Who are your siblings and what is your relationship with them?
You could say I'm the literal middle child of my family, given that I share a border with all my siblings. So in a sense...I'm the center of Central Asia!
Kazakhstan is my younger brother! He's known for his nomadic history years back, falconry, and for being the space hub of the now dissolved Soviet Union.
Yuri Gagarin, the first man to ever go to outer space, was launched in Baikonur, Kazakhstan. A little after his independence, Kazakhstan created his own space program, and enjoys keeping up to date with the latest news on space exploration and astronomy(NOT astrology), and won't hesitate to tell you about it. Please listen to him, his eyes light up like stars when he speaks.
Linguistically, he's the closest to Kyrgyzstan and then me. Though due to sharing a border with Russia, he's lost a lot of his language and tends to use more Russian loanwords.
He's great at horseback riding, given his nomadic history from years back. He, like Kyrgyzstan, loves fermented mare's milk, called kumis! And he also loves eating horse meat. Don't knock it till you try it!
He's the "face" of Central Asia, and has been insistent on us Central Asians working together as a team under regional unity(ironic since he declared independence from me way back when I was the Bukharan Khanate...).
Since borders have never really been concrete in Central Asia(not until the Russians came, that is...), there's a significant ethnic Uzbek population in the south of Kazakhstan, namely in places like Turkestan and Shymkent.
He's also been the most modernized Central Asian nation, and talks to Russia the most, whether he likes it or not(he doesn't). Regardless, I really do admire him for being the "trailblazer" representing the rest of us Central Asians.
However, bearing the brunt of all this comes with its drawbacks. I better get him to stop smoking at some point...
Also. Don't ever talk about B*rat in front of him. America made the mistake of doing that once.
Then we have my older brother Kyrgyzstan. He's... a handful. We've had a history of border disputes that only recently resolved, involving our diasporas in each other's regions. There's a large population of Kyrgyz-Uzbeks in Uzbekistan, and a population of Uzbek-Kyrgyz in Kyrgyzstan.
He's dependent on me for fuel and gas...so my old boss used to turn off pipelines or put off delivery time periods as a way of getting what he wanted.
But we have our moments where we get along now and again. We both worked together in the Basmachi Revolt of 1917 to fight against Imperial Russia. However, it failed when the Russians tried to increase nationalism in each of our regions to split us up... what with calling Uzbeks more "civilized" and "sedentary" than the "nomadic" Kyrgyz.
The both of us are also rather religious and sometimes nag our other siblings(Kazakhstan i mean Kazakhstan) into cutting down their vodka intake(Kyrgyzstan can't resist kumis though...it's his soft spot. What a hypocrite). We also jump Kazakhstan every time he uses a Russian loanword when he could've used a native word.
There have been moments where I was in control of some parts of his territory under the Emirate of Kokand...until he successfully broke away from my rule. Hmph.
I do admire how Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan both are very outspoken and are able to protest at all...something I don't have.
He, like Kazakhstan, also enjoys horseback riding, and is good with blacksmithing. And he enjoys eavesdropping on Tajikistan and my gossip... he tries to play it off like he doesn't care, but I don't buy it.
My sister Tajikistan is a very bubbly person. We're both very much alike. A lot of Tajiks look like Uzbeks, and vice versa! There's also a lot of Uzbeks and Tajiks living across our borders. However, as border sharers do, Tajikistan had tension with me and Kyrgyzstan for a while, especially during my former boss's tenure...
That weird sproingle on her hair is a result of years of Persian influence, what with sharing a border with Iran. That's why she's kind of the odd one out. She speaks Persian instead of a Turkic language like the rest of us, but her script is in Cyrillic because of Russian colonization, so she kind of sticks out among Iran and Afghanistan.
And like with Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan, I also controlled parts of Tajikistan under the Bukharan Khanate...
(Can you stop flexing with your whole "I ruled over all of you guys" thing? It's super annoying. Thanks ❤️ -T)
Tajikistan, stop hijacking my blog!
Anyway, when she's not gossiping with Turkmenistan and I, she loves decorating the sleeves of her dresses with elaborate embroidery and blasting Persian songs on full volume.
Finally, my other sister Turkmenistan! A lot of people don't know much about her and she definitely does tend to keep to herself more. She's most famous for...how weird her bosses can be. She gets awful tired of her boss sometimes. She had to record a video of him rapping once! Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan can't get enough of it, they've made up games and bets on what Turkmenistan's boss will make her do next...
Ashgabat is really pretty...it just seems a bit lonely at times. Speaking of pretty, Turkmenistan has a long history of ornate headwear and jewelry. She knows a lot about jewelry, especially silver, and we'll talk about our pretty pieces sometimes! I know I can count on her to find something for me to wear on weddings and other special occasions.
Linguistically, she's closest to Turkey and Azerbaijan. A lot of her people go to Turkey to study at Turkish universities, and for travel. Turkey's trying to get her to join the Organization of Turkic States as a member instead of an observer state. It's still up in the air on what she'll do...
Those are all my siblings! I hope this helped!
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part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6
(these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)
day 07: free space a happy ending
Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch.
But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.”
Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch.
“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream.
Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.”
It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet.
“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.
The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave.
But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now.
Remembering the words.
What are you doing?
Changing the world.
So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does.
Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is.
His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse.
It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin.
Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside.
"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."
He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up.
Everything. You're everything.
He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin.
"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."
You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise.
Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody.
"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."
When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is.
He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second.
The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers.
"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“
"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."
"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too."
"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror.
They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love.
Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie.
I love you.
~*~
It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days.
It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie.
And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now.
Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs.
Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient.
~*~
Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other.
Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie.
Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord.
"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."
Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it."
And so they do.
Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means."
Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."
There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them.
You know, I always figured it would be you.
No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.
It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be.
"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too."
"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked.
"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys."
And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his.
"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!"
"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time.
When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile.
~*~
It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you.
It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.
It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression.
"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.
"Yeah, baby?"
Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.
"I love you."
"Hmm. I love you more."
No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?"
He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers.
And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask.
It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future.
And there are many, many more after this one.
🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷
tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13
god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay
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“Nine would have treated Martha better than Ten did”
I need to talk about this argument that never seems to stop circulating.
Note: Not a venomous/anti post. There’s more than enough of that across fandom spaces as is, and this is supposed to be a place for ✨sweet, blissful escapism✨
When making this argument, people seem to envision a scenario in which Nine never met Rose.
While I can appreciate a good hypothetical, recognizing Rose's significance to the Doctor (Nine and Ten) is essential to understanding why things with Martha played out the way they did in the first place.
In the third series, the Doctor is grieving. This grief is deliberately threaded into nearly every script, whether spoken aloud or not (and these are just a few examples):
He's burning in Rose’s wake the entire time Martha travels with him, which is why it’s so frequently called upon: It’s 100% deliberate in framing his grief. He grieved as Nine too, of course— having been fresh on the heels of the Time War — but then he met Rose, which changed everything.
Back then, he was still a rude, traumatized pain in the ass, but we watch Rose soften more of those jagged edges with every episode as they grow closer; as he lets his guard down and forms a deep connection with her.
He falls in love (against his better judgment) and it's game over.
And yes: provided S1E1 had been titled 'Martha', one can realistically assume things might have unfolded similarly to how they did with Rose. However, it wouldn’t have been that way just because the Doctor was Nine and “Nine was different” — it would be because he wasn’t already in love with someone else. The same can't be said for the start of S3.
Think of it like this: if Rose AND Martha had been in that cellar — if Nine had taken both of them along with him in S1 — we’d eventually be looking at the most melodramatic love triangle ever, what with him living in close quarters with two brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate young women... But Doctor Who is plenty “soap opera” as is with just one woman in the TARDIS.
(I certainly wouldn’t object to reading that fic, though)
Now, regarding the unrequited elephant in the room…
His inability to be romantic with Martha isn’t because he thinks her lesser, nor is it for lack of compatibility. It isn't because Rose is any better than her. It certainly isn’t just because he’s Ten.
It’s really only for one reason, which can't be denied — and now I’m a broken record:
He is still in love with Rose.
(cut from a tenrosedaily gif)
Nine is Ten, and Ten is only such a mess in S3 because he’s just lost the love of his life. Martha merely got caught in the crosshairs of a volatile Time Lord in mourning, and yes — it sucks. Absolutely.
But it also feels dismissive to chalk Ten and Martha’s relationship up to little more than some sort of mindless dance of pining, jealousy, and toxicity.
Ten trusted Martha with his life over and over again — and hers, with him. He constantly praised her brilliance, happily carting her around time and space with no intention of letting her go. In the BBC’s extended universe of novels/comics/cartoons/etc, there’s so much depth to their relationship: love and trust and trauma and sacrifice. They had their own special bond as mates, their own complexities — so it’s a bummer that it's forever overshadowed by the other things.
I’m not denying that there was a lot of stuff that sucked/was for sure toxic about Ten's S3 behavior, but so many of the things I've seen him catching flak for can be directly attributed to being A Clueless Fucking Alien Idiot (not a trait that’s unique to Ten) — as well as his flat-out obliviousness to Martha’s feelings.
So yes, I agree: if Rose never existed, he would have treated Martha differently as Nine. He also would have treated her differently as Ten. Certainly.
But Rose did exist, and when discussing canon, it matters.
“He tells me that he absolutely, 100% loves Rose... He tells me how my daughter; my wonderful, beautiful, clever little girl saved him from himself before… And he says that’s all because of me! I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”
-Jackie Tyler, Flight Into Hull!
Martha got the short end of the stick in S3. She came round at the wrong place and time, but that doesn't mean it was all bad. It doesn't mean the Doctor didn’t adore her. It certainly doesn't mean the time they spent together was wasted or worthless. They were brilliant!
Sure, he could be a twat, but let it be known that he was a twat with Rose as well, both as Nine and Ten. I’m sure Tentoo can be plenty infuriating, too. So while I'll defend Ten (and Tentoo) into the ground forever and ever and ever, I'll concede that he's fucked up.
The Doctor is a certified Pain In The Ass. It’s one of the things I love so much about this character — dynamics.
But never forget that Martha was goddamn tough as nails and overcame every bit of it. She moved on with her life, and the Doctor moved on with his. One can only pray that, when they inevitably drag her back onto the show (which feels inevitable if I'm honest), we see at once that she's been living her best life for all these years.
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