbirth and infants believed otherwise and her parents credited that midwife with saving Georgie’s life.

The following two years were uneventful but Kiran and Priya were quite protective of their elder daughter and her health. Then, on September 13, 1883, Divya Kamilah Parsons was born. Given that Divya was born without any complications, Kiran and Priya relaxed a little and their lives fell into a routine.

However, that routine ended when Georgie was six and her mother was diagnosed with consumption, or tuberculosis. This meant that Priya spent her remaining two years in quarantine to avoid infecting her beloved daughters and husband and even spent six months in a TB sanatorium. Her daughters kept contact by shouting to her through the windows. 

In the wee hours of the morning as a thunderstorm raged, Georgie snuck out of her bedroom to see her mother. The pale, thin, consumption-ravaged figure would haunt her for the rest of her life. However, it wasn’t until a DADA lesson on boggarts that she truly remembered the horror of that figure. Sadly, Priya Parsons passed away in 1888, when her daughter was seven.  

Her father was devastated, but buried his grief and sank into his work. Unfortunately, this left Georgie and Divya alone and they grew self-sufficient. Then, ten months after their mother’s death, Miran decided it was time to move back to his home city of Dublin. He had better career opportunities there, all of which offered more money and he took a job there in an attempt to escape the crushing hand of grief. They moved there when Georgie was eight.

As a gift, her father allowed her and Divya to adopted a pet. Georgie chose a corgi puppy, whom she named Bertie. Aside from that, nothing major happened during her childhood in Dublin. Her father immersed himself in his work, often leaving the girls in the care of a governess. However, Georgie took on a maternal role towards her sister and also took on a lot of the household roles normally held by a wife. She became very self-sufficient and tried not to rely on anyone else. 

On her eleventh birthday, Georgie received her Hogwarts letters. 

Hogwarts Years:

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Georgie was sorted into Gryffindor. At Hogwarts, she made good friends, temporarily joined the house quidditch team, and became a prefect.

In the April of her fifth year, Georgie’s father was killed in a fatal shipyard accident. Stunned and numb, Georgie pushed aside more of her own emotions and began to deal with her new responsibilities. During that summer break, Georgie took on a job as a seamstress for a local dressmaker. The job didn’t pay much and it was very demanding. However, Georgie was determined to ensure that she and Divya were not kicked out of their home until they were ready. She kept that seamstress job until she graduated from Hogwarts and got a job as a clerk in a law office. 

Adulthood:

After graduating from Hogwarts and quitting her seamstress job, Georgie was employed as a clerk at the Law Office of Baxter, Bones, and Livingston. She clerked for eight years before convincing her bosses that she should become an apprentice and work towards becoming a lawyer. At the age of 30, she finally achieved her goal of becoming a lawyer and barrister. She argued many cases, although she would only be remembered for three cases. Nevertheless Georgie was one of the first women to successfully succeed in the field of law.

In addition, Georgie married Angelo Della Rovere at the age of 26. Together, they had three children. Their eldest son, Giovanni Deangelo “Gio” Rovere-Parsons was born on March 7, 1909 with their second son, Enzo Roy Rovere-Parsons being born three years later, on November 13, 1912. Their youngest child and only daughter, Reva Kamilah Parsons was born on February 25, 1916.

Old Age:

At the age of 73, Georgie retired from her long and successful career as a lawyer and barrister, although her career would only be remembered for three extraordinary cases. She spent the next forty years doing some advocate work. 

Death: 

In 1994, Georgiana Reva Parsons passed away at the age of 113. She died painlessly in her sleep. She lived a long and fulfilling life.

✧ MISCELLANEOUS ✧ 

Favorite Color: Purple 

Favorite Food: Ice cream (specifically chocolate)

Favorite Drink: Ginger beer 

Favorite Weather: The sun is out, but it’s fairly cool 

Favorite Season: Autumn 

Dislikes: Bullies ; rakes ; meat pies ; lightning ; thunder ; quidditch 

Trivia:

Georgie was named after her paternal grandfather, George Parsons.

Georgie’s beloved corgi, Bertie, was supposed to be a show dog. However, he got sick as a puppy and then, he was considered unsuitable to show.

During her time at Hogwarts, Georgie played in one quidditch game. She promptly discovered that she hated and quit the team the next day. Luckily, she was only a reserve chaser.

In her first year, Georgie attempted to smuggle Divya into Hogwarts. Her father found Divya before the train could depart from the station and Georgie was quietly reprimanded.

Georgie doesn’t let the world or the era she lives in dictate who she is. When she decided to become a lawyer, she put her all into it and even though it took many years and setbacks, she never gave up. She doesn’t mind that she’s hardly remembered by history. She knows what she achieved and so does her family. 

Important Links:

Georgie’s tag

More information on Georgie’s children, Gio, Enzo, and Reva

[thenukacolachallenge]

OC Bio: Callisto Nova

(Art is from a picrew but I can’t remember which one! Please link me if you know so I can give credit!!!) Trigger warning for series-typical violence!!!!

Full Name: Callisto Nova

Alias: Calli(nickname)

Age: 26

Place of Birth: California, US, Earthrealm

Birthday: October 18th

Species/Race: Earthrealmer, Caucasian

Languages: Greek(ancient dialect), English

Occupation: None(recent college graduate)

Orientation/Sexuality: Cisgender demisexual woman

Body Build: Thin and small

Height: 5′0″

Weight: 100 lbs

Skin Color: Porcelain

Hair Style: Wavy, shoulder-length, usually worn in a bun or dual buns, with textured bangs

Hair Color: Silvery-white

Eye Color: Dark brown

Body Modifications: None

Preferred Clothing: Knitted dresses, tights and leggings, large sweaters and cardigans, boots and booties, chunky-knit scarves, thick-rimmed square glasses

Abilities: Posseses partial powers of a Goddess of protection from her culture’s pantheon, namely the use of light magic, which manifests as barrier summoning and minor healing abilities

Field of expertise: Stealth, archery, historical knowledge, subterfuge

Affiliations: Earthrealm defenders, Tanaka Industries(through personal connections, does not work there)

Biography:

Callisto was born in the forests of Northern California to Orion and Celeste Nova. The couple were refugees from a small island in the Mediterranean Sea, hidden away by powerful magic. The island was called Andromede by its inhabitants, which were an offshoot of the cult that bred powerful warriors for the gods(the same cult that the Cage family’s ancestors were from). Instead of continuing the cult’s tradition of breeding and training powerful warriors for the Elder Gods, the small sect of the cult left said cult to worship a specific pantheon of deities, and were blessed by these gods, who gave them powers directly. The power was given through a direct ritual where the god was “drawn down” into the person’s body, briefly merging with their soul and imparting the power of their choice. Because of how dangerous this could be, this ritual was only done on those whose souls could withstand the merger, and therefore wasn’t done on anyone younger than the age of fifteen.

While Celeste was still pregnant with Corona, Callisto’s older sister, Shang Tsung and his forces assaulted the island, determined to take the Gods’ powers for his own. However, these powers did not extend to Shang Tsung as he took his first soul of Andromede’s people; in retaliation, he razed the island to the ground in anger. Celeste and Orion were one of a small handful who managed to escape, and they made their way to America after doing so.

Calli’s father Orion passed away before she was born, and her mother Celeste passed when she was only a few years old, therefore she didn’t get to know her family or learn about her culture firsthand the way her older sister did. She did end up learning through her sister, but because she didn’t grow up enamored in it, she wasn’t nearly as enamored with it as Corona was.

Cora and Calli spent a few years together at the orphanage, keeping away from the other children for the most part, since they were teased a lot for their naturally light hair and lack of knowledge of modern ways of life. However, when Corona was eleven and Calli was eight, a family decided to adopt the two. Coco could tell quite quickly this was not a beneficial arrangement, and managed to convince the family that Calli was not “worth” adopting, lying and saying that the girl was more trouble than she was worth. This deception broke Cora’s heart to do and absolutely devastated the soft-hearted Calli, but it worked; the family decided to adopt Corona alone, and the two were separated for the first time in their lives.

This incident left Calli with a lifelong worry that she was a burden, as well as severe anxiety. However, a quiet boy at the orphanage by the name of Sascha witnessed the event, and took Calli to the side, explaining why her older sibling had said such things. The two became close friends, with Sascha taking over the role of Callisto’s protector while Coco was away, as well as teaching her how to defend herself. Both managed to not draw the attention of potential adoptive families, with Calli holding out for her sister to return.

Years passed, and when Callisto was twelve, she was visited in the dead of night by Coco, who had been on the streets for the last few years after escaping from the adoptive family. The two tearfully made up and reunited, and along with Sascha, they left the orphanage for good, with the other two going to live with Corona. The trio lived a quiet life for many years, with Sascha and Coco working multiple jobs to keep food on the table to provide some sense of a normal life for Callisto, who attended school like any regular girl her age. During these years, Calli turned fifteen, and was able to perform the Drawing Down ritual of her culture at the correct time(Coco had been forced into it early), receiving powers from a Goddess of protection by the name of Ahksana.

Because of Corona’s guidance and hard work, Callisto was able to live comfortably while in her teens. She was a straight-A student(largely due to her eidetic memory), with a love for history and art specifically. She still trained with both Corona and Sascha(who by that point was considered part of the family to the girls), though even with Ahksana’s power she was not as physically powerful as either of them. When Calli was sixteen years old, Corona was reunited with her former adoptive sister, Izumi Tanaka, who’d just taken over her family’s corporation. Because of Izumi’s success at business endeavors, and the promise she and Coco made many years ago, Calli was able to get into any college of her choice, with Izumi paying in full for her education. She graduated high school a year early, and started her college education at the age of seventeen.

College was a much different beast than public school, and despite her previous straight-A status as a student, Calli struggled to keep up in college. Her major was historical studies, with her special interest being the history of the different realms. During this time, Calli also developed a love for archery, and Izumi designed a weapon for her: a collapsible bow, with many different types of arrows, including explosive ones. She also developed her an arrow that collapsed into a bracelet, and implanted a small magnet into Calli’s wrist(at her request), so that she’d never run out of ammunition. Callisto discovered that she had a gift for subterfuge, and would occasionally do freelance work getting dirt on other tech and weaponry companies for Izumi. This was all behind her older sister’s back and in between her studies, since she knew her older sister wouldn’t approve of her doing so(Coco wanted her to have a normal life, free of all the terrible things she had to do in order to get by). Sascha was aware of this, though, and often accompanied her on these missions, while keeping her secret from Cora.

Despite her educational struggles, she finished school with an undergraduate degree in history, with her thesis being a compendium on the history of the realms. She still utilizes the compendium she made to this day, adding new information to it as she learns more about the different realms and species that inhabit them. She wasn’t sure how to turn such an interest into a career, though, and so she spent her time after college out of work, living off the money Izumi and Coco gave her.

During Shinnok’s attempted takeover of Earthrealm, Netherrealm demons attacked her city, and she saved many lives through defending people against the demons and taking them out. Her dedication to helping innocent people did not go unnoticed, with Raiden and Fujin approaching her after to train her as an Earthrealm defender. She happily accepted, and began training at the Sky Temple and the Shaolin Temple. During this time, she became good friends with the likes of Liu Kang, Kung Lao, and the Kombat Kids, as well as developing feelings for her main mentor, Fujin. All of this was a secret to Coco, since Calli knew she would be furious at the Gods for it and likely attack them.

Personality: The main facet of Callisto’s personality and what she’s most known for is her sunny disposition, her unshakeable optimism, and her near-constant smile. Calli is a very happy-go-lucky individual, always seeing the bright side of any situation, and always has a kind comment for anyone who may need it, though she is at times a bit socially awkward. Because of her older sister’s struggles in life, Calli was spared a lot of horror, and she’s eternally thankful for that. However, Callisto also struggles a lot with severe anxiety, and feeling like a burden to her loved ones for not being as strong and physically capable as them. Unlike her sister, who is unable to hide her feelings, and wears them on her sleeve, Calli is great at hiding these parts of her, with only the people closest to her being able to tell if anything is wrong. She uses this ability to mask her feelings as part of her subterfuge efforts, as she’s very adept at disarming people with her kind personality and allowing them to open up to her. As well, she’s a bit of a troublemaker, loving to prank her friends and loving ridiculous internet memes. She’s also a huge fan of the Ninja Mime series, and has a bit of a starstruck moment when she finally gets to meet Johnny Cage in person.

Tropes:

Badass Bookworm: Though Calli isn’t as physically strong as her friends and loved ones, she’s very adept with both her god powers and a bow and arrow combo. She’s also quite well-read with a penchant for history and studying her opponents beforehand if she’s able.

Barrier Warrior: Her power gift was from a Goddess of protection, and manifests as barrier powers. She can use them to deflect blows, protect people around her, can use them around her own fists and feet to enhance her hand-to-hand combat, and can make steps out of them to gain a vantage point to snipe from with her archery skills. As well, she can also change the hardness of the barriers, also using them to fall from great heights without damage by turning them into a bouncy consistency like a trampoline.

Beneath the Mask: Much like her older sister, she puts on a front to prevent people from seeing her true feelings. Unlike Coco, however, she is much better at actually hiding her feelings. Also, unlike Coco, who hides her softer side with a brash outer shell, Calli hides severe anxiety and self-worth issues behind a constant smile.

Chronic Hero Syndrome: Calli is the type to help anyone who needs it, no matter how terrible a person they are. She truly believes everyone has some level of good in them, and tries her hardest to bring that out in people. It often manifests in her helping people who go on to cause her more problems down the line.

Cute Clumsy Girl: Whereas her older sister is a natural dancer and moves gracefully, Calli is very naturally clumsy, constantly tripping on and bumping into things. Constantly has bruises on her shins and knees because of it.

Endearingly Dorky: Callisto is a shut-in bookworm who still actively works on her college thesis despite having graduated already, who draws primarily fandom related things(specifically for Ninja Mime). That being said, her happy and perky personality earns her many friends.

Foil: For Corona. The two are completely different, personality-wise: Coco being a cynic who shuts herself off from strangers but secretly wants to help people and have their affection, and Calli being an optimistic ray of sunshine whose secret depths reveal a near-constant buzz of anxiety and paralyzing fear that she’s not good enough. The two are very close and bring out both the best and worst in each other in different ways.

Height Angst: Callisto stands at five feet even and absolutely hates it. She is the butt of teasing from many of her friends because of it.

Humble Hero: She does not see herself as any better or worse than the people she protects, and simply does what she does because it is the right thing to do. Is very shy and uncomfortable when getting praise for her heroic deeds.

Improvised Platform: Uses her barrier ability for this whenever needed. Her go-to attack is to use her barriers to make steps for her to run up, to gain vantage for her archery attacks.

Martial Pacifist: Though she’s a capable fighter, she doesn’t like to fight if she doesn’t have to, and if her enemy is capable of reason, she will always try that option first.

Nerd Glasses: Cannot see at all without her glasses. Primarily wears thick-rimmed black glasses in either a large square or a large circular design.

Nervous Wreck: Is this on the inside. She hides it really well, but it still creeps out occasionally. The first time she met Takeda Takahashi at a get-together at the Briggs Family Farm, her panicked, anxiety-ridden thoughts were so loud that Takeda could hear them over everyone else’s, without even trying to.

Nice Girl: Is genuinely kind and polite to others at all times(unless she’s playing a fun prank on them), as opposed to her friends like Izumi(who is usually kind to earn favors from others) or her own sister(who is kind under her very grumpy exterior only).

Older Than They Look: Is in her mid twenties, but because of her tiny height and build, is often mistaken for a teenager.

People of Hair Color: Much like her sister, her parents, and everyone else from the island of Andromede, she sports naturally silvery-white hair.

Photographic Memory: Possesses eidetic memory, which she uses to work on her compendium on the different realms, and uses in her battles against people she was able to study beforehand. She rarely needs to write down details ahead of putting them in her compendium, since she can recall them exactly.

The Pollyanna: Has watched her loved ones go through undue, terrible suffering, has seen some of the worst that humanity and otherwise has to offer, and still always keeps a positive and sunny outlook on life, no matter how dire the circumstances.

Think Happy Thoughts: When Calli is going through difficult times, or when her darker thoughts start to get the best of her, you can sometimes hear her muttering mantras of happiness under her breath to lift her mood.

The Straight and Arrow Path: Among her friends who use magic powers, rocket-powered hammers, guns and knives, her weapon of choice is a simple collapsible bow. She’s an expert marksman with it.

Trick Arrow: Thanks to Izumi, she has a plethora of these, including but not limited to: explosive bomb arrows, cluster shot arrows, elemental arrows, and smokescreen arrows.

Socially Awkward Hero: Has fought off Netherrealm demons, multitudes of different Outworld species, all for the safety of Earthrealm. Is still terrified of meeting new people and tends to ramble when nervous, which is almost always.

Stepford Smiler: Of the depressed variety. Behind her constant smile and sunshine-y persona, she is riddled with fear and anxiety that she has or will let her loved ones down in some way.

[wherefancytakesme]

“Mistakes”

(BOYD gets to spend the afternoon with Gyro, then Mark Beaks shows up and brings on emotions that BOYD has never had to face before.)

The day so far had been one of harmless goings-on and quiet excitement. BOYD went to school with his adoptive brother Doofus Drake, for once not being as much the studious little database he always was in class—he was going to meet with Gyro Gearloose and Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera after school, and it filled him to the brim with joy.

Since the day he’d reunited with his creator, BOYD loved spending time with the scientist, always awaiting a time when he would call the Drakes over the phone and ask to pick their ‘younger’ son up and bring him to the underwater lab. Gyro always said he needed to perform regular checkups and maintenance on the little android, but BOYD was hoping secretly that it was also about spending time together; The doctor was becoming gentler now that everything in the past was behind them.

Regardless, BOYD’s feet were bouncing lightly under his desk with the anticipation of it all the way until the final school-bell rang—any excuse to see Gyro, someone he considered so close, gave his mechanical heart inexplicable delight.

Finally when class had let out for the day, BOYD took Doofus’ hand, smiling, and pulled him gently along.

“Come on, come on, big brother! Dr. Gearloose and Dr. Crackshell-Cabrera are waiting outside!”

Doofus grunted. His parents had strictly told him to be on his nicest behavior in front of Scrooge McDuck’s scientist, especially for his little brother’s sake—and to say nothing at all if he hadn’t anything nice to say—or else not expect any dessert for the next several weeks. He threw a fit, of course, but eventually resigned to not ruin anything for BOYD—or his chance at still being allowed to eat an ice cream float every night—and let BOYD have all the ice cream for himself.

Some part of Doofus’ subconscious didn’t mind the constant company of someone his own age. But all the unpleasantness that buried such feelings from his thoughts and actions that proved Louie Duck right kept the boy from understanding any of that, and so he simply allowed BOYD to pull him along—small as he was, the android could easily overtake his brother—and decided to be pouty but uncharacteristically quiet the rest of the day—though not altogether unhappy.

When the two boys reached the front gate, Gyro and Fenton were waiting at the entrance. The latter grinned and waved a friendly hand. The former smiled a bit more visibly than he’d have liked to when BOYD ran out to him.

“Dr. Gearloose!” BOYD called out, immediately throwing his arms around Gyro’s knees.

The gesture pushed Gyro to hide his previous smile by putting a fist to his mouth and clearing his throat. But his tone wasn’t harsh.

“It’s nice to see you, 2BO—er—BOYD.”

He had no idea how to greet Doofus Drake, however. He groaned with his mouth closed, awkwardly, and looked away, but Doofus had nothing to say either anyway.

“Are we going to the lab right away?” BOYD asked with bright eyes.

“Well I have an errand to run in town first, but it shouldn’t take long.”

Fenton chimed in;

“We could make a fun outing of it! Uh—nothing that would deviate from the plan, of course,” he said drawing back once Gyro side-eyed him, “Just something to do while Dr. Gearloose is busy.”

“Yeah, like find a local landmark to learn about!” BOYD did some drawing back of his own when he noticed his brother pout, but did so more graciously than nervously as compared to Gyro’s assistant. “Or maybe there will be a park nearby!” He smiled more when he noticed his brother’s frown fade a small amount.

“Whatever we do,” interjected Gyro, “Stay close to me. I do not want everyone running all over and taking up too much time.”

BOYD’s sunny smile remained as he put his hands behind his back, determined to be well-behaved.

“Yessir, Dr. Gearloose!”

About twenty minutes of walking had led the group of four to an obscure electronics store. Gyro needed a special kind of copper wire before going back to the lab and his odd specifications were hard to meet. While he spent his time inside, Fenton and the boys went to the adjacent shop to buy ice cream. Gyro had told them not to wander off, so once both kids had a cone of their own, they walked out to wait for the doctor.

It had taken several minutes longer than usual for the store owner to fetch what he needed, but by the time he had his purchase in hand, Gyro pondered over taking another minute or two to browse recreationally for spare parts. However, the thought was suddenly halted by the sound of a piercing shriek from outside.

“BUT I DON’T LIKE PISTACHIO!”

Gyro’s whole body jumped at the sound before he bolted out the door to see what the commotion was.

Oh.

Of course. Doofus Drake was throwing another tantrum, shaking his ice cream cone violently.

“Then why did you ask for it?” Fenton asked, confounded.

Gyro ground his teeth and rubbed his middle and index fingers against his temples. But the eyes he’d at first squinted shut opened back up when he heard the screaming stop at a kind voice.

“It’s okay, big brother. I’ll eat yours and we’ll trade!”

BOYD had a warm little grin on his face, holding out his hand.

“Fine!” snapped the spoiled drake, fuming as he thrust the treat into his brother’s hand. “You wanted to try a new flavor of ice cream anyway!”

This caught Gyro’s attention particularly. That little brat shouldn’t be forcing something on a robot who wasn’t built for consumption. He approached, and took on a less-than-pleasant tone that now commonly became him.

“Ice cream?” the chicken asked, twisting his face, “2B—er, BOYD, doesn’t eat.”

“I don’t need to,” answered BOYD, “I like to! My big brother told me about all the different kinds, and now every time I eat a new one, I add it to my memory. It’s fun!”

There were so many words in there that Gyro had to take a moment to think over. First and foremost, it was still mystifying why someone like BOYD and someone like Doofus Drake would consider eachother brothers—leaving aside that the former was much older than the latter. But he chuckled mentally a bit at the association between ‘memory’ and ‘fun’. The only other boy he knew who thought like that was Huey Duck, and it was nice that he and the android had found someone like the other. It felt nice too that such a thought could soften him back up again and make his migraine go away.

But Gyro wondered what eating must really be like for BOYD—he didn’t remember programming BOYD specifically to eat, but on a technical level, he supposed it was possible, given the way he’d built him.

“Can you taste it at all?” he said looking down at BOYD now, curious at the answer.

“Yeah! It was actually only recently I first had ice cream. I didn’t know I could taste anything until then, but it seemed to register, and I really liked it! So when I got home, I asked about it, and now I get to have it every day!”

Gyro didn’t realize how much he’d been missing out on the little boy’s life. Even the very first tests he’d run on him didn’t experiment with things like taste, or smell. Body temperature, vision, maybe—but those were comparable to how a computer would run. Gyro had made BOYD with sentient, behavioral programming, but he supposed he never put any of it into practice, in a real-world scenario. Part of that may have been Dr. Akita’s fault, but… Well, Gyro didn’t want to make excuses for what he did and didn’t do back then.

It was strange—and a little sad; BOYD went twenty whole years unaware of whether or not he lacked the sensation of taste, and Gyro wasn’t there when he finally tried. Gyro knew every single robotic modification BOYD had—from the USB drives in his fingertips, to the blasters throughout his body—he’d put every one of them to the test, but how often did he actually take the child outside the old laboratory? Did the small creature have any memory of Tokyolk before his core was overridden?

Quickly Gyro shook any dwelling thoughts from his mind. No matter. He was making up for it now.

At least he hoped so.

All of a sudden, Gyro felt someone bump against his side, sending him back into the conscious world with a jolt. He made a startled squeak, which embarrassed—and therefore slightly angered him.

“Can’t you watch where you’re—Oh.”

The scientist wrinkled his face with annoyance when he turned and saw a slightly younger man on a self-balancing scooter.

“It’s you.”

There was no mistaking it. Sleek cardigan, large overconfident eyebrows, phone in hand… It was Mark Beaks.

Mark Beaks blinked when addressed. He had no doubt everyone knew who he was, but the lanky chicken facing him seemed to be acting like he’d met him before.

“Oh heeeeey… Uh, do I know you? Probably, right? You see so many faces every day when you’re this famous, they kinda all just blend in, y’know?”

Gyro looked up at Beaks with half-lidded eyes.

“Dr. Gyro Gearloose? Scientist of Scrooge McDuck? You’ve stolen and modified my tech about four different times?”

Beaks looked up and narrowed his eyes, stumped.

Gyro sniffed. Mark Beaks had pointed him out in public several times; This was quite obviously being done to wind him up. “Perhaps he looks familiar to you?” he said, throwing a hand out to gesture at BOYD.

“Ohh yeah! You built that guy? No wonder he went all terminator on me!”

Again Gyro responded sarcastically, with more of a scoff this time.

“That is not my fault. Likely you reprogrammed his hard-drive and rewrote his memories so many times, one simple question overwhelmed him to the point that he couldn’t even tell a person from a flyswatter.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Beaks said, waving his hand, “If you make faulty robots and don’t wanna keep the improvements I put in there, that’s on you. Kid was pretty popular online though. I mean, come on!”

Mark Beaks pointed back and forth between himself and BOYD with both of his index fingers.

“He looks just like me!”

When Beaks acknowledged the android a few feet in front, suddenly two yellow eyes stared back. A little gasp emitted from the little black beak that was previously opened to eat ice cream. BOYD hadn’t seen his older doppelganger since the day he met Doofus Drake. His whole face suddenly beamed with cheeriness at a familiar face.

“Da—”

He bit off the word ‘Daddy’. That was a memory overwrite, he knew now. Still, he was happy.

“Mr. Beaks!”

BOYD instantly ran over to the addressee to jump up and hug him. Beaks just as instantly wheeled back with his scooter board, holding his palms up.

“Woah-ho-hooooh, don’t like touching, remember? What was the number one rule?”

Oh. Right. Remembering that made BOYD’s smile fade.

“No hugs?”

“Exactly, see? You’ve still got some of the good ol’ Beaks programming clunking around in there somewhere!”

Gyro rolled his eyes at a statement like that, but for BOYD it started to set a certain train of thought in motion; Mark Beaks had programmed him to be like his son. At the time, he had felt like it, not simply had it wired into his head, but… now that he thought about the standoffish way the young adult was acting, was that all he was to him? Like a son?

That couldn’t be true, could it?

“Um, Mr. Beaks?” BOYD said, voice starting to grow more shy, “I know things are different now—the two of us living separate lives and everything—but even so, would it be okay if I still spent time with you once in a while?”

Beaks sucked his teeth at BOYD.

“Ooh, no can do, sport. See, if we’re not family, there’s kinda no point anymore. Nobody looks at pics of me just hanging with some rando kid, y’know? Outside that, I’m like super busy all the time, sooo…”

“But… Didn’t you have fun with me?”

“Sure, I did all kinds of awesome stuff in a whole day! Took lots of great selfies!”

BOYD faced the ground at that response, trying to process it. All the words were simple, but slowly, they triggered the most complex of memories… ______________________________

The first memory he had after the incident in Tokyolk was the faint recognition of someone’s voice in the garbage dump he’d evidently wound up in. He didn’t know what was going on, and had no recollection of where he came from, how he worked, or hardly even who he was. All he could bring to mind was an assigned identification number—2BO—and a gut feeling that he was a definitely real boy.

But when the voice came closer, BOYD felt his OS booting up again—his processor bringing things back online. What life he may or may not have had before, he knew not. He only understood that there was reason to be up and running now—alive. These feelings hadn’t manifested into thoughts at first—and then he heard the moving figure above him make a noise. When BOYD parroted back the mimicry of lasers, it was purely instinctual—technological sounds, technological creature. But it made someone notice him. It made someone marvel at him. It made someone give him a real name. It made someone want to take him home. That someone was Mark Beaks.

Even if he had only programmed into him the title of ‘father’, the wealthy parrot was the first person he knew to give him somewhere to live. With or without his original memories, BOYD had never really had an actual home before. He’d never had anyone so willingly look after him like a normal kid—like their kid. In many ways, both literal and figurative, Mark Beaks was the first person to be a parent to BOYD. Even lacking the memory of Akita’s cruelty and Gyro’s hesitance, when BOYD was around Mark Beaks, he felt like someone’s son with no hint of abandonment for the first time in his life.

Yet some underlying doubt lie buried, deep down in one of the many corners of his mind that BOYD didn’t have access to—only this one wasn’t blocked by another person’s override. Anytime he called out ‘Daddy’, Beaks didn’t always turn around right away. He might look confusedly around the room, or take a second or two to respond. And even then, he didn’t seem to say things other than ‘Hey you’, or ‘Need something?’—they were happy, but one-sided. BOYD didn’t think about that then. He was just glad to have family, and to have anything a kid could ask for.

But that was another thing that suddenly made BOYD think. The two days he’d spent with his new father were the best of his whole life; He spent time at an office filled with apparatuses to play on, candy to eat, and places to nap everywhere—even if he didn’t need to nap. Then for the rest of the day, the two Greys went all over Duckburg having fun—eating, playing, exploring… And still, through everything, there didn’t seem to be a connection. When BOYD and Beaks spent time at a show, flew kites, or wore novelty hats, the latter was always taking pictures with the former in them, but seemingly never with him. BOYD was too distracted by the thrill of spending time with someone he considered family to notice before, but now that Beaks worded it the way he did, only mentioning the fun he himself had that day, the signs were becoming obvious. He never once touched him—never once looked at him when he took those selfies—BOYD might as well have been a part of the background.

Come to think of it, did Mark Beaks ever touch BOYD? His biggest aversion, which he’d made clear several times, was touching, after all; The hopes of the first hug BOYD thought he’d ever had at the time were straightaway brushed off. Maybe once or twice, when he needed to be kept from getting wet or from going haywire… But otherwise, the man hardly paid physical attention to him. He didn’t want to feed into the worry that was always secretly there, but the recollection of everything made it impossible now. It hurt BOYD so badly to consider that he was only there to serve a purpose—as he had been his whole life—after all. He couldn’t remember Beaks saying his name, he couldn’t remember Beaks saying something gentle to him… Sometimes if he didn’t act the part he was made to, Beaks would scold him. He tried to avoid calling to mind that once, Beaks struggled to even remember the familial title under which BOYD was programmed.

“Yeah, I love this… What was it again? Uhh, uh, son!”

Oh no.

Mark Beaks never even said the words, ‘I love you’.

But no. No, it couldn’t be true that he didn’t at least care about BOYD, it just couldn’t. It was painful all the same, though, no matter how trusting and unassuming a child BOYD was.

He had to know. He wanted just a little word of assurance that he was wrong, that it was all in his head, that it was just worry that came with twenty years of feeling unloved. Even if Mark Beaks saw him as means for attention first, surely there was some sort of fatherly instinct left over from caring for someone made to be for all concerned his family.

BOYD was feeling some sort of physical discomfort he couldn’t pinpoint when he made his next inquiry, as if he was swallowing something down.

“Mr. Beaks,” he questioned, blue irises still fixed on the ground and fingers toying with one another, “Do you…”

He swallowed physically this time.

“Do you love me…?”

Mark Beaks’ face froze, and before answering made a noise somewhere between the word ‘I’, and an ‘Uh’.

“Kid, what kind of question is that? I don’t do the whole affection thing, okay? Much less with someone who’s not even in my entourage anymore.”

Oh, that hurt. That hurt far too much. Normally with Dr. Akita’s overriding, emotional triggers like this would have BOYD glitching. But that wasn’t there anymore. He was open to feel whatever a boy would feel any time he wanted now, without malfunctions and without something to block his true childlike wiring—too open, perhaps, because now instead of his mind going blank over spiritual pain, his mind would take in every single thought that set him off, and fester. What Beaks said to him now was festering. It made him feel vulnerable. Even if it didn’t hurt or scare him as much as when Gyro told him he was going to shut him down for good, or when Gyro constantly put him down, there was nothing to keep BOYD from blacking out afterward anymore. The feelings over Mark Beaks’ statement were flooding all throughout him.

“But…” BOYD persisted still, wanting some sort of kindness—at least for a fresh start. “Couldn’t we at least be on friendly terms? Isn’t there anything you like about me?”

“Aw come on, little man, it’s not like I was letting you get close to begin with. You’ve got other rich people and tech geeks to be with now. So you don’t need me and I don’t need you.” The man crossed his arms.

If any justice could be done, it might be stated here that the biggest reason Mark Beaks was beginning to act more and more bitter with the small child was out of a sour-grapes mentality. Visible weakness wasn’t characteristic of the young trend-chaser, but in a situation like this, where something he genuinely found impressive and thought he’d made his own had been lost to him, and had been left in the hands of someone else he barely knew—knowing that a technological wonder like BOYD was something he could no longer have—Beaks was annoyed, and he would never dare let it show through. Instead he increased his shallowness ten-fold.

Poor little BOYD’s eyes went wide, wanting so terribly not to believe what he was being told, wanting so desperately not to be outright rejected by someone he’d let himself previously grow so attached to. He looked into Beaks’ black eyes, searching for some kind of reassurance in spite of only hearing cruelty. He wanted so much to hear something that would make the building pain he’d never understood before shrink down.

“But,” he said, voice more quiet and in disbelief than he could ever remember expressing, “You gave me a name. You took me home with you. I was like your family.”

Mark Beaks rolled his eyes back, looking only more annoyed that the little creature almost forced him into guilt with such words.

“No way, kid. I just scooped you out of the trash because I thought I could make something out of you. But four-eyes over there took out all the mods I made to begin with—the new voice I gave you isn’t even there anymore. Hate to say it, but without any of that, you don’t mean anything to me.”

He shrugged his shoulders, talking for a minute more so to himself than anyone, but nonetheless just as aloud as before.

“Guess all the time I put into you was a waste. ‘Least with everything else, I got some money or permanent attention out of it.” Beaks blew air out through his nostrils almost like a laugh when he thought about it. “Jeez, kid, you were my worst investment.”

BOYD didn’t know what the feeling was, but those awful words broke something within him. His face tensed up. The tightness in his chest started to swell. All that desperation to disprove his first proper parent didn’t actually care about him, all that pain welling up inside him the more said person shot down attempt after attempt for requited affection… And now he’d dealt him a blow like that? Mark Beaks had thoroughly destroyed his spirit—he might as well have slapped him in the face. And incidentally, his face started to burn. BOYD had no idea what this meant, but the reaction was involuntary. It hurt so much, he couldn’t understand. The heat concentrated in his eyes. His nose and mouth trembled as he faced his former caretaker. A warm, salty liquid began slowly to fill his eyes and then roll down his cheeks.

BOYD was crying. ______________________________

All the time Beaks had been talking, Gyro and Fenton had been narrowing their eyes in anger and darting them back and forth between the two parrots facing one another, the taller one saying nastier and nastier things to the smaller one. Neither Fenton nor Gyro knew quite what to say or do, or how to intervene—for Fenton in particular because he also had to keep an eye on Doofus Drake, who any second could stop being content licking the inside of his ice cream cone and go ballistic again. It irritated him that he had to keep his mind on such a small matter when clearly there were bigger fish to fry at the moment—and also a little bit that BOYD’s adoptive brother didn’t seem to be noticing how much he was hurting.

Gyro wanted to speak up at some point, but couldn’t bring any words into his head.

And then out of the blue, when Mark Beaks had finally pushed innocent BOYD to a breaking point, the tiny thing cried. He cried.

Gyro’s heart stopped dead in its figurative tracks.

His eyes went wide and dropped their gaze to the ground. This was something he had no idea was physically possible. An invention of his had been, through instinct alone, pushed to actually cry. He didn’t understand. He didn’t specifically write that sort of thing into BOYD’s coding when he made him—certainly Akita didn’t put that in—so then what? BOYD was a definitely real boy, but, to this extent? Gyro wanted to react, to do something for the boy, to get angry at Beaks, but everything failed him. He was stock still, frozen with a horrible blend of shock and concern.

Meanwhile, BOYD continued to stare up at Beaks as tears stained his face, disbelief and utter heartache consuming everything from the waist up.

The first reaction was when Doofus Drake turned and took notice of what he had been sure was a robot his parents adopted, somehow leaking sadness out of his eyes. The Drake boy physically reeled back, socially perturbed.

“Agh, he’s broken!” he yelled, unable to understand, “Do something and fix it!”

Fenton reacted second, clenching his hands into fists, intent on indeed doing something to ‘fix it’, but not the way Doofus imagined. He held back solely on the basis that Gyro was going to say something.

But Beaks was the immediate one to react next.

“Yikes, buddy,” he said to BOYD, backing up uncomfortably. He didn’t mean to make anyone cry, but then again, he didn’t think BOYD could feel anything that real. “It’s not my fault a lack of Beaks tech makes you basically worthless.”

Where Gyro normally would have gotten angry, this time Fenton stood in—he saw that the doctor was too dumbstruck to do so for now. But Fenton was certain both of them were equally as angry.

“What on earth are you thinking saying that to his face,” he snapped, “He’s a kid!”

Mark Beaks shrugged, as if his next reply was a matter of fact.

“Well I mean yeah, but like, not a real one…”

Each adult’s face in present company sneered at Beaks. That was the final straw. With that, Gyro Gearloose was finally able to pull himself out of his stunned state and draw up the emotion to straighten his back and snatch BOYD’s hand, dragging him away. Whatever he was thinking or wasn’t able to think at the moment didn’t matter. This child wasn’t going to be tortured by being here any longer.

“Cabrera, you take Doofus Drake home and get rid of this…” He struggled to find the words; “this, while I take BOYD back to the lab.”

Fenton nodded, determined, as Gyro stormed off, leaving Beaks to be thoroughly dealt with. ______________________________

The walk back to the underwater lab wasn’t a long one, but when Gyro wasn’t seething mad, he would look down at BOYD and notice a look on the boy’s face not dissimilar to his own from earlier—it contained surprise, the fearful kind, as if he didn’t know he could shed tears either. He didn’t look up at his creator, even though he followed the aggressive tug of his arm compliantly, and he didn’t try to wipe at his face. He seemed, again, to be having the same sort of shock that tried to question what in the world was happening to him.

When the two finally did make it inside, Gyro relinquished his tight grip on BOYD’s hand, picked him up by the waist, and sat him down on his center loft work desk.

“BOYD,” he said directly, but not ungently, “Keep your face still for a moment, okay?”

Gyro cupped the little creature’s face in his hand, taking a moment to peer into the huge ovate orbs that were wet as ever. There was nothing physically wrong with them… Nothing functionally wrong with them… Lightly touching the substance that had wavered within them didn’t seem to prove this was some sort of fluid leak. As far as Gyro could tell, these were tears, plain as plain.

So then how was that possible? It wasn’t as if the scientist had actually sat down and built a mechanical version of every single organic function an ordinary person had when constructing BOYD—he and Akita wanted a defense drone—but he knew the little one had an approximation of a heart, and bones, and lungs, and other such things; He was an android, which meant he was deliberately supposed to resemble other people in addition to all the access ports and ribbon wire. Still. Things like tear ducts, taste buds, the need to sleep? Gyro didn’t physically install those things into him. Now a possibility occurred to him. He decided to address BOYD again.

“Can you tell me… Can you tell me everything you’ve been feeling since you talked to Mark Beaks? I know it might be hard, but I need you to try for me.”

BOYD felt Gyro place both hands on one of his. It was the first time the doctor had engaged him like that, and it brought on a warm confusion in spite of the pain he still felt at his core. BOYD’s teary eyes were trained on the floor when he started to analyze what kind of things that pain entailed.

“I’ve… been feeling…” he began, voice thin and shaky, “Sad… and overwhelmed… and afraid… and alone, and… and confused… Before, when I had programming issues, I would start to malfunction anytime something hurt me. But now instead of glitches coming on that I can’t control, it’s more like…”

BOYD’s whole body started to shiver. “It’s more like something my heart can’t control, I guess? Not literally, but, I…”

His vision grew blurry and his voice shakier than ever. “I don’t have anything holding me back from losing emotional control, and I don’t understand. What Mr. Beaks said really hurt, but… I’ve been told things that made me lonely and sad before. I don’t know why I’m only reacting this way now.”

BOYD shut his eyes, rubbing at them as he made a little whimper. “I’m sorry, Dr. Gearloose. I know that doesn’t help. The only other thing I know when I think about all this is that it scares me.”

Gyro felt choked up. He wanted to react beyond keeping his hands palmed over the one BOYD wasn’t wiping his own face with, but twenty years of distrust and cynicism had clouded his ability to be as kind as he used to. But that answer actually helped Gyro a lot. Before, he remembered BOYD saying something about eating—he didn’t need to, but he liked to—that he wondered whether or not he was able to taste, but it ‘seemed to register’. Gyro then supposed while he didn’t build BOYD to eat, it wasn’t impossible given the way he was made; He likely found some sort of place in his structure to double as a stomach, being that he was basically the same as any other boy.

This was what made it click in Gyro’s brain. He had programmed BOYD, for all intents and purposes, to be a living child. Even if the actual hardware wasn’t there, even if Gyro hadn’t thought of specifics when creating… Akita called it ‘real boy programming’—there were things within BOYD that could adapt, and apparently had adapted, themselves to become a part of his sentient reactions and behavior—there were things inside him that manifested because at the end of the day, BOYD was… well, BOYD was a boy.

BOYD wasn’t crying because he was built for it. He was crying because all boys were built for it.

Oh god. A realization like that sent a heavy weight into Gyro’s chest. This wasn’t just some invention that was child-like he’d made, as he initially thought two decades ago. He had brought a life into the world.

He was responsible for every bad thing that life would ever face, because he was the one responsible for ever having made something that could feel, could want, could hurt. Why hadn’t he once considered that when wiring sentience into a body? Gyro felt sick to his stomach.

Yet here was BOYD sitting on a desk, afraid because he wasn’t ever told what would happen if he was sad enough—as if crying was normal, but not for him.

“Dr. Gearloose…?” The timid squeaks in BOYD’s broken voice coupled with glumness on every part of his face made Gyro feel pain in every inch of his body. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Shocked as he was still, an automatic reaction came on that brought Gyro to dry the small creature’s eyes. This reaction, too, shocked him.

“No—no,” he answered nonetheless, just as reactionary.

“Really?”

The nervousness in that inquiry pushed Gyro on. What he was grappling with wasn’t important. There was a child in front of him, needing to be consoled. And while he normally was awkward with children—with people in general, really—Gyro knew about BOYD at least from a technical aspect. He wasn’t a medical doctor, but he did have a doctorate in mechanical engineering. He could work from there—he knew hardly anything about children from a biological standpoint, anyway. In a way, BOYD being an android worked to his advantage here. Gyro sobered up mentally and placed both hands on the little one’s shoulders.

“Yes,” he replied, surprised with himself that he was able to sound so matter-of-fact so quickly. He tried as hard as he could to sound gentle too. “Besides your internal structure, you are otherwise indistinguishable from organic life. You have thoughts and feelings, wants and needs. It’s inherent for you to be sad just as any normal boy would—because that’s what you are.”

BOYD looked back at the ground for a moment, then up at Gyro again, putting his tiny hand over the fold of the man’s thin elbow. There was something he wanted to know—there was still pain in his chest that was building up beyond his control.

“Then…” he asked with teary, pleading eyes, “Can I cry a little more?”

Gyro wished that he knew just what to say—his heart ached so much to hear such a little boy ask for permission to feel—but he simply gave a pitying, guilty, yet mostly obligatory, “Yes.”

That one word of acceptance sent BOYD over the edge. A little hiccup escaped him, and what had previously been only silent tears that fell on their own turned into a full-on fit. BOYD covered his face and wept.

Gyro tried and failed to swallow the lump in his throat when he saw BOYD truly cry for the first time. But in under a minute, his creation said something that brought him to accommodate without a single thought.

“Dr. Gearloose? I know you said back in Tokyolk that hugging was just for that day, but—”

BOYD was interrupted when Gyro immediately drew him in with a one-armed hug, bringing him close and holding him tight. BOYD in turn drew himself closer to his creator, no longer holding back.

BOYD’s little cries then were soft and whining, innocent and unhinged in the way that became any child. Any time he needed to sniff or dry his eyes, he buried his face into Gyro’s chest, and sunk his tiny fingers deep into his vest. The length in each wail that came on now and again reflected the fact that BOYD had never cried before, and that he was discovering in the moment just how much he needed to all this time.

Poor BOYD, Gyro thought, barely ever allowed to simply hug anyone before. He was the sweetest living creature Gyro had ever known—always smiling so jubilantly and talking politely to everyone and everything—and yet so many people met him only with malice? That was far too unfair.

Oh.

But then, that was exactly what he’d done, wasn’t it? He’d so readily assumed when Inspector Tezuka brought BOYD down that he’d created something evil—he’d thought the evidence was everywhere, quite literally. But couldn’t it have been just as easy to think that someone like Dr. Akita who’d turned out to be a known criminal could have been responsible? Couldn’t Gyro have at least considered for a second that it wasn’t BOYD’s fault and defended him more? But he hadn’t. Instead he’d let his young mind believe everything his former mentor drilled into his head; His inventions were weapons, plain and simple, and nothing would change the fact that that would be a part of him the rest of his life—that he would always know somewhere in the back of his mind that he was just a big screw-up. And Gyro had taken that out on BOYD. He’d turned his anger and fear over himself and projected it into anger and fear over his first real invention. He’d defended inventions like Lil’ Bulb to the last ditch—even when the evidence they were turning evil was just as seemingly apparent, if not more so. Even they weren’t referred to as failures. All that bitter sarcasm and unkindness that became a part of who he was had all been based on nothing. When they’d reunited, he lashed out at BOYD over and over again, scornful whenever he even looked at him, refusing to call him anything other than an ‘it’, saying he was dangerous to his very core, saying he didn’t have feelings—even when the sadness and frightened tentative motions in his expression and body were clear as day—he even said straight to BOYD’s face that he was going to ‘fix’ his malfunctions by essentially flat-out killing him.

Gyro was furious when Mark Beaks made BOYD cry. But the first person to ever treat him inhumanely, was Gyro himself. It made him feel so unbearably guilty he almost couldn’t breathe. No matter what his eyes would look like anytime Akita’s programming kicked in—those things weren’t even there anymore. Anytime Gyro thought back, those big eyes were always so full of light—light of happiness, of sadness, of kindness, of intelligence, of innocence. How could he have ever looked at eyes like that—eyes that were capable of producing tears—and thought BOYD was evil?

Even if the child wouldn’t say so, Gyro knew there must still exist an ache within him over being rejected by the person that gave him life. He owed it to him to make it known just how sorry he was for it—even if the words kept getting jammed in the middle of his throat.

“BOYD,” he faltered, though it was now becoming easier to call him by his real name, “I need to apologize for the way I treated you back then. I know Mark Beaks hurt you when he told you that you weren’t worth his time. But the awful things I’ve said to you… they’re no different.”

BOYD calmed himself down a little to be able to speak. He didn’t face Gyro when he answered, but it wasn’t out of unacceptance—his answer was simply an automatic one.

“It’s okay…”

Gyro let go of BOYD for a moment to stare at him gravely in the face.

“No. It’s not okay.”

Gyro couldn’t remember when he’d talked so seriously before. He’d talked sternly—talked angrily—shouted several times… But as far as he knew, nothing compelled him to speak so straightforward and strict and deadpan as this in his life. He wasn’t going to let anyone make excuses for him ever again—not BOYD, and most certainly not himself.

“I said I’ve spent my whole life trying to live down my first invention being evil. But you were never made evil. I made you out to be evil. And now I’m going to spend the rest of my life living down ever having damaged you like that.”

Gyro found himself astonished that he was able to say what he did next, but nonetheless let it be said; BOYD needed to hear exactly what he was deserving of.

“And I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to do right by you. Because after everything that’s happened, I am so proud that a boy like you does right by me.”

In spite of BOYD’s constant shivering and whimpering, he was able to smile comfortingly just for a moment, nestling his head further into Gyro’s scrawny arms.

“I of all people know what it’s like to be new to Duckburg and down on your luck with nothing—with nobody. But I was fortunate. I met Scrooge McDuck and he gave me a place to work, and to make my way up the ladder. He was the only one to give me a second chance—to trust me.”

Gyro sighed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do the same for you—as if I didn’t learn. How you stayed the same as I built you this whole time is beyond me. I’m nothing like you.”

“That’s… That’s not true,” BOYD sniffed, rubbing his eyes again, “If I make you as proud as you say, then some of that had to come from you—where else would I get it from? The only other person around me then was Dr. Akita, and then I spent twenty years asleep in Duckburg. I’m like this because you made me. And if I’m still like this, that part of you has to still be in you too—doesn’t it?”

Gyro couldn’t respond to something so kind. He couldn’t. Gyro didn’t deserve merit like that. Instead, he turned to another question that he’d been thinking of as BOYD stayed settled under his arm—something more technical, but still in reference to the android’s feelings and his sentience.

“When you shiver…” he asked with difficulty, “Is it because you’re cold? And if you overheat, do you feel feverish?”

“I do feel sort of sick when something overheats inside me… At home, it’s treated like I have a cold, which usually helps. But… when I’m cold, I operate at peak efficiency, so that’s never uncomfortable.”

BOYD’s voice was still full of quiet hiccups and characterized by the hurt within him.

“I guess I’m shivering because of how sad I feel. There are a lot of things I’m scared of—and things I’m so glad of, they hurt—but mostly, I just keep thinking back to what Mr. Beaks said. He brings up this little voice in my head that tells me people don’t want me. Like I’m making it hard for them.”

Gyro surprised himself again by stroking the back of BOYD’s head lightly. Nevertheless, he responded with defense and firmness in his tone.

“You should make it hard for people like that to want you. If you’re a waste of energy to someone like Mark Beaks, then good. The more you keep being yourself, the less they’ll stick around to hurt you.”

BOYD looked up at Gyro once more with his wet, shining eyes.

“But you won’t do that if I’m myself around you, right?”

That question pulled Gyro into a riptide of guilt so strong that it almost drove him to cry. But he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting down the urge for BOYD’s sake—this was about him. He made it clear to himself he’d never let his little creation down again when he hugged him in Tokyolk—and now he was going to make it clear to BOYD, say it out loud to his face so there was never any doubt again. Gyro rested the hand he had on BOYD’s head, held him just a tad closer with his arm, and said,

“I’m only saying this once; There is nothing you could do in front of me that wouldn’t make me want you. Ever. You can come to me for whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gyro watched as that sentence prompted tear after tear to fall down BOYD’s heated face, nearly every part of his insides nagging uncontrollably at him when the little creature encircled his puny waist with his arms.

“I’m so glad!”

The sobs that BOYD let loose figuratively jabbed the scientist in the gut as he thought of the fact that were it not for his sheer irresponsibility, the poor little thing would never have had to be born into a world that presented such harsh treatment.

Still, BOYD wanted to cry. Didn’t the need to cry come from getting to let go—to feel better—to be alive?

Gyro thought as he instinctively continued to stroke the small head under him with his thumb. If he had brought a life into the world that was going to have bad moments, that meant that the same life was going to have happy moments too, didn’t it? Well—he already had! BOYD might as well have been built as a bluebird. Gyro should be glad BOYD was finally allowed to have this kind of release. It meant he could finally, truly, feel like the definitely real boy he was. The pain of fault and responsibility still wracked Gyro—he figured it always might—but at this point, he was relieved the poor thing he held close in the underwater lab wasn’t going to be mistreated any longer—not if he could stand to help it. ______________________________

BOYD sat in Gyro’s lap, beginning to feel better as he allowed himself to let everything out in the embrace of someone close to him. He could cry as much as he needed around Gyro. And he was going to take that allowance for all it was worth.

Part of his crying now came from the warmth he felt knowing that the old Gyro he thought he’d lost was still in there somewhere—that he hadn’t gone after all—and that even though he’d through no fault of his own gotten it lost, he had brought its return as well. That restored a lot more of BOYD’s self-worth than he fully realized.

BOYD was so grateful—so, so grateful to have that Gyro here again. He didn’t understand why at first it hurt so much to be called an ‘it’ by his creator—he didn’t remember Gyro was his creator at the time—but to think that someone was afraid of him and that someone hated him just for being himself stung so badly. He didn’t cry then—he didn’t know he could. But he cried now, over the cutting things Mark Beaks said, over Gyro’s hand at his back, over anything he could think of that needed crying over—mostly however over the knowledge by now that Gyro didn’t see him as nothing more than a destructive machine—as ‘evil down to his core’ any longer. He could tell that even if Gyro didn’t say it, he loved him; He risked his own life just to hold him in his arms, to save him and others from himself. Now BOYD really did have someone who loved him the way a father would a son. He could hug Gyro if he wanted—as many times as he felt like it—and never be brushed off. That thought brought such relief to him, his processor couldn’t take it all in.

But he didn’t tell Gyro any of this; He noticed all those looks on his face—they gave away just how terrible he felt over not being able to do as much as he wanted for him right away. So he kept any more words from leaving his mouth in order not to burden his guardian with any more guilt. BOYD simply let himself release all the emotions he could which he didn’t know he had before, as if he were wringing himself out—and as such, began soaking up all the comfort he was being given like a dry and thirsty sponge.

BOYD learned some wonderful things that day as he clung so strongly to Dr. Gearloose in that lab—much as it hurt to tremble violently, and bleed out feelings until one’s eyes burned, and let out enough raw noise fit to make one’s throat sore. He learned that being allowed to feel so sad was rewarding, and cleansing. He learned that tears were something he could produce no matter what he felt. And he learned that everyone in the world would make mistakes, no matter what or who they were, but that it was never too late to grow from them.

~ Holy shoot, wow, this is the first serious fic I’ve ever posted on here before.

I really wanted to share it, because it took so long to write—although I didn’t think it would turn out so long… 8k words! It’s the lengthiest thing I’ve ever written.

Anyway, this is a story that is very dear to my heart, not only because I put the most into it out of anything, but because studying Gyro Gearloose as a character and loving his dynamic with BOYD has been one of the most amazing things to think of through the hiatus that came after Astro BOYD.

I always loved BOYD, of course, but once I started seeing all the art and fanfics that others had started doing out of the emotions that came with his and Gyro’s backstory, I got swept up in it too, and wanted desperately to get out all those feelings into one story.

The idea came from the concept of whether or not BOYD can cry. We’ve never really seen him do it before, and it’d probably be hard because he’s normally so happy—but I kept wondering if he, as an android, even could. So it hit me; What if BOYD could cry, but Gyro wasn’t aware of it? What if even BOYD wasn’t aware of it? I kept playing with what would possibly make him cry, because even when Gyro was threatening to shut him down or was calling him ‘it’, BOYD only frowned a little. Suddenly I got the nasty idea of Mark Beaks showing up and telling him he never wants to see him again, and it built from there—I started also thinking that maybe what brings BOYD to cry is just a long enough buildup of pain, and maybe he couldn’t feel as much because Akita’s meddling with him had gotten in the way before.

On a sidenote, Mark Beaks was pretty hard to write at first; I had to make sure his confidence was switched on all the time or he’d come off a little out of character. But much as this is about Gyro & BOYD, Beaks being awful is so deliciously fun to write. I think it’s because he makes you love whoever he’s being mean to even more.

Anyway, after I’d written that part out, I spent a lot more time than I initially thought I would focusing on how all this would make Gyro feel—that is, how much guilt his responsibility would bring on. I’m really desperate to see for myself how they interact in canon from now on, but I always imagine that Gyro’s feelings which are most associated with being a father are of guilt; They make him protective of BOYD, they make him sensitive to BOYD, and they might drive him to treat BOYD—again, be more like a father. Pretty much all Gyro’s niceness comes from wanting a do-over.

I never post my serious writing publicly—mostly because I’m really tentative and shy about showing my literary ‘skills’ and the kinds of raw emotion I spill out in words sometimes—but this fic slowly became something I wanted really badly to share with the DT fandom, as a thing that could both be a way to show my own interpretation and thoughts of Gyro and BOYD, and could maybe even be liked by people as much as it is by me.

I know a good few episodes have aired since Astro BOYD did, and that it’s been a long while since the episode has been talked about, but I’ve only now been brave enough to decide to put this story out there for all to see.

I really hope you enjoyed it.

(Incidentally, I wanted to be sure to post it before Let’s Get Dangerous! airs, because I know this fic would get swallowed up by all the emotions to be had from that episode… ^^; )

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[lucci0la]

what do your kinshifts feel like?

LONG ASS POST WARNING‼️

Personally I tend to notice kinshifts when my behavior and interactions with people change- I feel a very particular way about certain things, or my daydreams more often than not end up having to do with those from my canons. I miss certain people more, or my feelings suddenly change about specific people from my canon. I also tend to feel a lot less strongly about my other kins, sometimes removing them from my list just to add them back later when I feel a shift. And this may sound rancid, but when I’m in a kinshift, I tend to feel very agitated or annoyed seeing others with the same kin or feeling a strong sense of (unrightful) possessiveness seeing someone from my source being close with them. Not to say that anyone sharing a kin with me is invalid (they absolutely aren’t invalid in any way and my personal beliefs enforce that), but it’s an involuntary feeling that arises in my kinshifts. Behavior wise, there’s usually a very noticeable shift in what I do or want or my emotions.

If you’re asking about specifics of my kinshifts, I’ll just tell you what I’ve noticed!

Kakyoin :

~ My dysphoria gets stronger- not in the way of wanting to be more masculine as I’m fairly feminine, but feeling upset by any hyper feminization by those in my life (and occasionally within the fandom). There’s just a strong disconnect between myself and others emotion wise.

~ I tend to feel more passive and wear my more flowy clothing or button ups and spend more time on my hygiene, actually bothering to do things like put my damn earrings in or do my hair. I also seem to be more careful with what I eat and take care to finish any tasks and chores.

~ While my motivation for things increases, so does my will to talk to people. I speak noticeably more friendly to people (read: I’ll be really friendly casually until a full on encounter occurs, in which case, I’m shaking in my boots with uncertainty) and my tone changes drastically, so that’s always a hint. With that being said though, my words come out much more naturally and I don’t sound as much like a broken record.

~ This is literally the main thing that I noticed between kinshifts in the beginning, but in my Rohan shifts I felt a strong interest in body modifications or body art- like piercings and tattoos. In my Rohan shifts I’d have a clear feeling that I’d want some sort of tattoo or get random piercings, specifically nipple piercings, and then when I would be in my Kakyoin shift, I couldn’t not notice that I just had no will or want to alter or mark my body. This was during the time where I kept shifting back and forth between my Kakyoin and Rohan shift, which would change every (this is really a guess) 3-21 days and my feelings and sense of improvement, progression, and change were super clear to me, so it couldn’t go unnoticed. What made it even clearer to me was that the back and forth interest in body modification didn’t feel like indecisiveness, it just felt more like a flipped switch that always went back and forth to the same thoughts and feelings. I remember the thought of dying my hair being a similar feeling to body modification even though my hair color is different from canon- attempting to remedy it outside of video games with customizable characters just makes me feel like I shouldn’t.

~ SUUUPER fucking lonely. I may have more motivation to talk to people, but oh my god, I’m still painfully reluctant and shy in genuine interactions.

Rohan :

~ Usually I feel a lot more upfront with everything, and unlike in my Kakyoin shifts, I’m a bit more distant from people and tend to repeat myself if I’m not in the mood to let my words come out naturally. In other words, I’m considerably more self-focused and care more to finish my school work, usually only reading on the side instead of my Kakyoin shifts where I’m actually taking the time to do anything and everything I can to take care of myself.

~ I don’t experience much dysphoria in these shifts, if any, and lean towards form-fitting or revealing clothing. Though by revealing, I mean more that if I’m alone and at home (which I usually am) I usually just end up strolling around in an unbuttoned cardigan and my underwear so it’s not like I do it in public.

~ Even though I present myself differently with people and don’t actively pursue them much in this state, I feel a notable fondness for them. It’s not like I ever stop loving my pets or family when I’m in any of my shifts, but I’ve noticed that I think about them in a kinder light when I’m in my Rohan shifts. To put it very lightly, the family I was born into that I remember from my canon though wasn’t one that I was as close as I would’ve hoped.

~ It’s a subtle change from the Kakyoin shifts, but I tend to be happier and a bit more hopeful rather that feeling like something is missing. My memories are all and all very much happier and it makes me feel a lot more at ease in many things that I do even if I’m not actively remembering them at times.

~ I’ve admittedly been very distracted from my own kins as of late and unfortunately even let myself forget my own memories- though once I read them again (as I wrote them down) I was reminded. Aside from the attachment and interest to body modification like nipple piercings or getting tattoos, I can’t remember many more differences.

Doppio :

~ These shifts are always way shorter than the others, but I notice them very easily. They stick out like a sore thumb in my eyes. My emotions aren’t passive (in the background) in the slightest during these shifts and mostly consist of like,,, pure fucking peace. Like it’s just a strong feeling you can’t ignore.

~ I procrastinate much more and act with self-indulgence, food becomes the biggest comfort, and I lose my absolute MIND over the outdoors. Scenery of any kind (even if it’s really not that good) catches my eye in an instant and I fuckin’ lose it just trying to take pictures.

~ I’ll interact and talk with those close to me, but I don’t care to do so that much with others.

~ While I like being babied (caressed, treated with endearment, etc.) I literally cannot stand not being treated like another person. Consuming kin content for this shift in particular can make me very angry very quickly unless I get it custom made- like holy shit, call me sweet all you want to, but if I see another damn aesthetic regarding frogs or phones, I will lose my shit. It feels like saying one thing at a family meeting when you’re five and then everyone holds it over your damned head into your adulthood. It’s just a bad joke.

~ I’m pretty sure this is the one kin that I had whose canon was more fem-leaning in terms of attraction because every time I’m in the doppio shift, I just— women 💞💞💞

Johnny :

~ Honestly I don’t know how I know I’m in this shift when I am, I just am. I may have not had this shift enough to know for sure, but I just do.

Aside from all that, easier hints would be

Kakyoin: Attached to Jotaro (and Dio at times) and reacts to doubles in a very jealous way- I don’t interact, obviously, but regardless.

Rohan: Attached to Josuke for the most part, but enjoys most from part 4 and reacts to doubles with a strong feeling of disgust or annoyance, obviously still not interacting.

Doppio: Attached to no one in particular despite kin memories (regardless of my care for Donatella or Trish), but reacts to doubles more out of anger. Just as I said, I just get really angry to the point of shaking and simply try to remove myself from the situation.

Johnny: Who knows tbh lmao. I haven’t done any meditations on this one.

Like I said before, these are just involuntary feelings I get from doubles, I don’t, like, bark at or harass them or anything, they’re all just as valid as I am, but these are just differences I’ve noticed between shifts.

[nanchatte-tips]

How to stay warm in nanchatte?

How to stay warm in winter in nanchatte?

Art by @/niichi021 on Twitter

This might seem like a weird time to be writing a post about cold weather, but hey, it’s (usually) winter somewhere! I hope this can help someone out.

Winter advice under the cut!

     It gets cold in Japan too. Many schools with uniforms have both a summer and winter uniform, with sleeve length and fabrics adjusted accordingly. In some schools, the winter uniform looks completely different from the summer one!

       So, how can you combat the cold while wearing nanchatte? Let’s start with modifications you can make to your wardrobe.

       The obvious answer is this: LAYERS! Long sleeves, sweaters, vest, cardigans, and blazers will all keep you a lot warmer and still read as nanchatte. Duffle coats are popular choices for girls in Japan. Always take a look at what fabrics are used in your clothes - materials like wool will keep you much warmer. Long sailor skirts are also always an option!

       Legs are also a big problem in cold weather. If it’s not too cold, wearing your usual socks over sheer tights or pantyhose will keep you a little warmer. Wool socks can also keep you very warm. If it’s extremely cold, fleece lined tights are the way to go here. You can buy faux thigh high or knee high tights places like TaoBao!

       But what about shoes? Contrary to popular belief, loafers are NOT your only options here. Uggs are a very popular choice for many girls in Japan, especially if it’s not particularly wet outside. They make “waterproof” Uggs, and there are also sprays you can use on regular Uggs to make them more resistant to water.

However, Uggs aren’t your only choice. As long as your boots are warm and cute, they should work!

       Accessories like hats, scarves, gloves, and earmuffs will keep you looking cute and warm. Again, TaoBao is a great place to check. You can sometimes even find scarves matching your skirt’s plaid!

       Some less “fashionable” ways to stay warm are wearing an undershirt, or a heating pad on your back.

     Finally, there is such thing as “too cold for fashion.” When dealing with cold weather, be safe. Frostbite is not kawaii. Everyone’s limits are different and vary from person to person. Stay warm!