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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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I’ve been trying to figure out the best obi wan ship. They all have one slightly problematic thing this way or that. I’ve landed on the idea of obi wan and an equal is pretty top tier. But then I saw a picture of Coran from voltron. Coran and Obiwan might be a disaster but also both are dad shaped, both are bad ass, both are ginger, both have an accent. I think it could work. But another part of me is like Coran is just obi and jarjar mashed together. At the very least they hooked up.

Hey I just had restaurant ramen and Starbucks and actually feel like a human being so let's do something unnecessary but funny. I'm taking this as a challenge, anon.

Also IMO Coran has more in common with C3P0 than with JarJar

So obviously, both of these happen in Big Space, but the difference appears to be density. We see about the same complexity of culture and species interactions, but Voltron covers more galaxies. It's vaguely implied that Earth, at least, is the only planet with sapient life in the Milky Way.

I think the way I want to play this out, culturally, is that the Voltron area of the universe covers a much wider, but much more sparsely populated area, while the SW-verse is just the one very densely populated (in part because apparently humans just went Literally Everywhere) galaxy, where they didn't necessarily bother with developing the tech to go to other galaxies (except Rishi, which only sort of counts) because they haven't really even charted out their own yet. It was never contacted by the Voltron side of things because [checks notecards full of excuses] it's really far away from Altea and all that, and the Force shielded the galaxy from Galra interests because Reasons.

All this to say that the two franchises didn't interact until after the Voltron plotline was already over. We'll say it went mostly canon, except Allura survived because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck that.

We'll say that this is mid-TCW, you know, before Obi-Wan is a bundle of repressed traumas and bad coping mechanisms that's lost almost everyone he's ever loved to the dark side through death or corruption. He's still (mostly) okay! Anakin's not dark (or at least, not as dark as he could be; Obi-Wan doesn't know about the Tuskens), and Ahsoka's still in good standing and most people are alive and--and okay the army is a massive ethical violation he hates with his very soul and he misses Qui-Gon and Anakin's keeping secrets and pulling away from him every day but He's Fine, Guys.

He's Fine.

In comes a ship from not Wild Space, but beyond that. Intergalactic visitors, from the direction of the deeply concerning Force bullshit they felt a few years ago. Translation tech is decent enough on both sides that they get to talking pretty quickly. The explorer is actually a member of the Blade of Marmora, who gets the absolute most basic info (approximately this many inhabited planets, approximately this many trillions of sapients in the recorded galaxy, basic structure of the government for the past however many years, most recent conflict, etc.)

BoM person is like "cool, okay so you guys are really well set-up so I'm just gonna head back and kick this up a few rungs of the coalition ladder because this is way above my paygrade, I'll make sure you get some diplomats who can maybe help out with the whole galactic civil war situation as neutral parties."

The Voltron Coalition does send a diplomat! They, uh, also send Coran, who isn't technically a diplomat, but he's high-level.

The thing is, okay, that Coran is mostly just... passably competent at things. He's a jack of all trades, master of none type. He knows a lot of things, actually, but his practical knowledge in high pressure situations tends to be up in the air. He knows how to fix the Castle Ship and various technologies, but all of that info is ten thousand years out of date. He was a competent fighter at one point but these days his back gives out. He's very knowledgeable regarding intergalactic politics but, again, that information is ten thousand years out of date. He's also a little prone to social gaffs in dicey situations (e.g. the inciting incident in the Voltron Show episode where he misses the single day with clear skies), but puts in so much goddamn effort to make things happen.

In this manner, he's like a warped mirror of what Obi-Wan is and could be.

THAT SAID

Coran is actually really good with teenagers, and specifically with training them.

And Obi-Wan... isn't.

Obi-Wan's snarky and snippy and sassy, and he's decent enough at teaching and he's great at being a jokey friend and all, but he's not necessarily very good at emotions. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the teenagers he spends the most time with are Really Full Of Emotions. He tries, bless him, but he's just... he doesn't respond well to emotional conversations at the best of times.

His son-figure saying "You're like a father to me" leads to a response of... radio silence. Guys. That's not the mark of a man who knows how to talk about his feelings with the people he cares about.

In swans Coran with the various other diplomatic envoys of the visiting extragalactic community. The entire situation is really leading to a lull in the war because nobody wants to risk pissing off this clearly well-funded, well-powered third party. As a result, many of the High Generals can interact with the envoys, even if they spend quite a bit of time eyeing the Separatist representatives on the other side of the room, because clearly Everyone Needs A Seat At This Table.

It's a very tense situation.

Obviously, Coran is exactly the weird uncle that goes around telling plausibly-exaggerated stories about Weblums and Yalmors and Balmeras. I'm going to say at least one former Paladin is there, maybe Hunk. Hunk's fun, and also very willing to help Coran make friends and seem Amicable instead of Distant by correcting some of the exaggerations. There's a nice, calm atmosphere in a bubble around Coran and his nonsense, and it's a weird situation but arguably just... you know. It's good. He's good at making people feel safe around him.

Cue the hissed argument between Skywalker and Kenobi. The actual cause of said argument isn't important, just the fact that, in a dark corner where they're less likely to cause a PR issue, Anakin and Obi-Wan are having it out. Anakin's maybe twenty, still a lanky ragebaby, all that fun stuff. Obi-Wan is a the endpoint of every too-young brotherdad. He's thirty-six but feels like he's sixty-three. He's tired, but trying so damn hard to still connect with Anakin and just--just--

Obi-Wan gives himself a few minutes to calm down before following Anakin. He doesn't even remember what they were arguing about, really, but he has to mend the bridge before it frays even more than it already has. If Anakin goes to Palpatine for advice again, he's going to... do something. Obi-Wan isn't sure what, but he just has to fix this.

What he finds is... well, Anakin did end up going to vent to a man of an earlier generation who acts like a slightly eccentric older relative, but it's not Palpatine for once.

The goofy, slightly abrasive but mostly charming, brightly-colored representative of the Voltron Coalition is standing in the little balcony that Anakin's made it to, listening as Obi-Wan's recently-knighted padawan vents. The man nods and makes noises at the appropriate times, and then asks questions that are... maybe a little too accurate.

"You said that you view him as a father, that he raised you after you left your mother."

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't think I'm ready, or--"

"No parent ever does."

"...my mom thought I was ready to become a Jedi."

"I can't speak for your mother," the representative says, "but the princess of my people, Allura... I half-raised that girl from the beginning, and after the destruction of Altea, we were all the other had left. I watched her lead battles and bring life to planets, trying to rebuild a universe out of the ashes of what we'd left behind... I saw the evidence with my own eyes, and I still, every time, I worried for her."

"Why?"

"I worried that she'd be hurt, that she wasn't ready, that she'd make a decision she regretted. Often, she did, and I had to help her back up, and while she's always come back, stronger than before... she is the closest thing I have ever had to a daughter, and I will always worry for her. Every parent does. Do you think, perhaps, that your own Jedi Master, that you consider a father, may worry because he looks at you like a son? That it's not that he doesn't trust you, but that he doesn't trust the world around you?"

Obi-Wan feels his heart in his throat.

The conversation continues in that vein. While Obi-Wan can't say he likes the fact that this stranger is putting words in his mouth, if only as hypotheticals, he can't deny that there's a part of him that relaxes as Anakin does, as every frustrated fresh-knight question gets a measured elderly-steward response that's angled to consider the interpretation that favors Anakin and Obi-Wan in equal measure. Every word encourages Anakin to talk things out and lay boundaries and express his frustrations to Obi-Wan in the plainest words possible.

There's a story in there, more than one. The representative tends to go off on tangents, ones that Anakin sometimes finds interesting and sometimes just resigns himself to. Mostly, though, it goes well, and Obi-Wan... well, he's always been 'a nosy little bastard,' according to quite a few people.

(In his defense, the terms they'd used about Quinlan's 'investigative personality' had been quite a bit stronger.)

He eavesdrops to the end, and Anakin doesn't notice at all. Obi-Wan's not sure if he should try to address Anakin's lack of awareness of the world around him. He's not technically Anakin's master anymore. The comment may be taken as a criticism of his worth and capability, rather than a sincere desire to see his padawan not die.

He approaches the representative instead. He intends to introduce himself. Instead, the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"How do you do it?"

The man--older than he looks from a distance, more wrinkles than the bright hair would suggest, but not quite elderly yet--turns and lifts a brow. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man you were just talking to is my former padawan, er, my former apprentice. I've been finding it harder and harder to speak with him over the past few years, and it seems that every interaction we have leads to an argument. How do you... manage that? I can't get him to listen to me at all."

"Ah, teenagers," the man sighs.

"He's twenty."

The representative pauses, and turns to him. "Are you the one he says raised him? The father?"

"Well... yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it," Obi-Wan says, eyes darting to the side. He doesn't know how to explain the whole attachment situation to someone who barely knows what a Jedi is. He has even less of an idea of how to explain his own broken ability to speak of emotion, the parts of his mind that Bant clucks over and attributes to his own complicated relationship with Qui-Gon. "I had custody as his primary guardian from ages nine to nineteen and was the primary individual for handling his schooling, health, and general upbringing."

"That sounds to me like a very convoluted way of saying you were his father in all but name."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm not exactly old enough to be his father, and I wasn't exactly the person he was supposed to learn from; I was the... back-up option."

"It seems he cares for you very much."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of helpless smile and awkward shrug he's long gotten used to sharing with people when they ask. "And I assure you he'd have been happier with the man that was meant to teach him."

"I'd say that the 'would have' in this situation is much less important than what is," the representative says. Obi-Wan probably should have paid more attention to his name. "I wasn't in a position to define my relation to Allura or her father in the way that truly suited our situation, by... oh, tradition, social norms, public relations, take your pick. I was a very well-regarded official, of course, but I wasn't royalty, not even nobility, and I certainly wasn't wasn't legally or publicly part of the family. But for all the limitations there, I was still able to find ways to tell her and her family what they meant to me, and they in return. Your apprentice cares for you very much, and I'm sure you care back, but I'd hazard quite the guess that you've no idea how to tell him that."

"I... I shouldn't," Obi-Wan says. "I'm fond of him, of course, but I've no wish to smother him, and to simply say it would be undignified. I imagine he'd laugh in my face."

The representative raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

"Master Kenobi," he says carefully. "Might I suggest you go find your young man, tell him you love him, and perhaps give him a hug?"

Obi-Wan's face flares red. It's been years since anyone short of Yoda has spoken to him like that.

"I'm not a child," he sniffs, trying to angle enough away that the blush isn't as noticeable. He's damnably prone to such things. "You're not that much older than me."

The man laughs, and Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his lips in a futile attempt to hid the embarrassment a little more. "Oh, not counting the stasis, I've well reached the age of six hundred and twenty-four, my boy!"

Obi-Wan chokes on his drink.

The man laughs a little more, but thumps him on the back until he's breathing normally again.

"Yes, most of the humans I've told have had quite the reaction!" the representative assures him. "But yes, even with the times adjusted to what any given local year is, I am significantly longer-lived than most species."

"No kidding," Obi-Wan manages. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at the representative. He takes in the wrinkles and bright eyes, and says, "Well, I must say you look very well for a near-human of such an age. I can only name one person in that category that has managed better, and I haven't seen her since I was a child."

"I shall take that as the compliment it's intended to be," the representative says, twisting the edge of his mustache and beaming.

The man is... well, goofy, really, and quite a bit older than Obi-Wan had thought, but he's quite the charmer. Obi-Wan faintly compares him to a few different people in the back of his mind, but nothing quite fits. For all that the man is quite the jokester and--going by some things he'd seen from the corner of his eye in the main party--a master of physical comedy, the representative is actually more competent than he looks, and for all his visible age, not bad to look at. He is also, seemingly, an expert in dealing with teenagers and young adults, something Obi-Wan himself is... decidedly not.

He really should go speak with Anakin.

And there's a war to fight.

He doesn't really have much time, even with the recent lull.

He's in no place to be looking at the clean-shaven jaw and wondering what it would feel like under his lips, or to let himself consider whether this man would be the kind to have an hours-long discussion as to the narrative forms common in other galaxies, and whether they have anything paralleled to those in Obi-Wan's own, or if this man would show the same enthusiasm over teas that he'd shown over the hors d'oeuvres inside.

He should... really go find Anakin.

"I suppose it's time to find my padawan," he says, more to fill the air than anything. "Er... thank you, both for speaking with him, and for speaking with me."

"Not a problem at all, Master Kenobi!" the representative says, and Obi-Wan realizes that there's one last thing he may have... forgotten.

"This is terribly embarrassing, but I don't believe I caught your name?" Obi-Wan says.

"Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!" the man says, with a sweeping bow. "As you can imagine, most simply call me Coran."

"Then I insist you call me Obi-Wan," he says, and before he can stop himself, "Might I bother you with an invitation to a shared tea time? You seem a knowledgeable fellow, and I'd appreciate the chance to... eh, pick your brain, shall we say."

It's not the smoothest come on he's ever put out there, or the most easily interpreted, but... well. Perhaps it's for the best. He's rather often found his tastes going in irresponsible directions, and it'll be much easier to brush this off without diplomatic incident if there's room for Coran to politely ignore the less platonic options.

Obi-Wan hopes he doesn't.

It's very selfish of him, but a dalliance with an older gentleman... well. He does, perhaps, make such irresponsible decisions, even now.

"I do believe I'd enjoy such a thing!" Coran enthuses, grabbing Obi-Wan's hand and shaking it in large, effusive movements.

Oh, this is a terrible idea, Obi-Wan thinks, even as he exchanges comm numbers and says goodbye.

Still.

He likes the idea of having at least a little fun, sedate or less so, while they have some time to themselves.

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Coran Smythe #Coran #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #anakin skywalker #Star Wars #Voltron #crossovers #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Answers Asks #parenting

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

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Falling Again

Summary: Life is cruel, but the mind is crueler. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 5.2K Warnings: Angst. Loads of tears. I apologize in advance. A/N: @luna-aestas requested angst in the same vein as the Welcome Home series, along with some unrequited love. What’s worse than unrequited love? Assuming it’s unrequited. This will probably end up being another series. You’ve been warned.

Everyone told him that the pain would pass with time. That with each day, the wound would scar over and the dull ache in his chest would go away, that things like work and social events would be less awkward, and that even alone time would normalize again.

They were all wrong.

The truth was that it had been five years, and he still felt the pain like a red-hot poker searing through his heart each time he woke to live another day.

The knocking on the door was never loud enough to hide the sound of her sniffles, and though sleep always threatened to drag him back under, it was her soft voice that always made him sit up.

“Papa? I had a nightmare.” Her voice, tear-filled and scared, always broke his heart, and though there were days when he needed an extra moment to hide his own tears, he never denied his daughter entrance.

“Come in, sweetie,” Henry called, barely getting the words out before he heard the knob turning. He watched as she padded in, taking extra care to close the door behind her. With her otter plushie tucked under her arm, she tiptoed to the bed, looking up at her father, fresh tears tracks painting her ruddy cheeks.

“What did you dream about, pumpkin?” He asked, his voice as soft as his daughter’s as he picked her up and lifted her into what had--over time--become her spot. He was shocked when the mere question had her whimpering, her little arms finding his neck and holding on tight as she cried into his shoulder. His face broke into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking any time his daughter cried so earnestly.

"We were at the park and I got l-lost! I ran the wh-whole park and f-finally found you, but-but you were a-asleep and wou-wouldn't wake up! J-just like g-grams!" She keened, his shirt soaked with her tears as she shook like a leaf in his arms.

Cradling her head against his chest, Henry smoothed down her hair over and over, his own eyes filling with unshed tears as he realized, in that moment, how much his mother-in-law’s death had affected his little girl. His mother-in-law had been far too young to go, but had lived long enough to become attached at the hip with his daughter. Her death hadn't come as a surprise to either of them, but holding her now, he could tell that his daughter hadn't been given a fair shake at grieving.

He'd taken her to the funeral, not because he thought it was the right thing to do, but because he had no other choice. Babysitters were exorbitant luxuries in NYC, and everyone he knew was either going to be in attendance, or tied up with work. Technically, he couldn't even afford the day off for the funeral, but his boss was self-servingly magnanimous and had paid him time and a half, knowing full well it would put Henry in his pocket for another year. She'd been quiet as a mouse during the ceremony, the eulogies, and the procession to view the body (which he'd left her in her seat for). Even the ride home, he realized, had been a silent one, and for all the grieving he'd done when he thought she wasn't looking, Henry had never seen his daughter so much as throw a tantrum to try and express herself.

Now, holding her as she wailed softly, her grip on him a vice that wouldn't release until she slept, Henry realized that the nightmares she'd been having were her mind's way of processing what had happened, and that, like her father, she was afraid of losing everyone she loved.

Kissing her forehead, Henry tried to think of a way to make her understand that he wasn't going to die the way her grandmother, and her mother both had, but he knew his daughter well enough to know that promising he'd live to a ripe old age wouldn't cut it.

"That sounds like a scary dream, pumpkin, but papa's not going anywhere, okay? Grams was very sick, the kind of sick that only really happens to people that are much, much, older than Papa. Grams was sick for a long, long, time. Ever since you were a baby. Papa just went to the doctor and he said I was in perfect health. I don't want you to worry about Papa falling asleep and not waking up, okay? I’m going to be around for a long, long time. Might even be around when you've got white hair and wrinkles everywhere, okay? Papa works out and eats healthy every day so that I can be around as long as possible. So don't worry, alright? I’m not going anywhere."

Sophia sniffled and whimpered a little more, but finally nodded, understanding what he was saying, even if she didn't 100% believe it quite yet. "I love you, papa," she whispered, giving him a squeeze. He kissed her temple and nodded. "I love you too, sweetheart. More than you'll ever know."

"I won't worry about it unless you go bald like grams or mama," she whispered, the decision one that made her content and relaxed in his arms, Sophia never to know just how much the simple reasoning shattered her father's heart.

Henry waited until she was completely asleep to tip his head up to the ceiling, his own tears silent and desperate as he clung to what little family had left.

There was very little he paid attention to at work aside from work itself. He couldn’t afford distraction; medical bills, funerary costs, utilities, rent, and groceries all required money, and working an entry-level job was barely cutting it, even with mandatory overtime. Still, there was one distraction he couldn’t seem to shake, despite the guilt that came over him each time he realized it was happening again.

His distraction had a name and a devastating smile much like his wife’s. In fact, there was a lot about Zoe that reminded him of his Izzy. At first glance it was hard to see, given the differences in eye color, nose and face shape, but there was something about her mannerisms, her energy, and her kindness that evoked the love of his life. Henry couldn’t help but watch her whenever she came to speak to one of their colleagues, and at lunch they exchanged polite conversation. That was the extent of it, though. Henry knew that a woman like Zoe, a woman who radiated such brightness and joy, would never be with a man like him, a hulled husk ready to be crumbled into dust at any given moment.

There were days however, where even Zoe’s brand of sunshine couldn’t break the storm clouds that seemed to follow Henry wherever he went, days where the world crushed him just that little bit further. As Henry took a seat at his desk, he knew today would be one of those days, if his morning had been any indication.

He had cried himself to sleep, if the heaviness of his eyes was anything to go by, but as the sun crept through the crooked blinds of his bedroom, Henry remembered the events of the night before, and in peeking down, found Sophia pretending to be asleep.

"Rise and shine, pumpkin, it's time for school," he murmured, peppering her face with gentle kisses, Henry angling his head before blowing a small raspberry on the top of her arm.

"Papa, I don't feel good," she said as she swatted his face away, her eyes staying closed--Henry's first indication that she was faking it.

"You don't feel good? Well, let's see," he kept his tone soft and neutral, both of them knowing this game all too well, both intent on playing it anyway. The back of his hand pressed to her forehead before he scooted down to press his ear to her tummy. Coming back up, Henry gave her a half-shrug. "You don't have a fever, and your tummy’s not rumbling...Is it the kind of 'not feeling good' where you just want to stay home?" Fixing her with a soft, 'tell the truth' gaze, Henry waited for her answer.

"I don't wanna go to school. Wanna stay home with you."

"But papa's not staying home, I have to go to work, sweetheart," he tried to reason with her, Henry surprised when, for the second time in less than 24 hours, Sophia’s lower lip started to quiver.

"But I want you to stay home! You're always so tired and so sad, papa! Want you to stay home so we can nap and have tea, and so you can be happy!"

Sophia's reasoning hit him like a truck at an intersection, Henry feeling his heart stop for a few beats while he tried to process what she'd just said. He'd thought he'd always been careful to smile and be upbeat around her, but obviously his little one had the gift of stealth and had caught him in private moments, when he thought she wasn't looking.

"What makes you think Papa's not happy?" he asked, trying to keep his face neutral and his eyes from watering.

"I hear you crying every day, papa! And when you talk to Uncle Dom, you always say about how you're worried about money, and about how bills are piling up. At night, you say mama’s name over and over, like you're having a bad dream."

Tears spilled over as he listened to his six year old be so observant, so astute, and so heartbreakingly no nonsense in her reasoning. Chin falling to his chest, he only managed to hold back his sobs, crying as quietly as he could, because, as seemed to be the case whenever she really watched something and made up her mind about it, Soph was right.

The shrill ring of his cell phone cut through the otherwise-quiet moment, and Henry answered it without looking, not realizing that it was his sister-in-law, Imogen on the other end.

"H-Hello?" he stammered, the grief clearly heard in his voice, even through the shortest word possible.

"Henry? Darling, is everything alright? Nevermind all that, I’ll be over in a jiff."

Wiping his eyes, Henry sighed heavily, getting up to unlock the door to his ramshackle apartment, knowing Gen would be there in less than five. Though it was nice having her and her husband, Dom so close, there were times when Henry wished they lived just a little further up town. Henry hadn't been expecting the hug, but the moment Gen was through the door and her arms were around him, it was all he could do to keep from sobbing.

“Are you certain you’re okay to go into work like this?” Gen asked softly, feeling a sense of dejavu come over her. It was a conversation they’d had often enough, both before and after her sister’s death, and it had yet to end differently. Shoulders shaking, Henry nodded, the words that followed being the opposite of what anyone wanted to hear.

"I d-don't have a choice," he whispered, knowing full well that any slip-up would cost him his job, and that being without income, even for a few days, would spell disaster for his and Sophia's lives.

"Aunt Gen, make him stay home and sleep!" Soph said quietly with urgency in her voice, the little girl knowing how frayed her father was, even if he fought it tooth and nail.

"Soph, sweetheart, Papa has to go to work. It's not like school, I can't miss a day just because I don't feel like coming in," he did his best to explain it to her gently, Henry crouching down, arms outstretched for her.

Reluctantly, she came, and Henry wrapped her up tight, kissing her head over and over. "You're going to have the best time with Aunt Gen. You always do. You'll go shopping and have lunch at her place, or maybe even help her and Aunt Beth make a cake! Or you two could go to the pool, or maybe even go see Uncle Dom at the bookstore. You're going to have loads of fun and before you know it, papa will be there to pick you up."

Though he managed to keep his voice steady, Henry's free hand covered his eyes, the age-old shame he felt as a father who couldn't provide everything his daughter needed and wanted coming back the second he realized he couldn't even give her spending money for anything.

Wiping his eyes hard, he pulled back and fixed his daughter with a beaming smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I want you to tell me all about the fun you had today once we get home, okay? Now, go on, you're wasting time hanging around here with your old gaffer, when you could be having pancakes for breakfast with your favorite auntie."

He winked, Henry’s smile growing just a little more when Soph's eyes lit up. It was rare she got more than a bowl of oatmeal in the morning, as groceries tended to be kept to the cheapest items that provided the most nutritional value possible. If the military had taught him anything, it was how to stretch food, and he did it without even thinking sometimes; without taking into account that a treat here and there would be good for his little girl.

Standing, he went for his wallet, eyes on the floor, jaw clenched, and face burning red with shame as he handed Gen a five, giving up what he'd budgeted for lunch for the week, wanting his daughter to at least have something on her day out with her aunt.

Henry turned immediately so that Gen didn't have the chance to put it back in his hand, moving across the room to grab his phone and call in to Sophia's school, not wanting to get the call later at work, where he wouldn't be able to answer it.

"Hi, Mary, yes, this is Sophia’s father, Henry. Soph's not going to be coming in today. She's feeling rather poorly, so I'm going to keep her home. Okay, thank you. Have a great day," he spoke softly, making silly faces at Soph while talking, grateful to get a silent laugh from her, his daughter knowing better than to jeopardize her day off by giggling loud enough to be heard by the school secretary.

"All right, pumpkin, come ‘ere. You have fun and listen to your auntie okay? No running off, no being a silly monkey in a crowded place. I love you, have fun, and I'll see you tonight," Henry said softly as he hugged Sophia tight, holding on just a little longer than usual and wishing for all the world he could call in.

“You always have a choice,” Gen reminded him, her face holding sympathy for the man who’d single-handedly been responsible for her sister’s happiness, especially in the last few months of her life. “You should stay for dinner. Dom’s making his famous Kitchen Sink Pasta,” she added after a moment, noticing the sallowness of Henry’s skin, how the hollows of his cheeks were becoming more pronounced.

To Gen, Henry and Izzy would forever be soulmates, an insurmountably perfect couple, but her sister’s request that he find someone new after her passing weighed heavier and heavier on Gen’s mind with every passing year. If Heaven did exist, Imogen imagined her sister was tearing her hair out with impatience, or sobbing without end at seeing how life had panned out for her husband after her parting.

"Easy for you to say," Henry murmured, giving Gen a kind smile, not needing to remind her that her situation was far different than his, given her huge family, and the fact that she ran her own business. The more Gen looked at him with sympathy, the more shame he felt, and while he knew she was only trying to do right by him, it only made him feel worse about his circumstances.

"Don't count on me for dinner. Dom's been picking up Soph for a reason. I probably won’t make it out of there until at least nine," he spoke softly and between his teeth, wanting to make it as garbled as possible so that Sophia wouldn't be upset. One look in her eyes however, and Henry knew his daughter had understood every word.

"You two have fun. I'll see you ladies later," Henry smiled, seeing them to the door and watching until they'd disappeared down the stairs before closing and sliding down against the frame, his tears free to fall in privacy.

Connected to her father by an invisible thread that latched her heart to his, Sophia forced Gen to stop midway down the stairs, her ears perked, head tilted towards the general direction of her home.

"Papa's crying again," she stated plainly, her own chin falling to her chest, the softest, saddest little sigh escaping her. "He hasn't been happy in a very, very long time. Wish I could fix him. Wish I could make him stay home, aunt Gen. The only reason I wanted to stay home was to stay with him."

Sniffling, she wiped her eyes, looking up at her aunt with questioning eyes. "Do you think it would be easier for papa if I gave him all the money in my piggy bank? Would he be able to stay home and sleep then? Is there a way that we can make the bills stop coming? Stop them from making papa so worried and sad?"

Gen did her best to keep her face neutral as bent down to hug Sophia tightly, feeling the waves of anguish roll off her. Her heart broke for her niece, knowing the little girl was as empathetic as her father, and that at her age, emotions were always felt more deeply.

“Tell you what, why don’t we go back in there and see if we can’t convince your father to stow away with us one more time? I think he could do with some pancakes as well, don’t you?” Knowing she was pushing her luck, but also knowing Sophia would spend the day withdrawn if she didn’t try, Gen opened the door, hoping once, just once, Henry would say yes.

“So Soph and I decided that you don’t have a choice. You’re coming with us today, for pancakes and books and cake, alright?”

He’d had just enough time to wipe his eyes and stand up by the time the door opened and Sophia ran to him full tilt, hugging him as tight as she could manage for such a little girl.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking up at Gen in concern before her words clicked everything into place. Though he kept a smile on for Sophia, he couldn’t stop from fixing Gen with a look.

"Girls, much as I'd like to join you, I have to go to work. Like I said, pumpkin, I can't just skip a day because I feel like it. Papa's has to go to work." Henry was tender with his daughter, never once wanting to be the one that made her upset, but also needing her to understand that his world didn't work as easily as her's did.

"Give papa just a second to have a word with Aunt Gen, alright? Then you two can get to those pancakes," he nodded, pressing a kiss to each cheek and giving Sophia a squeeze, before motioning for Gen to follow him into his bedroom.

With the door closed and locked behind them, Henry ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a sigh. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. I really do. But I can't skip work, or I'll lose my job. Furthermore, Gen, if I miss a day, I literally can't make rent or groceries this month. I cannot skip today, especially when I’m being paid overtime. I'm sorry, I r-really am, and believe me, this is k-killing me, okay? But I c-can't. So please, don't get her h-hopes up like that. It's not fair--"

Turning his back to Gen, he curled in on himself until he was crouching down, hands covering his head as though it were a bomb drill. Using his forearms to muffle the whimpers, he stayed down there until he felt his composure return. Wiping his eyes with the same ferocity he always did whenever he knew someone had seen him crying, Henry stood up and gave her a gentle smile.

"Please make it a day she'll never forget, okay? Do that for me? Please?"

It wasn't lost on him, in that moment of vulnerability, that he'd yet been able to make it to any of his daughter's events during her first year in kindergarten. None of the little parties, show-and-tells, or anything of that nature had seen him in attendance, but instead, had been graciously covered--and recorded for later viewing--by Dom, who had been mistaken for Sophia's father more than once.

Wracked with guilt and shame over his failings as a parent, Henry looked down at the floor, destroyed through and through. There were a lot of things missing from his life that most took for granted; a couch, Netflix, sometimes electricity. But it was the intangible things that ate him up and made him feel like true scum. Missing Sophia’s events, not picking her up from school every day, and often being too tired to do more than what was absolutely necessary for her when he finally came home, were all things that caused him deep shame and often-sleepless nights.

He waited for Gen to give up, to say she understood, and to leave in order to hopefully give his beloved daughter a day she'd not soon forget, Henry knowing that today, no matter how easy the calls turned out to be, would be hell.

"You were supposed to be here by six, Cavill!!"

Henry's head snapped up when he heard his boss' voice booming down the hall.

"I'm scheduled to start at nine, sir," he replied, trying to maintain his cool as he fumbled with trying to pull his schedule from his desk drawers while putting himself in a code so that calls wouldn’t come in automatically. He was certain his schedule was right and that he hadn’t switched with anyone.

Even as he tore through his papers, a write up sheet was laid on his desk, Henry finding the printout before turning and looking up at Jerry, utterly confused and more than a little appalled.

"You were supposed to start at six, you showed up at nine. You're late, so I'm docking your pay." Henry's eyes hardened as he held up the sheet of paper, handing it to Jerry.

"I was scheduled for nine. I logged in at 8:58 am."

"I wanted you here for six, I told you on Friday. Sign the form and get back on the phones."

Henry tried to wrack his brains for any important conversations he'd had with his boss, anything that could help him defend himself, but nothing came. Friday had been as ordinary as any other day.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Henry signed the paper, knowing full well he was giving away half his paycheck and with it, any chance at getting rent paid on time.

Sick to his stomach, he looked at the clock, then at the picture of Sophia he kept tucked in the back of his cubicle. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. Should've just stayed home today," he murmured, wiping at his eyes to keep fresh tears at bay.

By lunch time, Henry was beginning to feel light-headed with hunger. Knowing he’d given his lunch budget to Gen, he settled for a black coffee and took his usual seat, intent on shutting out the world, if only for a few minutes.

“Uh oh, *someone’s had a rough morning,” Zoe grinned as she came in, setting her lunch bag down on the counter before putting the container inside into the microwave to heat. Moving over to where Henry sat slumped over, she rubbed his shoulders gently, surprised when she felt nothing but tension beneath her fingers.

“Everything okay? I heard Jerry muttering in his office all morning about you being late, which I found unusual, given you were here on time.”

“According to him, I should have been here at six. I think he has it out for me, or is planning on letting me go,” Henry answered, finally lifting up his head to look at Zoe. He wasn’t surprised when she gave him a double-take; he knew he looked like roadkill, her expression simply confirmed it.

“Have you been sleeping alright? You look like you could use at least 24 hours’ worth,” She commented softly, Henry scrubbing a hand over his face before taking a sip of his coffee.

“No rest for the wicked, isn’t that the saying? Soph hasn’t been sleeping all that well, so I wake whenever she has a nightmare.” Though it wasn’t the full truth, it wasn’t an outright lie. Henry simply omitted the parts he knew no one at work would care about.

Zoe grimaced in sympathy, getting up and fetching her food before sitting down across from him. Whatever was in the container smelled wonderful, and were it not for the coffee boring a hole in his gut, it would have been pure torture.

“I bet she sleeps snug as a bug in a rug once she’s been comforted though, huh?” Zoe grinned, taking a bite of sauce-covered ravioli with impeccable manners. Like him, Imogen’s family, and Dom, Zoe was a British expat, having come to NYC to fulfill a career in fashion, but having had her dreams detoured instead. Unlike the rest of them, Henry had landed on his ass in the Big Apple, with all his prospects falling through within the first year of him being in the country. He managed to stay afloat until his paperwork was in place, but no matter how often he applied to jobs in his field, nothing ever came through. Then Izzy got sick and the downward spiral began for good.

“That she does,” he agreed, rubbing his face and managing a smile for Zoe’s sake. Finishing his coffee, he allowed himself to daydream for a moment. He only ever allowed himself to think of what a date would be like with Zoe, and it was always the same thing. A bright blue sky, good food, and a trek through one of the city’s smaller and more interesting museums. Nothing more, nothing less. More than anything, he just wanted her company.

“Earth to Henry!” Zoe’s sweet, musical voice brought him back to reality, and looking at her, he couldn’t help but blush. “You were on a different planet. Time to get back to it, sleepyhead,” she mused, tugging one of his curls playfully before letting it spring back up.

“Sorry. Just a zombie today, I s’pose,” Henry answered, looking at his watch and seeing he only had two minutes before he had to be back on the phone.

“I’ll see you later. No falling asleep at your desk, eh?” Zoe grinned, giving him a wink as she stood to wash out her container, her heels clicking on the floor in a way that had Henry momentarily entranced.

Nine o'clock came as quickly as molasses. By the time he’d stamped out, Henry’s vision was blurred, and he was slightly dizzy. He was careful as he walked home, staying closer to the buildings than the car-lined roads, and waiting for the crosswalks to give him the right of way instead of jaywalking like he normally did.

By the time he hit Dom and Gen's block, he was swaying a little, beyond starving. He hoped the goodbyes wouldn't take too long and he and Sophia could be on their way. Dinner would be something quick, easy, and carb-loaded to hopefully keep his roiling stomach from protesting too much.

Taking the stairs slowly, Henry knocked on the door, leaning against the frame and dying to see his little girl.

“PAPA!!!!” Sophie called excitedly, rushing to Henry with the biggest smile on her face. Though she loved her extended family, it was clear that she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. Papa missed you a ton!" Henry grinned, dropping into a squat to hold her close, his body swaying a little at the sudden movement.

“We had so much fun today and I made you dinner and I made cake and Aunt Gen said you can eat here while it’s still hot and I missed you, papa!!” The second part came out in a single, muffled rush of air, a confirmation of the type of day Henry’d hoped she’d had. At hearing about dinner, he pulled back, fixing Soph with a playful, narrow-eyed smile before raising a knowing eyebrow up at Gen.

"Did you now? Did you make it allll by yourself?" he asked, tickling Sophia’s sides, Henry tugging her close once more to press kiss after kiss to her face.

When his legs began to get pins and needles, Henry reluctantly let her go. Standing, he tripped over his own feet, Henry’s swaying combined with his clumsiness making it seem as though he were drunk.

"Everything alright, mate?" Dom asked as Henry finally came in through the door, Dom hugging his brother-in-law a little tighter than normal, concern etched in his features.

"Yeah, yeah, just a very long day. Glad to be back with the munchkin and to apparently have dinner made for me…Gen," Henry spoke the last part with emphasis, shooting her a half-smile and a wink, not in the least mad at her for making him dinner. If anything, he was relieved he wouldn't have to wait until they were home.

He didn't even flinch as Soph crawled up onto his lap as his plate was set in front of him, Henry crooking his finger at Gen before she could leave, a warm kiss pressed to her cheek in thanks.

"Thank you for doing this today. I owe you big time," he murmured, cupping the back of her head for a moment, Henry wanting her to be certain that he meant every word.

“Just remember, you’re not alone in this,” Gen whispered back, her expression tight and filled with an emotion that was both intense and unreadable, a cross between anguish and worry.

“Hands off my wife, pal,” Dom joked to bring some levity to the room, his hands coming down on Henry’s shoulders with a friendly shake. Henry’s mind set out to hurt him, reminding him of the many daydreams of Zoe, of their lunchtime conversations, long enough to make him flinch in his seat, the thoughts feeling like blasphemy.

There was once a time where he’d come back with a quip of his own, something quick-witted to keep the room laughing just a little longer. As it stood however, Dom’s words were just a painful reminder that there was only one married man in the room. Putting on a brave face, Henry managed to look the part, but his voice betrayed him, coming out soft and broken.

“You got a good one, mate, that’s for sure, but I got the angel.”

#henry cavill #henry x ofc #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 4 years

Text

Raiders

Part I

In space, shitty things still happen, even to otherwise nice SecUnits. Part II of the strange idea that’s been wandering around in my head.

According to Transport, we exited a wormhole into one of the lesser-used shipping lanes and were scheduled to jump again within a matter of hours. Six cycles into the trip, I was getting used to dealing with the somewhat hyperactive ship and its significantly calmer captain.

Right then, I was sitting on the floor in the ship's control room while it happily described what the instrument panels around me were used for. The Traveler liked teaching, and it especially liked that I was completely unfamiliar with how wormhole jumps functioned. I think it appreciated having a lot of ground to cover and a captive audience at its disposal.

Security constructs don't get much in the way of education. I know several ways of rendering a human unconscious but have never seen any marine-based lifeforms. Also, listening to Transport and Skye explain the details behind wormhole jumps helped to pass the time.

Right then, the ship was demonstrating how its external shields worked to keep stray debris from puncturing holes in its exterior hull. The resulting light show looked absolutely stunning. I might've stood there for a few seconds, just marveling at the view, when our proximity alarms went off.

I tapped into the feed just in time to overhear as the ship updated the captain in real-time about the nature of the alarm. Transport had given me near-unlimited access to its resources at some point after leaving the station, so I could see its own diagnostics.

Results: we'd been shot.

According to the ship's piecemeal timeline, an unknown vessel had entered real space moments after us. Wile Transport was still ascertaining the identity of the newcomer, the smaller vessel had fired on us. Several large, projectile missiles were incoming; according to Transport's calculations, at least some of the damage would likely penetrate through its deflective shielding.

Owens sprinted up to the bridge and dropped unceremoniously into the pilot's seat. "Strap yourself in," she told me, pointing at one of the other chairs in the room. "This is gonna get bumpy."

I got up and took a couple of steps toward the nearest seat, and then the ship around me shook and seemed to twist. Like someone had flickered the gravity off and then back on again. The captain swore under her breath while Transport explained, "We've been grabbed by a tractor beam. Unidentified vessel on approach. Vector analysis places its approach near our cargo bay airlock."

"Is that... common?"

"It's probably raiders. Probably looking to board and see what they can grab." The captain's hands flowed across the controls with insane speeds, for a human at least. "That's the most common tactic. They stage hit-and-runs in sectors where corporate security's low and there are no rescue stations nearby."

Transport added, "ETA three minutes."

I went straight for the bridge door. "I'm going down there." Up there, technically, since the cargo bay sat on the periphery of the habitable sections of the ship. I might be of absolutely no use in a space-based fight, but if anyone stepped foot onto the Traveler...

Well, that I could do something about.

"SecUnit, wait." Skye twisted in her seat. "You need a weapon." She gestured toward a locker that popped open at her command. "We'll do what we can to buy you time. Don't get killed out there."

My insides melted, figuratively speaking. I wasn't sure what the fuck to do with this feeling; it's not a common occurrence for humans to care about the survival of their SecUnits.

"Yes, ma'am," said my buffer -- presumably to the bit about needing a weapon.

I grabbed a projectile weapon from the armory locker and sprinted down the hall to the cargo area. Transport rode shotgun inside my head. It was also helping Owens outmaneuver, or at least stall, the raiders. And it was sending out distress messages to nearby beacons. Helpfully, it sent me a video feed out of the outside of the cargo airlock.

The raiders' smaller but much faster ship looked like a dark blob in a sea of darkness. I could only identify the vessel because Transport was marking its position and trajectory for me. The cylindrical shell was coming directly at us, flattened nose facing toward us.

"ETA, 45 seconds," Transport informed me when I reached the cargo bay.

The inside of the cargo space looked like a giant, open warehouse. It was filled with boxes of various shapes and sizes, all started somewhat haphazardly in uneven rows. The layout had something to do with how the freight would be dropped off at the Transport's many destinations. As far as a firefight went, I had plenty of cover.

I chose a hiding spot on top of a metal box that was almost twice my height. Tossing a gun on top, I clambered up after it and lay prone, watching the airlock door. The ship lent me a couple of its drones, and I stationed them around the room, giving me a bird's-eye view of the incoming assholes.

Five hostiles tried to board the Traveler.

Their ship spat out a long, flexible tube, which attached itself to the outside of our airlock. Someone inside the tube manually released the seals holding the airlock shut and then pushed open the heavy metal door with a mining tool. Ugly but effective.

Transport slammed down its atmosphere-sealing barriers to keep air from escaping into the vacuum of space, but the momentary depressurization felt sickening. I might be made of synthetic parts, but my internals sent off a flurry of error messages.

The raiders stepped into the cargo space in a huddled bundle of bodies and projectile weapons. They wore heavily-shielded space suits, almost as though those suits provided armor. Hint: they mostly don't. Even in the room's dim lighting, I could see them moving through the drone's cameras. I could also hear their stops echoing through the open space. Beyond sticking together, they didn't appear to have any kind of formation.

Outside of the dangerous weapons, these were amateurs. Huh.

The captain pinged me that she was in the safe room just down the hall. She was ready to provide backup, but honestly, I didn't want her anywhere near the fighting. Too many well-meaning humans had shot me before -- all while trying to be helpful. Also, humans can't take nearly as much damage as constructs. Maybe that last reason was the most pressing one.

The targets looked around and started banging on a few of the closest boxes. One of them produced a hand scanner and waved it around. I was pretty sure they were communicating with each other via a private comm system, which meant that Transport probably couldn't shut it down. It was checking anyway because it had the processing power to spare.

Meanwhile, I lined up a shot from where I was hidden on top of a container. Once the firefight started, I would have a limited amount of time to take out the intruders. I had a plan—sort of.

I took out the target on the left, now dubbed Hostile One. They were the most daring of the bunch and had put some distance between themselves and the rest of their group. It made them an easy target. They were also the one with the scanner, so taking them out would slow the rest of the group.

The shot tore through the raider's shoulder, piercing the suit. The bullet must've lodged inside the human because there was no exit hole, so far as I could tell. Hostile One dropped their gun and yelped in obvious pain. The rest of the group gaped at their now-bleeding friend and then started waving their own weapons around menacingly. As though it would somehow help them locate the shooter.

Hint: it wouldn't.

Unfortunately for me, the recoil on my weapon hurt like help. It probably shouldn't have, if I could hold the large gun correctly, but with only one arm, that wasn't going to happen. Given the circumstances, I turned down my pain receptor and aimed again.

I managed to get a second shot at one of the other hostiles before the group collectively figured out where I was and started shooting. Hostile Two wasn't as lucky as his friend. My hit took his arm clean off. Most of the enemy fire went wide -- I have no idea where they were aiming -- but when I tried to take out asshole number three, one of their bullets hit me in the chest.

I dropped my weapon and backed away, out of their line of fire. I still had my in-built arm cannon, but I would need to get closer to use it effectively. It wasn't meant for long-distance fighting.

Memory fragment: there's a human on the ground. They look exhausted. I can see bruises on their bare arms. A different human gestures toward me and tells me to shoot. I do.

In the feed, Transport had shared the video from my eyes and the drones with the captain. So, she knew I'd gotten shot. Owens should have stayed put; if I was in charge of security, I would have advised her not to engage. But the Traveler wasn't my responsibility, and this wasn't a contract. Also, I didn't have time to verbalize any of that before the captain left the perfectly safe room and came through the door behind me.

The two remaining raiders reacted to the sudden noise by shooting anything and everything. Transport thought they might be scared; I told it that I didn't care what they were, other than hostile and annoying. I scooted forward, angled my arm, and shot the fourth hostile in the face. That took out the raider's suit, and he crumpled to the floor.

Meanwhile, the last asshole caught sight of the captain -- she was trying to keep a low profile, but the suits probably had some amount of targeting support built-in. In the split second while the one remaining raider set up her shot, I calculated my odds and then rolled off my hiding platform and landed between her and Owens.

Oh, for fuck's sake, I thought as the raider shot me. Pretty much point-blank. I shoved my arm cannon in her face and fired. And fuck, being shot hurts! Then, I looked down at myself.

I was leaking and didn't feel good.

The whole thing might've gone way better if I had two working arms, but more importantly, if the human had let me just do my job. Still, I was moving, and the hostiles weren't. That had to count for something.

Owens ran up to me and took stock. Her expression went from concerned to horrified. She had the gun holstered with the safety on, so that was one less thing to worry about.

Transport burst into my feed. "Are you all right?"

Fucking stupid question. "Performance reliability rating at 50% and dropping."

"Report to the medical bay immediately."

That was the logical course of action, and I knew it. But the moment the medical suit got its hands on me, it would know about my short circuited governor. Odds were good that it would fix that along with everything else. So, I didn't want to go anywhere near it.

I probably should've said that. Instead, what came out was: "Fuck you."

Skye, who was privy to the exchange, shook her head. "Whatever you're worried about, we'll take care of you. I promise. Just do that thing I asked and don't die on us."

"I don't want to go back."

"You don't have to," the captain reiterated.

"If MedSystem fixes me, I might."

"Not on my watch. SecUnit, Medical, now. Or I will drag you there, kicking and screaming."

I made it to the medical platform on my own. MedSystem scanned me while I leaked onto its pristine and sterile surface and then informed me that I had a terminal case of being a construct. It didn't phrase it quite like that, but I got the gist.

Performance rating dropping.

Thanks, useless diagnostic tool, for stating the obvious. I turned off the notification and backburned the data coming from my body. MedSystem would have to sort out what was and wasn't working because I was getting little more than garbage data by then. And everything hurt. And I was freezing. And there was a shutdown threatening, postponed only by the medical system's attempts to stabilize me.

Transport spoke up. "It'll be all right."

"No, it won't," I told it.

"Want to watch something together?"

"I don't think I could concentrate on anything." I doubted I had enough awareness for much of anything.

"I downloaded a standard construct template, and I've customized it a little. You'll like it."

Consciousness was fading fast. I think I said something about not wanting to be human. I don't know for sure what, if anything, came out.

#fanfic #the murderbot diaries #SecUnit #memories #into the unknown

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whispersafterdusk · 4 years

Text

Lost in Time - ch 1

Winter had been very eager to shove fall out of the picture this year.

It had announced its presence with a torrential downpour that turned to sleet that had eventually given way to a heavy snow that had hammered Portia for a good five, six hours straight and brought with it a bitter cold that was a stark contrast to the chilly but tolerable temperature from only a few days prior.

It wasn't often that Arlo lamented living on top of a steep hill but he certainly did now as he and the rest of the Civil Corps struggled to clear the pathway without taking a sliding tumble down said hill; after several hours of work they'd only managed to clear to the topmost landing of the sidewalk ramp and they were all soaked, tired, and bruised up from repeated slips and slides -- if this was a sign of what kind of winter they were going to have this year then it wasn't going to be a pleasant one, and they'd likely need more than the one old shovel and broom they'd pulled out of the closet to get through the season. ((Continued below cut))

Arlo himself was armed with that broom and shovel and was quickly tiring of moving the seven inches of snow that sat on top of the three inches of ice and had, within the last hour, stopped piling it neatly alongside the path they were clearing and instead was just happy to move it out of the way however he could.

Behind him, as he cleared away the top layer of snow, Sam and Remington worked together on the ice - Remington cracking and lifting, and Sam getting it out of the way. Theirs was perhaps the harder job even if Arlo technically had more to move by volume, and after a while (after she chucked a double handful of ice chunks off to the side) Sam straightened from where she'd been bent over, rubbing at her lower back. "Man, even with my gloves on I can't feel my fingers."

"This is weather only Papa Bear's suited for," Remington grumbled as he wedged the blunt end of the pickaxe under the edge of the next section of a freshly-revealed layer of ice. They'd tried earlier to use the actual pick end of the pickaxe to try and shatter the ice but had, in the process, accidentally gouged the sidewalk a few times; the only way to prevent any further damage was to use the other end as a makeshift pry bar - it was harder and would take longer but was better than the alternative.

Remington grunted and threw his weight against the haft of the pickaxe and there was a crackling sound as the ice began to splinter and pull away from the stone beneath it. As the sheet lifted Sam bent again to slide her hands under into the gap between ground and ice. "--think Selene could rig something up to make this any easier?" she grunted as she lifted in tandem with Remington's prying.

"Think of it as strength training," Arlo replied. "We can't run today so this'll have to do."

"Let me rephrase that - think Selene could rig something to make this faster?" Sam went on, huffing a bit and stumbling as the ice came loose and she shoved it off to the side. "It's going to take a couple days just to get this ramp cleared off at the rate we're going."

Remington rested the head of the pickaxe on the ground and leaned against the handle, panting. "Let's switch gears and get the snow out of the way - maybe with some sunlight on it the ice'll melt enough to not be such a pain to pop loose."

"Sounds like a plan to me - give me that broom."

----------------------------------------------------

For the last three days, thankfully, the weather had been clear and sunny, if still frigid. Remington had been right regarding the sun and the ice -even with the arctic temperatures it had thinned out enough that they'd managed to clear down to the landing near Gale's house and also the ramp and stairs that connected with Central Plaza. There they'd linked up with Paulie and managed to get a narrow footpath carved out around the border of the plaza leading north to the research center and south to Martha's bakery within an afternoon of work.

There were, out of sheer necessity, already compacted paths along Main Street made by Portia's townsfolk and the few stranded tourists present; once they'd gotten walkways open to Martha's and the research center they'd started working on what had already been worn in by stomping boots around town. It was a bit easier to bust up the compacted pathways and if more willing hands joined them they'd have it done soon enough -- Arlo had estimated another four or five days at most to get it clear even if it was just the three of them the entire time (assuming it didn't snow again). Knowing there was an end coming helped keep spirits high as they shoveled, slowly digging Portia out from under the worst storm anyone could recall in recent memory.

"At least the kids seem to be having a blast," Remington had chuckled as Toby and Polly went whizzing by on polished wooden sleds to thud into a pile of snow they'd left mounded at the base of the tree planter in the center of the plaza. "Going to have to keep an eye on them, make sure if they go out into the countryside they don't go flying out on top of the river - don't need anyone falling through."

From off to their left they heard a sudden cry then, and turned in time to see Erwa lose his footing and fall backwards onto his rump; with the snow mostly cushioning his fall he at least didn't go sliding down the incline behind the two kids but the ice under the snow left him floundering right at Martha's doorstep, unable to get enough purchase to get his feet back under him.

"-speaking of someone falling," Sam grinned. "Come on, let's go help him out."

Arlo turned his back to hide his smile - it felt impolite to laugh at Erwa rolling around in the snow - and kept shoveling, listening as Sam and Remington's footsteps crunched over toward the portly man. The crunching eventually stopped, as did the sound of shoes scratching against ice, and for a brief moment there was the sound of a conversation that was slightly too far off to hear -- the sort of noise where you could recognize someone was talking but not actually make out the individual words.

"'ey, Arlo - have YOU seen Dawa yet today?"

Well, he definitely could hear that. "Can't say I have. Why?" He jammed the tip of the shovel into the snow and turned toward the trio in the distance - Erwa was back on his feet and had his hands out to his sides for balance.

"Because I can't find him, is why," came Erwa's answer. "He wasn't home when I popped in yesterday, and he's not home right now, and I didn't see any new footprints in the snow aside from mine so it doesn't look like I've just missed him each time. It's not like him to NOT be at the tree farm - not for any length of time, anyway. No one else has seen him either."

Arlo frowned - this was NOT the kind of weather anyone should be wandering around in. "Right. We'll look for him. Did anyone see him recently?"

"Not since the day after that storm hit - Emily said she saw him busting ice off the gates to the farm but she's the only one since then."

"Guess we'll start at the farm then and work our way out from there. Let's get moving," Sam said. She took a careful step around Erwa and began to pick her way up the path, trying to stick to the well-worn and frozen over footprints in the snow. Erwa wobbled a bit in place and Remington steadied him with a hand on the shoulder and then Remington was off up the hill too.

Sticking to the path they'd made Arlo headed toward Paulie's store first and left the broom and shovel leaning against the counter, then he too began to carefully climb up the path and toward Peach Plaza. He didn't see anyone else along the way (not that he blamed them - it was bitterly cold) and it didn't take long to meet up with Sam and Remington at the city gates and head out as a group toward the tree farm.

Erwa was right in that there didn't seem to be any new tracks up this way; Arlo could pick out a single set, shaped in such a way that it looked like everyone who'd walked it had all stuck to the same footprints. They too stayed within the tracks, walking in single file all the way up to the farm's gates and beyond, following the footprints up toward the house where the trail then split into five different ones with only one leading up the steps to the building and the others angled out in various directions all seeming to lead out into the groves.

Arlo eyed the tracks - they were all spaced out enough that he doubted any of them met up anywhere close. "Everyone pick a trail and see where it leads. We'll meet back here in a half hour and see what we've found."

Remington picked a trail that headed along the fence line, and Arlo watched the snow fall from the fencing as the man kept a hand on it to steady himself as he headed off. 'Hope his knee isn't bothering him too much,' he found himself thinking -- he tried not to let it slip his mind that Remington's knee wasn't in the best shape but the man went out of his way to hide when the joint was aching anyway. He'd gotten on his case about hiding injuries or aches before but it always seemed to go in one ear and out the other. 'At least we don't lack for ice packs at the moment.'

Arlo shook himself from his thoughts; Sam appeared to have picked a trail that led out to the middle of the tree farm so Arlo chose one that was nearer to the house but angled to the west, and then seemed to veer to skirt along the northern border of the farm. He knew Dawa liked to walk the property a lot -- he needed to, to be able to catch any issues or potential signs of disease in the trees early enough to do anything about it, so him walking about was a usual occurrence...it COULD be that Erwa had just missed him each time he'd visited, and with the weather being so cold no one was really going outside unless they had to so it was possible Dawa had been outside when no one else was around to see him. Both of those were equally as possible as the man being in trouble somewhere out here and Arlo preferred to hope for sheer poorly timed coincidence as he plodded along.

The branches around him sagged and creaked under the weight of the ice, and the further he went the more trees he spotted that were wrapped in heavy rope and what looked like burlap, and in a few places he saw a couple of trees that looked to be slowly splitting in half; one of them he recognized as a tree that had been struck by lightning a few summers ago -- there were thick metal rods connecting the two halves of the tree, and steel cables up in the crown of the tree holding the two halves together. The repair, as ghoulish as it looked, appeared to have actually saved the tree as, once he got up near it, he could see signs where the bark had grown over and bulged out near the bolts that held the rods in place.

Dawa's tracks led right up to this particular tree and went in a circle at its base so clearly the man was keeping a close eye on this one; Arlo edged around the tree and kept going, eying the trail ahead of him and noting how it stopped its meandering among the trees and, about fifty feet ahead of him, straightened out to...hmm.

To the northeast of here Arlo knew was a bridge that crossed the lake that separated the Somber Marsh from the northern shore of Portia's territory along that lake. Unless he was mistaken it sort of looked like Dawa's path was going to lead him directly to that bridge -- the trail had definitely straightened out enough for that to be a viable destination unless it suddenly veered away far enough ahead that Arlo couldn't spot it from here.

It certainly seemed to be case as he drew nearer to the abandoned Old World building that made up part of the northwestern border for the tree farm, and sure enough as soon as he'd walked the length of that building and gotten to the far side of it he could see the bridge in the distance, and Dawa's tracks bee-lined straight for it.

"Why would he go out there..." he wondered aloud. It didn't make sense to go out to the marsh - there wasn't anything out there except monsters and ruins (even the fishing out there was poor). Dawa wasn't the sort to go anywhere near a ruin, he didn't fish, and so far as Arlo knew he'd never gone after monster-based resources on his own -- he wasn't even the sort to deal with monsters when they happened to invade his farm: he'd always enlisted someone else's help to shoo them away or exterminate them.

As he hurried along Arlo mentally cursed the weather as he didn't dare move at a pace faster than a brisk walk unless he wanted to take a tumble; it felt like it took an age to reach the bridge and even longer to carefully climb up the ice-coated wooden ramp and metal steps. Up at the top he could see the tracks heading straight across the bridge; he followed them across and then began to follow a path that seemed to crisscross at random between crumbling rock wall sections, rusted old buildings, and even a couple of gigantic trees that had gaps between exposed roots.

It almost seemed like Dawa was searching for something...but what? What could possibly be out here that he'd be looking for?

The bridge he'd crossed led to one of two large islands in the marsh's lake -- this particular island was known for the two ruins on it: the Deepest Ruin and the Somber Marsh Abandoned Ruins. Dawa's tracks at least didn't lead up to either of those (not that Arlo thought he'd have any reason to go inside either) but eventually the tracks ventured outside of the crumbling, circular stone walls that partially enclosed the ruins, and once those tracks weren't sheltered by the walls they quickly disappeared -- erased by the cutting wind out here that had blown most of the snow away and exposed the ice to the sun (in fact he could almost see dead grass in several spots where the ice had almost melted through).

So Dawa had come out here, searched around, and then headed out of the walls to... The only other places out beyond the walls was another ruined building and a crashed ship that doubled as a bridge to the far side of the marsh, but surely Dawa hadn't gone out THAT far, right?

Rather than trek out there Arlo instead turned to look at the walls -- they were tall enough that maybe they'd give him enough of a vantage point to see if it was even worth it to check the other side of the lake. He fumbled a few times as he climbed (numb fingers - this cold weather was beginning to get on his nerves) and once he was at the top of the wall he saw an unmistakable black smudge on the far shore to the northeast. It was just far enough away that between distance and the glare of the sun off the snow Arlo couldn't make out much more than a dark mark on the ground but whatever it was was pretty big.

He'd definitely need to head over there now, if only to see what that was.

It was too steep to climb down the outer side of the wall so he had to go back the way he'd come up and then take the long way around; the wooden foot bridge that spanned across the two halves of the crashed ship was thankfully still intact and was even mostly thawed out so he got across without issue, and then it was just a matter of getting over to whatever the big black smudge was.

The trees were thick on this side of the lake, both in number and in canopy cover, and the snow had the branches sagging low so it was difficult to see through them; the big black smudge remained a big black smudge until finally Arlo was almost on top of it, and there he noticed two things.

One: the big black smudge was a freshly opened sink hole.

And two: there were footprints in the mud that ringed the opening that led to a long skidmark suggesting someone had slid in.

The sinkhole wasn't perfectly circular and was about twenty feet across at its widest point, surrounded by upturned rocks and broken tree roots, and the wind whistled eerily over the gaping hole. The earth around the sinkhole was sludgy and angled sharply downward toward the opening as well - he didn't dare get close enough to look into the sinkhole or else he'd risk falling in himself.

'I guess Dawa must have heard this thing opening up and came looking for what caused the noise, and fell in.'

"Dawa?" he yelled toward the opening. His voice echoed back to him; there wasn't a response. "Dawa?" he tried again, louder. Again there was no answer aside from the howl of the wind in the hole.

...if the wrapped trees were any indication then Dawa had to have rope stored somewhere on the farm, and there were trees enough here to tie off to provide a handhold to get close enough to investigate.

Arlo turned and began to hurry back the way he'd come -- by now Sam and Remington would probably be waiting for him anyway, and he'd need their help to get down into the hole.

----------------------------------------------------

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah. You and Sam got me beat in the raw strength category, and if I do find Dawa down there he might need the help to haul him out. I'm pretty sure I can get down there and back out without a problem but I can't promise about him - especially if we don't know how far down this thing goes."

Arlo nodded at Remington; he did have a point - they had no way of knowing if Dawa was in any shape to climb out of there. "All right. Sam and I will wait up here - tug on that rope four times if you need us to help pull you up."

"Give me that other coil, there -- no telling how deep this goes."

Sam handed over a spare coil of rope which Remington slung over his shoulder bandolier-style, then with a nod he grabbed hold of the other rope - the one carefully tied to a nearby tree - and began to carefully edge his way forward toward the sinkhole's edge; the mud here went up to his ankles and then midway up his shins before he got to where he could slip over the edge and begin to carefully rappel down into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------

Once he was over the lip and down about fifteen feet the incessant howl of the wind across the sinkhole's opening ceased, and now all Remington could hear as he picked his way down was the crumbling of dirt and rock each time his boots touched the wall, and somewhere he could hear a trickle of dripping water -- probably melting snow, and the last thing this sinkhole needed was more moisture to cause a further collapse.

He estimated he was about thirty feet down when he wrapped his legs and one arm around the rope to hold himself in place long enough to use his other hand to click on the little headlamp they'd borrowed from Selene; around him the dark dirt seemed to swallow up the pale yellow light and as he looked down his heart jumped a bit as the lamp illuminated roots and vines that jutted out of the sinkhole's walls.

And the vines looked like they'd once been thick and had choked this entire area out but now there was a large gap through their center, and he could see the glimmer of sap leaking out of hundreds of split and broken ends of the plants as he steadily lowered himself toward them.

"Well, at least something slowed the fall," he mumbled as he went -- he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been silently panicking a little bit as the depth of this hole began to sink in (no pun intended) coupled with the fact that he hadn't seen Dawa or even signs of him until this point. If the vines had slowed and cushioned the man's fall then there was a pretty good chance he'd survived the drop.

Remington kept at it with his steady rhythm as he rappelled, and then just above where the vines began his boots hit the wall with a muffled thump; again he held himself in place as he experimentally stomped a boot against the wall and again got the thump -- it almost sounded like metal. He let himself drop a few feet more and then used a hand to dig and pry at the wall ahead of him; something bit into his finger and he yanked his hand back and (perhaps stupidly) stuck his fingers into his mouth but there in the light of his headlamp was a dull, reflective metal visible through the grime he'd scraped free.

This sinkhole must have opened into an underground ruins.

The way down became more difficult as now he had to pick his way through the vines that crisscrossed what he suspected was some sort of ancient elevator shaft as he was starting to see door-like shapes at through the gloom and vine cover regular intervals as he went. Eventually he reached the end of the rope he'd been using to climb down and he wedged himself into a little gap in front of what he was now sure was a doorway, and tied off the rope's end to the coil he'd brought down with him. When he was certain it was securely tied he let the coil drop and listened as it hit something not too far away beneath him -- apparently there WAS an intact bottom to this shaft, and it was a lot closer than he'd thought.

He went the distance of four more "floors" and then finally he was almost on top of a rusted out elevator...pod? Car? What did the Old World call these things? It was the thing that carried people up and down the cables - whatever it was called didn't really matter at the moment, honestly.

From here he could see the ragged hole in the top where Dawa must have either fallen or climbed through, and the metal around that hole was sagging under the weight of the rope coil he'd tossed down; without a doubt it would fully collapse under his weight, so Remington was careful to aim himself at that hole and slide down through it, pulling the coil of rope with him and finally getting his boots back on solid ground within the elevator...thingy.

The air down here was heavy and smelled of dirt and rot; Dawa had already forced the elevator doors open and beyond it was a hallway full of dust and moldering old carpet. Remington could see footprints in the dust (really, the carpet had mostly rotted into dust itself) and began to follow them...not that he really needed them as there wasn't anywhere he could see to go except down the hallway, though there were doors to his left and right. He did stop to try one of the doors and couldn't see a way to get it open -- they had no handles and were almost flush with the walls.

"Dawa? You down here?" he called ahead of him.

There wasn't anything except his own echo so he kept going. Ahead of him the hallway turned to the left, and the closer he came to the corner the more apparent a thudding, dragging noise was beginning to become, until finally--

"Dawa!"

There around the corner was Dawa -- he had his hand up shielding his eye's from the glare of Remington's headlamp, and was dotted with bruises and cuts that left dozens of bloody spots across his clothing. "Never been happier to see someone in my life, I was running out of matches," came the man's reply.

"The feeling's mutual - had no idea what to expect to find down here," Remington laughed. He reached up to slide the headlamp over to his temple so he could look at Dawa without blinding him. "You in one shape, more or less?"

"I've been better - not worried about a few bruises but I'm ready to eat an entire cow by myself."

Remington nodded. "I bet. Come on, let's get you out of here."

"Yeah, about that... Don't know that I can climb out of here. Not on my leg, anyway."

Dawa gestured toward his left leg and Remington brought the headlamp around again; the yellow of the lamp made the bruised and swollen ankle look ten times worse than it probably was, but even still it was the size of a small melon and looked rather painful. "Ah. Hmm. Well, we've got Sam and Arlo up there ready to pull you out."

"Don't know if I'd trust that -- I mean, don't get me wrong, I trust THEM. But at current I don't trust gravity, friction, or the structural integrity of a regular ol' rope. Not even sure I could hold on the entire time to make it out of here either."

"How'd you end up down here anyway?"

Dawa huffed out an annoyed sound. "It's dumb. It's really dumb. So, I heard a noise out here and went looking - you know how I've been keeping an eye out for Aadit, after that Knight scared him off. So I hear this noise and I think to myself, maybe it's him, or maybe it's that damned Knight come back and is up to no good. I wait out the storm then walk out here and it takes awhile to find anything weird - but eventually I find this hole, and when I went to look at it it became a bigger hole and I fell right in."

Remington blinked at him. "Became a BIGGER hole?"

"Yeah, a bigger hole - it was barely bigger than I am when I spotted it. I guess it'd started opening before all the snow and ice hit, and the storm must've formed a crust over the actual size of the hole because I definitely wasn't near the opening when it all broke loose under me and dumped me in." He paused and looked around them. "Who knew there was an old ruin out here completely underground? Usually these things have some sort of above ground entrance. Wouldn't have gotten near if I'd thought it'd lead to this."

"Yeah...wouldn't have expected something like this." Remington rubbed at his chin, thinking -- if Dawa couldn't make it out on his own and didn't think the others could pull him out, then they'd need to find another way up. "You know, on the way down here I saw a lot of elevator doors lining the shaft. We're down pretty deep but maybe we can find a way to link up with a floor that's higher up and climb up out of that floor's door."

"Yeah...yeah, I like that idea. I think I could do a shorter climb, no problem. And I DID find another elevator back that way-" Dawa jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Couldn't get the door open though, and even if I could've I don't think there's any power going to it anymore."

Remington nodded and then dropped to a knee to swing his pack off his back; he rummaged through it and pulled out an old, battered water bottle. "All right, here's the plan then: I'm going to climb back up and let Sam and Arlo know you're all right, and have one of them get Selene or Higgins so we can get this elevator back up and running." He handed the bottle to Dawa, who began to chug from it noisily. "-I'll also get them to bring you something to eat, too."

"You're a lifesaver, Remington. In this case literally."

With a chuckle Remington pulled his pack back on and tightened the straps. "S'what we do. You need anything else in the meantime?"

"Don't think so. It's actually not so bad down here if you get away from the shaft and around the corner."

"What's ahead of here?"

"There's this big room back there - it's got some old furniture in it, some tables and chairs and a counter. Might've been some old cafeteria or something. Been back there since it's warmer."

"All right, then. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Remington heard a 'don't slip' behind him as he turned to head off; it was going to be a long climb back up.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 1 #Arlo #Sam #Remington #Erwa #Dawa #Builder #My Time at Portia

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hatdigidigidog · 3 years

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Artistic Swimming - Full Team Event from Rio 2016

Court Dimensions

The pool must be at least 20m wide x 30m long, and at least 2.5m deep. One area, 12x12m or larger, must be at least 3m deep and the slope between the change in depths has to be completed over a distance of 8m or less.

Equipment

Nose clip

In synchronized swimming, the athletes have to perform a lot of underwater movements. There are chances of water entering into the nose of the players. In order to avoid that, the athletes use a small clip of hard plastic or wire. It also has a thin rubber coating.

Goggles

Goggles provide safety to the eyes. Due to underwater movement, water may enter in the eyes. It is important to note that the goggles are not allowed for routine competitions.

Athletes can use goggles only for trainings. This is only used for figure test. Like goggles, athletes also cannot use the bathing caps during routine competitions. During figure test, only a white or black bathing cap is worn by athletes.

Underwater Speakers

The most important equipment for synchronized swimming is the underwater speakers. Swimmers cannot perform under water if the music is not audible. Music plays an important role in synchronized swimming because it is a rhythmic sport.

We know that impedance of water is 3600 times more than that of air. There is also a 62 dB (decibel) offset between the sound that travels in air and that in water. To overcome this problem, the underwater speakers used in synchronized swimming depend on Piezoelectric Technology.

Swimsuit

One of the most important aspects of the swimsuit is that it must be comfortable for the athletes and it must be non-transparent. During the figure test, a black swimsuit is recommended for the athletes and during routine competition, a routine suit for each athlete that suits the music is recommended.

It may also happen that athletes perform in two events like duet and team event. In such a situation, the athletes will be provided with two different swimsuits.

Basic Skills

Breathing

This is a frequently overlooked basic skill, but it is an important one. If are not comfortable breathing while swimming, you won't be able to enjoy it completely and learn new things. The basic idea is that you need to breathe out with both your nose and mouth when your head is underwater. Then when you lift your head to the side take a full breath before putting your face back down.

Floating

Before you start kicking and stroking, first learn to float in the water. Floating helps you to get used to the habit of moving through water properly. Floating helps to keep your body on the surface of the water. Our body experiences a vertical buoyant force when immersed in water and floating helps to keep your body in a horizontal position. Floating is important because if you accidentally fall in the water you will be able to float on the surface till you are rescued.

Your body movement should be well co-ordinated

In swimming, all your body parts should be well co-ordinated with each other. You must be able to move the muscles of your lower back, abdomen, and hips in a synchronized way to keep moving forward. Your hands should move and cut through the water first, followed by your elbow and then your body should make way through the water.

Kicking

Kicking is another important skill to learn if you want to master swimming. Kicking helps your body to move in the forward direction. Many swimming coaches use kickboards to support swimmer's body.

Strokes

Now that you know how to float and kick, it is time to learn some strokes. Strokes are the arm movements that help to pull the body through the water. The front crawl, sidestroke, backstroke, and butterfly are some of the common swimming strokes.

Technical and Tactical Skills

Sculls

Sculls are hand movements used to propel the body and are essential to synchronised swimming. Some commonly used sculls are support, standard, torpedo, split-arm, barrel and paddle scull. The support scull is most often used and is made up of two repeated movements. You need to hold your upper arms against your body and your forearms at 90-degree angles. Then, you move your forearms back and forth to create enough water pressure to hold your legs above the water.

Eggbeater

This move is much like how a manual eggbeater works, with one leg rotating in a clockwise manner and rotating the other leg in an anti-clockwise manner. Synchronised swimmers use this kick because it leaves their hands free to perform strokes. Due to the opposite motion of the kick, it is a stable and efficient way for swimmers to attain the necessary height to perform moves above the water.

Positions

There are hundreds of positions that can be used to create infinite combinations. The six most common positions are illustrated below.

Crane Position - Hold your body in a vertical position with one leg held vertically above the water surface, while the other leg is held parallel under the surface in a 90-degree angle or "L" shape.

Ballet Leg Double Position - From lying flat on the water surface, draw your knees towards your chest with shins parallel to the water surface. Straighten your legs above the water surface to assume a Surface Ballet Leg Double position.

Side Fishtail Position - This is a position similar to the crane. One leg remains vertical, while the other is extended to the side parallel to the water, creating a side "Y" position.

Knight Position -The body is held vertically with your head in line with the hips and pointed to the bottom of the pool. One leg is lowered to create a vertical line perpendicular to the surface.

Flamingo Position - Similar to the ballet leg position where the bottom leg is pulled into the chest so that the shin of the bottom leg is touching the knee of the vertical leg.

Split Position - With the body vertical, one leg is stretched forward along the surface and the other leg is extended back along the surface.

Lifts

Lifts are formations that are formed underwater and as swimmers propel themselves towards the surface, they stay in formation and add more elements like acrobatics. There are three parts to a lift in synchronised swimming: The Flyer, the Base and the Pushers.

The Flyer - Flyers are agile and flexible and are usually the smallest member of the team. It is preferable that they have a gymnastics background as they need to perform complicated moves while on the top of the formation.

The Base - Base swimmers tends to be small in size, but should have good leg strength and a solid core as they make up the structure of the formation.

The Pushers - Pushers are the bigger and stronger swimmers because they need the strength to propel the formation to the water surface.

Types of Lifts

The Platform Lift - The base lays out in a back layout position underwater, where they lie on their back to form a platform of interlinked bodies. The Flyer sets in a squatting position and stands once the lift reaches the surface. The remaining teammates use the eggbeater kicks to hold the platform and the flyer out of the water.

The Stack Lift - Considered to be an updated version of the Platform, the Stack Lift begins with the base squatting while underwater, supported by the pushers. The flyer then stands on the shoulders of the base. The pushers and base gradually stretch out their limbs, elevating the flyer. A rotating descent is usually added to this lift.

Rules of the Game

No Touching The Bottom

One of the things which makes the lifts all the more impressive is that artistic swimmers are not allowed to touch the bottom of the pool at any point during their routines.

No Bling

Presentation is a unique and important part of artistic swimming but there are certain restrictions on what swimmers can wear. For example, artistic swimmers are not permitted jewellery, theatrical make-up, or inappropriate costumes.

No Goggles

Another restriction during artistic swimming routines is goggles. However, swimmers in figures competitions are permitted to wear them.

Team Means Team

Teams normally contain eight swimmers, but the minimum number for a team is four. Teams lose marks for every swimmer they have under the full complement because it is easier to synchronise the fewer people there are in a routine.

Stick To The Schedule

Routines can be anything from two and a half minutes to five minutes long, depending on whether they are performed alone or as part of a team. However, swimmers are penalised if they take 15 seconds fewer or longer than the specified time.

Officiating the Sport

Required people:

A Referee

An assistant referee for routines and an assistant referee for each panel of judges in figures.

Each panel of Figure judges shall consist of six (6) or seven (7) judges. In Routines three (3) panels of five (5) judges shall be used. If three panels are used, in Free Routine, Free Combination and Highlight Routine sessions, one panel shall judge Execution, one panel Artistic Impression, and one panel Difficulty; in Technical Routine session, one panel shall judge Execution, one panel Impression and one panel shall judge Elements.

At FINA competitions, judges shall be chosen from the FINA list of judges.

For each Figure panel – a clerk of course, a recorder and if no electronic system is used, two scorers.

For routines – three (3) timers, a clerk of course, a recorder, and if no electronic system is used, two scorers.

A Chief Recorder

Sound Center Manager

An announcer

Other officials as deemed necessary

Referee

The Referee shall have full control of the event. He/she shall instruct all officials.

He/she shall enforce all the rules and decisions of FINA and shall decide all questions relating to the actual conduct of the event and be responsible for the final settlement of any matter not otherwise covered by the rules.

The Referee shall ensure that all the necessary officials are in their respective positions to conduct the session. She/he may appoint substitutes for any persons who are absent, incapable of acting or found to be inefficient. He/she may appoint additional officials if considered necessary.

In emergencies the referee is authorised to assign a substitute judge.

He/she shall ensure that the competitors are ready and signal for the start of the accompaniment. He/she shall instruct the scorers to penalise the competitors in the session of an infraction of the rules. He/she shall approve the results before announcements.

The Referee may intervene in the event at any stage to ensure that the FINA regulations are observed, and shall adjudicate all protests related to the session in progress

The referee shall disqualify any competitor for any violation of the rules that he/she personally observes or which is reported to her/him by other authorised officials.

Analysis

Russia sealed a fifth successive gold in the final of the synchronised swimming team routine at the Rio 2016 Olympics on Friday, where China clinched the silver medal and Japan took the bronze.

The execution with which Russia performed their performance was good enough to record an incredible score of 196.1439, more than three points more than runners-up China.

Russia's win means the United States are still the only other country ever to have won gold in the synchronised swimming team routine event, all the way back at Atlanta 1996.

Although each of the eight finalists impressed in their last display, it was ultimately Russia who ended a cut above the rest, with their execution and artistic impression trumping all others in the field.

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRGQDubSAqw

References:

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://m.swimoutlet.com/guides/synchronized-swimming-pool-dimensions%23:~:text%3DThe%2520pool%2520must%2520be%2520at%2520least%252020m%2520wide%2520x%252030m,distance%2520of%25208m%2520or%2520less.&ved=2ahUKEwih47Xx1cvvAhUDE6YKHZdFAtUQFjABegQIBBAF&usg=AOvVaw0htvsCJJtw2Aga-Ax3oQdH

https://www.tutorialspoint.com/synchronized_swimming/synchronized_swimming_equipment.htm

https://www.myactivesg.com/Sports/Aquatics/How-To-Play/Synchronised-Swimming/Basic-skills-and-positions-in-Synchronised-Swimming#:~:text=The%20basic%20skills%20you%20will,to%20combine%20into%20a%20routine.9

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/health-fitness/fitness/5-basic-swimming-skills-everyone-needs-to-learn/articleshow/70619726.cms

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/introduction-to-artistic-swimming/

https://bleacherreport.com/articles/2658703-olympic-synchronized-swimming-2016-team-medal-winners-scores-and-results

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yhella18 · 4 years

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Artistic Swimming: Full Team Event from Rio 2016 || A Sports Analysis

Artistic swimming is a hybrid form of swimming, dance, and gymnastics, consisting of swimmers performing a synchronized routine of elaborate moves in the water, accompanied by music. Artistic swimming is governed internationally by FINA or Fédération internationale de natation (English: International Swimming Federation) and has been part of the Summer Olympics program since 1984. Also, Artistic swimming demands advanced water skills, requires incredible strength, endurance, flexibility, grace, artistry, precise timing, and exceptional breath control when upside down underwater. Competitors show off their strength, flexibility, and aerobic endurance required to perform complex routines (Bhutia, 2017).

Today’s blog will focus on a Full Team Event from Rio 2016, specifically the sport Artistic Swimming. This analysis will also consist of the court dimensions, equipment, basic skills, technical and tactical skills of each team, rules of the sport, officials, and the overall performance.

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Court Dimensions

The pool must be at least 20m wide x 30m long and at least 2.5m deep. One area, 12x12m or more extensive, must be at least 3m deep, and the slope between the change in depths has to be completed over a distance of 8m or less.

The pool's water must be clear enough so that the pool's bottom is visible from above and at least 27°C (80.6°F) plus or minus one degree. The amount of light underwater is also significant since goggles aren't worn in competition, so there is a required minimum brightness of 1500 lux.

Equipment

Nose Clip

It is a small wire clip coated in plastic that prevents water from entering the sinuses during underwater movements. Nose clips, or some apparatus to prevent water from rushing into the nostrils, are essential to synchronized swimmers, often inverted and spinning around with their heads submerged for extended periods.

Costumes

The rules of synchronized swimming's governing body (FINA) indicate that costumes must be appropriate for a sporting event and must not be transparent. No other clothing or accessories, including goggles, are allowed unless required for medical reasons. Competitors often wear colorful and tastefully decorated suits with coordinated hair/head adornments. The equivalent of stage makeup is applied to enhance appearances as seen from a distance by the judges and audience. The style of the costumes chosen should work well with the choice of music and style of choreography.

Underwater Speakers

The essential equipment for synchronized swimming is the underwater speakers. Swimmers cannot perform underwater if the music is not audible. Music plays a vital role in synchronized swimming because it is a rhythmic sport.

Hair Gel

Hair gel or gelatin is an essential aid to keep swimmers' hair neat and out of the way while performing. The hair is tied back securely and plastered down with some substance.

Basic Skills

Breathing

This is a frequently overlooked essential skill, but it is an important one since oxygen is necessary for everyone. Athletes in artistic swimming need to have their breathing skills to execute their performance well enough. Moreover, proper breathing provides many benefits to the athletes since it can help with how they swim and how they move their bodies. If proper breathing is well-executed, it can add resistance to the body's stroke and fatigue.

Floating

Floating helps a person to get used to the habit of moving through water properly. Floating helps to keep the body on the surface of the water. When immersed in water and floating, a person's body experiences a vertical buoyant force to keep the body in a horizontal position. Floating is essential because this makes an athlete stay in the water, especially one of the rules of artistic swimming is not to touch the floor.

Body Coordination

In swimming, all the body parts should be well coordinated with each other. A person must be able to move the muscles of their lower back, abdomen, and hips in a synchronized way to keep moving forward. The hands should move and cut through the water first, followed by the elbow, and then your body should make way through the water.

Strokes

Strokes are the arm movements that help to pull the body through the water. The front crawl, sidestroke, backstroke, and butterfly are some of the standard swimming strokes.

Sculling

Sculls are a hand movement that is used to propel the body, and it is an essential part of the Synchronized Swimming performance. The commonly used sculls are the paddle scull, split-arm, scull, barrel scull, standard scull, torpedo scull, and support scull. The support scull is performed to support the body when a swimmer is performing upside down. It is performed by holding the upper arms against the sides of the body and the lower arms. The arms remain at the 90-degree angle. This allows the swimmer to control his/her legs above water level when he/she is swimming.

Egg Beater

The Eggbeater is a kick in the Synchronized Swimming. It allows the performer to stabilize themselves while having a height above the water level and leaving the hands free to perform strokes. An average height for an eggbeater is around chest level. With this skill, the swimmers can also perform boosts to use their legs to push themselves out of the water level on their hips or even higher.

Lifting

Lifts are formed underwater, and as swimmers propel themselves towards the surface, they stay in formation and add more elements like acrobatics. The following are the three parts to a lift in artistic swimming and the types as well:

The Flyer - Flyers are agile and flexible and are usually the smallest member of the team. They should have a gymnastics background as they need to perform complicated moves while on the top of the formation.

The Base - Base swimmers tend to be small in size but should have good leg strength and a solid core as they make up the formation structure.

The Pushers - Pushers are the bigger and stronger swimmers because they need the strength to propel the water surface formation.

Types of Lifts

1. The Platform Lift - The base lays out in a back layout position underwater, where they lie on their back to form a platform of interlinked bodies. The Flyer sets in a squatting place and stands once the lift reaches the surface. The remaining teammates use the eggbeater kicks to hold the platform and the flyer out of the water.

2. The Stack Lift - Considered to be an updated version of the Platform, the Stack Lift begins with the base squatting while underwater, supported by the pushers. The flyer then stands on the shoulders of the base. The pushers and base gradually stretch out their limbs, elevating the flyer. A rotating descent is usually added to this lift.

Positioning

This helps the athletes balance at the same create beautiful stunts to showcase it to their audience. There are hundreds of positions that can be used to create infinite combinations. The six most common positions are illustrated below.

Crane Position - Hold your body in a vertical position with one leg held vertically above the water surface, while the other leg is held parallel under the surface in a 90-degree angle or "L" shape.

Side Fishtail Position - This is a position similar to the crane. One leg remains vertical, while the other is extended to the side parallel to the water, creating a side "Y" position.

Knight Position - The body is held vertically with your head in line with the hips and pointed to the pool's bottom. One leg is lowered to create a vertical line perpendicular to the surface.

Flamingo Position - Similar to the ballet leg position where the bottom leg is pulled into the chest so that the shin of the bottom leg is touching the knee of the vertical leg.

Split Position - With the body vertical, one leg is stretched forward along the surface and the other leg is extended back along the surface.

Technical and Tactical skills of Each Team

EGYPT

Despite being the youngest out of all of the teams (age ranging from 17 to 20), their synchronization is a must, and their formation was good, showing that they have practiced well. I had a hard time knowing the theme of their performance, but all in all, they did great and showed their execution through the song from the Lion King. Besides, they also used all the necessary skills to complete their performance.

AUSTRALIA

The music they have used was smooth, then it turns into rough and rugged upbeat music to which their advantage since it the very beginning they have shown an artistic start. To me, they looked liked swans showing how flexible and elegant they are at the same time. Their performance showed quite a story to the audience. Moreover, they have stunts that were excellent to the viewer and made them stare enough.

ITALY

Their theme was the Season on Earth and what I like about it is their expression from the very start of the show before they dive in the pool. They have shown tremendous balance and incredible strength. The way they changed their movements is smooth, and they have good synchronization. Their formation can't be broken in which what their formation is; that indeed is their formation. For example, the formation from a circle to a diagonal to which their formation transitions were also good. To top it all, they end it with soft music same as how they start their show.

BRAZIL

This team showed how lively they are from the beginning. Their smiles were so broad in welcoming the audience, and the song they chose was active and in beat to which I love since it showed and expressed their country. At the same time, they have demonstrated a lot of spirit throughout the show. Moreover, they're more on succession, and the balance on the feet was terrific. Like Italy, Brazil also does their movement quickly and have a good synchronization. Also, I like how their lifts are made using the water to have the extra splash, which can be found in 30:52 in the video. This team is also risk-takers since it was pretty seen that there many complicated and high risks stunts and movements to their performance.

RUSSIA

This team is what I like the most since despite them being the defending champion, they have gained the audience's attention through their stunts and movements. Their theme was Angels, to which they have used their hands and legs to show their wings. With these, they looked like ballerinas in the pool dancing around and showed how elegant they are. Moreover, their song was a fast beat at the start, and sometimes throughout the performance, it became slow then fast again. Their performance started with a high stunt which was I can say was an incredible start and end it with a twirling action. Also, their legs were compatible with one another showing almost the same height as their legs. Their lifts and the balance were so good that it made me awe, especially the stunt that can be found in 37:18, and all of their lifts were high-degree ones. All in all, they have shown excellent and tremendous synchronization, flexibility, energy, power, and acrobatic moves.

UKRAINE

This team has the theme of Illusionism in the Magic Box and reflects one another throughout their performance. There was a lot of originality in it, and like Russia, they also have the same start in which they made a lift but have a more complex one than Russia. Moreover, what truly gained my attention was the high risk when an athlete steps up in the back of the other athlete and still showed her style with an impact. This team has many similarities with Russia since both of them have the same length with the legs, and they have a lot of beautiful spins. Moreover, their successions were so fast and still able to show it well. The strength of these athletes showed throughout their performance.

CHINA

This team showed their tradition in which they express their dance-like how a dragon moves. They have an excellent interpretation of the song. Simultaneously, they started their performance with a fierce look and showed a high-degree rugged stance with many spins. It showed how much power this team has since they showcase many complicated moves that need complete precision. Also, they are quick in changing formation showing no rest at all on their movements and stunts. I can say that their strategy is more on speed to which they were fast, which for me was hard to synchronize, but they make it as easy as it sounds since they did well. Overall, their performance was breathtaking, and end the show with a claw pose.

JAPAN

This team showed their theme was the Dawn Start of the New Glory Towards of the Sun and had happy upbeat music. Like other teams, they also start with an incredible stunt and have a lively performance. Their moves were more symmetrical and accurate. The lifts and sculls were good in that they were very synchronized and have shown elegance while doing a steady lift. Their performance was lively and was remarkably enjoyable to finishing the event.

Rules of the Sport

Swimmers and teams must qualify for the Olympic competition at other, earlier competitions. Once at the Olympic games, there are two events contested in synchronized swimming, team and duet. Within each of those events are two routines, a technical and a free routine. Since the video showed that it was a free routine, then it has no requirements so the swimmers can be ‘free’ in how creative they get with the movements and their choreography. Below are the basic rules of the sport:

1. Eight swimmers on a team

2. One alternate swimmer

3. 4:00 time limit ( + or -15 seconds)

4. Perform a self-choreographed routine with no specific requirements

5. No Touching The Bottom

One of the things which makes the lifts all the more impressive is that artistic swimmers are not allowed to touch the bottom of the pool at any point during their routines.

6. No Bling

7. No Goggles

Another restriction during artistic swimming routines is goggles. However, swimmers in figures competitions are permitted to wear them.

8. Team Means Team

9. Stick To The Schedule

Scoring and Judging

Scores are given by the judges are on a scale from 0 to 10, in tenth-of-a-point increments. 10 is the perfect score. In the figures event, judges evaluate design and control. The design of a figure is determined by the accuracy of the positions and the correctness of the transitions between those positions. Control includes extension, height, stability, and an even tempo.

After all of the judges submit their routine scores, the high and low numbers are dropped. Then, the scores from each category are added together get the composite score. At some competitions, medals are awarded for technical routines and free routines, but usually both scores are combined for the final ranking.

Officials

Timekeeper

A timekeeper's role is to check and record the overall times of the routines and the deck movements. If the time limit for the deck work is exceeded or there is a deviation from the permitted routine time allowance, the timekeeper advises the referee.

Clerk of the course

A clerk of the course's role is to organize the competitors so that they are ready for their events at the required time. During figure competitions, they ensure that the swimmers are in the correct order to perform their figures.

Scorer

A synchro scorer's role is to record marks from the judges and make the necessary computations for each routine. There are two levels of synchro scorer – national scorer and chief recorder. National scorers write down and manipulate all the scores that come in for figures and routines at competitions. Chief recorders are in charge of scoring at synchronized swimming events. They are trained to manage related computer results systems at national and regional competitions.

Judges

For free routines, three are three panels consisting of Executions Jury, Impression Jury, and Element Jury. For technical routines, judges evaluate the performance based on execution and overall impression.

Execution Jury is more on execution and synchronization. Impression Jury is more on the artistic impression in which they judge the choreography, interpretation of music, and presentation manner. The manner of presentation is evaluated on the appearance of capability and effortlessness. Lastly would be the Element Jury, where they judge the amount of difficulty.

Sound Center Manager

Sound Center Manager is entirely responsible for the correct execution of the music. Coaches are responsible for submitting their music electronically via the Internet to the Sound Center Manager according to the instructions in the Meet Announcement to prepare the music.

Overall Performance

All in all, I admired all the athletes that showed their performance. They have their different themes and style to which they got the attention of the audience or viewer. After watching, I can say that I was amazed at what they have showcased to us. Being part of artistic swimming is very difficult since you have to swim like a professional and you have to be fast. Those acrobatics that they have shown takes time to learn. They have to be perfectly executed and choreographed. Everybody has to be synchronized and well-trained. This indicates that it is one of the most challenging sports out there; that's why I admire it so much. These athletes deserve more recognition and respect.

Moreover, the one who goes the first place out of eight teams was Russia. They were the champion before and still got the gold medal now. They have showcase what they truly wanted to convey and won first place.

Bibliography

An introduction to artistic swimming. (n.d.). Retrieved March 24, 2021, from Swim England Artistic Swimming: https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/introduction-to-artistic-swimming/

Basic skills and positions in Synchronised Swimming. (n.d.). Retrieved March 24, 2021, from My Active SG: https://www.myactivesg.com/Sports/Aquatics/How-To-Play/Synchronised-Swimming/Basic-skills-and-positions-in-Synchronised-Swimming

Basic Skills required for Synchronized Swimming. (n.d.). Retrieved March 24, 2021, from Sportycious: https://sportycious.com/basic-skills-required-synchronized-swimming-91536

Bhutia, T. K. (2017, December 3). Synchronized swimming. Retrieved March 24, 2021, from Britannica: https://www.britannica.com/sports/synchronized-swimming

Lutz, R. (2016, July 22). Synchronized swimming 101: Equipment. Retrieved March 24, 2021, from PyeongChang 2018: http://archivepyc.nbcolympics.com/news/synchronized-swimming-101-equipment

Officials in synchro. (n.d.). Retrieved March 24, 2021, from Officials in synchro: http://edinburghsynchro.co.uk/officials-in-synchro/

Synchronized Swimming Pool Dimensions. (n.d.). Retrieved March 24, 2021, from Swim Outlet: https://www.swimoutlet.com/guides/synchronized-swimming-pool-dimensions#:~:text=The%20pool%20must%20be%20at%20least%2020m%20wide%20x%2030m,distance%20of%208m%20or%20less.

Synchronized Swimming Rules & Regulations. (n.d.). Retrieved March 24, 2021, from SwimOutlet: https://www.swimoutlet.com/guides/synchronized-swimming-rules-regulations

#sportsanalysis #artistic swimming #physical education #sports

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thebrideofthewizardhowl · 4 years

Photo

The origins of synchronized swimming came about from life-saving and swimming techniques. It expanded as a sport when ornamental swimming and theatrical water ballets were popularized at the end of the 19th century. The first synchronized swimming competitions took place in Berlin in 1891 and London in 1892.

Contests were originally solely for men but it was soon recognized that artistic swimming was better fitted to women who were overall more buoyant, in particular in the legs. The major influence on pushing synchronized swimming to be recognized as a sport came from Canada. In 1934, the Quebec provincial championship for figure and stroke competition was held in Montreal and leading Canadian diver Margaret Sellers won the first official national championship in performing figures and strokes.

Synchronized swimming also gained popularity as a sport in American colleges. For example, Katherine Curtis set up a water ballet club at the University of Chicago in 1923 where she took a group of 60 swimmers, labelled “The Modern Mermaids”, to participate at the 1934 World Fair in Chicago. This is when the term “synchronized swimming” was first addressed to a wide audience and the phrase caught on.

Synchronized swimming became increasingly technical and athletic throughout the 20th century as music began to support acts. Synchronized swimming was introduced into the Olympics as a demonstration sport from 1952 and 1968. Its first official global scale competition was undertaken in the Pan-American Games in Mexico in 1955 where there were, solo, duel and team events in which the US triumphed in all. Synchronized swimming has been featuring in the FINA World Championships from the very first one in Belgrade in 1973 and it finally made its debut as an Olympic sport in the 1984 Los Angeles Olympic Games.

Playing Environment

Synchronized swimming is played in a specially designed pool. The water in the pool must be clean and the temperature of the water must be around 25 degree Celsius. The size of the pool must be a minimum of 20m by 30m, and within that a 12m by 12m area must be at least 3 m deep.

Let us now discuss the equipment used in synchronized swimming.

Nose clip

Goggles

Goggles provide safety to the eyes. Due to underwater movement, water may enter in the eyes. It is important to note that the goggles are not allowed for routine competitions.

Underwater Speakers

Swimsuit

It may also happen that athletes perform in two events like duet and team event. In such a situation, the athletes will be provided with two different swimsuits.

The basic skills you will need in synchronized swimming is sculling and treading water with a kick called the "eggbeater". There are also many positions that you can learn to combine into a routine. Additionally, there is an element known as “lifts” in synchronized swimming, where swimmers create a structure of sorts with their bodies and lift themselves from the water in the same form they created underwater.

Sculls

Sculls are hand movements used to propel the body and are essential to synchronized swimming. Some commonly used sculls are support, standard, torpedo, split-arm, barrel and paddle scull. The support scull is most often used and is made up of two repeated movements. You need to hold your upper arms against your body and your forearms at 90-degree angles. Then, you move your forearms back and forth to create enough water pressure to hold your legs above the water.

Eggbeater

This move is much like how a manual eggbeater works, with one leg rotating in a clockwise manner and rotating the other leg in an anti-clockwise manner. Synchronized swimmers use this kick because it leaves their hands free to perform strokes. Due to the opposite motion of the kick, it is a stable and efficient way for swimmers to attain the necessary height to perform moves above the water.

Positions

There are hundreds of positions that can be used to create infinite combinations. The six most common positions are illustrated below.

Crane Position - Hold your body in a vertical position with one leg held vertically above the water surface, while the other leg is held parallel under the surface in a 90-degree angle or "L" shape.

Side Fishtail Position - This is a position similar to the crane. One leg remains vertical, while the other is extended to the side parallel to the water, creating a side "Y" position.

Knight Position -The body is held vertically with your head in line with the hips and pointed to the bottom of the pool. One leg is lowered to create a vertical line perpendicular to the surface.

Flamingo Position - Similar to the ballet leg position where the bottom leg is pulled into the chest so that the shin of the bottom leg is touching the knee of the vertical leg.

Split Position - With the body vertical, one leg is stretched forward along the surface and the other leg is extended back along the surface.

Lifts

The Base - Base swimmers tends to be small in size, but should have good leg strength and a solid core as they make up the structure of the formation.

The Pushers - Pushers are the bigger and stronger swimmers because they need the strength to propel the formation to the water surface.

Types of Lifts

While there are a range of rules and penalties for specific routines, the basic rules of artistic swimming are displayed below.

RULES:

No Touching The Bottom

One of the things which makes the lifts all the more impressive is that artistic swimmers are not allowed to touch the bottom of the pool at any point during their routines.

No Bling

No Goggles

Another restriction during artistic swimming routines is goggles. However, swimmers in figures competitions are permitted to wear them.

Team Means Team

Stick To The Schedule

Routines can be anything from two and a half minutes to five minutes long, depending on whether they are performed alone or as part of a team. However, swimmers are penalized if they take 15 seconds fewer or longer than the specified time.

Officials

Officials play a critical role in the sport of artistic swimming. Not only do they facilitate the scoring during competitions, they support athlete selection activities in high performance programs and lend support to clubs in their athlete development programs and routine preparation.

Artistic Swimming judges - are essential for running artistic swimming competitions as they provide scores based on the performance of each routine. They are also responsible for marking grade level assessments. To reduce the level of subjectivity in scoring, all Artistic Swimming judges must be expertly-trained. They require a full understanding of FINA and Swim England’s rules and regulations for artistic swimming competitions. To maintain their qualification or progress, all judges must officiate at a certain number of grade assessments and competitions.

3 levels of Artistic Swimming judge in England

Level 1

Candidates must be 16 years old to take the level 1 judge course. They will be qualified to judge at level 1 and 2 competitions.

Course content will include:

· Use of marking scales

· Develop understanding of basic movements and positions

· Able to identify Figures in current age groups (12U and 13/14/15)

· Ethics

· Develop knowledge and understanding of Free Routines

· Knowledge of Grade 1 and 2 criteria and assessment criteria

Level 2

Candidates must have been a level 1 judge for at least a year. They will be qualified to judge at regional competitions at the National Age Group Championships.

· In-depth knowledge of Junior Figures (15-18 years)

· Develop knowledge of rules and penalties

· Develop knowledge of NVT, difficulty values and application to figures. Application of deductions to figures

· Exposure to variety of level of figures and scores

· Knowledge and awareness of Grade 3/4/5 criteria

· Further analysis of Free Routines – range of level of routines, recognition of difficulty

Level 3

Candidates must have been a level 2 judge for at least a year. They will be qualified to judge at the National Championships.

· Further knowledge about rules, penalties and organization

· In-depth knowledge about judging Figures and component parts

· Further develop knowledge and aptitude regarding judging Free Routines

· Awareness of Grade 6 criteria (once established)

· In-depth knowledge of technical elements across solos, duets and team

Citations:

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/artistic-swimming-judge-training/#:~:text=Artistic%20Swimming%20judges%20are%20essential,judges%20must%20be%20expertly%2Dtrained.

https://resources.fina.org/fina/document/2021/02/03/4d9cd6d0-5146-44ae-bf94-4ac757eaf34b/fina_as_manual_-_updated_august_2018_0.pdf

https://www.bcartisticswimming.ca/programs/officials.htm

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/artistic-swimming-moves/

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/introduction-to-artistic-swimming/

https://tokyo2020.org/en/sports/artistic-swimming/

https://www.swimoutlet.com/guides/synchronized-swimming-pool-dimensions#:~:text=The%20pool%20must%20be%20at%20least%2020m%20wide%20x%2030m,distance%20of%208m%20or%20less.

https://www.tutorialspoint.com/synchronized_swimming/synchronized_swimming_equipment.htm

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/artistic-swimming-moves/

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whentommymetalfie · 5 years

Text

Breathe Again -Chapter eight

-Be where you are-

prologue//one//two//three//four//five//six//seven

The story has some art now!

Chapter summary: Alfie makes a call and shares some of his findings with Tommy afterwards. He probably should’ve chosen his words more carefully.

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy

Warnings: hallucinations, disordered eating, mentions of attempted suicide

Wordcount: 4100

“-And Michael Gray is apparently head of the company. Seems like Shelby has stepped down from that position. Though word is he’ll still be involved in some capacity once he gets back,” Ollie finishes off the rather lengthy and somehow still useless status report from Birmingham. Well, mostly useless.

“From his, what was the word, extended leave of absence?” Alfie grunts.

Ollie’s hums and then goes quiet.

Alfie waits.

“So, is that all, then?” he finally asks.

Silence. He can almost hear Ollie’s confused frown.

“Is there… supposed to be something else, Mister Solomons?”

“No, there’s- just keep your ear to the ground, alright?”

Thankfully Ollie has learned not to question him by now. Well, mostly. So he promises to do that, without asking about the sudden interest in the Shelby family’s every move.

When Alfie hangs up, he has to just sit there in the study for a moment to let all of it sink in. Figure out what to do with this information. But when he eventually goes to search out Tommy, he still hasn’t quite decided what to do.

….

Knowing Esther is in the kitchen, he follows his gut and finds them both there: Esther doing the dishes and Tommy sitting by the table with his blanket in his lap and a mug of tea in front of him. No food, of-fucking-course. But he leaves that business up to Esther now -anything to save himself from repeating yesterday’s display, really. And yeah arguably he didn’t handle it in the best possible way but what can really be expected of him? To stand there and hold Tommy’s fucking hair while he throws up whatever meagre portion he’s managed to eat? That’s where he draws the line. And really Esther seems to be far more capable in this department so it’s probably for the best to leave the food issue up to her. And it must be Esther who’s placed the teaspoon of honey next to the tea mug. He’s got no idea what that is supposed accomplish, but again, not his problem anymore.

Instead he gets in Tommy’s line of sight to catch his attention.

“So, you fancy a walk then, eh? About time for one of those before we lose the last bit of daylight, if you can call it that, what with there being a distinct lack of sun today.”

Tommy nods and Alfie raises both eyebrows, making him clear his throat and muster a quiet, “Yes.”

Alfie nods his approval and gestures towards the spoon.

“Go on then, try to swallow that down and come along.”

What happened to staying out of anything food related?

Tommy just eyes the spoon suspiciously.

Thankfully Esther steps in.

“It’d be good for you, Tommy,” she says and glances over her shoulder from the sink, smiling encouragingly. She treats him as if he is made out of glass. And maybe he is. “It’ll just melt in your mouth, you’ll barely feel it.”

Tommy picks up the spoon, and someone up there must really have it out for Alfie because he sticks his tongue out andlicksit hesitantly, before apparently deciding it’s acceptable and putting the whole thing into his mouth. And how is Alfie supposed to look at those lips and not be overcome by confusing feelings and have his belly coil tightly and fill with heat?

And then Tommy takes the spoon out and his tongue darts out and swipes over his bottom lip.

Alfie turns around and leaves, barking some order for Tommy to hurry the fuck up.

…

Once they’re outside, he does his level best to focus on absolutely everything except Tommy for a while, making observations about the trees and the weather and telling him an entirely made up story about how a large enough group of crows could technically carry a live dear through the air.

Tommy smokes and seems uncharacteristically focused, eyes fastened on Alfie and listening with what could almost be something akin to actual interest. Which makes Alfie deem this an appropriate time to bring up the phone call. He’s not entirely sure what the purpose is. Or rather, he’d rather not admit said purpose to himself; it’s some impulse that’s lodged inside of him that just can’t help poking and prodding at Tommy’s fragile psyche and see what will happen…

“So, I had an interesting phone conversation earlier,” he says once Tommy has finished his first cigarette. “Had a word with a reliable source about the situation in Birmingham. And it would seem that you, mate, would you fucking believe, are on an extended leave of absence.” He looks over to Tommy to gauge the reaction. Tommy’s eyes shift to the ground as he shoves one of his hands into his pocket and starts picking at the buttons on the coat with the other.

“At least that’s the official story. Nothing wrong at all, you’re just having some well earned time off. Meanwhile that cousin of yours is in charge.”

Tommy fishes out another cigarette and the lighter.

“Yeah, they seem to be doing just fine, from what I’ve heard,” Alfie says. Tommy’s hand trembles ever so slightly as he lights the cigarette. “And alright, to be honest I find it a bit strange, don’t I? I can understand the need to keep up appearances, but… I feel like they’d have better luck actually finding you if more people knew, you know? If the police was involved, for example. Incompetent as they are you’d think they’d want to use every available resource.”

The smoke itself seems to tremble in the air as Tommy exhales another lungful. And for some reason it feels like a victory, finally seeing him react to something, anything besides his own thoughts and stuffed crows and invisible fucking voices.

“And I mean, they don’t know, right?” Alfie goes on. “They have no clue you’re here with me, out of harm’s way, mostly. No, as far as they know you could’ve been… kidnapped. Or lie dead in a ditch somewhere. So, really, I reckon that their first priority would be to find you, rather than, yeah, keeping up appearances. But clearly, our views differ there,” he has to pause to breathe, can feel himself getting riled up. “Because really, from the outside, it looks like they’re not looking for you at all.” He pokes and prods, can’t help himself for some reason- “Really must’ve done something to piss them off because, if you look at it from this angle, right, it’s as if you never even existed.”

-Pokes and tears at the remnants of Tommy’s mind, as if he’s looking through the pieces to find something, anything of the old him hidden in there somewhere, something that will make him protest. Always used to bite where his family was concerned.

Used to.

Now he just keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the ground and pulls in more smoke that he exhales in that same, shaky breath. Timid and meek and won’t even look him in the fucking eye- And it’s that, innit? That fragile, confusion, as if he’s made of thin, thin glass that could shatter at any moment, that evokes strange feelings he didn’t ask for… And how, how is it that no one in that fucking family is out there looking for him? That he’s got fucking no-one, that it’s all suddenly resting on Alfie’s fucking shoulders?

“Go on, Tommy? What’s changed?” he spits, harsher than he intended. “Always been like… rabid fucking dogs, your family, whenever one of you lot is threatened. But here you are, miles and miles away from home, meanwhile they’re living on as if nothing’s happened. Can’t tell me it doesn’t hurt a little.”

Tommy shakes his head. Of course it fucking hurts. ¨And he should be angry… fucking livid.

He trails his fingers over the scar but Alfie leaves him be. Can’t be fucking bothered to take his hand away. And maybe he’ll grab onto him too hard and Tommy will shatter under his touch.

“Though I suppose you’re not of much use to them anymore,” he says. “I mean you’re hardly in any shape to be fuckin’ running that bloody empire of yours.”

Tommy shakes his head and takes the cigarette from his lips, his hand is shaking so hard that it falls onto the damp ground. His fingers are still trailing along the scar.

“I know,” he says quietly. And it’s not the fucking answer Alfie wants. His pulse is quickening, he can feel it throb against his temple and he huffs out a laugh that comes out as mocking even to his own ears.

“Is that how you people operate, eh? You outlive your usefulness and then you’re discarded? Like some racehorse that’s broken its fuckin leg…”

Tommy stops in his tracks and ducks his head, scratching lightly against the scar. Alfie stops too.

“Nothing works anymore,” he whispers and seems to shrink before his eyes. Alfie wants to shake him, wind a hand into his hair and fucking force him to look up, twist so hard that it hurts and that bleak sadness will crack up into pain instead, force him to fucking feel something. Do something- maybe struggle, fight back. He doesn’t grab Tommy. But what he does do is almost worse…

“Yeah that’s an understatement,” he snorts. “You’re properly fucking cracked in the head. Which is saying a lot considering the state it was in before. Maybe they felt like it wasn’t that much of a loss, eh?”

Tommy flinches as if he’s been hit. Curls inwards on himself.

“I know,” he says. “I know, I know-“ his voice turns into these quiet little whimpers and he squeezes his eyes shut as he begins scratching against the scar feverishly- Alfie pitches forward and grabs his wrist, tugs it away from his head.

“Alright, fuckin’ell, Tommy-“ he says, the guilt welling up so quickly that it smothers the anger. “Fuck, calm down-“

Fuck, you fucking fucking idiot-

“I can fix it,” Tommy gasps, staring at him with wide eyes. “I can- I promise, please, I’ll fix it- I just have to- have to get it out and- and-”

He swipes for Alfie like an alley cat and Alfie grabs onto his other wrist and tugs them both against his chest. A knee comes up and narrowly misses his crotch and he has to fight the instinct to put his fist into Tommy’s face for that. Instead he takes both of the bony wrists into one hand, pins them against his chest and wraps the other arm around his back, tugging him close enough to remove his leverage. Tommy squirms and makes those awful, half choked noises that sound less like a human and more like an injured animal, but Alfie just holds onto him.

“Fuck ‘em,” he says. “Don’t have to fucking fix anything. They’re not worth all of this.”

There’s another moment of frantic struggle before Tommy suddenly stops, pushing his forehead against Alfie’s chest instead and pulling air frantically in through his nose. His whole body is shaking.

“Fuck ‘em,” Alfie repeats, trying to soften his voice. “Alright? You hear that?”

Tommy says nothing, but stays right where he is. His breaths come out in hot little bursts against Alfie’s chest and his pulse is racing underneath his fingers but he’s finally still. Alfie keeps holding the arm around his back but loosens the grip around his wrists. Cold fingers wind themselves into his coat as Tommy pushes himself closer, face still buried in his chest. Right then it feels like the only thing holding him together is the arm Alfie holds stiffly around him.

He leans in just a little bit. Tommy smells like soap and smoke and something innately… Tommy that he can’t quiet put his finger on.

“What the hell have you done to yourself, eh, Tommy? What’s so awful about all of this that you can’t even thinkabout it?”

Tommy just shakes his head, but he’s still now. And the urgency of the position has faded, he becomes painfully aware that it’s far too close. He clears his throat and gives Tommy a shove, making him stumble backwards on unsteady feet, blinking and looking dazed.

“Right. We should… probably be heading back to the house,” he says and starts walking back along the path, thankfully hearing a pair of footsteps behind him.

Tommy is painfully quiet the entire walk home. Alfie’s gotten used to the silence by now, but this is different. Wrong.

“I’m sure they’re looking, alright,” he says once it finally gets to be too much. The silence, or the guilt. “Might not… Well, your family have a way of doing things without anyone noticing, don’t they? Probably worried sick about you- I mean, you’ve got- those kids, right? And that wife of yours. Yeah. I’m sure they’re looking.” His throat is all dry so he has to pause and clear it before continuing, “But it’s not like you actually want to be fucking found, from what I understand, so I don’t see why you have to get all upset about it.”

Fuck, that sounds fucking stupid even to his own ears.

Tommy says nothing.

Alfie gives up on talking for the rest of the walk, and doesn’t open his mouth until they’re finally inside again.

“Right, I’ll ask Esther to make some tea,” he says as he shrugs out of his coat. “And then we’ll see if pompous man number five will finally propose to that lady who complains a lot in the next chapter-“

He heads for the living room and only discover once he’s halfway there that Tommy hasn’t followed, but is instead veering off towards the guest room. Which he hasn’t entered willingly since Alfie dragged him out of bed four days ago.

“Oi, where are you going?”

“I’m tired,” Tommy says quietly without looking up, fingers clenched around the edge of the door. “I should sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah sure, but you can do that just fine in the armchair.”

“I shouldn’t be out of bed. The doctor says I have to rest.“

He’s got that glazed look in his eye, Alfie just barely catches it before he slinks into the bedroom, leaving him standing there in the hallway with an alarming tightness in his chest.

He goes to pace in the living room, shoving tobacco into his pipe and lighting it. Tommy’s blanket is still in the armchair.

The footsteps approaching are too determined to belong to Tommy, who pads around the house like a kitten, and he barely has time to reflect on the fact that he does indeed recognize his footsteps by now, before Esther’s voice interrupts that thought.

“So, would you like some-“ She pauses. “Sir, where’s Tommy?”

Fuck. Just what he needed.

“He’s sleeping. Or, yeah, he’s in bed, alright?” He chooses not to turn around for no particular reason. It’s definitely not just to avoid seeing Esther’s disapproving look.

“He’s in bed?”

Alfie hums. “Yeah, so if you could just make some tea a that would be-“

Esther’s footsteps are disappearing down the hallway. Yeah. Fucking of course. He huffs out a puff of smoke and finds a cloud outside to fasten his gaze on, and vainly hopes that it’ll somehow distract him from the feeling currently settling like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach.

When Esther returns, he’s come up with no good excuses and done nothing except stare very intently at the same cloud.

“Did something happen while you were out?” she asks.

Alfie clears his throat and scratches his beard, watching the cloud be swept away by a gust of wind. “No, nothing that comes to mind, no.”

The silence is getting to him so he turns around. Esther is frowning. Doesn’t look angry, just worried, which makes the whole thing worse.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing about this is fucking ordinary,” Alfie grunts, wishing she’d launch into a lecture instead of looking so bloody worried. “What? He’s always acting fucking irrationally. Who knows what’s upset him this time. Maybe he just saw an… imaginary bird that made him sad for some goddamn reason.”

Esther nods thoughtfully, the frown deepening. “I’m going to make him some tea, but perhaps you could go and sit with him? I don’t think he should be alone.”

She leaves

Fuck all of this.

Alfie finds himself in his study again, staring at the phone.

One call.

The thing is he does actually believe Tommy’s family is worried. Who fucking wouldn’t be? It’d be fucking cruel not to be. Heartless. And heartless is hardly the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of the Shelbys. Ruthless perhaps. Arrogant and fucking cocky. But not heartless.

But despite the call to Ollie, he’s no closer to piecing together the gap between the failed assassination attempt and Tommy showing up at his doorstep. The only pieces he’s actually got is Tommy’s wrecked mental state and the scar. Clear enough that he’s tried to hurt himself, yeah, and done quite a good job of it too. Even after the phone call, there are too many pieces missing. But if that family of his was actually capable of even somewhat looking out for Tommy, he wouldn’t be in such a shit state.

Then again, Alfie is clearly failing spectacularly at that himself, looking after him.

Ollie could come pick him up. They could pay someone else to drive the last bit, someone the Shelbys have no knowledge of, and deliver Tommy at the doorstep of that big mansion of his. Tommy is hardly in any shape to resist. Could even be a gentleman about it and make sure someone opens the door too, see to that Tommy is taken care of.

And he’d be rid of this problem. Maybe avoid doing more damage. Logically speaking, it’s the right fucking thing to do.

Alfie picks up the phone, puts a finger to the dial and stares at it.

Three digits in, he puts the phone back and leaves the study.

And soon he finds himself standing outside the guestroom instead, with Tommy’s blanket in one hand and the book in the other. He opens the door without knocking.

The small lump on the middle of the bed remains motionless as he crosses the floor

“Scoot over will you?” he says and plops down onto the mattress, narrowly avoiding just sitting down on top of said lump. Folding down the blanket, Tommy blinks up at him. Alfie tries to not linger on the red-rimmed eyes and the wet lashes because he doesn’t care for the implications. He gestures for him to move.

“Go on, give us some space here, eh?”

Tommy sits up, still looking almost comically surprised and moves over to the farthest edge of the bed. Alfie rolls his eyes as he starts building up a sufficient mountain of pillows against the headboard.

“Don’t have to fuckin’… sit on the floor now, do you? Some space I said. Which, given the usual standards would be somewhere around here. You know? That’s your half.” He gestures from the middle and out to the edge. Tommy still chooses to settle at the very edge, watching him with big, wary eyes.

Alfie tosses the blanket at him and leans back against the pillows, flicking the lightswitch on the lamp on the nightstand before perching his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Now, where were we? Somewhere around page… ninety I think.” He flips through the pages and watches out of the corner of his eye as Tommy wraps the blankets around his shoulders and settles back against the pillows, a tiny bit closer. “Hm, yes, yes there we go. They’ve just arrived home after this whole… carriage debacle, yeah? Remember that? Very traumatizing event probably- Let’s see how they’ll possibly move on from that.”

He’s got Tommy’s full attention when he starts reading.

After three pages, Esther comes through the door. Alfie can see her eyes light up all the way from the bed, but she wisely forgoes commenting.

“Here’s some tea for you,” she says, addressing Tommy. “And a bit of soup. I thought you might be getting tired of the same old thing, so this one is potato and leek. But it’s nothing too different.” She sets the tray down on the nightstand on Tommy’s side of the bed. “Sometimes that can be difficult, new flavours and textures and all that.” She hands Tommy the mug, nodding towards the tray. “And there’s bit of that honey that seemed to go down alright earlier.”

Alfie doesn’t particularly care for the smile Esther shoots him as she leaves the room. As if she knows, or perhaps sees something he doesn’t…. On account of there being nothing to see or know, of course, so what business does she have, looking that way?

Going back to the book seems to be the safest bet to postpone all of those thoughts, and as he reads, Tommy obediently finishes almost all of the soup and then promptly occupies himself with the teaspoon full of honey, leaving it lingering between his lips for longer than what would be necessary.

“Can’t believe you can stomach that,” Alfie says and tries to not look to closely at his lips. “But who would’ve thought, eh? Tommy Shelby has a bit of a sweet tooth. Like a hummingbird.”

Tommy actually huffs at the comment, looking almost indignant.

“Yeah, yeah exactly like a hummingbird, in fact,” Alfie goes on. “See, they only eat nectar, don’t they, so they’re quite particular about their food. Tiny little things, too. Always moving about.” The imagery makes him chuckle. Tommy sucks on the spoon and he looks back down into the book. “There’s this myth, right, that if a hummingbird stops flying its heart will stop, but that’s of course bullshit, because no animal could function like that.”

Tommy narrows his eyes a little, giving the spoon one last lick before putting it back on the tray. He settles his head back against the pillow and turns onto his side, watching Alfie expectantly.

“I take it this conversation is over and you’d like to go back to the riveting story of… lawn discussions?” Alfie taps the cover of the book, but goes back to reading without expecting an answer.

One chapter later, Tommy’s head tips against his shoulder and it’s just pure luck that Alfie manages not to jolt in surprise. Tommy’s eyes are closed, long lashes resting lightly against his pale cheeks, lips parted ever so slightly and without a single one of all those sad, pained lines etched on his face.

Whenever Alfie sees him like this, he feels like maybe he’s not a complete disaster at this after all. If only for short moments at a time.

As carefully as he possibly can, he closes the book and slides off the bed. But he leaves the bedside light on as he leaves the room.

It feels strange to have a moment to himself, so he uses it wisely by smoking and listening to the radio for a bit, watching the sunset outside. There’s been no sun to speak of today, but a sliver of orange is visible right where the sky meets the sea.

Knowing Tommy is finally sound asleep in a proper bed does make him more relieved than it has any business to, because maybe this will mean he sleeps the entire night through? One can always hope.

But he’s barely finished that thought before quiet footsteps creak over the floor and he tries to not sigh audibly.

Tommy has brought his blanket and looks wary, eyes oddly wide and fingers wound tightly into the material. Alfie’s learned to notice that look by now. He reaches over and pats the armchair next to him.

Without a word, Tommy pads over and curls up in it, eyes still darting around the room.

“It’s just the radio, innit,” Alfie says. “That’s all.”

Because he knows.

The explanation seems to relax Tommy a fraction, but he still finds himself getting out of his chair and going to turn the radio off.

As if it’s a perfectly normal and reasonable thing to do.

Then he picks up the book and settles into his armchair.

“Chapter twelve, I believe?”

And then he starts reading. Again.

When he feels the familiar tug at his shirtsleeve, he moves his arm a bit closer. As if that’s a completely normal and reasonably thing too.

Tommy has closed his eyes again, his breathing already evening out.

Yeah. He might be shit at this, but he has his moments.

#alfie x tommy #Alfie/Tommy #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders season 5 #TW: suicidal ideation #TW: disordered eating

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nonbinarybrainstorm · 4 years

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Hey, I’m very curious and a very big fan of your work! What do the eight Brainstorm x Cybertron sparklings look like??

I’m not very good at drawing so I hope text descriptions are okay...

A bit of background: The eight sparklings are all technically fragments of one spark that split but began developing on their own. This is what allows them to transform into a combiner called Imperiosus Lux. They embrace that they’re a gestalt and have the same color palette of dark grey with golden and dark blue highlights.

More details undercut:

SolenoidSize Class: MiniAltmode: All-terrain vehicleGender: female

Smallest of the eight, she’s also the angriest and grows to be 16ft of whoopass. Solenoid is bulkier than most minis making for a very chunky baby. Just a rather squarish bab with minimal kibble and treads on her pedes. Her favorite person in the world is Ratchet and she loves that she has a little helm crest that looks like his.

TalismanSize Class: AverageAltmode: HovercarGender: male

Nervous and friendly but ultimately highly danger-prone, he’s a roundish guy and kind of Megaman looking with nodules along his arms and legs where his hover motors are. Shaped like a friend. His pedes are too big for him as a sparkling though and he’s always tripping on himself.

CaecusSize Class: AverageAltmode: Amphibious LeviathanGender: m/n/f genderfluid

Six eyes and prehensile tentacles that hang down their back. Very shy with attention deflectors out the wazoo. They feel like they’re too creepy with their spiky helm, clawed hands, and bird-like legs but their siblings find them very cute. The sweetest sparkling and very well behaved. Sleepy.

InvictaSize Class: LargeAltmode: [Triplechanger] Aircraft carrier/Multi-core fusion cannonGender: female

The leader among her siblings, she’s always looking out for them and keeping them in check. She grows into a very elegant mech with intricate kibble but as a sparkling her sharp angles come out at awkward angles making it so she always gets stuck to things. She visits Cybertron’s antechamber a lot and the little warm alcove above his spark is her favorite sleeping place as a sparkling. Cybertron gets so sad when she finally gets too big to recharge there.

InertiaSize Class: MiniAltmode: UFO (tiny)Gender: n/f genderfluid

They got boots and little antennae plus just one big, yellow optic in their round face. They are too cute for this world and very outgoing but they don’t talk very much. A part of their altmode is on their back that looks kind of like a turtle shell.

BlazingstormSize Class: AverageAltmode: F-117 Nighthawk (it’s a fighter jet)Gender: nonbinary

Absolute gremlin, cannot be stopped. They are Brainstorm’s kid for sure, including inconvenient wing placements and cat-ear helm. They are a very spiky baby, hard to hold but very cute and cuddly. Their little wings and pointy feet always hurt Brainstorm when he holds them but he can’t not hold them.

Pylon MegasSize Class: GiantAltmode: SpacebridgeGender: male

A bit of an outlier. He doesn’t like to transform much because his life signature is completely disguised when he’s in altmode. It makes him hard to distinguish from a transformer and an actual spacebridge. He only transforms when absolutely necessary. His outlier ability is teleportation kind of like Skywarp but short distances are hard for him. He’s pretty plain making it hard to discern that he has an altmode at all. His limbs are curved around which only makes it harder for people to tell what his altmode might be.

KryptonSize Class: LargeAltmode: Space ship (very Star Wars esque)Gender: female

Incredibly clumsy. She has shoulder-mounted cannons that are there even when she’s a lil sparkling that unfortunately shoot off whenever she sneezes. She follows the normal seeker format of forms but is just… big. Her helm slicks back to a point. She’s very bubbly and friendly. She’s also the one sibling all the others nap on because she’s warm in both body and spark.

#brainstorm #cybertron #cyberstorm #nubbs answers #Anonymous

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theevangelion · 4 years

Photo

The Old Guard: Supercorp ABO AU

Anonymous prompt for the WYWH special: ABO Supercorp story with Lena as the alpha please? Something based on The Old Guard?

Old Guard AU Lena/Kara ABO

She’s a woman thrown beyond the boundaries of time. Lena doesn’t even vaguely remember what it is to be human anymore. To have a mother, a father, to experience a first, a last, to fear, to love; to have both wrapped up in the complex fragility of one another.

In the fleeting embrace of death, the singular moment where her soul knows quietude, the rush of air diving back into her stalled lungs always comes unwanted and too sudden.

Lena doesn’t remember what it is to be human, but she remembers what it’s like to be born. Again and again, always against her will, endless times and yet still an aeon more of it to come, she’s now certain of that.

Andy was perhaps the only other with the accumulated years under her belt to empathise with her predicament. Andy’s take was that when it was the right time, the cycle of rebirth would simply stop, as it had with others they had met and knew before. A last glorious war, a final valiant fight, and then peace. Finally, just a little peace.

Six thousand years later, and Lena still felt that was Andy’s youth showing.

“So, how old are you?” The newling curled up inside the sleeping bag prods for more details. “You must be pretty old, right?”

Lena had felt Kara come back to life like a ripple in the water. It was like a push from the universe that could not be ignored. The CatCo building had caught fire and collapsed and then burned some more for good measure, the rescue crews were called off after a week, and while the recovery mission was organised, that brief interim was when Lena made her move and dug through the rubble like a woman with precise coordinates — following the pull of her instincts until she found a set of wiggling fingers in the debris that had been entombed beneath the blaze.

It had taken a good long while, a lot of explaining, a lot of tears, and then a bullet between her eyes just to prove she really was immortal and Lena wasn’t playing a strange joke, but Kara was finally settling. Lena kept a gun on her hip in case she got other ideas, but that was becoming more redundant by the day.

“Lena?” Kara waves to get her attention. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady her age but given the circumstances…”

“Get some sleep, Kara.” Lena pinches the bridge of her nose and tries not to reach for the gun. “It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow, please go to sleep.”

“But we’re invincible?” Kara doesn’t understand the rules yet, despite Lena having explained the big ones no less than six times and counting. “A late night won’t kill us,” she reasons.

“Yes, but we’re not fucking saints and I want to get some sleep. We have all the time in the world for questions, trust me—” Lena knows it better than anyone, she thinks to herself grumpily. “Just, please go to sleep.”

“Two thousand. Higher or lower?” The estimate makes Lena suddenly laugh despite her bad mood. It tickles her, really tickles her. “Okay, so, not two thousand. Got it.” Kara nods decisively.

“Nowhere near two thousand.” Lena rolls the other way and closes her eyes. “Now go to sleep.”

It’s the truth; in a roundabout, complicated, technically correct kind of way.

Two thousand years was child’s play.

***

In dreams, the memories of ages long before rush back thick and fast. The Library of Alexandria burns like a silent world on fire, lost to the smoke, and Lena watches from afar and feels nothing. A weary traveller trudging the scenic route, she’s already old enough to know she’ll see it rise again one day.

Her dream folds in on itself. Alexandria fades as quickly as the day it burned. She finds herself in a new place, a mathematical impossibility, but she doesn’t recognise her surroundings and so she rationalises that it’s simply from a time before the boundary. Her mind will only allow her to remember so far back. A few civilisations, and then it gets blurry.

A woman sits nude facing the water with her knees pulled to her chest, her dark brown hair is damp and curling at the ends. Lena craves to reach out and touch it. She knows and yet does not know, feels and yet feels nothing, her heart remembers this woman but her brain… too much time has passed.

When the woman turns and smiles, her almond-shaped eyes glittering, a knot of guilt forms in Lena’s belly without context. She has no questions. The thumping of her heart, the strange stillness of a constant wardrum that beats in the back of her head, Lena understands perfectly well who they are to one another.

Her teeth remember the pressure of her shoulderblade. The name of her mate doesn’t spring to mind. The wetness on her cheeks tells her that, despite too much time having passed between now and then, they knew happiness with one another.

An eternal measure of it.

***

Six months in, Kara’s third rebirth is a doozy.

Kara is starting to get the hang of it, Lena thinks. A dozen more and the process won’t be so terrifying. Ironically, it’s a car barrelling down the side road in search of nothing more than a cut-through that does it. It sends them careening high into the air. And, of course, what goes up must come back down.

It’s a combination of terminal velocity and gravity that kill them today, no valiant battles this time. The car speeds away before they even start to stir back.

Lena awakes to life with a hard gasp and the sensation of a shattered bone cracking itself back together. She hates that. The way her soul comes back to her corporeal vessel before it’s finished healing. When her elbow pops back in place, when the gash on her forehead knits and fades, she takes a few acclimating breaths and stumbles over to the broken body some metres away.

Kara looks like a frightened little girl, Lena thinks as she hovers over the newling in order to appraise the damage. On the outside, Lena shows no symptom of sympathy.

Kara’s neck is broken at such a hideous crooked angle that she cannot move the rest of her body, all the newling can do is wait for the healing, wait and then wait some more. It’s taking its time. Kara’s eyes are wide with terror, utterly helpless, trained on Lena as though with all her years and experience she might be able to remedy this.

“The first few are slow,” Lena says mutely, then glances at her chipped fresh red manicure. She’ll have to get it touched up when they’re finished here, which is an inconvenience. “Don’t fight the pain,” Lena comes back with a glare. “The more you fight, the longer it takes.”

When the snapped cervical spine unfucks itself with a satisfying pop, Kara’s nervous system slowly begins to work again. Lena watches her fingers twitch, then her toes, an agonised groan, the newling comes back to herself in bits and pieces.

“That wasn’t like the last two times.” Kara blinks and stays prone on the floor, horrified and utterly quiet in the way she says it. “I couldn’t. I was in agony and I couldn’t move—”

Lena sighs and scoops her jet black hair into a ponytail off her face. “The last one was a bullet, quick and easy, and this wasn’t that.” She shrugs.

“I couldn’t fucking move!” Kara snaps loudly, as though her reality is dawning on her all at once. “I was in agony and I… I couldn’t make a sound. That isn’t,” Kara scratches her head, dumbfounded. “That isn’t invincible.”

“I tried to tell you that being invincible doesn’t mean being invincible.” Lena refuses to join the pity parade, she simply extends her hand to help the idiot up. “Dying sucks. Coming back to life sucks more. Welcome to your forever. Do you still want waffles for lunch or no?”

“You’re repulsive,” Kara spits beneath her breath.

“You should consider yourself lucky.” Lena darkens, leaning in to emphasise her point. “There’s others like us, at least half-a-dozen of them these days, they’re like a merry band of men who rush to die for other people’s squabbles. If your soul had called to one of them… if they had found you…” Lena shakes her head, remembering the days when she too was a wardog for hire. “Rest assured, if they don’t find death then death certainly finds them.”

“And we don’t do that?!”

“Hit and runs aside, I only die when it’s important, which means you only die when it’s important. That’s step one of not snapping your fucking neck every other weekend.”

“Whatever you say boss,” Kara pushes past her, trudging down the side street with a hand rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re paying for the waffles.”

“Over your dead body,” Lena mutters beneath her breath.

***

Lena pays for the waffles.

She feels pity, but most of all she feels guilt, and it’s the only way her body will let her express it. Plus, she has a two-for-one coupon.

She doesn’t tell Kara that part.

***

Home for now is an abandoned industrial building down in the textiles quarter. During the day the city is so busy that it’s easy to get lost in the crowd and that’s important for longevity’s sake. At night, however, the street outside is so empty that a pin drop can be heard from one end of the road all the way to the other.

That too is important for longevity’s sake.

Belly full of waffles, Kara curls by the oil heater on her camping cot like a puppy licking her wounds — or substantial lack thereof. There are seldom possessions that Lena travels with, she tells herself it’s because she has outgrown materialness, but she tosses on the uncomfortable cot and stares at her hold-all bag wishing for an Advil or an extra pillow to miraculously appear.

“So you’re not two-thousand,” Kara mentions with a curious expression, drudging up a conversation that had been parked some six months ago.

“No, not two-thousand.” Lena gives nothing away.

“Where were you born? Will you tell me that much?”

“That’s a complicated answer.”

“How is that possibly complicated?” Kara asks, and Lena doesn’t know how to explain the rise and fall of lost civilisations, nomadic settlements, or the fact that she simply… doesn’t remember specifics anymore.

“What’s known today as Ireland.” Lena tries to be approximate but knows she’s hazarding nothing more than an educated guess.

“You don’t have the accent.” Kara’s eyes glimmer with amusement.

“It wasn’t Ireland when I was born there.” Lena smiles.

“Do we still have heat cycles or is that incompatible with the whole immortality thing—” The question takes Lena aback with how out of left-field it is.

The little idiot just laughs at her expression like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“I don’t know about heat cycles but… I still have my cycle, sometimes.” Lena remains indifferent, disconnected, forcefully disinterested almost. “It’s not as bad for us though. It takes a long time, but stops being so intense, stops being so frequent, it’s barely a tickle for me anymore.”

“What do you mean you don’t know about heat cycles?” Kara’s eyebrows do the thing.

“I’m not an Omega. I don’t have a heat cycle, I go into rut.”

“Into rut?” Kara becomes confused.

“I’m an Alpha.” Lena stares as though she’s stupid.

“Oh.” Kara’s eyes go wide. “Oh. That… makes sense.” She nods, gulping. “That makes a lot of sense. Sure, yes, of course. I don’t know,” she laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know why I assumed you were an Omega—”

“Because you’re an infant, you’re unworldly, you know only what you have been taught. Yes, female Alphas exist. Yes, that is why I don’t get changed in front of you. Well done for putting two and two together, Miss Journalist, some of your finest investigative work right there.”

Lena can’t help but smirk at the way Kara blushes crimson.

“Goodnight, Kara.” Lena lies down and savours the silence.

“Goodnight!” Kara peeps and rolls over.

Sweet, sweet silence -- or at least almost silent.

Lena makes the most of it and drifts to sleep.

READ IT HERE LADS.

#Supercorp #Supercorp ABO #Alpha Lena #Omega Kara #Old Guard Supercorp AU

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thatmultifandomhoe · 5 years

Text

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 23

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 9,626

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Angst, implied smut, and then a shit ton more angst, an itty bitty moment of fluff, and angst again!

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

It had been radio silence since you and Hoseok last heard from Sue. Despite not wanting to assume anything, you were hoping that it was taking longer on her end because the professor was trying to convince her to stay for the remaining two months. If that was the case, you decided that Professor needed a pay raise.

The pamphlet and the paperwork that Hoseok had brought home with him was sitting on top of your laptop, which was on your desk in the bedroom, waiting to be signed. Your mind was in a constant tug of war between being rational, and acting on impulse. You wanted to sign the paperwork for The Mate Act. Hell, you wanted to write your name in a flourish on the dotted line wherever it was required, but like the rational side kept reminding you, that if it was left unsigned until Sue agreed, it would show that you wanted – and waited – for her to physically be here to give her opinion.

Which is why, at six in the morning, you were sitting on the counter in the kitchen with a mug of coffee. It wasn’t the desired place you wanted to be, but for a few moments, you just wanted to get away. You didn’t want to see the paperwork begging for you to sign as it sat on your desk and you didn’t want to think of the worst-case scenario playing out in your mind either.

Sighing, your thumb traced the rim of the mug. Did every hybrid-human relationship have to go through this? Was it always this difficult and nerve wracking? “God, why is this so complicated?” You muttered, raising the mug to your lips, the bitter coffee easily going down and waking you up a little more. “Katie and Namjoon didn’t have it this hard.”

Even though you were a little jealous over Katie and Namjoon’s relationship, guilt washed over you faster than your coffee was waking you up. They hadn’t had it easy; you knew that. The amount of trust and trials that Katie and Namjoon jumped through to get where they are today were enough to send your mind spinning once again. It wasn’t a fair comparison.

You were just…tired. Life seemed to be pushing you thinner than you usually pushed yourself. It was like it was trying to see if you were going to break and throw in the towel, or keep on fighting like Hoseok.

Hoseok.

Automatically you looked towards your bedroom, spotting the empty side of your bed from this angle. A single arm was stretched out, the body it belonged to still passed out. It was too early for him to want to wake up.

“I’m going to fight for us Strawberry,”

His words snuck into your thoughts, but you welcomed them like cold water dousing a flame. It was funny – at least as a thought – that not only was Hoseok able to make you feel like you were personally getting kissed by the sun, but he was able to relax you like a running stream when need be. He eased the racing thoughts that never seemed to settle down, and he encouraged you when it felt like you weren’t able to continue on.

He was the only one you wanted to spend your life with, and you hoped that when Sue came home, she would see that too.

With that in mind, you carefully set the mug on the counter and with quiet steps, headed back to the bedroom. He didn’t wake up as you entered the room, nor when you lifted his arm to get back under the blankets. It was once you were settled down that his hand slipped under your shirt – his shirt technically – and squeezed your side. Like you expected, it was like your mind was finally slowing down.

“What’s wrong Strawberry?” He murmured, not opening his eyes.

You shook your head in thought, reaching up to brush the bangs out of his face. “Can’t sleep.”

He pouted as he cracked his eyes open. First, he looked at you, then the clock you kept on the nightstand on your side. “Baby, it’s six in the morning, on a Saturday.”

“I know, I know.”

Groaning, he shifted so his elbow was on the pillow, propping his chin up on his palm as he looked down at you. There wasn’t anything you could say – that you wanted to say at least – and it showed. Unknown to you, but the light in your eyes wasn’t bright like it tended to be. Instead, a sadness appeared to permanently dull them. He knew what caused that to happen, and he wished that he could kiss you to make it disappear. Sadly, life didn’t seem to work like that.

“Well,” he finally spoke, clearing his throat. “It’s too early to go to Jin’s for coffee, and it’s not warm enough to go for a walk this early,” As he thought, he drummed his fingers against your skin, his long fingers stopping their actions to affectionately rub your side before tapping once again.

While he thought, you scooted closer, your body curling to the shape of his body as you slid your leg against his calf. When he first came over to spend the nights, he always used to wear pajama pants and an old t-shirt that he owned. According to him, he never wanted to make things awkward. The very first time that he spent the night, it had been during the summer so you were only wearing a bralette and booty shorts. It was that outfit that you had worn when you left your room to go make your morning coffee, only to be surprised when you saw Hoseok in the kitchen beating you to the punch. That was the only time you had heard him stutter in front of you.

Things have obviously changed since then. With the blankets covering both your bodies, it hid the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers while you wore only a pair of panties and his oversized shirt.

When you shifted, his hand followed the movements of your body, gliding down your side and hip until it curved over your ass. His voice halted immediately, glancing at your face and then the new placement of his hand. “Strawberry,” he teased, sliding his fingers to your thigh to squeeze and rub. “Why didn’t you just say you were horny?”

Even though he hadn’t stuttered or blushed red since that one time, you were not able to say that about yourself. Your cheeks were already warm to the touch. “What? I’m not, I swear I’m not horny.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, increasing the pace of his fingers while bringing them further to the inside of your thigh. Your smooth legs were already quivering at his touch, and as much as you’ll deny it, he heard you softly gasp.

“You know,” he lowered his voice, raising an eyebrow as he smirked. “They say that the best way to fall asleep, is after having an orgasm.”

You pressed your lips together as you stared up at him, noticing how his brown eyes had darkened to almost black with lust and mischief. You hadn’t been lying, but as his fingers worked their way up and his movements were slowed down, becoming more sensual, your thoughts drifted to memories of how he had treated you during his heat, always putting your pleasure first when he could.

It was enough to make your thighs twitch and try to squeeze them together, but his hand was caught in the middle. Closing his eyes, Hoseok inhaled deeply, groaning when the smell of your arousal hit him at full force. “Oh Strawberry.”

Leaning down, he captured your lips, passionately kissing you until all that you were able to think about was Hoseok. Even with only one arm, he managed to roll you onto your back without breaking the kiss, which grew needier with each passing second. It wasn’t until he suddenly pulled back that you realized that you needed air too.

He chuckled at that, but without wasting time, he lifted the shirt until it was just under your breasts, kissing and nibbling over your stomach all the way down to your panties, leaving love bites in his wake. “Don’t worry baby,” Hoseok promised you, grinning as he sat between your legs, the blankets falling to his hips. The boxers he wore did nothing to hide the tent he already had. “I’m absolutely, starving.”

Six hours later, Sue was waiting in the elevator as she rode up to your floor. It had taken a lot of convincing, and a combination of real and fake tears on her part to convince the professor in charge of the study abroad program in Hong Kong to allow her go home early. They technically couldn’t stop her from leaving, it was a matter of all the paperwork that had to be filled out, and an explanation for her wanting to leave. During this process, her professors and classmates encouraged her stay, that this was an opportunity of a lifetime that she was walking out on, but she was done.

Thankfully, by saying that her hybrid was extremely sick and she was required to be there, she was able to leave Hong Kong on the fourth of April. The friends that she had made had given her hugs at the airport and wished her a safe flight back home, along with asking her to send them updates of Hoseok as soon as she was able to.

She had smiled and nodded, working the tears to make it even more real. It was only when she was in her seat on the flight that the tears vanished, and she went back to chewing on the inside of her cheek.

If only they knew the real reason for why she left.

Breaking up with Colin had been nothing compared to what Beth sent her a few weeks earlier. In fact, Sue was once looking at the picture and rereading the texts as she waited.

I didn’t know that Hoseok was mated to your friend that’s watching him.

In the same thread, Beth had sent two pictures. The first one was obviously of you, skillfully taken while you had been talking to Beth’s mother, a sweet smile on your face and blind to the idea that your picture was being taken. The second one was when you appeared to be leaving the laundry room, but this time, the right side of your body was facing Beth, allowing her to capture the picture of the freshly made bite mark on the right side of your neck.

Neither did I.

It was all that Sue had sent back after staring at the two pictures in disbelief. Beth had added on that you admitted that Hoseok was the one who inflicted the mark to her mother, even saying, Hoseok was the sweetest man you could ever meet.

The elevator finally dinged, surprising Sue as it tugged her out of her thoughts. Thankfully, she was the only one inside so there was no one to notice her mishap. When the doors shut behind her, she hesitated. She could count all the times that she walked down this hallway to your apartment on one hand. It wasn’t that she disliked coming over to your place, but that you insisted she had more room at her place for the two of you – three when she adopted Hoseok – to hang out at. Which was true, Sue lived in a fairly large house while you lived in a small apartment. It only made sense.

But now she wondered; what if she had insisted that they hung out here more often? Would she have caught you and Hoseok sending each other love sick looks behind her back? She always thought the amount of times that Hoseok went to visit you was simply because the two of you were friends, best friends even. Now she could only imagine what was really happening behind that door.

The very same door, that she had a key too.

She was digging through her purse as she marched her way to your apartment, searching for the key that would unlock the door. When you first moved in, the area around the apartment building hadn’t been the greatest, it still wasn’t in Sue’s opinion, so you had given her and Hoseok a copy of the key in the case of an emergency. Never once had she used hers, until now.

His key must be worn out by now, Sue thought, locating the silver key and pushing it in. In one attempt, she was in the quiet apartment. With a glance around the room, she carefully shut the door. It was noon and usually, you were up by nine to be at work for ten at the bookstore on the weekend. On your days off where you didn’t have school or work – a rarity the last she knew – you liked to sleep in and bum around the house. But with Hoseok staying here, he would have been up by now. He wasn’t one to waste the day away.

Despite only being here a few times, she remembered the layout of the apartment. The first door on the left was the guest bedroom, then the second was the bathroom while your bedroom was the door on the right.

It’s not that Sue didn’t want to be there for you, if she was being honest, Hoseok was always eager to jump at the chance of hanging out with you. He did invite her to go with him multiple times, but after a while, he just stopped asking. He said that having both of you there would be comforting to you, Sue however didn’t see the point. It was only a breakup, why did you need two people when one was fine? She had her other ways of being there, she always made sure to call and see how you were doing and offer any dating advice.

Walking further into the apartment, Sue peaked into the guest bedroom, a part of her hoping to find Hoseok there or at least his belongings that he had packed with him. When she stuck her head in though, there was nothing. The blankets were perfectly folded without a wrinkle and the furniture appeared to be recently cleaned.

The reality of Beth’s text felt like it was dragging her shoulders down to the ground.

She always knew that one day, Hoseok would find his mate. But she never expected for it to be so soon, or with you. There was the obvious factor, you were not a hybrid, and because it felt like she was getting stabbed in the back.

After the death of her parents three years ago, she had gotten Hoseok to not only fill up the empty space in the house – keeping it from being deathly quiet – but because she needed a companion. She needed someone that wouldn’t leave her. Someone who needed her. Of course, you were her best friend, you weren’t ever leaving her, but at the end of the day you went home to your cramped apartment, and she was once again alone in the house that was silent, surrounding her with never ending screaming.

When Beth sent the text and the pictures, it felt like you were trying to take Hoseok away from her. And with Colin gone, she was heading back to the life she tried to avoid.

The door to your bedroom was half open. Taking in a deep breath, Sue gently placed her hand on the wood and carefully pushed it completely open, her fingers sliding down to the cold doorknob. At first, all she could see was you. You were sleeping on the left side of the bed, her right. The blankets were tugged all the way up to your chin. Over the blanket however, was a tan arm that crossed over your chest that did not belong to you.

Following the arm that went underneath your head, Sue’s grip tightened around the doorknob as she finally saw Hoseok. He was pressed up against you, his chin resting on top of your head as he peacefully slept, unaware that someone else was in the room. On his side, the blanket was lower on him, only reaching the middle of his naked torso.

With narrowed eyes she walked further into the room, noticing the clothes that were strewn on the bedroom floor. If it weren’t for Hoseok having sensitive hearing, she would have gladly slammed the doors to wake you up. For some reason, she wasn’t ready for the two of you to know she was here. It felt like something was missing from this almost picture-perfect moment.

Besides the clothing on the floor, a combination of yours and Hoseok’s she learned after spotting his boxers over your panties, your room was spotless. Organized with every item put in its place. A sudden itch on her shoulder caused to her arm to suddenly jerk, resulting in the sleeve of her denim jacket to knock a paper off your desk with a soft thump. Her heart raced at the sound, not realizing she was so close to your desk.

Crouching down she gathered up the papers, one being a packet itself and the other, a green pamphlet. It was probably a research paper that you were editing or had received back, but she flipped over the pamphlet, curious as to what it was. The line between being a friend and someone who overstepped their boundaries, were broken the second she entered your apartment while you slept, so looking at this was nothing.

Still crouched, Sue’s mouth dropped open as she read the information underneath the bold heading, zeroing in on The Mate Act. Her eyes were burning as she shakily stood, and turned over the packet that she had thought was simply a paper from one of your classes. Instead, at the top of the first page, it stated that it was The Mate Act and with careful scanning, she made the connection that it was the paperwork mentioned in the pamphlet. The one that according to the information, would release her of her ownership on Hoseok, and allow him to live with you.

Her mind raced, jaw clenching as the papers crinkled in her grip. There was no doubting Beth anymore, she had told Sue the truth. The only thing missing was…

“Sue?”

Sue froze at the sound of the soft, but confused, voice. The soft voice that had comforted her for years, who had hurried to the hospital right after she called to tell that there had been a terrible accident involving her parents. The same voice that belonged to someone she once called her best friend.

Turning around, Sue glared at you, not caring that your eyes were watering up as you repeatedly open and closed your mouth. Obviously searching for some sort of explanation. But what was there to explain, when she could see what you have done?

“Sue please.”

The tears were falling down your face as you hurried to sit up in the bed while holding the blankets to keep your body covered. The sudden movements immediately woke Hoseok up. Your distress sent him into worry, thinking that you were hurt. His arms were already wrapping you in a hug when he stopped, Sue’s scent finally hitting him.

Hoseok closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Sue’s anger pulsating around her. When he finally looked back up, he met Sue’s gaze with regretful, but determined eyes. This wasn’t how he wanted to tell her – this wasn’t even a possibility that he had considered – but he wasn’t backing down.

“When…when did you even get back in the states? How did you get in my apartment?” You asked, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. Sue was back. She was standing in your bedroom and saw you in bed with Hoseok.

Sue simply switched the paperwork into one hand, holding up her keys for you to see. “You gave me a key.” Her voice was wiped free of emotion as she spoke to you. Then she turned to Hoseok, her eyes narrowing at the way he was holding you, already more in tune with your emotions. “Does she have the mark?”

Licking his lips, Hoseok glanced at your neck and then you, watching as every emotion flashed in your eyes. He felt every one as you did, not because you were his mate, because he was just as conflicted as you. Did he answer honestly? Or try and salvage any remaining bits of friendship with Sue?

He was tired of hiding it. “Yes,” he softly answered, looking at his owner once more. “She has my mate mark.” Without caring about the consequences, he reached up and gently moved your hair behind your shoulder, revealing the healed mate mark on your neck.

The bedroom was deathly silent.

With you in his arms and Sue standing by the door, it felt like a crack erupted on the floor dividing the owner and the mates from each other. Her eyes were locked on the mark, a twinge of envy coming to life in her heart as anger coursed through her veins. In Sue’s eyes, the mark, while highly respected and sealed the bond between two mates, was the last act of betrayal that you could commit.

Meeting Sue’s gaze, Hoseok rewrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. It only took that one look to know that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Pack your belongings,” Sue spat out, turning her gaze on you. On the very person she trusted way back in January. “We’re leaving.”

It took a few moments, but once the words connected with their meanings, you were shaking your head as you cried. “Please Sue, if you let us explain-”

“Explain?” Her rage had originally been focused on Hoseok, but now you were her new target. “How the hell were you going to explain this?! That the minute I left you’ve been fucking my hybrid? Or how the two of you have been going behind my back for god knows how long and were just waiting for me to leave, so that you could finish the deed? Please, enlighten me with your excuse.”

You held the blankets tighter against your chest, heart breaking as Sue accused you and Hoseok’s growls filled the room. His arms disappeared around you and as soon as he did that, it felt cold. Like the sun had gone out. She was your best friend and she was treating you like you’ve committed murder.

Reaching for his boxers, Hoseok quickly tugged them on and stood, making his way between the bed and Sue while blocking you from her view. “Knock it off Sue!” He growled, instincts demanding that he’d protect his mate at all costs. “You know that we don’t chose our mates, so stop blaming Strawberry for all this. If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame me. I’m the hybrid here, not her.”

“Exactly, you’re a hybrid!”

The room was deadly silent as Hoseok stepped backwards, the back of his legs hitting the bed as his tail and ears lowered. Never in the last three years did Sue make him feel like he was less of a person because he was a hybrid. Not once did she throw it in his face and use her power of ownership against him.

Despite the situation, while still holding the blankets up to keep yourself covered, you scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped your hand into Hoseok’s. You knew how much it hurt him to hear Sue say that. All you could think about was comforting him.

“Please Sue,” you tried again, this time meeting her gaze. She had to understand. “Please, we didn’t know. We only found out a month or two ago. We’ve been waiting until you came back to…”

But your explanation fell on deaf ears, the movement to comfort Hoseok caught her attention, and how his fingers tightened around yours. The gesture, while the intent was innocent, fueled the coals of Sue’s rage and she saw red. With a glance at the nightstand on the side that Hoseok had been sleeping on, she spotted his familiar wallet. He had the habit of putting his wallet along with his keys and phone on the nightstand before going to bed each night at home. It only made sense that he continued the habit here.

Nobody stopped her as she hurried over, grabbing his wallet as her hand trembled to pull out a thick cream paper from inside. In seconds she was standing in front of him again, holding it up unfolded in front of him. It wasn’t just a random paper, but the official document that Hoseok carried in his wallet stating that Sue adopted him. “Did you forget? I’m your owner Hoseok, you have to do what I say.” Overcome with anger, she forcibly shoved the document and wallet in his free hand, making him stumble in shock.

Your eyes widened as her words hit you, the grip you had on Hoseok slacking for a brief moment before clutching his hand, panic filling all your senses. “Sue, you can’t do this. Please, listen to us.”

Sue was having none of that however. “How could you?!” She cried, turning on you again. The root of her problem. The paperwork for the Mate Act and the pamphlet were still in her hands, crumpled as she threw them on the floor, hitting the ground with a loud whack as they narrowly missed your feet. “You were my friend and I trusted you! You could have any guy, hell, any hybrid, and you picked Hoseok! He’s my hybrid, not yours.”

Her chest was heaving as she stared at the two people she once called her friends, now standing before her like strangers. When she left to go to Hong Kong, Hoseok had hugged her so tightly in an attempt to get her to stay. Now, he couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. A flip switched in her mind and she angrily wiped away the few tears that had fallen. If that was the case, then fine. “You have until tonight to get your shit packed up and I’ll be back to get you. Then we’re going home.”

Not seeing any more of a reason to stay, Sue hurried out of the apartment, slamming the front door in her wake. In that moment, as the echo of the door replayed in your mind, was when everyone’s worst fears came to life.

The back of your eyes burned as you stared at the paperwork on the ground, the bold letters of the Mate Act mocking you from the floor with bent and crumpled pages. On a scale, Sue was right. She had trusted you to take care of Hoseok while she was gone, but Sue forgot one important thing. He was perfectly fine with taking care of himself. He was a grown man capable of making his own decisions, had his own job, and he was allowed to love whomever he wanted.

It’s not my fault, you thought to yourself, hand slipping out of Hoseok’s as you gripped the blankets with both hands. I know it’s not my fault. But your bottom lip trembled anyway, because despite knowing that, it felt like it was anyway. That it was your fault that your best friend was hurting so much.

Hoseok blinked when he no longer felt your hand in his, raising his head to turn and look at you. When he finally saw you, the instinct to protect you once more hit him with full force, along with guilt. You were still holding the blankets up to remain covered. You had been completely vulnerable, the blissful remains of this morning shattered, as you sat there taking everything that Sue had screamed about.

Looking around, he located the shirt you had slept in and knelt in front of you. The tears were streaming down your cheeks as he gently slipped the shirt on over your head, carefully slipping your arms in one by one through the arm holes, doing the same for your panties until you were finally covered. “Shh baby,” He murmured, crawling on the bed behind you and pulling you into his lap. The second that he touched you, you were leaning into him. “I’m so sorry Strawberry, I’m so sorry.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his arms hug you tightly as he kissed the top of your head. He held you so that you were cradled in his lap, tangling his fingers in your hair to keep your face against him. That way you didn’t see his eyes watering up as his face became splotchy. He didn’t want you to see that.

Sadness permeated the room as he tried, and failed, to keep his tears back where they belonged, as he attempted to say something. He should promise you that everything was going to be okay and that Sue was going to change her attitude on this, but he didn’t. All he wanted to do was hold you close and kiss you wherever he could. He wanted to smell your sweet strawberry cream scent until it overpowered him, and then even more.

Because he couldn’t guarantee anything anymore.

When Sue arrived at home, she sat in her car. The radio was playing a mindless pop song that she had once loved to listen to, but it meant nothing to her right then and there. Right now, it was a stupid song that didn’t make her want to dance along to anymore.

Her luggage was still sitting in the trunk and the back seat, her purse and a duffle bag in the passenger seat next to her. It didn’t seem like she had packed so much when she left. In fact, she only recalled carrying her purse and the duffle bag when they went to the airport. As she shifted in the front seat to lean her head against the window, she suddenly remembered that it hadn’t been just her who went to the airport that day. It had been Colin, Hoseok, and you, who had gone with her and helped carry all her luggage.

Sighing, she wet her lips with a glance at the backseat. There was so much to carry in. “Jesus,” she muttered, pulling her keys out of the ignition while opening her door at the same time. Sitting and whining about it wasn’t going to get it done. If she didn’t do it now, then she’d have to do it later, and she had a feeling that Hoseok wasn’t going to willingly help her move it either.

It took not one, not two, but four trips of dragging a suitcase in each hand and dropping them off in the front hallway to bring everything all in. Once it was done, she left it there without a second look, instead, heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After all that shouting her throat was sore.

She only took a few steps before suddenly stopping. With a look down, she lifted her foot to inspect her shoes. A pair of jade heels that she loved, were clacking on the tile floor. They were stilettoes so she expected that, but what she hadn’t expected, was for them to be so loud. Sue placed her fingertips against the base of her throat, swallowing as she continued into the kitchen, her heels once again echoing in the quiet house.

With that silence, it forced her to think.

Studying abroad had opened her eyes to a whole new language, new food, and to new friends. It felt like she was living a whole new life and having so much fun that, her texts had slowed down between her friends, and with Colin.

God, Colin.

There hadn’t been a single thing that ticked her off that Colin hadn’t been loyal. He had always been attentive, loving, and so kind to her. He played the perfect boyfriend card to the most beautiful melody, and she had been the fool to keep playing it on repeat for over three years.

Her trip had been perfect, until she received that text from Katie with the picture. Sue didn’t know who the other woman that Colin was kissing was, but it had soured her mood for a week afterwards. In that time, she cried and screamed at Colin over the phone, sometimes doing both at the same time. The friends she made comforted her with movies and some well needed girl nights of face masks and ice cream. There was so much junk food.

Heart broken in a foreign country however, didn’t last long.

With the mindset that she would never see anyone again, she stayed out late, and when her friends invited her to parties or outings to clubs, she accepted. Short outfits that revealed skin, and men that smiled sweetly and danced with her just right, helped ease the hurt of being cheated on. Sometimes she drank, but more often than not she was sober when everything happened, meaning that as she stood in her kitchen, she remembered it all.

She remembered every deed, and ever man that she kissed and had sex with from that week after the break up to last night. After a couple hours of sleep, she had gotten dressed and packed her belongings while he slept naked under the sheets, unaware that she was planning on getting on a plane to never return.

It was easy to forget about the life she had while over in Hong Kong. For once, it was like a new start where no one knew who she was. Which is why she had kept any contact with you and Hoseok short, because it reminded her that eventually, it was all going to end. The fun wasn’t going to happen anymore and there wasn’t going to be a new face to meet. Coming back home meant the possibility of running into Colin, of the sympathetic faces her friends would greet her with.

Walking away from the sink, she took a sip of the water, softly sighing as it cooled her throat. It had been annoying when you or Hoseok didn’t respond to her texts right away, especially when she first found out about Colin’s cheating, but now that she knew the truth, it made sense. Just like Colin, you had been too busy shoving your tongue down someone’s throat to care. In this case, you did it to someone she cared about, making it worst. At least Colin had to decency to pick a stranger.

“And she has his mate mark,” Sue bitterly muttered, making her way to the living room where the rug silenced her heels. “Which means, they’re basically, fucking, married.”

She shook her head as she settled on the couch, leaning forward to slip her heels off. Her feet instantly felt better as she slid them against the soft carpet before curling up on the couch. The TV remote was on the coffee table, but she took the moment to relax in her own home first. There were six hours until she had to go and get Hoseok, and as she turned the TV on to fill the silence, her eyes began to close after a few minutes, shortly falling asleep without any qualms of what she did.

Hoseok sighed as he walked back into the bedroom. His toiletries bag was packed and ready to be put into his duffle bag, but he placed it on the bed instead, prolonging having to pack until he absolutely had to.

It was only then that he realized that he had nothing else to gather up on the bed. The only bag that was all set to go was his dance bag, and he always had that ready. All of his clothes and little trinkets that he had brought were already laid out, waiting to be folded and packed away.

“Hoseok,” you softly whispered, knocking against the door frame. You watched as his back tensed up, but he didn’t turn around.

“Yeah baby?”

“I just got off the phone with the attorney,” you answered, holding the landline in both hands. “They suggest giving it a few days to see if she calms down and changes her mind. But if she doesn’t, they’re willing to take our case and help us.”

He didn’t speak, instead he nodded as he walked around the bed to where he had his clothes laid out and started folding them. You watched him as he robotically moved around, purposely taking time to smooth out the wrinkles and make sure that the fabric folded evenly. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet, he usually at least cracked a smile or teased you for staring, but there was nothing from him. Ever since this afternoon, he had been without a smile all day.

You stepped into the room and shifted his toiletry bag so there was room to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know, the woman said this happens more often than you’d think,” you offered, hoping it would somehow engage him. The afternoon had been filled with tears and then silence that it was driving you insane. All you wanted was to hear his voice. You didn’t care what the conversation was about, it could be about the Dance Studio or how the bee population was very slowly starting to come back, you just wanted to hear him. “She said that in our case, the owner eventually gives up ownership to the mate.”

Hoseok pressed his lips together, glancing at you for a second when you sat down. It was obvious what you were trying to do, and while he appreciated the effort, it wasn’t helping. Spending the last couple hours with you on your laptop, searching for lawyers that lived in the area and were reliable wasn’t what he wanted to do today.

The nice weather had been holding out for the last couple days and he had wanted to surprise you with a trip to the beach. It was too cold to actually go swimming, although he wouldn’t have been surprised if you somehow stumbled into the water or pushed him in. In his mind, he had planned on gathering shells with you, writing your names in the sand surrounded by a heart, and having lunch and dinner at restaurants.

To end the night, he was going to make a small campfire to roast ‘smores, and then bring hold your hand as you did the classic walk on the shoreline with a breeze blowing by. By then it would be too late to go home, so he was planning on renting a motel for the night and when you actually returned home, the smell of the ocean would be clinging to your clothes and hair despite the multiple showers. It’d be like a mini vacation.

Sue’s sudden return killed that idea.

Why the hell she had to enter your apartment was mind blowing to him. In what universe did sneaking around in your home – in your fucking bedroom specifically – make sense? Then for her to scream at you while you only had the blankets to cover you after such an intimate morning. You had to suffer through that will being so physically vulnerable. He wouldn’t blame you if whenever you thought about this day, you’d be hurt and embarrassed.

To be truthful, he was broken into thirds about the whole situation. A part of him wanted to scream and throw something at the wall, another part wanted to let his hybrid instincts take control and protect you like his blood sang for him to do, and finally, the remaining third wanted to hold you. To kiss you, cuddle, and make love with you until Sue was pounding on the front door demanding that he had to leave. Hell, he wanted to scent you even though you had the mate mark now. His scent was already forever intertwined with yours and still, he wanted to make sure that every hybrid would know that your heart and soul was meant for him.

He was so conflicted, that he was doing the opposite of what he wanted, and was pushing you away in fear that he’d break down and start crying again.

You stared at the shirt Hoseok was folding, watching as he moved the left sleeve across the body of the shirt and then again with the right. Once that was done, he folded the shirt in thirds before finally folding the top of it to the bottom so the top was right side up. With a small smile, it reminded you of how Hot Topic would always fold their shirts. Before he could move onto the next one, you placed your hand over his, effectively stopping him. Even with his emotions and thoughts feeling scattered, your touch managed to slow everything down to a more comfortable pace.

“We’re going to figure this out,” you promised, watching as he turned his palm up to lace his fingers with yours. “No matter how long it takes. And if we have to get the lawyer involve then we will, if not, then obviously that’s a lot better. This…this won’t be forever Hoseok.”

Hoseok finally lifted his head, weakly smiling when you made eye contact with him. This was certainly a completely different reaction from earlier. He could see the struggle in your eyes though, between the urge to do nothing but cry, or to straighten your shoulders and do something, even if it was searching for lawyers and making the phone calls that he found himself unable to make. You had cried for a while in his arms, but the tears eventually dried up. As much as you wanted to stay there, you couldn’t just do nothing. And he admired you so much for that.

“But then I’ll be your hybrid Strawberry,” Hoseok gently reminded you. Coming to stand in-between your legs, he let go of your hand to cup the side of your face, his heart softening as you leaned into his palm.

His words settled heavily on your shoulders, understanding what that would mean. More specifically, what the two of you wouldn’t be able to do if that was the case. “I’ll always have your mate mark. We’re already married Hoseok, we don’t need a document and bands for the human world to say that we are. All that matters is that we’ll be together.”

At the mention of the mate mark, his gaze slid down the side of your neck, fondly gazing at it. His free hand came up to stroke the mark, smiling as your body shivered at his touch. Even now that it was healed and looked like a painful scar, the memory was anything but that. He remembered seeing women and men wearing the marks not only growing up, but even as little as a six months ago. As a hybrid, it was how you were able to identify who was mated and who was not, along with the obvious intertwined scents.

Hybrids didn’t usually bother with marriage and weddings, it wasn’t necessary with the mate mark, but when the mate was human, it was becoming more common for hybrids and humans to participate in both ceremonial unions.

And for the last three years, he knew how much you longed to one day have a white wedding, to go dress shopping, and say I do with a gold band around your ring finger. He didn’t want you to give that up for him.

Falling to his knees in front of you, your legs immediately going around his back and locking him in place, he simply hugged you. “I swear, I’m going to make this up to you,” Hoseok murmured, tilting his head to kissed your marked neck. “Anything you want, I’ll get it for you or take you there. You just say the word baby.”

His promise made you giggle, your arms sliding across his shoulders as you kissed the top of his head. There was no doubt that Hoseok would promise to wrangle a star from the night sky if he was able to do so.

“All I want is you,” you softly reminded him, kissing his cheek when he looked up. “And maybe a house of our own one day.”

“With a yard and white picket fence,” Hoseok cheekily added, nibbling your jaw when you rolled your eyes. “Enough bedrooms for a litter of our own pups one day.”

“And how many bedrooms is that?”

“Four, not including our room. We can double them up in the rooms, or do two rooms and have four to a room.”

While math wasn’t your greatest subject, you were quick to add up the numbers in your head. “You want eight kids?” You blurted out, leaning back so his lips weren’t distracting you. “At once?!”

However, Hoseok’s laughter filled the bedroom as he brought you back to him. “Easy there, Strawberry.” He ran his hands up and down your sides, sweetly kiss you to relax you, even though your body was already doing that at his touch. “German Shepherds are known to have litters of eight pups, but as a hybrid it doesn’t happen all at once. With that being said, one pregnancy can result in twins or triplets, and depending on how many times a couple decides they want more kids, they can easily have around eight or more children.”

It felt like an overload of information that you weren’t expecting, and while you wanted kids one day, you never expected to have so many as eight.

“But Strawberry, if you only want two children, then we don’t have to have more than two kids. As long as you’re the mother, I’ll be happy to have even one child. Okay?”

After being best friends for three years, you were starting to think that making Hoseok watch all your favorite romance movies had made him a professional at making your insides feel like mush.

With all this talking about kids, your mind wandered to what it would be like to raise a, not-so-little family with Hoseok. Instead of waking up to alarm clocks on the weekends, it’d be a little group of kids crawling on the bed to wake their parents up, the room easily filling with children’s giggles. A combination of yours and Hoseok’s genes, along with soft ears and tails to give plenty of scratches to. Butterflies fluttered around your lower stomach as you took a deep breath, your eyes watering slightly before you regained control of them again.

“Ask me again when we finally move into that house,” You answered instead, your smile matching his grin as you leaned your forehead against his. “You know, the one with the yard and a picket white fence, with four bedrooms.”

His eyes lightened up as he released a loving growl, the whacking of his tail against the floor barely containing his excitement.

For a few more moments, you remained in this bubble with Hoseok, daydreaming about a future that was for right now, uncertain.

When the doorbell rang, you were cuddled up with Hoseok on the couch catching up on Stranger Things. His bags were completely packed and set on the bed as you tried to enjoy the time you had left with him.

Hoseok’s arm tensed around your shoulders as you buried your face in his chest, bringing your free arm around his waist to keep him there. Despite saying that everything was going to be okay and that you’ll get through this, you still didn’t want him to go. He belonged here and with you. He deserved to have the choice.

The bell sounded again, along with the banging of Sue knocking on the door.

With a sigh, you regretfully removed yourself from Hoseok’s arms, unable to get the sound of his whine out of your mind. It was with a heavy heart that you opened the front door, revealing Sue.

She raised an eyebrow at you, glancing at Hoseok over your shoulder before looking back at you. Your face was no longer flushed, but your hair was thrown up into a messy bun and the sweatpants and tank top you wore were an obvious reflection of your mood.

“What took you so long?” Sue sneered, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Just stop it Sue,” Hoseok softly spoke, intervening before anything else was said. Joining you at the door, he placed his hand against your lower back. He already his bags with him, his dance bag sitting on the floor for a moment as his duffle bag was settled on his shoulder and he held onto his suitcase. “Please.”

It was brief, less than a second, but Sue’s face had softened at his request before quickly shifting back to its previous annoyed state. To keep your mind off of what was happening, you compared her reaction to that of smelling sour milk and rotten trash.

“Fine,” Sue relented. “I’ll take your suitcase. When I come back up, you better be ready to leave.”

Hoseok nodded, watching as Sue dragged the suitcase on its wheels behind her, waiting until she was down near the elevator before focusing back on you. Licking his lips, he sighed. What was there for him to say that he hadn’t said already?

Instead, you beat him to the punch. “We can still text,” you softly reassured, stepping closer to hug him. “And you can visit me at work. I’m not saying goodbye though, because that would mean this is permanent and this…this is not permanent.” Your voice began to crack near the end, your vision blurring as you focused on the shirt he wore.

How you wished to go back in time, back to when it was six in the morning and done something different. What if you had suggested going away? To take a spontaneous mini vacation for the weekend? You would have had so much more time with Hoseok, and had so much more fun.

Reaching out, Hoseok ran his thumb against your bottom lip, remaining quiet as he simply hugged you. To feel you in his arms and hear your heart beating as your scent enveloped his senses was all he wanted.

“Why are you crying if this isn’t goodbye?” He halfheartedly teased, squeezing you just a little to make it count.

You sniffled out a chuckle, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Because I’m an emotional wreck.” His chest rumbled with laughter as you felt him kiss the top of your head, his hands rubbing your back.

“Yeah but you’re my emotional wreck.”

“Damn straight I am.”

He leaned down to kiss your forehead once again, his lips lingering as his ears flickered in the direction of the hallway upon hearing a soft ding that he knew you didn’t hear. That didn’t last long when Sue’s heels clacked against the floor, making your body tense under his embrace. He leaned back only to tilt your chin up, rightfully kissing you on the lips.

The second his lips touched yours, a warm fire lit up inside you, making your heart feel lighter and alive. It was something that only Hoseok was able to do.

“I love you,” he softly murmured, nibbling your bottom lip before kissing you again.

Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, possibly wrinkling the fabric but you didn’t care. Inside, your heart was screaming at you to keep Hoseok here and to not leave with Sue. But your mind knew that you had to let him go, that it was the only way. If by doing this, maybe Sue would listen to what you had to say, and maybe, just maybe, let you and Hoseok be together again.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, breaking the kiss as the echo of Sue’s heels became louder.

An involuntary whine escaped Hoseok when you stepped out of his arms, but you merely shook your head when he tried to bring you back. Sue was already within eyesight and you didn’t want to push your luck with any more affection in front of her.

He understood why you did that, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“Ready to go?” Sue asked, pretending as if she hadn’t seen you kissing Hoseok the entire time. She was only in the hallway; it wasn’t like she was in another room or outside the building.

Hoseok hesitantly nodded, his face blank as he grabbed his dance bag from the floor, knuckles white while the inside of him cried and fought against every instinct in his body. He wasn’t supposed to leave his mate! He found you, you accepted and bore his mark. The two of you were meant to be together, not apart. What if something happened while he was gone? How was he supposed to protect you if he wasn’t here?

This was wrong, and as he glanced over his shoulder to look at you one last time, it took everything in him to not drop his belongings and run back to you into your apartment, locking the door and keeping Sue out when he saw your red eyes and splotchy cheeks. Already, he was failing you.

When the elevator door softly dinged and Sue and Hoseok disappeared inside, you quietly went back into your apartment, sliding against the front door until you were sitting on the floor. Your legs stretched out in front of you, the silence of the now empty home suddenly coming to life.

Before Hoseok came to live with you, this silence had been a part of day to day life. At some point over the years, you grew used to the lack of excitement and simply adjusted to it. Now it was such a stark contrast to the life that you had experienced with Hoseok. He gave this place a reason to call home. With his love, laughter, smiles, voice, even his presence alone managed to brighten up this place.

Now it was nothing.

Curling in on yourself, you cried in the empty apartment. There was no one to hold you or wipe away the tears anymore. It was just you.

The drive back home had been silent with the exception of the radio, but Hoseok didn’t make an effort to start up a conversation and neither did Sue. The tension was so thick that not even a steak knife would be able to cut through it.

He declined her help with bringing his belongings up, settling both bags on his shoulders as he pulled the suitcase against the floor, ignoring her looks. It wasn’t until he reached the stairs that he stopped. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder, the woman that he had once known gone from Sue’s gaze. This was someone knew.

“What you did was wrong,” Hoseok evenly spoke, keeping his face clear of any emotion except for his anger and hurt. He wanted her to see what she’s done, and how much it affected him. “You know it too Sue. I don’t know what happened while you were in Hong Kong, but it wasn’t right to take it out on Strawberry and I. We wanted to be there for you when you told us that Colin had cheated, and we’re so sorry you had to go through that, but you lashed out on us and that was just as bad.”

Hoseok wanted to say more, actually, he wanted to scream and shout and tell her that he’d never forgive her for what she did, but he kept his mouth shut. Hurting Sue, despite everything, was the last thing he wanted because deep down, he remembered the way she sat in that chair at the Homeless Shelter. Vulnerable and all alone as she waited, the urge to protect her overcoming him. He still considered her one his friends.

“By the way,” he added, turning around to start going up the stairs to his room. “You didn’t just hurt me. You hurt Strawberry too, in more ways than one, and I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to forgive you.”

He didn’t look at Sue after that. Instead, he carried on to his room, shutting the door behind with a sigh. While he loved his room, he noticed that it no longer felt like home anymore. Despite being filled with all his belongings, it was empty. Tomorrow was Sunday, so he pulled his clothes off and crawled under his blankets, not feeling guilty about sleeping the day away. Out of habit, he stretched his arm out to pull you closer, but his heart constricted when his hand fell on top of the blankets.

That was why it didn’t feel like home anymore.

You weren’t there.

His bottom lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes tight, turning to bury his face into his pillow as it became wet with his muffled tears.

Downstairs, Sue was still standing in the open room near the bottom of the suitcase. Right where Hoseok had left her. His words bounced around in her mind, stirring up feelings of guilt. For a moment she thought about going up and apologizing – she even made it up the stairs – but as soon as she made the landing, she went straight to her bedroom instead. Despite her attempts to sleep, she was unable to forget what he said. She had hurt both of her friends.

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

816

What have you been up to today? Anything interesting? I decided to be a 14 year old again and watched video clips of my OG, ride or die, absolute favorite OTP this morning and I fangirled like it was 2012 lol. I haven’t revisited that ship in around six or seven years so it was surreal to see their scenes all over again and I was beaming all morning hahaha. Other than that, I do have a meeting in an hour but I find that more blah than interesting... WHYYYYY I volunteered for a shitload of extracurricular positions before this quarantine started, I’ll never know. What was the last thing you ate? My sister had found this bread recipe on YouTube last night and I loooooved what she made, so I asked her to make it again this morning. Do you know how to knit? Who taught you? We were taught in Grade 6 by our home economics teacher, but 1) I wasn’t interested and 2) kinesthetic learning has never been my forte, so I wasn’t able to follow from as early as step 1. What state or territory were you born in? Continued the day after, lol oops. I was born in Manila. Are you the type of person to dwell on the past? Only in such a way that I prefer to hold grudges, so on that front I’m technically perpetually dwelling on the past. I can get over other stuff relatively easily.

Are there many traffic incidents in your area? There’s a usual bottleneck spot three minutes away that gets really bad in the evening when everyone is trying to get home, but the traffic becomes a lot more loose when you get to the part of the highway leading to my village. What's your favourite genre of music? I vibe with R&B and some indie rock the best. Have you ever been for a ride in the back of a truck? No, I think that’s mostly illegal here lol. People usually ride the back of pickup trucks when they’re inside gated areas, but it’s a different story once they get to the highway. Are you currently downloading anything? Nope. I haven’t (illegally) downloaded a book since March-ish, and a movie since...2016, maybe. Have you seen any good movies lately? Tell me about them. Nah I prefer shows these days. The last good one I watched was Descendants of the Sun; it really lives up to the hype and is genuinely one of the better Korean dramas out there. It centers on a special forces captain and doctor and how their lives and respective careers intertwine in a war-stricken country. Does your father have any facial hair? He grows it but he shaves it off regularly. What's your favourite thing to eat for breakfast? Ideally it would be Eggs Benedict, but realistically I really like scrambled eggs, bacon, and fried rice. Did your grandparents teach you anything? My maternal grandpa was one of the smartest people I knew and from the second I was born he loved giving me little facts about every topic that could possibly exist, but especially about history and how things work or are made. My maternal grandma is super traditional and taught me more maternal and old-school stuff like how to be more ladylike, the different benefits of vegetables (like how carrot and squash are good for your eyes haha), and random facts about Christianity – basically stuff you’d expect from an Asian grandma lol. Because I didn’t really grow up with my paternal grandparents and since they’re a lot more reserved to begin with, I haven’t gotten the chance to learn a lot from them.

Do you want/have a Bachelor's degree? I want one and I’m on my way to getting it, but because of Covid the road to graduating has been slower than normal. The college has already decided and we’re only going to have an online graduation which really bums me out, and that’s gonna happen by late July. Have you ever written a song for or about somebody? I’ve never written a song, period. What are the longest and shortest romantic relationships you've been in? I’ve only had two stints and they’ve been with the same person. The shorter one lasted eight months, while the longer and ongoing one has been going on for four years. Would you go on one of those galactic space flights if you had the chance? If it was free, for sure. Do you like your license photo? Yes hahaha. The license people had a laugh once my card got printed out because I had a wide-ass smile on my face (the photographer said it was fine to smile, and he didn’t tell me off when I smiled with my teeth), and apparently that’s not normal at all because people would always choose to look stoic in their licenses. The amusement on their faces was funny to me and we ended up laughing together sksksksk. Are you into superheroes? Who's your favourite? I am not. I watched the Wonder Woman movie two years ago and that was really nice, but I’m generally not into superheroes. Spotify, Pandora or something else entirely? Spotify. The only Pandora we have here is the jewelry shop. What colours do you wear the most? I’d say black or mustard yellow. What was the last alcoholic beverage you had? I had a bottle of peach soju last Friday. How many televisions do you have in your house? How big is the biggest? Four. I dunno the dimensions of the biggest one we have but it’s pretty...big lol Have you ever been to Arizona? Did you like it? I have not. I like Arizona tea though :))) Do you have any exercise equipment in your home? Yeah we have a couple of dumbbells and my mom has a rowing machine thing. Are you a gossip-loving sort of person? Yes. Not the best trait of mine I gotta say, but it is a guilty pleasure. What brand of laptop or computer do you own or use most often? Apple. What did you have for dinner last night? We had some sort of Korean beef with vegetables. How old were you when you learned to tie your own shoelaces? The thing is, this was one of our exams in kindergarten, so I had to learn it to ace that test even though I’ve always been bad when it comes to hands-on learning. My grandma painstakingly taught me when I was five and she had to start teaching me weeeeeeks before the exam to accommodate how slow I am when it comes to lessons like that haha. Have you ever felt like you were making a mistake when dating someone? Certainly felt that way in the latter part of my first relationship. ^ Did you continue the relationship or end it when you realised? I continued it only because I’ve just never been the dumper type when it comes to relationships. I waited several months for her to realize so that she can do the breaking-up, but yeah those were several wasted months for me. When was the last time it rained where you live? Yesterday it rained hard all afternoon. Have you ever bought one of those 'As Seen on TV' products? Nope, but I like watching the commercials heheh. What brand are the shoes you last wore? Onitsuka Tiger. Do you think you look similar to your siblings? I do. You know how Snapchat has a filter that’ll show how you’d hypothetically look if you were the opposite sex? I’ve tried that out and my face just turns into my brother’s lmao, we look that similar I guess. My sister and I also look alike but much less - there are only certain angles where we do. Have you started watching any new TV shows recently? Mmm not yet. I have so many Korean dramas up on my queue – Crash Landing On You, Fight For My Way, Who Are You: School 2015, Legend of the Blue Sea, Itaewon Class, and Fated to Love You – but I take forever to start on any new series so idrk when I’m gonna start on one of these. When was the last time you sat in the back seat of a car? Around two weeks ago when my parents brought me to a nearby hospital to have me checked for my week-long fever. Are you good at answering random general knowledge trivia questions? I’m better than the average person, I’ll give myself that. Have you ever been obsessive over calories, exercise etc? No. What is your favourite shape of pasta? Fettuccine. Do you live to eat, or eat to live? Liiiiiive to eat. Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? Did you like it? Yes, but just briefly and sneakily in my old school because Catholic school wouldn’t have tolerated a game like that haha. I found it funny, but I wouldn’t play it all the time. Are you going to work or school tomorrow? Not these days, chief. When did you wake up today? I was awake by 8:30. What is the time right now? 11:58 AM.

#survey #surveys

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peepingtoad · 5 years

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Because parallelism is so prevalent in Naruto, do you think it’s at all possible that Jiraiya had a similar childhood to Naruto sans being a jinchūriki?

Anonymous Fanmail // always accepting

Thank for sending this one in anon, because this is a pretty juicy topic for me!

First off, on the subject of parallelism in Naruto in general, well… I personally think it’s a pretty tired way of connecting character archetypes (especially when it comes to the female characters being constantly compared because well duh, they’re girls! Who else would they parallel?! Even if their characters aren’t really that alike we’re telling you they are because women amirite??).

Basically I don’t feel like generations need to constantly mirror each other in character and experience to understand and relate to each other—which in my eyes they don’t even in the canon, but they are nonetheless hammered into the audience as more similar than I find believable, when really they are simply allotted similar tropes (see Team 7 & Sannin: the goofy but heroic boy, the dark broody boy that goes astray, the headstrong girl). But consider the vastly different experiences they had—we’re talking a 38 year gap here, from a world in flux due to the earliest world wars, to a time of relative peace before all the Big Plot and Master Plans kick off. They must have vastly different experiences that shape them.

But anyway, onto Jiraiya and Naruto’s childhoods, which hopefully I’ll specifically stick to because I could talk endlessly…

One one hand, they are both depicted as the ‘fool’, the ‘non-talented’ one of their team. Yes, this is a similarity we’re given, but the reasons for this are completely different—and for me, arguably, it’s not even technically the case that they are without talent. Especially for Naruto, who was only behind because everything that technically did make him OP from the start was kept secret from him. He just didn’t have the mentorship for him to see it, not even from Iruka who (and not being salty here) took an interest in more of a familial sense. There was nobody to teach him in a way that worked, and while he paid no attention in school, there wasn’t much effort made to remedy that either; thus we have ‘the fool’ who isn’t even really a ‘fool’. Just ignored, and the product of learning styles that don’t work for him. Relatable much?

Jiraiya, on the other hand, was part of a generation who were made shinobi as young as six years old, and I honestly don’t think that there will have been much in the way of schooling before that, aside from perhaps basic literacy—just, ‘this one has decent chakra, let’s get them out there’. And I don’t believe he really was non-talented or behind for his ludicrously tender age either—he was just on a team with two naturally prodigious kids during a time where they were obviously desperate to have more ninja in their ranks, having just come out of a world war. There wasn’t time for him to be truly bad at anything because he was a damn baby, so he was thrown into the fray and simply had to get good, as opposed to Naruto being in the ‘ignored’ box as stated before.

Not only that, but Jiraiya as a child showed very little interest in becoming a skilled shinobi at all, and was more interested in girls (and probably playing in mud lbr) whereas Naruto already had big goals. And the sheer fact that Jiraiya, even with this lack of inclination to excel, had to fight and kill so young, whereas Naruto was sheltered for all the wrong reasons while having ambitions of being noticed and eventually becoming Hokage (with no clue about any of the reality behind it), automatically gives their childhood experience of being dummies a different angle in my eyes. One had, as far as this world goes, a fairly average start to life… while the other was subject to so much neglect that he wanted to be the very best like no-one ever was at like five.

But one thing I will say I like more about the ‘dunce’ trope they share as kids is the idea that both Jiraiya and Naruto seem to have similar learning styles—that being, they both learn better through doing rather than through drier methods of study, and while they are slow on the uptake they tend to end up being particularly brilliant in the skills they do manage to master. Even Jiraiya sucked at the Rasengan at first as an adult, and had that swirl tattoo on his hand as a visual learning tool to aid him in focusing his chakra, which he also drew on Naruto’s palm in ink to help him focus his. That tells me that Jiraiya definitely does relate to him in the sense of having to navigate ‘getting good’ as someone who perhaps isn’t typically sharp and skilled, which also may explain some of the tough love he exhibits in training Naruto (because he also needed that exact same tough love!).

Of course that all kinda goes to hell anyway when the plot requires Naruto to learn new things inordinately fast, and have various skills perfected within a period that doesn’t really align with what we’re shown about him being ‘slower’, damn shadow clones or not—like nobody had ever, ever thought to do that before, considering every bugger seems able to do kagebunshin…

~But that’s a (slightly salty) digression from the childhood thing~

It’s hard to discuss other parallels in their childhood, besides their overall shared trope of being sunshine idiots, without taking into account the fact Naruto’s jinchūriki status really did touch every aspect of his life. Because of it, he was without a support network from his most vulnerable formative years, whereas Jiraiya had friends and a dedicated mentor (even if it was through being placed into a ninja unit during those formative years).

From my personal headcanons for Jiraiya, formed because of a lack of information in canon, they were both alone in a sense—Jiraiya not knowing his father at all while his biological mother worked away almost constantly, leaving him to become self-sufficient—but Jiraiya at least knew something of where he was from, had early memories and letters and occasional instances of meeting his mother in the flesh until she passed when he was a young adult. Jiraiya also at least had obvious reasons things were this way, was surrounded by peers who were also varying degrees of orphaned (many big clans seemed to be pretty decimated by the end of the First War)… whereas aside from Sasuke, Naruto’s peers all had their families, with no idea who his own were and why it’s such a secret.

Naruto had the targeted jinchūriki isolation for over a decade and thus a need to prove himself/be noticed—was actually pretty desperate for approval—whereas Jiraiya seemed more whimsical and carefree, had people around him who certainly didn’t ostracise him, and tbh didn’t even seem to try in earnest to compete with Orochimaru (I’m looking at you, ‘Shuriken Whatever Jutsu’) before Tsunade provoked him to. All in all, Jiraiya seemed more interested in getting tougher in order to have adventures (see the Onbaa filler episode) and be appealing to the ladies even though he was an Actual Child with abysmal game.

I will say that they both possibly felt they were without a sense of purpose, maybe until their pre-teens—Naruto through said isolation/ambitions not being taken seriously until he started to excel as a ninja, Jiraiya through simply not seeming to give many fucks about the future until the Toads gave him a new path to walk down, where he excelled—and both were perhaps disregarded overall for their tendency to be boisterous, cheerful and ‘dumb’. Which caused them to play up that aspect of themselves, but again the parallel in terms of the root causes behind that behaviour in the first place, and the particular ways it manifested in their childhood years, isn’t really one that can be drawn in my opinion.

TLDR; they share an overall trope and some character similarities, but very little in terms of actual early life experiences/upbringing.

#i tried to keep this concise #and not litter it with TOO many of my personal headcanons that aren't at least justified somewhere in the series #sorry if it sounds too salty haha #but i def think naru and jira were wildly different in many senses #thanks for asking this!!!#Anonymous #{memoirs(headcanons)}#{fanmail}#{meta&analysis}#{otamajakushi | childhood&upbringing headcanons}

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fallintosanity · 5 years

Text

noctis can be surprisingly diplomatic if you choose the right answers during the negotiations with camelia claustra. kid’s probably been trained in etiquette and greeting semi-hostile foreign officials since he could talk.

cloud was not ready for this

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

Cloud had expected Noctis to go back to sleep for the eight-hour helicopter ride to Modeoheim, but to his surprise, Noctis stayed awake, slouched in his seat with a grimly pensive look on his face. Finally Reno said over the built-in radio in their headsets, “Yo, Caelum. Gil for your thoughts? You look like you’re trying to glare a hole through the windshield.”

“It’s nothing,” Noctis said. He sounded bored, but his expression didn’t change.

“Sure,” Reno drawled. “C’mon, what is it? You’re giving me the creeps, yo.”

It was easy to forget Reno was a Turk, trained to read even the most minute body language. Cloud turned to study Noctis more closely, trying to see whatever Reno had picked up on. For a second, Noctis's grim expression gave way to exasperation, but then he slouched further in his seat and muttered, “This kid we’re going to find.”

His voice was barely audible over the sound of the helicopter's motor and whirring blades, even with the headsets they were all wearing and Cloud’s SOLDIER hearing. Cloud said, “What about her?”

“She’s the princess of Wutai, right?” Noctis asked.

“Yeah,” Cloud agreed.

“Wutai,” Noctis repeated. “The country ShinRa recently conquered.” There was a bitter edge to his voice and Cloud winced; he saw where Noctis was going with this now. Before he could say anything, Noctis continued, “And we’re going to ‘help’ her?”

“It’s not like that,” Cloud said. “I met her during the Wutai War, before I joined SOLDIER. She’s a friend.”

“You said she’s ten.”

Cloud sighed. “If she didn’t want me coming to help her, she wouldn’t email me about what she’s doing.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“She’s running away to look for materia,” Cloud explained. “She thinks she can find something powerful enough to throw ShinRa out of Wutai. Speaking of which, keep your materia hidden around her - she’ll steal it out from under you if you’re not careful.”

Noctis raised an eyebrow. “What do you do with her after you find her?”

“Take her back home,” Cloud said. “To her father in Wutai.”

“That all?” Noctis’s voice had gone unsettlingly mild.

Cloud frowned. “Try to talk some sense into her?”

Noctis’s expression didn't change, grim and cold as he stared at Cloud - and then Cloud realized what Noctis had actually been getting at. “Gaia, did you think—” he yelped. “She's a kid!”

“I know what conquerors do to the conquered,” Noctis said bitterly.

“I told you, we're not monsters,” Cloud snapped. The accusation implicit in Noctis's words made his gut twist. “Yuffie’s a friend. I’m trying to keep her from getting killed on one of these stupid ‘adventures’ she won't quit going on. That's all.”

Noctis stared at him for a minute longer, then abruptly snorted and slouched back in his seat. Up in the front of the chopper, Reno relaxed ever so slightly, his expression sliding from Turk back to playboy in a way he wasn't usually so blatant about - he’d been more worried than he’d let on that Noctis was going to start a fight six thousand feet in the air. But Noctis didn’t say anything else. Eventually he propped his head on his fist, his eyes drifting shut; some time after that, his breathing slowed and deepened - he’d fallen asleep once more.

Only after he was clearly and completely out, did Reno turn around in his seat and raise an eyebrow at Cloud. But Cloud shook his head. The SOLDIER Firsts had already eliminated the possibility of Noctis being from Wutai himself - anyone from Wutai would’ve known who Genesis and Sephiroth were. It was possible Noctis was lying about not recognizing them, but from what he’d seen so far, Cloud didn’t think he was that good of a liar.

No, Noctis probably wasn’t from Wutai. But maybe he was from one of the many other small villages and settlements ShinRa had claimed ownership of over the years. He’d avoided the question of where he was from - had his hometown been destroyed? ShinRa hadn’t exactly been gentle in its global takeover; Wutai wasn’t the only nation which had suffered.

Noctis’s bitterness about ShinRa’s conquering nature wasn’t an answer, but it was one more clue to who he was. They just needed the rest of the clues before Noctis could do anything deadly.

* * *

Modeoheim was cold, as usual, and Cloud shivered as he trudged down into the ravine toward the abandoned mako reactor there. Annoyingly, Noctis didn’t appear to be bothered by the cold; he walked beside Cloud with the same grim, faraway expression he’d had earlier. Reno, evidencing better judgement than he normally pretended to have, had opted to wait in the helicopter where it was warm.

Cloud kept an eye on Noctis as they plodded through the snowdrifts, but Noctis was studiously ignoring him in that way he sometimes did that made it seem as though he didn’t consider Cloud a person at all. He was probably still upset about the conversation in the chopper earlier, though Cloud had no idea what to do about it. It wasn’t as though Noctis was completely wrong: ShinRa had violently conquered the entire globe, crushing anyone who stood in their way. But the implication that they’d hurt kids like that - that Cloud would hurt kids like that - made him sick.

Still, any argument Cloud came up with in his head sounded hollow. Noctis had been at ShinRa almost a month now, had been around the entire SOLDIER department and gotten to know the people there. If that hadn’t been enough to at least convince him...

Lost in thought, Cloud’s first indication something was wrong was Noctis’s startled, “Shit—!” The next clue was the low rumble in the distance that was rapidly becoming a loud rumble under his feet. Snapping his head up, Cloud spotted the avalanche half a mile further along the ravine and broke into a sprint with Noctis on his heels. They skidded along the roiling snow, angling upward to try to get above the avalanche, but the entire cliffside was giving way and it was all they could do to control their slide down to the bottom of the ravine.

“Yuffie!” Cloud shouted. The fact that she’d been the one to start the avalanche was all but a given. “Yuffie!”

His mako-enhanced hearing caught a wild shriek from somewhere up ahead, and he angled toward it, fighting through the last of the tumbling snow. Noctis stayed close, his breath puffing out in little clouds around his head. Finally Cloud spotted a dark shape buried in the snow. He dug in, his hand closing around a fold of heavy wool, and yanked. Yuffie emerged spitting and gasping, and flailed in midair for a few seconds before she recognized him.

“Oh, it's you,” she said, with all the haughtiness a ten-year-old could muster while dangling two feet off the ground by the back of her jacket.

“You're welcome,” Cloud said dryly. He set her on her feet but didn't let go of her jacket - wisely, because the moment her feet touched the ground, she tried to run away.

“I was fine!” she informed him loftily. “I meant to do that.”

Cloud raised an eyebrow at her. She managed to glare back for all of three seconds before noticing Noctis, standing at Cloud’s shoulder. “Who’s that?” she demanded, then to Noctis directly, “Who are you?”

“I’m Noctis Lucis Caelum,” Noctis answered, his tone polite, almost formal. He bowed to her, and that, too, was weirdly formal - a bow from the hips, like a Loveless actor playing the king. “It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness.”

Yuffie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of me?”

Noctis straightened, as casually as though that bow was an everyday thing for him. “No. Cloud told me you’re a princess.”

“I am a princess,” Yuffie said. This seemed to remind her about such princess-y things as manners, because she bowed back. She didn’t manage Noctis’s easy grace, not only because Cloud was still holding her by the jacket but also because she was ten and clearly less practiced than he was, but it was passable. “Nice to meet you, I guess. Are you a SOLDIER?”

Noctis nodded. “For the moment.” Ignoring the sharp look Cloud shot him, he added to Yuffie, “Cloud said you’re a friend of his?”

“No,” Yuffie huffed, and twisted in Cloud’s grip to aim a kick at his knee. Practice - and longer arms - let Cloud dodge without releasing her jacket. “He’s a big meanie and I hate him.”

“Why’s that?” Noctis asked. His tone was deceptively mild again, but his stormcloud eyes were fixed on Yuffie.

“It’s his fault ShinRa took over my country,” she snapped. “His fault my dad surrendered.” She bit off the word like it was foul.

Cloud sighed and, anticipating Noctis’s next question, said, “I told you, I met her before I joined SOLDIER. Lord Godo tried to recruit me to Wutai’s side of the war. I told him that even if I did help him, they’d lose. Wutai’s ninja couldn’t win against SOLDIER, not even with my help.”

“You’re wrong!” Yuffie snarled. “We would’ve won if my dad wasn’t such a coward!” She tried again to kick Cloud, with both feet this time, using his grip on her jacket for support. “But you said we’d lose and that scared him and he rolled over like a yellow-bellied swamp slug!”

“You would have lost,” Cloud said flatly. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Noctis’s expression had gone utterly blank, cold and distant and unreadable as steel. Something in Yuffie’s words was resonating with him - and not in a good way. Trying to steer the conversation away, he said, “Look, if your dad hadn’t surrendered, ShinRa would have killed a lot more of your fighters than they did. As it is, you have enough warriors left to put up a real rebellion.” It was a bit of a risk - technically Noctis was ShinRa and Cloud suggesting rebellion to a princess of Wutai could be considered treason - but given how he’d reacted to things so far, Cloud wasn’t terribly worried.

Yuffie folded her arms across her chest in a huff, dangling from his grip on her jacket with a scowl. “And I’m gonna, too. You just wait. I’m gonna find the biggest and best materia and I’m going to kick your ass!”

“Right,” Cloud said, and didn’t bother to hide the weariness in his voice. “But first, we’re taking you home. It’s dangerous out here.” Yuffie immediately shrieked in protest and began kicking and punching at him again. Taking a deep breath, Cloud braced himself to dive into the whirlwind in order to throw her over his shoulder.

“Hey, Highness,” Noctis said.

Cloud blinked, turning to look at him. That terrifying blankness was gone and Noctis was looking down at Yuffie with a smile.

Yuffie, apparently caught as off-guard as Cloud, stopped fighting and frowned up at him. “What?”

“Do you want to make a deal?” Noctis asked. “Princess to…” The slightest of pauses, so small Cloud wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it. “SOLDIER.”

Yuffie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “...What kind of deal?”

“You want materia, right?” Noctis said. He crouched down to be at her eye level, producing his Thunder materia from a pocket and holding it up for her to see.

“Yeah,” Yuffie said. Her eyes were already locked onto the little green sphere.

“Okay,” Noctis said. “I’m going to put this here—” slotting the materia into his bracer as he spoke. “If you can steal it from me, and you still have it after we drop you off in Wutai and get back on the helicopter to leave, then Cloud and I - and everyone from ShinRa - will leave you alone for three whole months.”

Yuffie’s eyes lit up. Cloud opened his mouth to protest - that was a terrible idea - but Noctis raised two fingers in a gesture that managed to be both subtle and so imperious that Cloud shut up without meaning to. Noctis continued, as if Cloud’s attempted interruption hadn’t happened, “But, if I have this materia when we get back on the helicopter to leave, then you have to stay home and listen to your dad for three months. Listen, too - ask him why he surrendered, and really listen when he answers. Deal?”

“Deal!” Yuffie bounced with delight and looked up at Cloud. “Hah! You’re gonna have to leave me alone! I’ll have plenty of time to find all the materia I need!”

Cloud clapped a hand over his eyes and dragged it down his face. To Noctis, he said, “I’m not letting you give a ten-year-old a Thunder materia.”

Noctis stood up from his crouch, his knees popping. “A deal’s a deal,” he said mildly. “If she wins it, she gets it.”

“Hah!” Yuffie crowed again. “Come on, let’s go. I have materia to steal.”

* * *

Thankfully, they made it back to the helicopter without incident. Yuffie didn’t even try to run away again, apparently too excited at the prospect of stealing Noctis’s materia to protest being taken back to Wutai. She and Noctis spent the first few hours of the nine-hour flight talking - or rather, Noctis asked questions about Wutai and ninjitsu that kept Yuffie chattering nonstop, right up until she fell asleep against Noctis’s side, curled up like a puppy on the seat. Noctis likewise fell asleep almost immediately after, and Cloud quickly stood up, intending to take the materia from Noctis’s bracer himself so Yuffie couldn’t.

Except she already had - Noctis’s bracer was empty. Cloud sighed and sank back into his own seat, scrubbing a hand over his face. He didn’t even want to think about what Yuffie could get up to with a promise of three months’ non-interference from ShinRa.

* * *

It was midmorning when Reno negotiated the helicopter to a tight landing in a small clearing just outside Wutai Village. The landing jolted Yuffie awake; she jerked upright and snapped into a fighting stance for a moment before apparently remembering where she was and why. Despite his dread at a ten-year-old Treasure Princess with a Thunder materia, Cloud couldn’t help but notice that her form had markedly improved in the nearly two years since he’d first met her in the past. She was well on her way to becoming the deadly fighter he’d known in his timeline.

But then her eyes landed on Noctis - only just stirring and mumbling under his breath - and she flashed a positively feral smile. Slipping a hand into her pocket, she held up Noctis’s materia at Cloud. “You have to leave me alone now,” she said merrily, and ran out of the helicopter.

Cloud sighed yet again and followed her, leaving Noctis to stagger after them with Reno bringing up the rear. A group of wary, not-quite-hostile Wutai had emerged from the village to ogle the helicopter and murmur quietly amongst themselves, and after a moment Cloud spotted Lord Godo himself crossing an arched bridge to join them. He was surrounded by a group of advisors and Crimson Elite guards, but he shoved them aside and darted forward when he spotted Yuffie.

“My daughter!” he called, and scooped her into an embrace. “Where have you been?! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I went to the north continent,” Yuffie said proudly, and wiggled out of his grip to hold up the Thunder materia. “I’m getting us materia! So we can kick ShinRa out!”

The crowd of Wutai went dead silent at that, faces paling as they turned in unison to look at the very obvious ShinRa SOLDIERs standing behind Yuffie, plus Reno, who was clearly wearing the navy suit of a Turk. Cloud waved a hand, trying to defuse the tension. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s not…” He trailed off, not sure what to say.

To his surprise, Noctis stepped up beside him. All traces of the sleepy brat had vanished; only a calm, composed man remained as he dipped into the same formal bow he’d used on Yuffie. “We take no offense to the words of an excited child,” he said easily. “We’re glad to see such spirit in Wutai’s youth.”

Cloud stared at him. Those lines wouldn’t have been out of place in Rufus freaking ShinRa’s butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-it mouth; Cloud would never have expected Noctis to pull out anything like that. From Reno’s shocked look, he hadn’t, either.

Noctis ignored them both, straightening from his bow and meeting Godo’s eyes. “I am Noctis Lucis Caelum,” he said. “You must be Lord Godo.”

Lord Godo, who had for a moment looked as surprised as Cloud felt at Noctis’s words, quickly smoothed his expression into one of blank politeness. “I am,” he agreed. There was the slightest of pauses, and Cloud was no diplomat but he knew full well that this was the point where Godo was supposed to say something welcoming. But for all Yuffie called him a coward, Godo was a wise man and a proud one. He would not directly insult them, but neither would he stoop to extending welcome to his country’s conquerors.

Noctis, though, filled the pause as smoothly as he’d addressed Yuffie’s outburst. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Unfortunately we can’t stay long. If you’ll allow us to impose upon your hospitality long enough to refuel…”

“Of course,” Lord Godo said, and Cloud thought he looked relieved. “If there’s anything I or my people can do to assist your preparations, please let us know.”

Reno snorted. “Just stay clear, yo. Won’t take long.”

Godo inclined his head and gestured for his people to follow him as he retreated a polite distance from the helicopter. With Reno supervising, Cloud and Noctis refilled the chopper’s fuel tanks from the onboard reserves. When they’d finished and Reno had climbed back into the pilot’s seat to start the pre-flight checklist, Lord Godo approached once more, his advisors and Yuffie in tow.

“We’re grateful for your hospitality,” Noctis said to him with another of those deep bows.

Godo bowed back. “Thank you once again for bringing my daughter home safely. I will see she no longer disturbs you.”

“You don’t have to!” Yuffie piped up proudly. “They aren’t going to bother me for three whole months!”

Godo raised his brows at her. “What makes you say that?”

“I made a deal!” Yuffie said.

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed. His tone was mild, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. “But I think the deal is that you don’t go on adventures for three months.”

“No way!” Yuffie said. She plunged a hand into her pocket. “I got the mater—No! Where’d it go?!” She scrambled through her pockets, tugging them inside-out, searching for the materia she’d stolen from Noctis. “I had it!”

“The deal was that if you still had it when we got on the helicopter to go home, we wouldn’t bother you for three months,” Noctis said. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out his Thunder materia. Yuffie gaped. Not that Cloud could blame her; he had no idea when or how Noctis could have possibly gotten it back from her.

Noctis continued, “But if I have it, which I do, you have to stay home for three months and listen to your father.”

“That’s not fair!” Yuffie shrieked.

She lunged at Noctis, but he sidestepped lightly, then knelt in front of her, looking up at her through the fringe of his hair. “Your Highness,” he said, and somehow his voice commanded attention even though he was speaking quietly. “Can I tell you something my dad taught me?”

Yuffie hesitated, studying him with suspicious eyes. “What?”

“He told me…” Noctis paused, taking a deep breath; Cloud thought his shoulders trembled. “He told me that you have to push forward, always, accepting the consequences and never looking back.”

Her frown deepened. “What does that mean?”

“It means you do what you agreed to,” Noctis said. “You make the most of whatever happens, and you keep moving forward.”

“I can’t move forward if I’m stuck here,” Yuffie said, in the tone of a ten-year-old spotting a loophole.

But Noctis just smiled. “I bet if you ask your dad, he can teach you a lot. There’s more to being strong than just being able to fight well.”

“He’s a coward,” Yuffie spat. “What am I gonna learn from him?”

“Is he a coward?” Noctis asked softly. “Or was he wise enough to make the only choice he could to save as many of his people as he could? Including you,” he added when Yuffie opened her mouth to protest. “Ask him. See what he has to say. That was the deal, remember?”

“Fine,” Yuffie huffed. She folded her arms across her chest, still scowling.

“And who knows,” Noctis added. “In three months, maybe we’ll meet again.”

“In three months, I’m gonna come steal all your materia,” Yuffie said, then turned to Cloud and stuck out her tongue. “And this time I won’t let you catch me!”

Cloud couldn’t help smiling at that. “You’re on,” he said.

Noctis turned back to Lord Godo and bowed once more. “With Your Majesty’s permission, we’ll take our leave.”

Godo nodded regally, and Noctis turned, sweeping into the helicopter. Cloud found himself following, drawn as inexorably as if Noctis had used a Graviga spell. Reno wasted no time starting the engines and taking off. The chopper rose rapidly into the sky, leaving Wutai and Yuffie behind.

When they reached cruising altitude, Reno yawned and stretched, then twisted in his seat to look at Noctis. “Quite the show you put on back there,” he said casually. “Didn’t figure you for the type to know how to talk to a former emperor, yo.”

Noctis shrugged, slouching lower into his seat. “It’s just manners,” he mumbled, barely audible over the radio.

“Pretty fancy manners,” Reno said. “You been to Wutai before, or what?”

Noctis shook his head. “First time.” He glanced at Cloud. “You think she’ll actually do it?”

It took Cloud a second to realize he meant Yuffie. “No idea,” he admitted. “She’s… really headstrong.”

Noctis chuckled. “Well, hopefully it buys you at least a month or two.”

“Be nice not to have to go haring off like this every time Strife gets an email,” Reno agreed. “But maybe next time, try to keep the kid in line with a little less sedition, yeah?”

“Is ShinRa afraid of a ten-year-old?” Noctis asked dryly.

Reno laughed. “Hardly, yo. But she ain’t the only one listening.”

“Point taken,” Noctis said. He folded his arms and closed his eyes. “Wake me up when we’re somewhere that has food.”

His breathing deepened almost immediately into sleep, and Cloud sighed. Noctis’s ability to pass out at the drop of a hat was a remarkably effective tactic to avoid questions. But Cloud wasn’t sure what to ask, anyway - it was hardly a crime to have manners worthy of a Wutai court. And while Noctis clearly didn’t like ShinRa’s conquering nature, well, that sentiment wasn’t exactly uncommon.

Lazard had asked Cloud to try to learn more about Noctis as they went on missions together, but everything Cloud learned just raised new questions. Well, there was nothing for it but to keep trying - and be ready just in case Noctis’s secrets turned out to be deadly.

#final fantasy vii #ffvii #final fantasy xv #ffxv #sanity's final fantasy crossover fic

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