#that was probably the central question of my grandfather's life: not knowing what happened to his mother

[awheckery]

DEATH TW and mentions of murder so if that is triggering for you don’t read, but if it’s not then i’d like to ask if you’ve heard of forensic genealogy? while i am uneasy at the prospect of using it to find suspects, it can also be used to find the identities of unidentified decedents, who die of accidental causes or are murdered, and often it’s the only hope to identify those who have been unidentified for decades. the dna doe project is a nonprofit that’s mostly volunteer run, and i think that your research skills could be useful there or somewhere like there. i know this is kind of a random ask to receive, identification of unidentified remains is my special interest but i don’t have the time or training to get better at researching beyond a few tricks here and there.

I feel like we've read the same articles recently; did you see the tumblr post (and linked articles) about Joseph Augustus Zarelli, the Boy in the Box?

Which is to say, yes, I am aware of forensic genealogy and the DNA Doe Project, because like many white American women, I'm a true crime junkie.* My big Thing is investigative procedure tho, so I'm also deeply interested in plane & train crash investigations, medical mysteries, archaeology, anthropology... basically 'what happened, and by which processes and methods do we figure out what happened?'

So far as getting into the game myself, I dunno. I assume there's probably some sort of required formal training, along with the expectation of reliability and sustained effort, and I'm a chronically ill autodidact with ADHD. I'm the research equivalent of a sprinter; investigative genealogy requires a marathoner, because there's so much exhausting, grinding work involved.

Something I've never seen brought up before in any investigation is how many extant family trees are just wrong. Genealogical sites make it too easy to crib notes from other users, and all it takes is one person deciding 'eh that's probably the right guy' for dozens of other amateur researchers to make the same mistake, and then somebody ties that erroneous information to their DNA profile. I don't know how the forensic genealogists deal with that.

You also have to take into account how many people throughout history have just gone missing, or otherwise fallen off the historical record. Just because someone's date of death is absent doesn't mean something nefarious happened to them. (Just because someone's date of death is present doesn't mean it's correct.) People emigrate. They marry. They change their names. They die alone and unknown in a ditch**, or they die somewhere that doesn't make those records public***. Paper records can burn or flood out, and family stories rarely make it down more than one or two generations. History is messy.

I've only done serious research into my family background for two years, in fits and starts interrupted by illness flare ups. Half the time it feels like I find more questions to ask than I get answers. I've found a pair of illegitimate daughters and a handful of adoptees. I've found some two dozen 'missing persons' who may as well have disappeared into thin air, for how suddenly they dropped out of the historical record. I've found a murder victim and a (maybe) would-be murderess.

And four months ago, I found the answer to another family's 150 year old missing person case, and it changed everything I thought I knew about my mother's family.

This is how.

Five months ago, I thought I knew everything there was that could be known about John Robert McDowell.

I knew he was born July 1st of either 1868 or 1869, in Belfast, Northern Ireland. According to his naturalization petition, he came to the United States in April of 1883, when the absolute oldest he could have been was fourteen, and at the time of his naturalization in 1896 he claimed his nationality was English, presumably due to anti-Irish sentiments at the time.

I knew John's handwriting was idiosyncratic: he wrote the J in his name with a rightward upper loop that scooped up again before curving back around the center staff, and his uppercase R was a mess of curlicues. I've never seen the like before or since.

I knew that despite living in America for ten years longer than he'd lived outside it, John still had an accent in 1908 when his second son was born. Spelling is incredibly inconsistent across historical records because up until very recently, it was the practice of the record keepers to write down their best guess at what they heard, and in 1908 a midwife heard and recorded John's surname as McDoul.

John's life was actually remarkably well-documented, in comparison to his contemporaries. I bought myself access to Newspapers.com along with my Ancestry subscription, and he made semi-regular appearances in the Newport News Daily Press for the better part of thirty years as a Navy veteran, successful entrepreneur, and president of a labor union that later became the United Steelworkers Local 8888. (A seemingly throwaway notice in the Daily Press was the only record I've yet been able to find for his divorce, which eventually led me to find out whatever happened to his wife, which is another saga entirely. Pauline, you dirty rotten cheater.)

I knew that John was in and out of the hospital with thyroid cancer, but he was such a tough old bastard it took the better part of fifteen years to kill him, and he died in 1954 at the age of 86.****

According to John's death certificate (and the U.S. Government records at the VA hospital where he died), his parents' names were Thomas McDowell and Isabell Rabb (or possibly Robb, the Accent strikes again.)

This is the only record linked to either of them on Ancestry.com at all.

I have most of a history degree, so I wasn't surprised. There are next to no records of the 1890 census of the United States, and that was down to a fire in the National Archives. Ireland was dragged backwards through hell by the ankles for centuries by a succession of British monarchs and governments, and Belfast was in the prime of especially conflicted territory for much of it. No census records from John's lifetime were kept, and the likelihood his parents would show up in the surviving fragments from 1841 and 1851 was slim to none.

There were transcribed indexes from birth and marriage records available, at least, and I scoured them through, looking for a John McDowell, and there wasn't a single damn one born to a Thomas or Isabelle McDowell in a decade on either side of 1868. There wasn't any record I could find at all of a Thomas McDowell marrying an Isabelle Rabb until well after John left Ireland.

Five months ago, as far as I knew, John Robert McDowell was probably a bastard, who'd either been left out of whatever records were taken at the time, or he was one of the unfortunate ones whose birth record had been lost.

Four months ago, I realized that the record indexes on Ancestry included film numbers, which meant there were pictures of those records to be found somewhere. If they were organized chronologically, I could try to find his birth registration that way. Googling "ireland civil registration records" brought me to the Civil Records search page of a genealogy site run by, of all things, the Irish government's tourism department.

Once again, there wasn't a John McDowell born to the right parents during the right time period, so I went looking for his parents' marriage. And found it.

If they married in 1872, John would probably still technically be a bastard, but I had a point to start from. Once I clicked into the actual scan of the record I nearly snapped myself in half sitting upright in attention, because Thomas McDowell's father's name was Duncan, John named his eldest son Duncan, Isabella's father's name was John, I had to have the right two people, this couldn't be a coincidence.

And then I noticed Isabella was a widow. Isabella was a widow.

Who was your husband, and when did he die, Isabella? I searched again, and found her marriage to a Thomas Logan July 30th, 1866. No men named Thomas Logan died in Belfast between 1866 and 1870, which meant he was probably still alive when John was born. It meant I had been looking in the wrong direction the entire time.

John Robb Logan came into the world on July 1st, 1868, in the Ballymacarrett district of Belfast, the second child of four born to Thomas Logan and Isabella Robb. Once I knew what I was looking for the rest came easy.

John's early life was riddled with tragedies. His younger brother Joseph was six months old when he died in March of 1870. His father died of smallpox in December of the same year, exactly one month after the birth of his sister Mary. Three months before his fifth birthday, his first half-sibling Bella died, at just five months old. And in 1879, his older brother William died after a long, miserably drawn-out illness from spinal tuberculosis.

(As an aside, god, poor Isabella. She had four children with Thomas Logan, and a further nine with Thomas McDowell, and before her early death from a long respiratory illness she buried a husband, two sons, and two daughters. How do you go on after that, how are you not forever shattered?)

If I hadn't been sure I'd found the right family, I was after William died. Thomas McDowell was the person who reported William's death to the registrar's office after sitting by his deathbed. The registrar recorded William as a "child of [the] baker" that Thomas was by profession; Thomas McDowell claimed his stepson as his own.

Duncan McDowell, John's step-grandfather, had a family burial plot in Ballygowan, and he named William Adam Logan as his grandson, with no qualifiers, when they buried him.

All the evidence suggests that the McDowells loved John Robb Logan and his siblings, and he loved them back every bit as much. You don't choose to take on the surname of people you hate, and it seems very much the case that John chose to go by McDowell when he came to America. I'm honestly not sure there was a way for Thomas McDowell to bequeath his name to his stepchildren, given John's brother William died a Logan and his sister Mary married as one.

John Robb Logan disappeared from history after his baptism, and John Robert McDowell made his first confirmed appearance in the historical record in 1883, but I was certain they were one and the same. The problem was proving it to my mother, because McDowell was her family name. She'd grown up with it, as had her sisters and her dozens of cousins and her father and his siblings and her father's father; I only had a paper trail arguing the name she knew didn't belong to any of them by blood.

So I went for blood.

I refuse to give my DNA to Ancestry.com on a principle born from paranoia and ethics concerns. It's absolutely not happening, ever, like hell do I expect a corporation to do the right thing with my genetic material. My mother doesn't share my concerns, either now or four years ago, when she bought an Ancestry DNA kit and then did absolutely nothing with her results besides marvel at the unexpected Swedish heritage in her 'Ethnicity Estimate' because doing anything else looked like too much work.

It took a few days to figure out how to hook my mother's DNA results into the tree I've built, and a few more for all the features to populate, but all told it took less than a week between learning the truth about my great-great-grandfather's parentage and proving it irrefutably with DNA, via several descendants of his full-blooded sister Mary and a grandson of his half-brother Wallace.

Ancestry doesn't tell you when new DNA matches are found, or when someone adds you to their tree (and thank god for that, my mother has somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty thousand matches). To those descendants of Mary Thomasina Logan, the handful of John's descendants who've shelled out for Ancestry DNA kits could be any random person. Frequently the relationships between matches aren't clear, because of all the folks like my mom who never add a tree to their results, or those who don't try to go any further back than their grandparents.

As far as Mary Logan's descendants know, the sons of Thomas Logan dead-ended his line, and when I do find John in their trees there's never more than a birth year and a blank space where there would usually be a year of death. (They all have the wrong Isabella Robb too, but I don't really blame them; apparently Isabella was one of the most popular names for girls for well over a century, and Robbs weren't exactly thin on the ground.)

Someday soon, I'm going to reach out. People who study genealogy do it because they're looking for something: long lost relatives, answers to questions asked too late, or even a better, more personal understanding of history by learning about the people who were there when it happened. Every family has its mysteries and this one, at least, could be solved.

John's story doesn't end here. Here is where it begins.

~

*I'm aware of the problematic nature of White Lady True Crime Brain Poisoning, but I'm gonna have to pull the 'I'm not like other girls' card. I'm incredibly discerning about my crime shows, I hate the fucking cops, and I'm realistic about how unbelievably low my chances are of ever being the victim of a violent crime. I'm white, I'm broke as shit, I'm built like a running back and walk like the Terminator, and most importantly, I'm single and planning to stay that way for the rest of my life. The only way I'm getting murdered is if I happen to get caught in a random mass shooting, which isn't outside the realm of possibility because America.

**In case anyone's gotten this far and is still interested, there's strong evidence that the mystery of the Somerton Man was finally solved last year. At some point I'd like to take a look at the tree the forensic genealogists built tho, because I have some Doubts. There was only one person in that family that fell off the map in the 40's? Just one? I was lightning-strike kinds of lucky enough to find John's real parentage, but I dug up more unanswered questions with it, because two of his half-brothers dropped out of the records after 1901. Completely setting aside the possibility of infidelity in the Webb family and how common inbreeding has been (both historically and in recent memory) in populations of European descent, I have a hard time buying that Carl Webb was the only person who could be the Somerton Man. It's still cool as shit that they have a strong possibility tho.

***Maryland and Kansas specifically can blow me, if somebody died in either of those states I have to find an obituary or a tombstone to get the mcfrickin' date, and I have to either pay money and prove a relationship to see a death certificate, or show up to an archive in person to search on their intranet, MARYLAND WHY DO YOU NOT WANT ME TO KNOW WHEN MY GREAT-GRANDMOTHER DIED. (Being fair, I don't know if she died in Maryland, that's just a great-uncle's best guess, because she ran away from her family in 1949 and nobody ever saw her again after the early 60's. Helen, where the hell did you go?)

****One of the big reasons why I got into genealogy in the first place was to see if I could find how far back the predisposition to early deaths and autoimmune disease went in my family. What I hadn't expected to find was a predisposition for extreme longevity on all sides. Longevity as in 'skewing the life expectancy bell curve' kinds of longevity. As long as someone didn't come down with a freak illness or make a looooooooong string of poor life choices, they were apparently immune to death, which honestly explains a few things about Crazy Grandma, god damn.

#genealogy #forensic genealogy #research throwdown #storytime with stella #long post #I'm seriously not kidding it's a long goddamn post #image heavy #all images described in alt text #I don't think I did a particularly great job communicating why I shouldn't get into this professionally #this took a long goddamn time to figure out #I think most people want answers quicker than *checks back of hand* seven-ish months? #fwiw my mother took it remarkably well #our big family mystery has always been What Happened to Helen? #that was probably the central question of my grandfather's life: not knowing what happened to his mother #so that was my mom's big question too #and luckily we had other weird familial circumstances as precedent #me: 'heyyyyyyyy uh so great news yr great-grandfather wasn't a criminal on the lam OR a bastard child. he was kind of adopted?' #mom: 'adopted??? huh. like your grandpa with the mudds?' #me: '....actually. yeah. almost *exactly* like that. but like if grandpa changed his last name and then never told you he'd done it' #tho I still have no idea why john changed 'robb' to 'robert' #my theory for a long time was that he was just REALLY leaning into the scottish heritage; the guy named his sons duncan & bruce #then I learned about irish naming conventions and while that answered some questions it just wound up leaving me with MORE questions #I went through all 8 stages of grief a year ago when I figured out john's presbyterian funeral meant the fam married into catholicism LATER #and thus were probably scots colonizers to the plantation of ulster instead of former gallowglasses #I don't love the idea of my ancestors being unionist kiss-asses #which the naming scheme kinda supports #but john was a LABOR UNION ORGANIZER #he left well before the clearances in the 20's but labor activism was synonymous with catholicism & nationalism for aaaaaaaages #he had to have picked that up from a parent. two of his half brothers (who also emigrated to the states) were union members too

[kaibutsushidousha]

How do you feel so far about Mahoyo ? And what do you think of its main trio ?

I'll skip to the second question because answering that automatically answers the first. I also try to refrain from including my theories for the following two Mahoyo games since the ask says "so far".

Aoko

The young Aoko is immediately intriguing because she's SO MUCH different from her adult self as we see in Tsukihime and Melty. Her responsible core and penchant for destruction are still the same, but the teen's default expression being a grumpy face instead of the adult's smile is something that speaks volumes about the intensity of the upcoming sequel on her emotional state. The transition from the constrainingly strict school president and mage-in-training to the free-spirited magician vagabond goes beyond the level of growing confident and experienced. It feels more like Aoko was freed from a burden. She broke out of her chains somewhere probably in the third game.

Aoko's best scene is when she's bedridden and explains the worldview that defines her. The young Aoko is a coward who can't stand the thought of disappointing someone. She can't run away from expectations while someone's watching. And there is always someone watching: herself. Aoko lived an unnecessarily harsh life because she forced herself to live up to her own standards, and this forms a stark contrast with how her adult self is so seemingly natural and comfortable with being Aozaki Aoko. It's like she found the version of herself she can never be disappointed with.

Anyways, Aoko's main focus in this one is the conflict against Touko. This clash is the most natural and logical culmination of the persons Aoko and Touko used to be. And honestly, I don't think that's a good thing. Aoko vs Touko just feels too mandated for tastes. There's no emotional depth to it. Aoko is fighting not because she holds any animosity towards her sister but because this kind of mage conflict is customary and she's only a mage because she can't betray expectations. Touko is not fighting not because she's violently envious of Aoko or pissed at her efforts being discarded (she is furious about it, don't get me wrong, but she is mature enough to direct her rage exclusively at her grandfather) but because a mage must seek the Fount and she knows an easy method. It's an idiotic conflict that Tsuki's Aoko and KnK's Touko would never waste their time with.

Disclaimer: My not liking the thing doesn't mean I believe Nasu failed in what he was trying to accomplish. Aoko vs Touko being so procedural is completely intentional. The game has half of a dozen scenes of Soujuurou asking a question about personal reasons, Aoko instead giving an answer about mage tradition, and Soujuurou reacting with an "I'm not sure if it needs to be like this". Even when confronting Grandpa Aozaki, he spells out that the battle was the culmination of then-central elements of both of their characters. It's meaningful and true to the themes upheld by the characters, but that doesn't make it engaging.

Alice

The girl desperately needs those sequels. Seriously.

Mahoyo 1 is roughly split into three arcs. Arc 1 where the goal is to find and kill the witness, Arc 2 where the goal is to convince Alice to spare Soujuurou, and Arc 3 where the goal is to beat Touko. Alice is only there as Beo's jobber in Arc 3, so let's focus on the first two.

Arc 1 Alice is the mage's mage. Throughout its multiple stories, Type-Moon built a solid image of what the standard mage should be like, with all mage characters being defined by how deviate from the standard due to their inescapable human nature, but until the Flat Snark fight, we only see Alice performing the standard with perfection. Which is important to Aoko's arc since Alice serves as Aoko's mage mentor and role model, but doesn't give her much of an identity of her own.

Arc 2 is the one focused on characterizing Alice by challenging Soujuurou to understand her. That arguably didn't happen. Soujuurou simply stumbled on the right answer by saying has a right to hate him.

Alice has issues. Losing her parents and her British home did a number on her. She's not explosive, but is possessive and petty. But the first game makes her too good at hiding her damage. The closest thing she has to a moment of emotional catharsis is the aquarium scene: cryptic words said in a neutral tone.

A big aggravating factor for me is that we know from an in-script to Nasu's proofreader that Soujuurou caught Alice's heart because his "you have a right to hate me" was the same thing her dad said when abandoning her, and how the scene exploring Alice's nostalgia for England went unused in the game. I don't mind Alice being all unanswered questions for game 1 out of 3, but Nasu demonstrably also removed all the hooks that were supposed to make me care about the questions. There's no left in the game proper at this point. Zero reasons to be interested in Alice.

Soujuurou

I don't have much to say about Soujuurou, especially without getting into speculation about his future, but the short of it is that he is perfect. I'm in awe at the versatility of a man who isn't used to civilization. He's Mahoyo's best when it comes to comedy because his not knowing basic things can lead to all sorts of funny misunderstandings. He's Mahoyo's best when it comes to serious discussion because his not having basic things internalized can lead to him asking the sharpest and most unexpected questions about things that could be better but aren't because of elements we're grown to take for granted. Soujuurou's commentary never fails to be impactful because he always shows the lack of logic in what civilization decided to call "natural". His character archetype tends to focus on the angle of a "human with the perspective of a wild beast", but Soujuurou feels a lot more insightful than the typical feral character because he has both perspectives and navigates through a comparison of both worldviews to decide what makes the most sense.

#type moon #mahoutsukai no yoru #aozaki aoko #kuonji alice #shizuki soujuurou

[aurorawest]

Writer asks thing! 1, 2, 16, 18, 19, 20?

1) Who is your favorite character to write for and is this the character you find easiest to write for?

answered here!

2) What is your favorite fic of yours?

Of my posted fic, probably A Full and Factual Account of Asgard. Overall, The General Mess and Imprecision of Feeling, which I haven't posted yet.

16) Do you have a method for getting characters to sound/feel in character?

Repeated viewing/reading of source material. I watched all of Loki's scenes for like...3 months before attempting to write him? Something like that. I think it's easier with book characters, because you don't have the physical mannerisms to try to capture, as well. Not that they aren't there, but you're used to reading them so that makes it easier to just repeat them in your own writing.

18) What's the most obscure thing you've researched for a fic?

Oh god. I've researched a LOT of obscure stuff over the years. Um, maybe the fact that I had the new prisoner handbook for Federal Prison Camp, Duluth, pulled up on a tab on my computer for several days qualifies? I mean, I don't even know what qualifies as obscure anymore, and what 'research' entails. I've got my safari AU which I'm trying to make pretty factual, so I asked our guide a bunch of questions last time we were in South Africa. And I'm going to write a novel where owl banding is a central plot point, which is pretty obscure, but is also something I do, so it probably won't require a ton of research? Though I'm sure I'll have to ask our project leader questions about like, sending the data to the banding lab and stuff like that.

OH WAIT NO I KNOW ONE. For the owl banding one, the premise is one MC is left a parcel of land by his estranged grandfather, but he finds out that the grandfather left the mineral rights to this other rando. So I researched mineral rights in Minnesota haha.

19) What is some random info you happen to have that you used in a fic?

See above, I guess, with owl banding and safari guides.

20) What is your favorite thing about writing fanfic? What about writing in general?

Fanfic was my gateway to writing, so probably that's my favorite thing. I like getting to add to the stories of these characters I love. Plus there's a built in audience.

With writing in general, creating something that brings people happiness, that sticks with them and becomes part of their life. It's both humbling and incredible to think about the fact that I vomited some words into a word processor because my dumb brain couldn't stop thinking about a story about these people, and that someone else read that. Like, I'm never going to be an activist, I'm never going to be a politician or someone who can actually make a real difference, but if I can touch people's lives with my writing that's enough of a mark left on the world for me.

Thank you so much for asking!!

Fanfic Writer asks

#Anonymous #writing

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Go Go Karasuno: An Old Rival (Pt 2 )

THIS FIC IS 18+

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 7,000+

A few days had passed since the practice match. You hated to admit it, but you thought about Keishin often. 

He looked good.

Really REALLY good.

Like better than high school good.  He always looked nice but it was overshadowed by his complete desire to be an utter ass.

You sighed as you finished up a few emails to send off before you took your grandma to the hospital to visit your grandfather.

He was set to be discharged in a few days and then you would start the process of moving them to the elderly community. You had taken your grandmother to visit him daily as she would often have make him meals. He hated the hospital food. He said the flavor was lacking.

You had to laugh. The man had only ever eaten your grandmother's cooking since they married at a young age. He often complained or refused to eat any other food because it was never was good as his wife’s cooking. 

You had to agree. Your grandma was an amazing cook.

You arrive at the hospital with your grandma in toe. She says her hellos to the staff as they all reciprocate the greetings. Your grandma was a complete sweetheart. She was loved and adored by everyone. She always helped when and where she could, volunteering wherever she was needed. You're actually surprised your grandfather managed to charm his way in to her life.

Your grandfather was a rowdy old man. Literally the opposite of your grandmother. He could be bitter and always liked a good argument. He was never outright mean to people, just very outspoken and upfront. He was a lot to handle.

You exit the elevator carrying the box of food your grandma had prepared. She told you she was preparing a meal for your grandfather's roommate as well. She said the man was just as insatiable as your grandfather. You imagined they were quite the duo.

As you round the corner you start the head arguing. You eyes widen as you realize it's coming from your grandfather's room. 

 Your grandma just smiles as she shakes her head knocking lightly at the door.

"Yeah yeah" a voice shouts. 

 You both enter as you begin to observe the sight before you eyes.

Your grandfather and his roommate are watching volleyball on the small TV in their hospital room. Shouting at the apparent bad plays.

"Anyone could have hit that set with their eyes closed" your grandfather shouted "what is that spiker doing?"

"He's just a weakling like all the others" the other man shouted "that wouldn't be happening under my coaching."

You roll your eyes and smile. Man these two were made for each other.

Your grandma slowly starts to unpack and plate the food she made for both the men. They continue to watch the game as your grandma hands them the food.

"Dont worry dear I packed enough for everyone" she smiled as you observed all the food. The box was heavy that you carried in but you didn't think there was an entire week's worth of food there.

"By everyone did you mean the entire hospital gran" you giggle as she laughs.

"Oh Y/N" your grandfather says as he looks up from his meal for a second "this is my roommate. You might know his grandson. I think he went to school with him."

The other man grumbled "I apologize if you do know him, the weakling."

You smile as you chuckle "Well sir its nice to meet you, I'm Y/N"

The older man turns to you smiling "oh I know who you are sweetheart, I'm Ikkei Ukai"

WHAT DID HE SAY?

You were about to speak when a knock sounded.

"Yeah yeah, what is this grand central in Tokyo?" your grandfather huffed as the door opened.

"Just came to check on my fav-" Keishin spoke as he entered, shutting the door and turning around.

His eyes were met with yours. He gulped as the two older men and older lady looked at you both.

"Y/N, I didn't know you would be here" Keishin says as he lifts his head to the back of his head.

"I told you last week my roommate had a granddaughter your age" Ikkei spoke sharped tongue.

"Well you didn't mention here name!" Keishin glared at his grandfather.

“You didn’t ask” Ikkei huffed as he turned his attention back to the game as Keishin placed his hand over his face.

You giggle at the circumstances. 

This all had to be a joke right? No way this was coincidence!

"Ah Keishin it's so good to see you again" your grandmother says breaking the awkward silence "here have a plate"

"Oh you as well ma'am" he said bowing "thank you ma'am but I'll have to pass I’m just stopping by quick"

"Sit down you idiot the women made great food" your grandfather shouts at Keishin as you chuckle.

Your grandmother makes him a plate as he settles in by you at the spare table in the corner. Your grandmother sits beside your grandfather as he kisses her forehead. You smile as you watch them, all while Keishin watches you.

"Your grandfather and mine are one in the same" he says trying to break the silence.

"Ha ha yeah you can say that again" you say smiling as you eat.

"I honestly didn't know your grandfather was his roommate" he says.

"Well you probably wouldn't. They are my mothers parents so we don't share the same last name" you say looking down at your plate.

"You know, it was really great to see you play again Y/N" Keishin smiles at you.

You look up smiling back "Thank you. It was a lot of fun. You really have some great kids."

"Kageyama and Hinata couldn't stop talking about your sets. Kageyama said they were almost perfect" he said taking another bite

"Well I wouldn't say perfect. They can always use improvement" you say pushing your food around the plate.

"Give yourself more credit Y/N. You really are a great setter. I always thought so" Keishin says as he stares at you.

You laugh ironically "is that why you were always such an ass to me then?"

Keishin sighs "yeah I was an ass but it wasn't because you weren't good. I was stupid high school kid"

You sighed as you look to his smiling "I guess we've both changed a lot"

Keishin smiled softly at you as you take both plates and disguarded them in the bin.

"I'm going to step outside for a minute" you speak, kissing your grandma on the forehead.

"I'll come with you" Kishin says as you begin to walk outside

The silence is awkward. Neither of you know what to say to each other. It's like your years of high school rivalry has been reduced to this weird state of unknown.

"Look Y/N" keishin starts.

"Keishin" you interject "we both changed. It's ok. I'm not mad at you anymore."

That wasn't completely factual nor completely a lie.

You didn't hate Keishin.  In fact, thinking about it, you never really did. You admired the man but he annoyed you to no end. He was always better than you and you were jealous.

Keishin threw his cigarette as he walked towards you "Y/N I want to apologize."

You look at him with narrowed eyes "for what?"

"Well one for being a complete jerk back in high school" he proceeds.

"Jerk is an understatement but continue" you say smiling.

He laughs awkwardly "Listen Y/N can I at least make it up to you?"

You fold your arms "ok and how Keishin? It's not like we can go back in time and you can not mess up my serves" you spit as he looks towards the ground.

"Y/N please" Keishin says "my grandfather was right, I was a weakling back then. I was jealous of you. You had such talent and well, I enjoyed getting a rile from you. I know it was immature but it was the only way you'd talk to me."

“Wait what” you think as you try to process what he was saying

"I always admired you Y/N. You were a great captain and a fantastic setter. You worked so well all the players on your team. I honestly was a bit jealous" he continues as you state at him confused.

Keishin was jealous? Of you?

You say the only thing you can properly formulate "Well Keishin you sure had a hell of a way of showing it! You pissed me off, annoyed me to no end and now you tell me you were jealous?"

Keishin stares at your outburst.

"Keishin I apologize for yelling but it just seems unreal to me. I spent all of high school trying be as good as you and now your telling me you looked up to me? It just seems unreal" you say as you sit on the bench.

"Y/N" Keishin sits down in the other side of the bench "I know I was a complete jerk. I honestly didn't know it bothered you so much. I was a punk ass kid who was just trying to be someone. But I now realize I hurt someone who really meant a lot of me."

You look up from your hands to see Keishin with a soft smile on his face.

"Well this is awkward" you say as you stand up. You were never great with upfront feelings and awkward silences.

"Y/N please" Keishin says as you start to walk back to the room "Please just let me make it up to you. Let's have dinner. I promise. Just hear me out"

You sigh knowing the conversation was unavoidable. It wasn't that you didn't want to have dinner with Keishin, it's just that you still reeled from your past.

Maybe you were being petty and it seemed like Keishin had changed but were you really ready to admit that? Were you really ready to move on from a grudge you held for almost 10 years?

"Where" you sigh in defeat.

"Huh?" Keishin looks to you with question.

"Where and when" you look back at him with a less than eager face.

"How about Friday night? My families store?" Keishin shouts a little too enthusiastic.

You chuckle at his response "ok but I swear of you start shit I'm going to pelt a volleyball right at your forehead"

He laughs "there's the Y/N I remember"

You push him playfully as you both walk back into the hospital heading to your grandfather's room.

You enter the floor as you both hear loud shouting. You look at each other and take off running towards your grandfather's room. You bust open the door with Keishin on your heals as you see your grandfather on the floor and your grandmother holding her mouth.

"I'm fine I'm fine just got a bit worked up" he says.

Keishin moves to help your grandfather as you console your grandmother.

"Grandpa really? Getting worked up over volleyball?" You spit at him.

He glares at you "you're one to talk Y/N!"

Keishin’s eyes widen as you glare holes on your grandfather's head. He chuckles at your response.

"Oh Y/N it's about time you forgive the boy, it's been almost 10 years" your grandfather says

"Dont forgive him so easily Y/N" Ikkei interjects "make him work for it"

Keishin glares at his grandfather as he chuckles with your grandfather and they continue watching the game.

You and Keishin both sigh as you smile softly towards one another. 

You're night out with Keishin approaches faster than you hoped. Honestly you were really indifferent about the whole situation. You had to admit, Keishin had probably changed since high school. I mean the Keishin you knew would never coach a high school volleyball team.

Right?

#keishin #ukai keishin #ukai #keishin x y/n #justiceforthehaikyuucoachs #haikyuu #haikyuucoaches #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #karasuno

[knives-out20]

Discrepancy - Dean Corso x Male!OC - #3

Fandom: The Ninth Gate (1999)

Pairing: Ambrósio ‘Ambrose’ Fargas (OC) x Dean Corso

Warnings: Swearing, Faggotry, Spoilers for The Ninth Gate, Flirting, Homoerotism, Sexual phone stuff but not phone sex y’know, Ambrósio has no chill and knows no bounds y’all,

Notes: what is going ON y’all....lmao

Dean lay on the bed of his hotel room in Paris, talking to Ambrósio over the phone. "Ambrósio, how are you holding up?"

"I'm lying down if that answers your question, Dean" Ambrósio answered, definitely wearing a shit-eating grin.

Lying down, Dean thought. "What're you doing?"

"Oh, I dunno...talking to some shady book dealer over the telephone."

"I'm shady?" Dean chuckled. "First I'm out of place, and now I'm shady?"

"Yea, man, what the fuck is with your fucking gray hairs around your ears, you got premature graying or something?" Ambrósio inquired, squinting a bit.

"Have you just been thinking about the hairs around my ears lately?"

"I've been thinking of more than the hair around your ears, Dean."

"My facial hair?" Dean teased.

"More than your hair, man."

Dean grinned, "ever the flirt?"

"I try my best, Corso." Ambrósio rubbed his thigh, biting the edge of his lip.

"You been, uh...back at the house, as of late?"

Ambrósio shrugged. "Carmen let me go back to check it out with her really buff boyfriend, like, wrestler-type buff, Jeronimo's huge."

"Is he setting some high expectations up for me?"

Ambrósio decided to mess with Dean. He put on a puzzled tone, "who said they're for you?"

This caught Dean off-guard, like Ambrósio wanted it to. "Oh- uh, nothing, I just- all this had led me to assume-"

"Chill, man, calm down, I'm playing around" Ambrósio giggled. "It felt a bit...grim, but that's obvious, y'know? I mean, with...the reason why I'm staying with my friends in the first place."

"Yea."

A moment of silence struck the two before Ambrósio asked Dean another question. "Where are you right now?"

Dean's gaze darted around his hotel room. "In a hotel."

"Central?"

Dean slowly licked his lips in thought. "Uhh...Sure." He nodded, pulling out a slip of paper and a pen. "I'm staying at this Hotel Central place nearby, in this room. You can reach me there if you're specific."

"No, no. Out of the country." Dean corrected him.

Ambrósio scoffed, "yea, so where are you?"

"France. Ever been?"

"You offering?"

"Again?"

"I'm assuming that's a no."

Ambrósio broke out into a smile as he leaned back in his seat. "Does adoption not exist in America, or wherever?" He giggled. "I'm adopted, half-Pakistani."

"Ever been?"

"You offering?" Ambrósio joked.

"Don't lose hope" Dean smiled. "If I grow to like you enough, decide I need some sort of companionship in my life, I'll reach out."

"You make it seem like it'll be a privilege to me, to be able to hang out with you. It's quite the opposite."

"Oh, really?"

"Yea. It'll be a privilege to you, or rather anyone, to hang out with me, Ambrósio Fargas."

"That's true. Any new up-comings with your..uh...grandfather?"

"Mmh." Ambrósio hummed in a gloomy way. "Jeronimo has an uncle that's in the funeral business. He'll help with all the funeral stuff for my Avô."

"Wish I could come."

"It's like you want to be out of place, Dean, jeez" Ambrósio laughed.

Dean liked listening to Ambrósio's laughter, even more-so since he caused it. He assumes he just liked that he was able to make Ambrósio smile during this suddenly-dark time in his life, given the abrupt death of Victor and all.

Ambrósio and Dean got hit with another moment of comfortable silence. It seemed to be a running thing between the two men.

"You still lying down?"

"On my bed in Carmen's guest bedroom, yea. Why? You gonna ask me what I'm wearing?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you're still wearing that red shirt."

"I have a damn washing machine, Dean" Ambrósio licked his lips. "It's unbuttoned just like the first time you saw it."

"You wearing those gray pants, too? With the stripes?"

Ambrósio hummed his answer, meaning a 'no." "I'm wearin' some shorts, actually. Switching things up, today. What're you wearing, Corso?"

"Same things from the day you first saw me."

"Not one for changes, eh?" Ambrósio questioned. "Well, no. You probably are, given that Balkan's making you go here 'n' there around the globe for some old books 'n'...whatever. Y'know?"

"Yea," Dean nodded. "I'm really sorry, too, Ambrósio. About your grandfather. I never meant for this to happen to him, I didn't anticipate it like you did, but anticipation really has nothing to do with it." He explained. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing. My Avô was old as hell anyway, Dean. He was bound to go sometime, but I just...not so soon. He was a good man."

"I'm sure he was, he seemed like it."

Ambrósio smiled. "You're a good man, too."

"Really?"

"Yea." Ambrósio nodded. "You, you- you didn't need to give me your hotel number that night you first came, you didn't need to come inside the house to call for me the other day. You didn't need to make sure I was okay, and gonna be okay. You didn't need to make sure I had some place to stay, or ask for Carmen's number in order to reach me. Hell, you don't need to be talking to me right now" he listed out, admittedly blushing a bit.

"But...I am."

"But you are, exactly. You added me into your little equation when you had the choice to leave me in your memories as Fargas' pretty, queer grandkid."

"'Pretty'?" Dean repeated.

"I'm fucking divine, Dean, it's in my name. Meanwhile, Dean means like...'valley.'"

"Would you describe me as a valley, Ambrose?"

"A valley of weird gray hairs, some round glasses, dark academia, and an angular face."

"You think my face is angular?"

"In a good way, pretty boy."

Dean smirked to himself, dragging his free hand slowly down the side of his face. "You think I'm pretty, too?"

"I thought the flirting made it obvious."

"I'm more than a pretty face, y'know" Dean sassed.

"Well, duh. I'm not shallow" Ambrósio scoffed. "I like when we talk, too, and not just for your voice-"

"You like my voice?"

"I've told you this before!"

Ambrósio chortled. "I don't only listen to Hendrix and Foreigner, Dean, Jesus Christ."

"Who else do you listen to?"

Ambrósio stepped back, towards his staircase. "I could listen to you. You sound like you could do a number on people if you sing."

Dean knowingly shook his head, looking down to hide his smile. "I don't sing, but...thanks."

Dean hummed in agreement. "You mentioned reciting poetry, when I met you."

"Yessir."

"What writers do you like?"

"Aw, damn, uh..." Ambrósio scratched his jaw in thought. "Baudelaire, definitely. And JP Marquand, Oscar Wilde, and Lord Byron. To name a few."

"Quite an array."

"You like?"

"I wouldn't shy away from the names. It's an impressive list."

"Thank you, I know." Ambrósio smiled, proud of himself.

"You still lying down?"

"Yea, what're you doing?"

"Lying down, on my hotel room's bed, talking to the dreamy, divine grandson of Victor Fargas." Dean flirted, stroking his beard.

Ambrósio poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "I am dreamy."

"You really are."

"So..."

"So?"

"So, we're just both lying down, on our beds, talking to each other over the telephone?"

"Why, would you rather be doing something else, with somebody else?" Dean joked.

Ambrósio raised his eyebrows. "I'd rather be doing something else that involves being on a bed, with you...Doing a far more scandalous activity than just talking."

Dean fought back a grin, looking over at the wall. "You're on quite the roll, huh?"

"Whether it be the romantic poets I indulge in, or my natural-born charm, the world may never know."

"I think it's just you, honestly."

"I'm touched." Ambrósio placed his free hand over his chest, where his heart lay underneath. "Oh, also- I figured out another song you remind me of."

"Really? Which?"

"Poison by Alice Cooper. I was gonna say his other song Feed My Frankenstein for the sake of the title and sexual themes, but there's lyrics in there regarding a body part that neither I nor you have...I'm assuming. There's nothing wrong with if you do, though. I have a guy friend with the body part, but he's saving up money to get rid of it."

Dean's eyebrows jumped. "You listen to Alice Cooper?"

"Sometimes, do you?"

"Not really my thing."

"Ah, yes, let me guess." Ambrósio raised a finger in thought. "You enjoy sitting back in leather armchairs, surrounded by dusty, possibly-expensive books and listening to the likes of Debussy, Chopin...I happen to like Tchaikovsky myself, if he's any your style."

Dean laughed softly. "No, not actually. I don't know what I listen to, I don't know if it could be classified as one thing."

"If you ever come back to Portugal, we could listen to my records together 'n' see what you're into" Ambrósio offered.

"Are you asking me out?" Dean joked.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm a gentleman, I'd buy you dinner, first." Ambrósio corrected him. "I'm just flirting your socks of for the time being." He told, sliding a hand through his dark hair; he closed his eyes and gave it a tug, trying to imagine that it was someone else, someone specific, tugging his hair in his bed.

"I'm not wearing any socks right now."

"Task complete." Ambrósio nodded slowly, sure of himself. His smile grew when he heard Dean's slight laugh through the phone.

"Dinner, huh?"

"Yea. Wine, music, candlelight, the whole shebang. Again, a gentleman."

"The sound of it does intrigue me."

"That's the goal" Ambrósio stared up at the ceiling. 

"Your activity from before, regarding a bed...What would that include?" Dean didn't know what he was doing, nor what he was hoping to accomplish, but liked the power it held over Ambrósio trying to flirt with him...Well, trying and succeeding, but he liked playing a hard-to-get guy.

"Oh, I'm not entirely sure." Ambrósio partially lied. "Winding, twisting, turning, gyrating, writhing...incessant writhing" he purred. "Perhaps some assorted debaucheries along the way."

"You can be so charming when you want something, eh, Ambrose?"

"Or someone," Ambrósio added. "And I can be so charming, full stop."

"Of course you can."

"Alright, how can I get to you, Dean?" Ambrósio asked him. "Tell me the rules." He whispered through the telephone, Dean stifling a shiver.

"Can I trust you?" Dean playfully rolled his eyes.

"Oh, my dearest Dean, have I given you any reason not to?"

"That's true."

Ambrósio's voice turned into another whisper, "you and I could be as thick as fuckin' thieves. Tell me the rules, Dean." His fingers stroked from his chin to his cheek, a faraway look on his face.

Dean could just imagine the look on Ambrósio's face as they spoke. "First, you gotta tell me if I can call you 'chico' yet."

"Beg for it, like you wanted to" Ambrósio reminded him, free hand trailing down his neck, down his torso.

Dean turned back around, seeing Ambrósio holding onto the opened gate. "What is it, chico? Can I call you ‘chico’?"

“If you ask nicely.”

Dean rolled his eyes knowingly, “save either one of us begging for something from the other for another time.” He finally flirted back. 

Dean held a knowing expression on his face. He should've expected this.

"No problem, Ambrose. Can I call you 'chico', yet?"

"Only if you beg like you wanted to." Ambrósio flirted.

Dean looked around in thought, "wouldn't you rather in person?"

"Would either one of us want to travel seventeen-ish hours for you to beg me for something so small in the midst of your big book mission?" Ambrósio rhetorically asked. "You wanna call me 'chico', you gotta do what you suggested. It was your words, not mine, big man."

Dean hummed. "Please?"

"'Please' what?"

Dean giggled quietly. "Please, can I call you 'chico'? Please?" He insisted, "please? Let me call you 'chico', Ambrósio, please."

Ambrósio had a smug look on his face, "you may."

"That was barely any begging."

"Let's save actual begging for some other time, when we're closer together. Okay, amor?"

"Okay, chico." 

"I also thought of another song."

"You're full of them for someone who supposedly couldn't think of any."

"Shut up," Ambrósio chuckled. "I Was Made For Loving You."

Dean licked his lips, "by Kiss?"

"You like Kiss?" Ambrósio looked surprised.

"I know Kiss, and I know the song you mentioned. How come I never remind you of any Jimi Hendrix songs?"

"That's not my problem" Ambrósio replied. "I Was Made For Loving You, Dean. Take it or leave it."

"Y'know what, Ambrósio?" Dean inquired. "Maybe you were."

"Not even 'maybe', Dean. I know I am." Ambrósio checked the time. "Listen, I gotta get going, a guy's gotta run. Talk soon?"

"Sure thing, chico."

"Bye, Dean. Stay safe."

"You too."

Ambrósio and Dean hung up their phones, Ambrósio's head spinning of round glasses, prominent cheekbones and smooth voices as he left the bedroom. Whereas Dean stayed where he was, rubbing his thighs with thoughts of dark, soulful eyes, inked-up torsos, and dreamy grandsons.

Both of them just hoped Dean's mission would end quick so the two could talk physically again, or maybe do a greater deal than talking.

#the ninth gate 1999 #the ninth gate #the ninth gate oc #dean corso #dean corso x oc #dean corso x male!oc #dean corso x male #oc #ZAYN oc #zayn malik oc #male oc #oc x male #oc x canon #canon x oc #canon x male #male x male #male x oc #male x canon

[papenniesandbentoboxes]

The Impossible Imposter - A Nancy Drew Among Us Crack Fanfiction

I wrote this at midnight last night to celebrate my 20th birthday. This is probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever written.

Here’s the AO3 link!

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Characters: Bess Marvin, Sonny Joon, Mason Quinto, Alec Fell, Dwayne Powers, Ethel Bossiny, Jacques Brunais, Lou Talbot, Brady Armstrong, Harper Thornton

Word Count:  2224

Here’s the fic!

[Camera pans to table with a button in the center, ten individuals stand around. The smallest in pink is BESS MARVIN, the tallest JACQUES BRUNAIS in purple, DWAYNE POWERS in red, ALEC FELL in green, SONNY JOON in cyan, MASON QUINTO in blue, ETHEL BOSSINY in white, HARPER THORNTON in black, BRADY ARMSTRONG in lime, LOU TALBOT in yellow.]

[All crew members eye each other, each suspicious of the others. MASON QUINTO leans on the table.]

MASON: Alright, since no one wants to talk, I’ll do it. We each have tasks right? Let’s do them. We’ve got to go and get to our destination.

BRADY: But where are we going?

[Silence.]

ALEC: Good question. We were never really told where we’re going. We just are here… I guess.

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: Instantly, I thought Mason was suspicious, but he’s just like that I’ve realized. He’s always up to something, whether it’s being an asshole or a dick or a genius. Depends.}

[SONNY slams hands on the table.]

SONNY: Let’s yeet !

[Crowd disperses, leaving LOU in the cafeteria to empty the garbage]

{LOU CONFESSIONAL: I wanted to go in a group, just so I wouldn’t be alone. I hate it here. But like, you know, they were all so fast. Going by all zippy-zoom.}

[In ADMIN, BESS MARVIN struggles while swiping her card.]

BESS: C’mon! Just work!

[DWAYNE enters, eyes squinted at her. They both watch each other warily. BESS’s card still won’t scan. DWAYNE heads toward the wires.]

BESS: Please, please, please, please…

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: Dwayne freaks me out. He’s so… Unhinged. I’ve heard everything he’s done! Even if he isn’t the imposter, he’d probably kill us all anyway!}

[DWAYNE leaves.]

BESS: [releaved] Oh, thank God.

[In ELECTRICAL, BRADY is struggling with wires.]

BRADY: [puts two wires together and shocks himself] Ouch!

[HARPER enters, laughing to herself.]

BRADY: Hi, Harper. [shocks himself again] Ow.

{BRADY CONFESSIONAL: Harper is scary. She just is. I’ve heard rumors that she’s actually, like, crazy. I don’t want to believe them, since I like to see the best in people and it helps with my celebrity image, but she’s… Just scary.}

[HARPER helps fix the wires with him.]

HARPER: Maybe if you’d put the wires together in the right way you wouldn’t die so fast.

BRADY: Huh?

HARPER: Oh, nothing, hon.

{HARPER CONFESSIONAL: My condescending cousin says that all the time and it makes others feel awful, so I thought I’d give it a try. [loud laugh] It worked!}

[Without any warning, OXYGEN DEPLETION ALARM goes off. Both crew members look each other in the eye and then run off down the hall.]

[ADMIN at OXYGEN CONTROL PANEL, MASON is typing in the deactivation code.]

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: I expected to be the only one doing anything about this, but deep inside me I didn’t want it to be that way. You know, I could totally just not do anything and then we’d all die. But I actually want to live, unlike some people apparently.}

[SONNY runs in, then runs out to the other PANEL, CAMERA FOLLOWS]

{SONNY CONFESSIONAL: I’m only here for the aliens. If they’re anywhere, it’s space. Also, these suits are cool.}

[SONNY almost runs into ALEC, who is also headed to the PANEL.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: Sonny… What a guy. I have no idea what to think of him. But he does have a file where I work. Which is classified.}

[ALEC and SONNY run to the PANEL where DWAYNE is inputting the code.]

DWAYNE: [smiles] Ah, greetings.

ALEC: Aye, greetings.

SONNY: [waves]

[All three men stare at each other for a long moment until a DEAD BODY is REPORTED and the ALARM sounds.]

[CAFETERIA, where all but two crew members meet. LOU and JACQUES are missing from the group. BRADY, who reported the bodies, is quiet. ALEC speaks up.]

ALEC: Where were they?

BRADY: Reactor. It was only Jacques I saw.

ALEC: Did you see anyone?

BRADY: [shrugs] No. But Harper is giving me mad sus vibes.

[In the back of the room, HARPER is sitting on a chair in the shadows, laughing in the darkness.]

HARPER: Oh, good! I was afraid I was the only one who thought so! You are right not to trust me.

MASON: What’s that supposed to me?

HARPER: You decide. Though, I figure that young man is only trying to cast suspicion on me.

BRADY: Not really--

HARPER: Well, if you insist, I’ll tell you. I am an Imposter. [stands up, hands on her hips] Y’all better be afraid if you know what’s good for you.

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: Well, I’m betting that either she’s bluffing of the other Imposter is really, really angry right now. I honestly can’t tell if she’s lying or not. But… She does scare me.}

[TIMER counts down. All crew members have to vote within 30 seconds.]

BRADY: [holding black flag, HARPER’s color] I vote Harper. I don’t want to risk it.

BESS: [holds up grey flag] I’m going to skip this round. I can’t tell whether she’s… You know…

SONNY: Evil?

BESS: [blushes] Yeah…

SONNY: [holds up black flag] Well I think she’s super sus so I’m voting for her.

MASON: [holds up black flag] Might as well go with the rest.

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: Democracy, am I right?}

ETHEL: [holds up black flag] I also vote for Harper.

[BESS, SONNY, BRADY, and ALEC are startled, shrieking a bit each. ETHEL is unphased, looking as calm as ever.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: She’s terrifying.}

SONNY: [whispers] Oh my God, I forgot she was here.

BESS: [whispers back] Me too…

DWAYNE: [sighing loudly and holds up black flag] I vote for Harper. No use in voting against her.

ALEC: [holds up black flag] [says nothing]

HARPER: [holds up black flag] I also vote for me! Anywhere is better than here with all you upstairs people.

[Other crew members look at each other in confusion.]

BESS: What’s that supposed to mean?

ALEC: I have no idea.

[HARPER is ejected. Crew members await confirmation on the central screen.]

[HARPER is not An Imposter.]

ALEC: Shit!

MASON: [sighs] Well, there’s that.

BESS: [stares into the camera in fear]

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: I just want to go home.}

[Crew members have resumed activity. ALEC is in the HALLWAY, lugging around a container of GASOLINE.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: So, I’m just walking in the hallway, and then Sonny just comes walking by, whistling.}

[Camera cuts to SONNY walking through the hallway, whistling and glancing at ALEC. ALEC watches him carefully.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: Sonny’s just weird.}

[In MED BAY, BRADY is getting a med scan, looking at his stats.]

BRADY: They don’t have green eyes. They should have eye colors.

{BRADY CONFESSIONAL: They should!}

[MASON enters, heading straight to inspect samples. Both avoid eye contact. MASON leaves quickly. Relieved, BRADY steps down and lets out a long breath.]

BRADY: Well, that was better than I expected.

[MED BAY doors slide shut.]

BRADY: Uh oh.

[In WEAPONS, DWAYNE sits in the big chair, blasting asteroids.]

{DWAYNE CONFESSIONAL: Everyone expects me to be the Imposter ever since my stunt with Rick Arlen and my time in jail. Just because I’m a killer doesn’t mean I’m going to kill everyone! [rubs chin] It would be fun though. And if Rick Arlen were here, I’d just kill him. Being the Imposter would also be a bonus.}

[DWAYNE fires at his last asteroid, then stands up and leaves, tiptoeing down the hall.]

[SONNY is seen in the cafeteria, looking out at the stars.]

{SONNY CONFESSIONAL: You know, my grandfather always told me I was special. I always believed it. I stopped for a while, but I’m back to believing that. I believe somehow I might make contact with alien life out here. [shrugs] Who knows? Maybe they’re just vibing and waiting for me to be out there.}

[DEAD BODY is REPORTED. All crew members meet at the cafeteria. BRADY is missing. BESS, who reported the body, looks out at the crowd.]

BESS: I… I didn’t see anyone. I found Brady in the Med Bay.

MASON: That must’ve been right after I left.

ALEC: Did you see anything?

MASON: [shakes head] I try not to be in the same room as other people. I don’t know who I can trust right now.

ALEC: Aye, that’s valid.

SONNY: Well, I know who I’m voting for. [holds up green flag] Alec’s super sus.

ALEC: Why would you do that?!

SONNY: I don’t know, you’re Australian.

ALEC: I’m Scottish! From Scotland!

SONNY: Deflecting! Super sus.

{SONNY CONFESSIONAL: [rubs the back of his neck] I’ve really got to brush up on my accents. I mean, even if I did say that on purpose to throw suspicion off me-- don’t worry, I’m not that stupid--, I still need to brush up. I keep mixing up Italian with Jamaican. Don’t ask how that happens, I don’t know.}

MASON:[holds up white flag] I’m voting for Ethel. We haven’t seen her this entire time.

[All crew members look to ETHEL, who stands there and holds her hands together. She shakes her head.]

ETHEL: I assure you, I was doing tasks.

DWAYNE: [slams fist on table] Silence ! She’s guilty! Guilty !

SONNY: Yeah, that’s what they all say.

BESS: [holds up white flag] Mason has a good point.

ALEC: [holds up white flag]

{ETHEL CONFESSIONAL: I suppose I expected nothing less from them.}

[ETHEL doesn’t vote, forcing them to wait in silence for 30 seconds.]

[ETHEL is ejected. Crew members eagerly await confirmation.]

[ETHEL was An Imposter.]

[Only five members remain. Immediately, ALEC FELL heads to security. Camera follows.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: I had to look at security. I had no tasks and some time to kill, so the security booth seemed like the best option for me. At least, if no one comes through the vents.}

[DWAYNE stands in NAVIGATION, downloading data. He has a scowl on his face as he angrily presses buttons.]

DWAYNE: I could have killed Rick Arlen by now.

[To his left, the vent opens up. Camera pans over. MASON QUINTO steps out, takes out a gun, and shoots DWAYNE. He smirks at the corpse in front of him for a moment, then climbs back into the vents.]

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: [cleaning off knife from his last kill] Dwayne never saw me coming. Neither did Lou. I also assisted in the killing of Brady but I’m not telling anyone who my other partner is yet. They’ll find out soon enough.}

[DEAD BODY is REPORTED. All four crew members stand around the table, all quiet. SONNY, who found the body, looks around.]

SONNY: Well, since half of us are Imposters, how about a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who gets ejected?

MASON: No.

ALEC: How about you tell us where the body was found and who was nearby.

SONNY: No one was around and it was in navigation.

BESS: [gasps] That’s where I was right after the last meeting…

MASON: Wait, does that mean--

ALEC: No, I can confirm her whereabouts. She’s okay.

[All four stand in silence. The voting countdown begins.]

SONNY: [holds green flag] I still think it’s Alec.

ALEC: [holds up cyan flag] Och! How unexpected of you!

MASON: [holds up cyan flag] Sonny has been throwing accusations at Alec this entire time.

BESS: [looks around] I’m so sorry…

[After a long moment, Bess holds up a green flag. The voting results are tied. No one is ejected.]

[All crew members stare at each other, no one saying anything.]

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: [loads gun] All according to plan.}

[MASON takes out a gun and shots the ceiling. BESS cries out, ALEC puts a hand on her shoulder, SONNY just stares.]

MASON: Yeah. That’s right. I’m an Imposter. Now, since you know it’s me, I’m going to leave you to all sort it out between yourselves. One of you three is the last one of us.

BESS: Just tell us!

SONNY: He’d never do that.

BESS: [hugging herself] I want to go home…

ALEC: [giving her a kind smile] We all do.

[Voting countdown ends. All votes are for MASON]

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: [chuckles] Do you really think I was going to sacrifice my life for this? I’ve been planning to get ejected since the beginning. I have a small ship of my own waiting outside for me. They eject me? I call it to me and I get inside and wait until my partner executes the next step in the plan.}

[MASON is ejected. The three remaining look for confirmation even though they know the result.]

[MASON was An Imposter.]

[The lights go out. Crew members look up. No one moves. A gunshot is heard.]

[The lights come back on, revealing Bess holding a smoking gun over Sonny’s dead body.]

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: I really hate that I killed Sonny, but if I was gonna win, I needed to kill him. And you know what? I’m beginning to see why Mason and Ethel were actually having fun.}

ALEC: [turns to her, shocked] It was you?

BESS: [points gun at him] Always was .

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: Ha! Those acting classes I took last summer really paid off! And Joe was right. Reckless accusations are fun! Too bad I didn't contribute more.}

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: [sighs] [takes a bite of a crumpet] [silence] [takes another bite] She offered me a last meal. [takes another bite and waits] I should have seen this coming.}

#nancy drew #clue crew #nancy drew crack #nancy drew fanfiction #nancy drew fanfic #nancy drew crack fanfic #among #nancy drew among us #bess marvin #sonny joon #Mason Quinto #alec fell #dwayne powers #ethel bossiny #lou talbot #brady armstrong #harper thornton #jacques brunais

[generallypo]

“I heard your voice, so I came... Aoba-san.”

Hooo-boy, if that doesn’t get me emotional every single time. Call it my bias for eccentric bundles of sunshine and softness, or my crippling weakness for the secretly-handsome-and-devastatingly-earnest type, but you can’t change my mind: Clear is, hands down, DMMD’s best love interest. Character development-wise, thematically, romantically, he nails every trial thrown at him, gets his man,  and proceeds to break your heart in the tenderest, sincerest way possible. I am hopping with Huge Fan Energy, so this post is gonna be unapologetically long and self-indulgent and grossly enthusiastic. Yeeeee.

———— 

Look, DMMD meta analysis has been done to death, I get it. This game is old. But I think it stands as testament to its excellent production that it’s still a game worth revisiting years later — especially during these times when social contact is so hard pressed to come by and we all rabidly devour digital media like a horde of screeching feral gremlins. (Have you seen Netflix’s stock value now? The exploding MMO server populations? Astonishing.) It’s pure, simple human nature to want to connect, to cling to members of our network out of biological imperative and our psychological dependency on each other. As cold and primitive at that sounds, social contact also fulfills us on a higher level: the community is always stronger than the individual; genuine trust begets a mutually supportive relationship of exchange and evolution. People learn from each other, and grow into stronger, wiser, better versions of themselves.

Yeah, I’m being deliberately obtuse about this. Of course I’m talking about Clear. Clear, who is a robot. Clear, who is nearly childlike in his insatiable curiosity regarding the human condition.

And it’s a classic literary tactic, using non-human entities to question the intangible constructs of a concept like ‘humanity’ — think Frankenstein, or Tokyo Ghoul, or Detroit: Become Human, among so, so many works in various media — all tackling that question from countless angles, all with varying measures of success. What does it mean to be human? To be good? Who are we, and where do we stand in the grand scheme of things? Is there even a scheme to follow? … Wait, what?

Jokes aside, there are so many ways that the whole approaching-human-yet-not-quite-there schtick can be abused into edgy, joyless existential griping. Nothing wrong with that if it’s what you’re looking for, except that we’re talking about a boys’ love game here. But DMMD neatly, sweetly side steps that particular wrinkle, giving us a wonderfully grounded character to work with as a result. 

Character Design — a see-through secret

Let’s start small: Clear’s design and premise. Unlike so many other lost, clueless robo-lambs across media, Clear does have a small guiding presence early on in his life. It takes the form of his grandfather, who teaches Clear about the world while also sheltering him from his origins. It means he learns enough to blend sufficiently into society; it also means that Clear has even more questions that sprout from his limited understanding of the world.

Told that he must never remove his mask lest he expose his identity as a non-human, Clear’s perpetual fear of rejection for what he is drives much of his eccentricity and challenges him throughout much of his route. As for the player, the mystery of what lies underneath his mask is a carrot that the writers get to dangle until the peak moment of emotional payoff. Even if it’s not hard to guess that there’s probably a hottie of legendary proportions stuck under there, there’s still significance in waiting for that good moment to happen. And when it does, it feels great.

His upbringing contextualizes and affirms his odd choice of fashion: deliberately generic, bashfully covered from the public eye, and colored nearly in pure white - the quintessential signal of a blank slate, of innocence. Contrasted with the rest of DMMD’s flashy, colorful crew, Clear is probably the most difficult to read on a superficial scale, not falling into the fiery, bare-chest sex appeal of a womanizer, or the techno-nerd rebel aesthetic that Noiz somehow rocks. Goofy weirdo? Possibly a serial killer? Honestly, both seem plausible at the start.

And that’s the funny thing, because as damn hard as he tries to physically cover himself up from society, Clear is irrepressibly true to his name: transparent to a fault. He’s a walking, talking contradiction, and it’s not hard to realize that this mysterious, masked stranger… is really just an open book. By far the most effusive and straightforward of the entire cast, his actions are wildly unconventional and sometimes wholly inexplicable. But given time to explain himself, he is always, always sincere in his intentions — and unlike the rest of the love interests, naturally inclined to offer bits of himself to Aoba. It doesn’t take the entire character arc to figure out his big, bad secret — our main character gets an inkling about halfway through his route — and what’s even better is that he embraces it, understanding that his abilities also allow him to protect what he cherishes: Aoba. 

So what if he doesn’t fit into an easily recognizable box of daydream boyfriend material? He’s contradictory, and contradiction is interesting. Dons a gas mask, but isn’t an edgelord. Blandly dressed, but ridiculously charming. Unreadable and modestly intimidating — until he opens his mouth. Even without the benefit of traversing his route, there’s already so much good stuff to work with, and sure as hell, you’re kept guessing all the way to the end.

Character Development — from reckless devotion into complaisant subservience, complaisant subservience into mutual understanding. And then, of course: free will, and true love. 

At its core, DMMD is about a dude with magic mind-melding powers and his merry band of attractive men with — surprise! — crippling emotional baggage. Each route follows the same pattern, simply remixing the individual character interactions and the pace of the program: Aoba finds himself isolated with the love interest, faces various communication issues varying on the scale of frustrating to downright dangerous, wanders into a sketchy section of Platinum Jail, bonds with the love interest over shared duress, breaks into the Oval Tower, faces mental assault by the big bad — and finally, finally, destroys those internal demons plaguing the love interest, releasing the couple onto the path of a real heart-to-heart conversation. And then, you know, the lovey-dovey stuff. 

Here’s the thing: as far as romantic progression goes, it’s really not a bad structure. There’s room to bump heads, but also to bond. The Scrap scene is a thematically cohesive and clever way to squeeze in the full breadth of character backstory while simultaneously advancing the plot. In this part, Aoba must become the hero to each of his love interests and save them from themselves. Having become privy to each other’s deepest thoughts and reaching a mutual understanding of each other, their feelings afterwards slide much more naturally into romantic territory. They break free of Oval Tower, make their way home, and have hot, emotionally fulfilling sex or otherwise some variation on the last few steps. The end. 

That is, except for Clear. 

Clear’s route is refreshing in that he needs none of these things — the climax of his emotional arc actually comes a little after the halfway point of his route. When Clear’s true origins are revealed, he comes entirely clean to Aoba, fighting against his fear of rejection but also trusting that Aoba will listen. It’s a quiet, vulnerable moment, rather than the action-packed tension we normally experience during a Scrap scene. 

That doesn’t mean it’s prematurely written in — it simply means that he reaches his potential faster than the other characters. Because of that, he’s free to pursue the next level of his route’s development much, much sooner in the timeline: he overcomes his fears of his appearance, he confesses his love to Aoba, he leaves the confines of a largely dubious master-servant relationship and allows himself to be Aoba’s equal. Clear’s sprite art mirrors his emotional transformation all the way through, exposing him to the literal bone — and Aoba’s affection for him doesn’t change a single bit. Beautiful.

The whammy of incredible moments doesn’t just stop there, though. I don’t exactly recall the order the routes DMMD is ideally meant to be played in, but I believe Clear’s is meant to be last. And if you do, I can guarantee that it becomes a hugely delightful gameplay experience — in order to achieve his good ending, you must do absolutely nothing with Scrap. It doesn’t just subvert our player expectations of proactively clicking and interacting with our love interests; it grabs the story by its thematic reins and yanks it all back to the forefront of our scene. 

In every route besides Clear’s, Scrap is a tool used to insert Aoba’s influence into and interfere with his target’s mind. Using his powers of destruction, Aoba is able to prune whatever maligned thoughts are harming his target; in any conventional situation, using Scrap is the right choice. 

But one of the central problems in Clear’s route is his conflict between the impulses of his conditioning and his desire to live freely as a human would. Breaking free of Toue’s programming is what initially made him unique; growing beyond the rules imposed by his grandfather is what makes him human. In the final conflict scene, Clear’s decision to destroy his key-lock is an action of true autonomy, made with perfect understanding of the consequences and a sincere, selflessly selfish desire to protect someone he loves. In order to receive his good end, you have to respect his decision. It doesn’t matter which option you pick — by using Scrap, Aoba turns his back on every positive choice he made with Clear and attempts to exert his authority over him. This is Aoba becoming Toue; this is Aoba trying to reinstate himself as ‘Master’ right as he approved Clear as his equal. That’s blatant hypocrisy, and it doesn’t matter if Aoba is trying to do it for Clear’s ‘own good’ — that’s not Aoba’s call to make. If you truly wish to respect Clear’s free will, you will stand by. This is the truth of the moment: Clear has no emotional blockages that Aoba needs to fix. Believe in him, just as he believed in you.

The path to his heart is, and always has been, clear. Scrap was never needed from the start.

While Aoba might be the main character, Clear is undeniably a hero in his own route just as much. Tirelessly earnest and always curious, he leaps headlong into the unknown and emerges with his newfound enlightenment. He’s unafraid of weathering trials, even to the point of accepting death, and returns anew from oblivion to a sweet, cathartic ending. That’s about as textbook hero’s journey as it gets — if that doesn’t make him unquestionably, certifiably, unconditionally human, then I will scream.

And only finally… there is the free end. The final CG is like a throwback to our first impression of him: indistinct, purposefully obscured from proper view. But this time, we know better — and so does Aoba. Looks were never what mattered in Clear’s route. If you were patient, and you were open-minded, and you listened… well, what we realize now is that Clear was doing the exact same thing for you, too.

From a carefree, aimless robot-man with only the gimmick of “eccentric ditz” to carry him forward, we get a supremely more interesting character by the end: a man who has graduated from the well-intentioned but claustrophobic conditioning of his childhood; a weapon who has defied the imperatives placed on him by his creator’s programming; a wanderer who has, through unconditional patience and empathy, discovered love, and striven to become a better person for it. Who was it that ever doubted Clear’s character? He’s the goddamn goodest boy that ever wanted to be a real boy. Of course Clear is human. And in fact, he does it better than every single one of the actually human love interests. You can’t change my mind.

The Romance — kindness is really fucking attractive, okay.

Like I’ve said earlier, I have my Big Fan Blinds stuck on pretty tight. I might be conjuring sparks from thin air. But I think every choice was a deliberate creative decision on the writers’ part, and they deserve all the kudos for it — I’m just the lucky player who gets to enjoy it. But aside from Noiz (who I also think is a perfect darling as well — I could go on and on about him), Clear’s route is a model example for consent and healthy relationships in VN storytelling. This is reciprocated on both sides: never does Aoba infringe on Clear’s boundaries, and neither does Clear. They’re sensitive to each other’s needs and concerns; they ask for permission and stop when it isn’t granted (and when it is, boy do they get frisky — I’m not complaining!) I don’t need to say much more, because I think that consent is both fantastic and yes, incredibly hot (the scene in DMMD is tons more sad, go play Re:connect!). Good writing shows off the massive erotic potential enthusiastic consent puts into intimacy, and Aoba’s and Clear’s relationship is honestly a dream playground. The point is, I think Aoba and Clear genuinely do find equal balance in their relationship by the end of his route (and certainly through Re:connect). If you follow through Re:connect’s storyline, there’s even more thematic richness that comes through in the form of Clear’s greatest asset: communication. The couple get to discuss the long-term implications of them being together; they both offer concerns, points, and assurances to the other, and it’s just a soft, honest moment not so unlike the worries of a real relationship. Hearing is kind of Clear’s motif sense, but it’s really great to see that Aoba also subtly picks it up, really flexes his own communication skills to better engage with Clear. 

Point is, Clear’s route spoke to me on a lot of little levels. Design-wise, he’s already got a ton going for him, and his story builds upon it rather than against it, enriching his development and grounding him a little more solidly in the DMMD universe (and in my heart). His route, aside from being emotionally ruinous, carries a pretty solid chunk of world-building (only beaten out by Mink’s and Ren’s, probably), and the romance feels organic, healthy, and realistic. He’s not the only one with an excellent route, but he’s my favorite. If you read through all of this, you’re a real trooper and I’m extremely impressed. Thanks for tuning in. Peace.

#dramatical murder #dmmd #aoba seragaki #clear #dmmd clear #long ass emotional screeching #lOL I FORGOT TO DRAW IN THE UMBRELLA HANDLE ahA #fixed

[flying-elliska]

S5 Review pt.1 : the Good

Arthur season is over, time to analyze it as a finished story ! This meta in 3 parts will go over the good, the bad and the mindboggling. My general impression of the season : excellent beginning, very meh middle, interesting ending. In short :  flawed but I feel people calling it a total disaster really are not making any effort to see it objectively. So ; let's dig into the why and how.

What I liked about this season :

A story made with and for Deaf people : It’s pretty evident when watching the interviews that Winona and Lucas really really enjoyed making the season and that it offered them an unprecedented level of representation. The creators obviously did their research, working with the people of the IVT. Personally I feel like I learned so much and the clips showing aspects of Deaf culture were among my favorites. It felt like a nuanced, rich, in-depth perspective, with details like choosing to get a cochlear implant or not, the testimony evening, the sign language class, Noee’s sign dance, the different ways to enjoy music, how to speak to someone who is Deaf, etc...showing that not everyone within that community has the same story or opinion, that they’re just people with their unique challenges but shared needs, as well as the really awesome culture that is part of being Deaf. It felt really respectful and a thousand miles away from the usual miserabilistic clichés - it brought up some concern about how difficult it is to be rejected/invisible in today’s society, but it was balanced with emotions like curiosity, admiration, and awe. I came to SKAM for the representation but I absolutely love getting educated about groups I’m not part of and I feel this is truly where the season shines. Learning from Deaf fans was also hella interesting. 

A complex discussion about disability : A central plot point, and one of my favorites, was Arthur learning to overcome his (now internalized) ableism. We see that Arthur is an overachiever and this change in his life upsets this idea of the perfect life he has in mind. He repeadedly lashes out at the other Deaf people he meets, makes fun of sign language, underlines how he is ‘not like them’ at the beginning because he is still clinging to his own self image. We can understand where this comes from when we see how condescending towards any sort of weakness, and focused on performance over empathy his father is. But as he learns to meet actual Deaf people and see the diversity and beauty of the community, he learns there is no shame in that sort of difference and learns to stand up for himself and that was amazing to see. Another important part was Laura and Melchior’s inclusion and beyond being very funny, they highlighted the idea that although disabled people have different, sometimes competing needs, they also have things in common, and that deep wish of not being discounted/othered/excluded. All the disabled characters this season were complex, real people, not there just to teach others a lesson or inspire them or be pitied or the butt of a joke, and that is so sadly rare nowadays. Even though some bits did feel a bit like a PSA, I feel like overall it was very well done. 

The politics of desirability : A theme running through the season is the idea that who we are attracted to is socially constructed and can really be biased by our prejudices. Alexia expressed this idea (albeit clumsily) in the bar scene early on, and this came back when she talked about her insecurities. This was also present in Laura’s insistence that disabled people have certain needs like everybody else. And finally, it’s present in Arthur’s own struggles - his fear of not being able to sleep with his girlfriend with his hearing aids, and his own difficulties in seeing what is happening with Noee and him saying ‘she’s deaf’ to the question ‘is she beautiful’ even as he is obviously into her. Our society gives us this incredibly narrow set of criteria for who is considered attractive - thin, white, able bodied, etc - but people’s actual real patterns of attraction and finding beauty are, when you set those prejudices aside, and see the beauty of people for who they are and not how well they fit a box, so much more broad and generous and diverse and I loved how this season highlighted that. 

Technical excellence : God, the cinematography this season was absolutely off the charts, it makes me wish they could redo previous seasons with this amount of style. Shots like Arthur under the shower, or that party at the Asso with the blurry dancing, the shots in the pool, or the ones from the farm episode...INCREDIBLE. The sound editing was used sooooo well to put us in Arthur’s shoes, it was a wonder and I really felt how intense the change must have been for him because of that. And the acting is impeccable. You can really feel how well these actors know their characters by now, they have total mastery of their portrayal. Robin did an awesome job with tough scenes, but just...everyone was on their best game really. 

A nuanced portrayal of abuse : Arthur’s relationship with his father was thouroughly heartbreaking, and it felt very real. I am very grateful that they didn’t try to redeem him - it’s important to show that even if you are trying your best, some people are toxic abusers and the best thing you can do is take your distance. I felt it right away, in the subtle way he was dismissing and belittling his wife and son, in the ways he was asserting his control over them, and I wasn’t surprised at all when more came out. It surprised me in the beginning that so many people were arguing that the father was caring, just strict - I feel like the signs were so obvious but I guess that’s the point. Abuse is a pattern that becomes visible over time and abusers can be perfectly charming and reasonable to people who don’t know what it’s like. Growing up with that is isolating and terrifying and it does awful things to your self esteem and your capacity to be in tune with your feelings. We can see that when Arthur basically defends his father’s actions because he is still so eager to have his love and placate him. Arthur’s behavior did not come from nowhere and it was inspiring to see him grow past that and realize he did not have to perpetuate the pattern and make his own choices. Also, his relationship with his mom was very sweet, supportive (her smoking weed with him was awesome) but complex - the way he was mean to her sometimes, condescending bc of her lack of studies ; the way she blamed herself for not seeing sooner - she must have been subjected to Patrick’s more emotional abuse, and so she will probably feel like she should have reacted sooner or known and that’s like...painful ugh. This whole thing was so raw and real. And it was incredibly important to see the nurse and her Jerome - adults, with medical knowledge - see Arthur’s situation and tell him that sometimes you just have to leave. 

Highs and lows of friendship : Basile !!!! I was not a fan in s3 but the great aspect of POV shift is allowing us to see some characters through a different angle - even though I think Basile went through a lot of growth too. In Lucas’s season he was meant to be the annoying gross overly straight guy as a contrast - but for Arthur he is this devoted friend that is so open and sincere in his affection that his awkwardness comes off as endearing instead. You really understand why those two are friends : Arthur is smart, sarcastic, he can help Basile with social awareness and hype him up, but he’s also so painfully guarded and finds it hard to express emotion, I think, and it makes sense he loves Basile’s spontaneity and big heart. Meeting his grandfather was also so funny and endearing, as were all the marks of more physical affection he wasn’t afraid to show Arthur. I think having a friend like that is part of what allows Arthur to finally stand up on his own - whether against his father or deciding he needs to be single to figure himself out. As for the Gang in general, I loved the moments where they were all happy together (the early graffiti clip is truly one of the shining moments of the season for me) but their later spat is also quite understandable to me. I find it very realistic that although they are trying their best to accomodate their new friend’s disability, they’re going to mess up, that’s part of the process. The most important thing, I think, when faced with someone who is different from you, is to engage with it (respectfully) - ask questions, not assume. And communicate ffs.  I also really liked those moments where the Crew and Gang came together, it gave this big end of high school vibe where all the squads merge and there is this feeling of having gone through an ordeal together that makes everyone closer.  There were also so many funny moments  that were absolute gold (the wheelbarrow ! the dinosaur balloons ! Imane getting attacked by chickens ! Emma and her horse! ).

Arthur on his own : I liked the more introspective moments we got this season. The successive alarms while he was angsting about his hearing coming back were such a clever way to put us in his perspective - there is already a lot of stress linked to a morning alarm, isn’t there ? We all know that moment in the morning where we don’t want to get out of bed and face the world, and taking that emotion and adding Arthur’s absolute stress at realizing that this change is lasting, it was really effective. Arthur’s link to water, as a symbol of another world where sound is much more diffuse, is quite interesting too. And the moment in last episode where he puts his glasses back on, too, as a more obvious sign of a disability that is very socially accepted and that is just part of who he is, just as his hearing loss is. We also got a moment with the bench of loneliness that was an interesting parallel with s3. (I love how the Buttes-Chaumont parc has become this double symbol in Skam France of both loneliness/alienation/putting on a mask and growth/return to authenticity.) And I like that he ended up the season single and deciding to figure himself out. It’s a big aspect of his character that he has spent too much time trying to conform to expectations and that he was super walled off as a result, that he hurt others without realizing, that he found himself boring, that he didn’t seem to open up to his friends, etc...and in the end he is a lot more open but he also knows there is a part of growth that being in a relationship cannot bring him. He can’t use women the way his father did. I respect that a lot, honestly, it’s what saved the end of the season for me, that they didn’t end up putting one girl above the other and made it about Arthur being lost and needing to find his way on his own. 

The tornado and the sunshine : The new characters were awesome. Her role in the plot set aside, I really liked Noée as a character concept. I think Winona was awesome, and I liked Noée’s mix of warmth and feistiness. I like that they let her be angry at the way the world treated her, and compassionate at the same time. Also her headbutting that guy in the club that didn’t want to listen to her was !!! iconic. I loved her style, too, and that dance was so beautiful. Camille was a great addition to the team too, Arthur was lucky to find someone that patient and his dry humor but sunny disposition were great too. It was cute to see him with Mika as a couple of gurus - that we did get a Deaf/hearing couple was a good addition to the season, I think - and I hope we’ll see both of those new characters next season, too. 

Queen Alexia : She was definitely one of the characters I had the most emotions for this season. She’s just so cool and her perspective on life is just so mature and interesting, her acceptance of herself and others so inspiring - a lot of the early clips with her were adorable. I loved how supportive she was in such a creative, playful way - that game she made for Arthur, the boards she brought, etc. The moments she talked about her insecurities, if bittersweet because of what happened later, remains one of my faves from the season. She was so beautiful framed by rainbows (also apparently that’s her sign name ? Amazing.) And the moment where she sings was just...oof. She was really brave and strong to be able to do that, to express her emotions and hurt in such a public, dignified and creative way. It was a moment of reckoning for Arthur, putting him on the spot and recognizing how much he hurt her, but it was done in such a graceful way - the way she signed to signal her acceptance of his Deafness, the reminder that she loves him and won’t be able to forget that immediately, and a rejoinder to recognize his feelings towards Noee, etc. She wasn’t perfect (organizing that meeting without asking really pushed it a bit too far - you can’t rush someone else’s self acceptance) but she was just ...really good. 

Elu as an established couple : One of my biggest reproaches to s3 is that they didn’t give us enough fluff after all the drama (time constraints, I know, etc.) But this season they really delivered. And listen I know some fans love to blather about fanservice but fuck it, I just love seeing a healthy domestic queer couple on screen !!!! It’s just so bloody healing, because they feel real and in love like nothing I have ever seen on screen before. Maybe because so often straight actors are so awkward at playing queer intimacy and they’re really not. Seeing them in their new appartment was like a pure shot of serotonin - morning croissants ! fairylights everywhere ! but I also liked that it wasn’t too fluffy one note. We can still see that Eliott struggles with MI, that Lucas has some insecurities, but yet their devotion to each other is still as strong, as in “he’s my boyfriend and I love him.” It was a hopeful note throughout the season, Lucas being persistent and devoted all through the challenges of being with someone who is mentally ill. Also, I really liked Eliott’s role this season, as a sort of...provider for the Gang ? Getting them a van, bringing them to the cool graffiti place, making this fresque for them...you can feel he’s not 100% part of the gang because he’s older, already in college, etc, but at the same time he has sort of an observer role that can give them things no one else can. I feel like Lucas confided in him about the troubles they were going through and Eliott can empathize with being treated different, the fear of losing your friends...so Eliott helped them in his unique way, through art. And him having this new secret place he can bring more people to, and so full of color and sharing his art with people and !!!! God I’m emo he’s just my fave character ever really. 

The pressure of the future : Listen the last year of high school in France is horrible, there is the pressure from the BAC + half the people are passing entrance exams and doing interviews for the stuff you want to do later and it’s so stressful and I’m glad they touched on that at least a little. Emma really embodied this theme this season, of the pressure of not wanting to know what you want to do later. It’s really when you realize that they’re all so young and being asked to make such big decisions for their entire lives is really sort of fucked up, and I think her being there is a way to dedramatize not knowing, and gives Arthur the freedom to see he doesn’t want to be a doctor ; I liked the apt comparison with Imane’s passion for medecine. I wish we’d seen more of Arthur figuring out his real passion (did he make that painting or what ?) but I appreciated this storyline. 

Overall, I think this season was full of excellent moments - either funny, heartwarming, heartbreaking, or edifying - and it provided some much needed quality representation for the Deaf community. In that, and having educated a lot of people, it is at least somewhat a success. However, as a whole, it did not quite come together for me, which is what I will analyze in my next post. 

#skam france #skamfr s5 #skam france meta #my meta #arthur broussard

[st-crylo]

Rebound

Part 3

A/N: The party is next week, so this week you get some build up! This chapter’s a little shorter, but I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of drug use, swearing, tobacco use, mentions of alcohol use.

Word Count: 5.6K

Tagging: @haylaansmi @nankstasty @thomasscresswell

Masterlist

You felt your chest tighten, and a wave of nausea hit you. You hadn’t expected to receive a message at all, let alone when you were without the company of your friends. Your hands were shaking, and you weren’t sure what to do.

So, you opened the message. 

Sorry for the late reply. I took this picture at a party Wednesday night. A few of us on the soccer team decided to go to this house party in Corellia. Shawn was flirting with this girl all night, but I never got a good shot of them together until I found them making out on the couch. I asked some of the guys about it, and Dylan said that he’d been seriously talking to this girl for about a month.

It was like your heart broke all over again. The walls felt like they were closing in, and you felt like you couldn’t breath. It would have been one thing if this was a one time thing, caused by some drunken stupor, but knowing that he’d been talking to this girl before then? It crushed every part of you. Only one thought stuck out in the cascading river of emotions: Why wasn’t I good enough? 

With a choked sob, you let your tears fall freely. You needed to talk to someone, desperately. You knew that if you bottled this knowledge up, it wouldn’t be long before you went crazy. Kylo wasn’t really an option, after all he would probably insist you sit with him outside, and you weren’t quite mentally ready to leave your room at the moment. You definitely didn’t want to call any of your old friends. You had barely talked to them recently, you felt it would be shitty of you to just dump all of this on them.

So, you decided to dial Sami.

It took two rings before Sami picked up, and when she did, you were still sobbing.

“(y/n)? What happened?” she said, her voice slightly distorted through the phone. Through your sobs and tears, you read her the message the sender of the picture had sent you. 

“Fuck that. What an asshole,” was her response.

“I just d-d-don’t get it,” you said, trying to wipe away your tears as you began to calm down. “Why wasn’t I enough for him?” It almost felt stupid to ask, but it was how you honestly felt.

“Sweetie, don’t think like that. It’s not your fault he couldn’t keep his hands to himself,” she assured you with a stern tone. “Men like Shawn never realize that they have something good until they lose it.” 

Your mind, however lacking in rationality it was right now, knew that what Sami was saying was true. That didn’t stop your heart from feeling like it was ripping in two. You were planning your life with this man. As stupid as that sounded, especially in retrospect, you had hoped the two of you would spend your lives together. Even though you already knew that wasn’t going to happen, the hurt of the fact that he’d been flirting with someone behind your back told you that he hadn’t thought like that, or even worse, that he could fool around and have you waiting for him. It made his insistence to talk to you all the more unbearable. Why would he want you back if he’d been talking to this unnamed girl for a month?

“Are you gonna talk to Kylo about this?” Sami said, breaking the silence you’d created. You thought about the question for a moment, and wondered whether you should. 

“No,” you decided, a hiccup proceeding your words. “If Kylo finds out, he’ll beat Shawn’s ass.”

“You’re right. Kylo doesn’t fuck around with cheaters. I’m surprised he hasn’t already beat Shawn’s ass,” Sami mused. “Look, try to keep yourself distracted, and think ahead to Friday. I’m assuming you got permission?”

“Yeah. We need to take a picture together when I get there, so I can send it to my mom. I had to tell her about dinner with the Skywalkers, and obviously, she doesn’t trust Kylo,” you responded. Sami was right, the best thing you could do was try to look forward to Friday. 

The two of you talked a while longer, until you had fully calmed down. Not long after, your mom called you for dinner, so you said your goodbyes and hung up. It wasn’t until after you’d hung up that you remembered that Sami said she’d recognized the girl in the photo. You pondered on whether or not to call her back after dinner, but you ultimately decided that you couldn’t handle that knowledge tonight. 

***

Wednesday and Thursday passed by in a blur. Wednesday morning, when you’d gotten into Kylo’s car, he’d asked if you were alright, but you answered rather placidly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Thankfully, that had been enough for Kylo, and you were content with holding off the slaughter for another day, but you knew eventually, Kylo would find out. You were just worried that Kylo would get worse than house arrest when he did.

Wednesday had passed by quickly, probably because you had spent a good portion of the day spacing out, choosing not to be present in any conversations. As much as you wanted to pretend that you were fine, you most certainly were not, and you were glad that no one had pressed the matter. You suspected that either Sami or Kylo had informed them not to. 

The drive home Wednesday was silent, Kylo choosing to play music instead of forcing you to talk. You listened to the music, preferring the music over your tumultuous thoughts. The more you listened, the more you realised that Kylo had really good taste in music. You began to sway your head to the music.

When Kylo pulled into the driveway, you gathered your backpack, prepared to say a quick goodbye before making a beeline for your house, but Kylo laid a hand over yours as he turned to look at you.

“Look, I don’t expect you to tell me what happened, but I can only assume it has to do with Shawn. I just want you to know that if you ever need catharsis without having to talk about anything, let me know. I have plenty of glass bottles to break,” he said, the corner of his lip turning up in a smirk as he said the last part. You looked into his brown eyes, and where most people saw coldness, you felt a great sense of warmth. Something about Kylo’s presence had become really comforting to you.

“I’ll let you know,” you said with a smile before leaning across the dash to give him a hug. As you wrapped your arms around him, he did the same, and you breathed in the smell of fir and cedar, along with faint hints of cigarette smoke. Damn, how did someone who smelt like cigs manage to smell so good?

When you let go, you gave one last smile before departing the car, heading for the door to your house. 

Thursday was a lot better, but your thoughts still plagued your mind. It was now a week since you’d received the photo, knowledge that would tear you apart. It was amazing how, even within a week, you felt you had changed so much. You’d always been warned that your first break-up would do that to you, but you’d never expected to break up with Shawn, and you certainly never expected him to cheat on you. 

As you walked out the door, lunch bag in hand, you noticed that Kylo was talking to someone. Upon further inspection, you realised it was his grandfather.

“Well, make sure you’re calling your mother. She says you haven’t spoken to her, other than sending one word responses to her texts. She worries about you, you know,” Mr Skywalker said, his arms crossed over his chest. Kylo looked away from his grandfather, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, I will later,” he responded in a mutter. You wouldn’t have heard him if you hadn’t been walking towards them.

“Good morning, miss (y/l/n)!” Mr Skywalker said as he noticed you walking towards them. Kylo turned around to see you, and gave you his signature half smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Skywalker,” you responded as you fell into place beside Kylo, giving him a smile. He smiled right back at you. You had always liked the Skywalkers. Even though you hadn’t really talked to them all that much, they were nice to you whenever you did. 

“Alright, well drive safe, Kylo,” he said, turning back to his grandson. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, Granpa,” Kylo responded before turning away and heading towards his car. You gave Mr. Skywalker a final wave goodbye before making your way to the passenger side of the car. 

As you climbed into the car, Kylo turned on the engine, and you put your seatbelt on, settling into the seat. Admittedly, listening to Kylo and Mr. Skywalker's talk was a little heartwarming.

“I didn’t know your Granpa called you Kylo,” you said as Kylo pulled out of the driveway. When you turned to look at the window, Mr. Skywalker was sitting on the porch, waving goodbye.

“He’s the only one who does. Said he was the same way when he was my age, which Gran confirmed. It’s part of the reason I like Granpa the best,” Kylo said as he drove. “You excited for tomorrow?” 

You had been so caught up in your sorrow you nearly forgot that tomorrow was Friday. As soon as you remembered, you could feel the excitement begin to build within you. 

“Yeah. I’ve never been to a party before. At least, not an actual high school party,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. You were sure Kylo had gone to his fair share of parties in his day, and the thought made you feel kind of amateurish.

“Parties aren’t really my thing, I just like to smoke and drink. Being crossfaded is a nice feeling. But, Jordan has a lot of college friends. That’s why she decided to go to Coruscant Central. All of her college friends are there. But, because she has so many college friends, her parties are more like college parties. A lot more drinks, and a lot more drugs,” Kylo said.

You felt your chest tighten slightly. You’d never once had anything to drink, and you definitely had never tried any drugs. The idea was certainly daunting.

Kylo, probably sensing your unease, turned to sneak a peek at you before looking back at the road.

“Look, you don’t have to try anything you don’t want to. Usually, Jordan’s friends only ever bring weed. There was a time they brought acid, but they won’t pressure you into taking anything. They’re all chill people,” he assured you. It did make you feel a little better. If Kylo trusted them, then you would trust them.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, and the silence continued as the two of you waited to be allowed into the building. Once inside, Kylo walked with you until it was time for your paths to diverge. He waved at you, and you waved back, giving him a half smile before heading off to first block. 

Instead of the nice and quick passage of time that you’d lived through the first three days of school, your first two blocks passed by agonizingly slow. It almost felt as if someone was controlling time, making your economics teacher speak in slow motion, and the ticking of the clock to be abnormally slow. The feeling made you want to pull your hair out. It gave you too much time to think, and that was the last thing you wanted. You really wished there was a way to get your mind to stop thinking for once, and just be empty-headed with no emotions. 

Naturally, second block was no better, and you had to resist the urge to bang your head on the desk as you took notes, trying your hardest to pay attention to what your math teacher was saying. You kept stealing glances at your phone, and at one point, you saw a text message show up on your lock screen. Glancing up at the front, you noticed how your teacher, Mrs. Portman, was looking solely at the board. You had another advantage, as you sat at the very back of the class. Unlocking your phone, you saw a message from Kylo.

Apparently Shawn already thinks we’re flirting, cause Dylan just came up to me and threatened me. Confused, you started to type back.

Really? What did he say? Also, what class do you have with Dylan? As you sent the message, you carefully placed your phone beside your notebook and looked up at the board so as to not raise suspicion. You knew Mrs. Portman wouldn’t give you detention for having your phone out, but she would certainly give you a stern talking to. You did, however, keep glancing at your phone waiting for a response. When your screen lit up, you checked to make sure you weren’t being watched before looking back down.

Said I had no right to be flirting with “Shawn’s girl,” and that I need to back off. Also, I have weight training with him. 

You tried to stifle a laugh. Yeah, what Dylan, Shawn’s best friend and confidante, said to Kylo was annoying, especially since you now knew more about the situation than before, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the idea that Kylo took weight training. Imagining Kylo Ren lifting weights was an odd thought. 

Funny, considering Dylan flirts with girls before they even break up with their boyfriends. Dylan certainly had a reputation as a womanizer. He probably would’ve flirted with you, too, if you hadn’t been dating Shawn.

Some men truly only think with their smaller head. 

You shook your head at Kylo’s response before typing up a response of your own.

Never thought of it that way. Of course, I can’t imagine that head has a very long neck attached to it. 

Have you seen the truck he drives? He’s definitely compensating. You tried hard not to laugh again. Finally, someone said what you’d been thinking for almost two years. 

The bell rang, and you let out a sigh of relief as you packed your stuff back into your backpack, and headed off to lunch. 

In the cafeteria, the same level of noise rang throughout the hall, and you were glad you always brought your own lunch as you looked at the line before heading to the courtyard for lunch. It was a beautiful day today, and the sun warmed your skin as soon as you stepped outside, peering around before you spotted Sami and Alan, who were already sitting side by side. 

“How are you feeling today?” Sami asked as you sat down next to her, pulling some fruit snacks out of your lunch bag. 

“Better. Still pissed, but better,” you assured her. You popped one of the fruit snacks into your mouth before looking up, seeing Kylo and Phasma walking side by side, the two in deep conversation.

“I told her I didn’t really feel comfortable with them coming, but she promised they would behave,” Phasma said as she and Kylo sat down, Kylo sitting next to you.

“I fucking hope so. I thought Milo might get arrested, he almost beat the shit out of Andrew,” Kylo said.

“You guys aren’t talking about Andrew and Lauren, are you?” Sami said, looking between Kylo and Phasma. 

“Yeah, Jordan invited them to come tomorrow, but she said she doesn’t really think they’ll come,” Phasma answered.

“Who are they?” You asked, curious about people potentially coming to the party, especially since Sami seemed worried when she asked about them.

“Assholes. Andrew and Lauren are two of Jordan’s friends who already go to CCU. They cause drama with Milo each time, and Andrew keeps looking at me like he’s looking for a fight with me next. Can’t say I’m shocked, I think he lives to get his ass beat,” Kylo said before stealing one of your fruit snacks. You playfully punched his arm as he popped it into his mouth.

“On top of that, Lauren keeps trying to sleep with Jordan. Jordan keeps saying that she’s only like that when she’s fucked up, but she’s always giving me dirty looks,” Phasma said, picking at her food. 

Kylo typed something on his phone before showing the screen to you. Phasma and Jordan are dating. That did clarify things. 

“Well, let’s hope Jordan’s right, and they won’t even bother showing up. After all, they’re gonna have all this time with Jordan once their semester starts,” Sami said with resignation, taking a sip of the soda she was drinking. 

“I don’t feel like being here tomorrow,” Phasma said before heaving a sigh. 

“I can’t skip. All of my teachers are friends with my grandfather, not to mention my uncle,” Kylo said with a frown. “I think they did it on purpose.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me, after all your mother is very well-to-do in town, on top of the fact that she’s a government official,” Alan offered. “You got into a lot of trouble last year especially.”

“That’s because Stella would drag me across the state,” Kylo huffed out, a frown forming on his face. You put your hand on his under the table, and he gave you a half-smile. 

“We also barely ever saw you then. It’s a miracle they didn’t hold you back,” Sami noted. 

“They can’t say I’m not smart,” was Kylo’s response. 

When lunch was over, the five of you split your separate ways, and you and Kylo walked to physics. 

“You know what we should do?” Kylo said as the two of you pushed your way through the crowd of students in order to get to the physics room.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Fan the flame,” was all Kylo said, before he held out his hand for you to take. With a smirk, and a rush of excitement in your heart, you took his hand, lacing your fingers with his. 

The initial discomfort of how large his hand was compared to yours was overtaken by how well your fingers seemed to lace together with his. Even though his hands were a little rough, nothing about holding his hand felt unnatural, like you’d expected it to. 

Walking into the classroom with each other’s hands clasped caused about as much of a stir as you thought it would, and oddly enough, some sick part of you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the whispers of people as the two of you walked to sit at your lab table. 

“Did you see that?”

“I guess she’s going for bad boys now.”

“What a way to throw away her future.” 

You ignored them- doing so was becoming a sport to you- and you pulled your stuff out of your bag, and prepared to take notes for the day. Kylo leaned over to whisper in your ear, clearly getting as close as he was for dramatic effect. 

“Someone’s fuming. Feels like daggers are being stared into my back,” he said to you before sitting up straight and pulling out his own notebook. You didn’t dare look behind you, and instead decided to laugh. Amazing how the simple act of holding hands could get someone so heated. 

Physics passed by quickly, probably because you were now in the company of a friend. Between taking notes from the board, you and Kylo would draw on each other’s notebooks, or write notes for each other, trying your hardest to keep from laughing. 

The two of you made sure to hold hands walking out, as well, and you laughed all the way to English. 

“I only caught a glimpse of his face, but damn was the motherfucker mad,” Kylo said, withdrawing his hand from yours as the two of you entered Mr. Skywalker’s classroom. A very small part of you missed the warmth of his hands when he did. 

“Good. I hope his blood boils so much that his head pops off,” you joked as the two of you sat down behind Phasma and Sami. 

“What are you two so chipper about?” Phasma asked, turning to face the two of you. 

“Just pissing off Satan himself,” you answered, pulling things from your backpack.

“Amazing how holding hands can bring so much anger to one person,” Kylo mused as Mr. Skywalker stood, looking around the room and taking attendance as the late bell rang. 

English passed by as quickly as it could, with people reading a book written in old English aloud. You simply ignored them, opting to read ahead and block out the voices. When you glanced over at Kylo, you saw he wasn’t even paying attention. He noticed you looking at him, and wrote on the corner of his notebook.

I read this over the summer.

You rolled your eyes. I guess it made sense, if his uncle already knew that Kylo was going to be in class, and Kylo was under house arrest over the summer.

Did you read all the books for class? You wrote in his notebook. Kylo quickly wrote back before sliding the notebook to you discreetly.

Not Midsummer Night’s Dream. I didn’t feel like reading a play. 

You decided to turn away, with a shake of your head, and keep reading ahead. If you finished the book early, you could get a head start on the essay. 

Once Mr. Skywalker announced the class finished for the day, you tore a piece of paper and used it as a bookmark for where you’d left off in the book before stowing your stuff away into your backpack. 

“I’m skipping tomorrow, sorry Kylo,” Phasma said as she and Sami turned to face the two of you. “I’m gonna help Jordan set up.”

“Jealous. I guess I’ll see you there,” Kylo responded. “What about you, Sami?”

“I’m gonna come, I can’t let you two suffer alone,” Sami said, checking her phone. You felt your phone buzz, and you picked it up from the desk, unlocking it to see a message from Rey.

Can we talk tonight? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, the text read. You smiled before typing onto your keyboard.

Yeah! I’ve been meaning to call you. You sent the message as the bell rang, and the four of you rose from your seats. Like usual, the four of you walked together, travelling with the crowd like a school of fish all headed for the entrance of the school, relieved the school day was over and the weekend was almost here. You and Kylo departed from Phasma and Sami before heading to Kylo’s car, deciding to sit in the parking lot for a while before heading home. Kylo pulled out a cigarette as he leaned against the hood of his car. You did the same, watching as people scrambled to their cars. You felt so disconnected from everyone now, you realised. When you were dating Shawn, you were a part of the popular crowd, everyone knew and liked you, and you had plenty of friends. Now, you were beginning to become an outcast. But, as you watched Kylo smoke his cigarette, you couldn’t help but be thankful for that. Even though people like Rey, Finn, and the others were genuine people, a lot of the people Shawn had been friends with weren’t, and Kylo’s crowd was a hell of a lot more accepting than any of them. In four days, you’d made amazing new friends, and you couldn’t help but be thankful.

“What?” Kylo asked when he caught you staring at him. Your face flushed from embarrassment, and you turned away, looking out at the crowd of students before smiling. 

“Nothing. I’m just really grateful that you guys just kind of took me in,” you said.

“We used to be great friends. Besides, I figured you would appreciate friends who understand more. Not to be dramatic, but none of us have had it easy. It just makes it easier for us to connect to each other,” Kylo explained before tossing the cigarette butt on the ground and stomping it out. 

The two of you got into the car and silently drove home. Something you noticed- that you weren’t quite ready to tell Kylo- was how at ease Kylo made you. Though the torrential waves of emotion coursed through you normally, any time you were near Kylo, the sea inside you was calmed, and you felt like you could actually enjoy life for a few brief moments. 

When the two of you pulled up to the cul de sac, you saw the two old men sitting on the porch at the Skywalker house. One was obviously the older Mr. Skywalker, chatting away to the man next to him, who you recognized as Mr. Kenobi. Kylo pulled into the driveway and let out a sigh. 

“Great, now I get to be asked a lot of questions,” Kylo said with a huff, pushing his black hair out of his face before shutting off the engine. You stepped out of the car, closing the door behind you as you waited for Kylo to get out so you could say goodbye.

“Well, hello (y/n),” Mr. Kenobi called out as he noticed you. You smiled and walked over to the other side of the car in order to properly say hello.

“Hello, Mr. Kenobi! How’ve you been?” you asked, smiling up at the two old men.

“I’ve been well, enjoying my retirement. You’ve been hanging around this rascal, I hear?” he responded, nodding his head at Kylo. You could tell Kylo was annoyed, as his knuckles turned white around the strap of his backpack, but he held it in as he gave a small smile to his grandfather’s friend.

“Kylo’s been kind enough to offer me rides, and we have some classes together. We’ll actually be working on a project in English together,” you responded, continuing to smile at the men. They both nodded and smiled back.

“Well, we don’t want to hold you up for too long,” Mr. Skywalker said. “We’ll see you at dinner tomorrow, (y/n).”

“I can’t wait! See you tomorrow,” you said before waving goodbye to everyone, making eye contact with Kylo one last time before heading home. 

When you got inside, you went to your room immediately, pulling out your phone and dialing Rey’s number. As you stepped into your room, you closed the door behind you before dropping your backpack on your floor and plopping onto your bed. You waited as the phone rang, and soon, Rey picked up.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

“Hey! Sorry I haven’t really talked to you guys recently, I’ve been...dealing with stuff,” you responded. 

“Yeah, that makes sense. I was getting worried about you and just wanted to check in,” Rey responded. 

“Well, I’ve certainly been better,” you started, the tone of your voice taking a turn. “I’ve somehow been able to cope with everything that’s going on.”

“Did you ever find out what happened?”

With a sigh, you tried to collect yourself as you felt that deep pang in your chest. You trusted Rey, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that the emotions were still so raw inside of you, but you relented. If you told at least one person in your friend group, then it would get spread around between them, so at least you wouldn’t have to tell the story more than twice.

“Yeah Apparently he and some of the guys in the soccer team went to Corellia for a party. The person who sent me the picture said that he’d seen Shawn with this girl all night, and apparently asked Dylan about them, who said they’d been talking for a month before this,” you said, trying to hold in your tears. You weren’t going to sob, but your tears definitely filled your eyes, threatening to spill and break your streak of having not cried all day.

“Oh, (y/n), I’m so sorry. Have you talked to Shawn?” 

“No, and I don’t plan on it. I know that all he wants to do is ask me to take him back, but it isn’t happening. He can go have that girl from Corellia for all I care,” you said, wiping away tears from your eyes before they had the chance to fall down your cheeks. 

“You’re probably right. He’s always been really self-absorbed, he probably doesn’t even really think he did anything wrong,” Rey stated. As much as it hurt to hear, her words did ring true. Though you’d never thought it in the year the two of you had been dating, Shawn was incredibly selfish. “Anyways, do you want to come over tomorrow night? Rose, Kaydel, and Jannah are coming over, we’re gonna watch some movies.”

You felt bad, as you thought about rejecting Rey’s offer, but you were so excited for tomorrow, there was no way you could miss it. After all, you had accepted that offer first.

“I wish I could, but I’m staying with Sami Martinez tomorrow night. I’m sorry,” you said, your voice truly apologetic.

“It’s okay! That’s something I wanted to talk to you about to,” Rey said. Instantly, you knew where this was going, and you felt a pang of anxiety run through you. You knew this conversation was going to happen with one of your friends sooner or later, might as well get it over with. 

“What’s that?” you asked, trying to feign innocence, but probably failing. 

“You’ve been hanging out with Ben Solo a lot, and it has us all pretty worried. I get that you might want to piss off Shawn, and that’s totally valid, but I don’t think hanging out with Ben is the best way to do that,” she said, making you want to sigh heavily. Before any of this was over, you were probably going to hear the same spiel from a million other people.

“Look, Rey, I appreciate you guys looking out for me, but Kylo has been nothing but nice to me all week. Besides, we used to be really good friends. I don’t think he’d do anything hurtful to me,” you assured her.

“That’s not really what I’m worried about, (y/n). He might not intentionally hurt you, but he might influence you to be a different person that you aren’t. He hangs out with bad people, and does a lot of bad things himself. I just don’t want you to be influenced by him to do those kinds of things too.” 

The sentiment really pissed you off, admittedly. You knew people felt that way about Kylo, that much you’d expected, but to basically be told you were easily manipulated? That was frustrating. If anyone was likely to manipulate you, it was Shawn, and in fact, he had manipulated you. After all, he’d convinced you that you were just like him. You didn’t want to be the same person you were when you were dating Shawn.

“Listen, I’m going to keep hanging out with Kylo. I love and respect you guys, so I’m asking you to do the same for me. I’m not going to be a drastically different person because I’ve been hanging out with Kylo. I’m going to be a drastically different person because I’m not dating Shawn anymore. Believe it or not, I don’t want to be the same person I was with Shawn, because that person was too dependent on her boyfriend. So, I’m going to keep hanging with Kylo and all of his friends. They’ve been nothing but good to me all week, and they’ve been really accepting. You guys are still my best friends, but I’m asking you to please respect my decision,” you said, trying to keep calm as best as you could. 

There was silence for a few moments, as Rey processed what you said to her. Then, there was a sigh.

“Okay, (y/n). Just, please be careful,” Rey finally answered. “I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

“Bye,” you said before hanging up. Once you did, you grabbed the pillow closest to you, wrapping onto it as tears began to fall from your face, made from a mixture of rage and sadness. You loved your new friends, especially Kylo and Sami. They didn’t judge you, included you in conversation, and made sure you stayed positive. You were so happy to accept them into your life, welcoming the change they brought, but that couldn’t change the fact that you were afraid to lose your old friends. You’d been friends with them for so long, and you trusted all of them deeply. You knew that once you and Kylo began to feign your relationship, a lot of them would probably view you differently. Even though they barely understood what you were going through, you still loved them. You just worried that everything to come might end the friendships you’d enjoyed for so long.

You stared out of the window, the blinds open, giving you a perfect view of the clear sky. As you looked around the cul de sac from your window, you noticed Kylo standing outside, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against his car. Then, as if he could sense you watching him, he turned his head, making eye contact with you. He waved at you, giving you his signature half-smile. You waved back a little unenthusiastic, but you tried to smile back. You saw Kylo look back down as he pulled out his phone. Not long after, you heard your phone buzz, and you picked up your phone, unlocking it to reveal a message from Kylo.

You okay?

You thought about whether or not to be honest as you stared at the keyboard, trying to think of what to say. In the end, you settled on a simple white lie.

Yeah, I’m fine.

#kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #high school au

[ultimaa]

OFFSIDE

Two shot

PART I

Summary: "You’re young, attractive and rich, but Martinique stands between you and the love of your life. Damn, I'm happy I'm not you."

Eren had two sacred rules during his holidays: no football, no social media and no England. These purposes involved moving a thousand kilometers from his apartment in Liverpool to enjoy a peaceful summer in his native Shigansina, a small town in southern Germany where everyone knew each other. There he was simply Dr. Grisha's boy. "Really? Come on, man, go to French Polynesia or Dubai," his partner Connie Springer said. "Shigan-what? Okay, don't mind me. I’m sure parties are great in your town..." Honestly, Eren spent his days off sleeping and playing video games. Sometimes he jogged — after all, he earned his salary thanks to his body — and drunk HB beer, but what he liked most was the feeling of making up for lost time. He loved football and played in one of the best clubs in the world, history would seat him at the same table as Ian Rush, Michael Owen or Steven Gerrard. He loved Anfield, but he was too young when he said goodbye to the field of earth soccer and was taken to Melwood, where his parents visited him once a month. At the age of twenty-six, with a brilliant career, Eren Jaeger returned to Germany like an elephant going to die in a cave, with his family, and then repeated the cycle of nostalgia. However, that year would be different.

The Jaeger couple celebrated their 25th anniversary and they organized a small party with relatives and close friends. Only Eren Kruger, best man, who was in a submarine five thousand meters deep, was absent. As for the others, they all attended: Zeke and Pieck, who had come from Berlin, Aunt Faye, Keith Shadis (Eren’s Godfather), Tom Xaver (Zeke’s Godfather), Hannes, Armin and his grandfather, Kuchel Ackerman (bridesmaid), Kenny Ackerman (usher) and Levi Ackerman. Grisha did not like parties, but Carla settled the discussion with a resounding statement: "Silver anniversary aren’t celebrated every day, darling."

While Hannes, old Arlet, Pieck and Kuchel made a beef stew and the couple danced to the sound of Wiener Blut in the sitting room, Eren opened a bottle of beer and toasted with Armin and Zeke.

"You’re the only one, brother," Zeke pointed out. "You’ll retire bachelor. With ten Golden Balls, but a bachelor."

"The golden bachelor," Eren corrected. "Hey, Armin, you're single too."

"Annie and I are taking some time." His best friend shrugged.

Zeke laughed. He was a cardiologist. "I understand the heart much better than you... in all aspects," he used to say. And it was probably true: he was married to Pieck and the ring did not bother him yet.

"Really? She has been in Australia for two months. Do you know how long Australians last in bed, huh? About seventeen minutes, behind only the Americans, the Canadians and the English. As for the Germans, only eight percent have participated in a trio. If I were you, I'd start to worry."

"Did you just tell me I'm a bad lover?"

"No. Statistics, Armin. Information."

"This dude is like that." Eren took a sip. "He throw the stone and hides the hand."

"I have no interest in offending the virility of the Germans. I'm German, in case you haven't noticed. Siegfried is my grandfather and every Friday I go drinking with Wagner, but not all women know how to appreciate the Central European charm. Also, Melbourne is one of the best cities to live."

"Annie is in Sydney."

"See? That's precisely the problem." Zeke finished his beer and put a hand on Arlet's shoulder. "You know exactly where she is, but does she remember you? When a woman puts fifteen thousand kilometers between her and her partner, she only has one goal: to forget. And while she builds her new beginning, you water her plants."

"I still wonder how you seduced Pieck," Eren said. "Did you take her to dinner with Kaiser Wilhelm and Angela Merkel?"

"Actually, she won me. Well, I fell into the trap. I thought I could escape later. I was wrong and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I ain’t immune to women either."

Zeke showed a wide smile. He was blond and had a magnificent bearing. When the waltz was over, he congratulated Grisha and gave him a beer. Then he hugged Carla and cleared his voice. They all looked at him.

"This woman you see here is suicidal: marrying a Jaeger is dangerous, but marrying a divorced Jaeger with a child is deadly. The first time I saw her I was seven years old and I thought: Will she be like Miss Rottenmeier? No, thanks to God. I had always been Ezekiel, but she started calling me Zeke and that's how my friends, my coworkers and my wife call me. In a way, he baptized me. She ain’t my father's wife or my stepmother. Sorry, Eren; Being an only child is wonderful, but she’s also my mother and I would like us to toast her, the woman who brought us together here today. Cheers! Who’s in charge of the music? Auntie, put Spring’s Voices on. Eren and I are gonna dance."

"Wonderful idea." Armin laughed. "Football? As Martha Graham said, dance is the hidden language of the soul."

"You bastards." Eren took his brother's hand.

"Don't step on my shoes."

Among the music and the wild laughter of Kenny and Hannes, Eren did not realize what was about to happen. No clairvoyant would have guessed it. He looked sideways and saw her appear: black hair, aviator sunglasses, and a cigarette between her lips. White rolled-up shirt, capri pants and strappy sandals. He lost concentration and Zeke roared with laughter. He knew, of course. The last time he saw her was on the eve of her trip to Martinique, where she had spent the past year. The waltz ended and they both bowed. Eren did not want to raise the head. Why had no one warned him?

"Levi told me she came back last night," Zeke whispered.

Eren did not even hear the applause. He quickly returned to Armin, who was chatting with Keith Shadis, a retired military man, about the Ardennes Counteroffensive and the Nuremberg Trials. "I am almost sure," said his friend, a historian, "that Franz von Papen died in '69."

"Mikasa is here," Eren hissed.

"I know," he nodded, "and I'm gonna greet her, she's my lifelong friend and I'm glad to see her. You should do the same. Don't think about what happened."

"Did you know? Armin!"

His friend approached her. Great. Eren slipped out into the garden with a couple of beer cans and sat down on a wooden bench. Pretend you don't care, he thought. It belongs to the past, that's it! Fuck! You have to call it by its name: pain. Before she left, they drank like a fish and ended up going to bed. That was last summer. They had not spoken about it since then. He could already hear wise and eminent Zeke Jaeger’s voice: "So you haven’t had a girlfriend since Christ was crucified, but you shag with your best friend. Da ya need to talk, Eren?" Shit! Maybe he needed to tell someone how much her decision to go to Martinique hurt when he declared her love. She had a degree in Arts, so she was offered to do a study about Paul Gauguin, who spent a time on the island. So Zeke would say: "The Caribbean? I'm sorry, brother, I'm so sorry. You and Armin can cry together."

Eren was in love with her. It is one of those truths that one understands with a broken heart. And this led him to reject the insinuations of several, too many women in recent months. There were rumors that he was gay.

"Look who's here: Reds’ Hunter," Mikasa greeted him. "Can I sit?"

"You can do whatever you want." Eren was not angry, but a little drunk. He scratched his right arm; Delacroix's Liberty was tattooed from shoulder to elbow; Lower down, on the forearm, Goya’s Colossus collapses the Berlin Wall. On the inside of the doll, an M. Again, he could hear his brother's voice calling him an idiot.

Mikasa sat next to him. Her skin was not as pale as before: Caribbean tan. The serious mouth was the same and the gray eyes had not changed. She had a fine scar on her right cheek.

"Congratulations on winning the Premier."

"Yeah, well, first in Liverpool's history." Eren groaned. "How did it go with Gauguin?"

"Excellently. Van Gogh said that Gauguin didn’t paint with the brush, but with the phallus. However, mayby he didn’t die of syphilis..."

"Are you kidding me? Do you congratulate me on the championship and talk about Gauguin's cock?" He let out a sardonic laugh. "If that's all you have to tell me after all this time..."

"This is neither the time nor the place".

"I don’t care. We fucked, Mikasa."

"I know. I was there."

"Really? Because sometimes I think about it and it seems a mirage. You've been avoiging the matter a whole year, a fucking year. You show up at my parents' party like nothing's wrong and talking about fucking Gauguin." Eren paused. "Annie is in Australia. Do you know how long Australians last in bed? Seventeen minutes. How long do Martinicans last?"

"I know what you're implying," Mikasa said seriously, "and you're wrong, Eren. You’re very wrong. Do you think I would be able to do that after sleeping with you?"

Carla Jaeger interrupted them; the meal was ready. They were not hungry, but an inexplicable feeling oppressed them: Eren's blood boiled; Mikasa's was frozen.

"When you want us to talk as adults, let me know," she said.

Adults! Eren said nothing. He sat between Zeke and Armin, who gave him a questioning look. Eren sighed and started eating. He remained oblivious to all the conversations, sharing looks with Mikasa, sitting next to her uncle Kenny. One year had passed and perhaps he was angry, but he winked al her. She smiled and caught the kiss Eren discreetly sent her, and showed her thumb.

"Okay," Zeke said, after wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Have I ever told you about friendship between men and women? No, because it’s impossible. Were you and Annie ever friends, Armin?"

"Huh… Yeah?"

"No. You wanted to have sex, but you didn't tell her."

"I know you know," Eren whispered.

"I’ve known for a long time. In fact, I knew it before you did, bro. You were like Heidi and Peter, and now, if you were alone, this would become ​Nine and a half Weeks.

For Zeke it was too obvious, but what about the others? Eren looked at them closely. They talked about politics, football, past... Levi was the only one who remained silent. He was not a very talkative man, unlike his mother and uncle. Kuchel and Kenny talked and laughed like no one else. As for Mikasa, whose premature orphanhood led her to grow up with them, her character was soft; silent, good listener and without his cousin’s curtness. Did she tell someone what happened? Maybe Sasha Braus? After the meal, Eren felt adult enough.

The whole evening passed pleasant between anecdotes and skat hands. Keith Shadis left around six in the afternoon; He had to return to Munich for work. As for the others, Carla insisted that they stay for dinner. While Grisha and Zeke had a scholarly conversation about the latest advances in medicine, Kenny was laughing loudly with Mikasa by his side.

"I never imagined that we would have an artist in the family."

"I'm an art historian," Mikasa pointed out.

"If God doesn’t give you children, Devil gives you nephews." Kenny lit a cigarette. "Ackermans have always been country people. Levi was the first to go to university; He was already a whiz since childhood. Fortunately, Mikasa followed suit.

"What is Martinique like?" Carla asked.

"Quiet. When it rains, goodbye internet and light, and of course I have to mention mosquitoes, humidity, heat and earthquakes," she paused, "but people are lovely and the landscapes are spectacular. They are exactly like on postcards. Oh, and the accra is very good."

"We could go on vacation, honey." Zeke looked at Pieck. "I'm tired of Sardinia."

"But you have to be careful with snakes," Mikasa continued, smiling. "I was bitten by a eyelash viper. Nothing serious, but I wouldn’t repeat the experience."

"One year has been enough, hasn't it?" Eren, who was playing cards with Armin, had his ears set on the conversation.

"Yes. For now I will stay here I’ll go to Munich in September to work at the Alte Pinakothek."

"It's fantastic," said Armin.

"And you’ll be close," added Kuchel.

So Munich. However, Mikasa commented on the possibility of another trip. She specialized in Impressionism and did not rule out settling in France. After dinner, when it was time to say goodbye, Eren pulled out his cell phone and wrote her a message: "Do you wanna talk?" She looked sidelong at him and replied, "Come home tomorrow. We will be alone." Jaeger thought about that last one; He smiled, pleased, and quickly typed, "Good."

They all left except for Zeke and Pieck, who would spend a few days in the village before returning to Berlin. It was like going back fifteen years ago, when they still crowd around under one ceiling. Carla loved having them all there. Her good character led her to have an excellent relationship with her daughter-in-law. Grisha was pleased with the situation; He played chess with Zeke for hours, in total silence. Eren used to watch them, attentive to the gestures, wondering how they could drag on a duel that long. And it all ended with one word: "Checkmate."

Zeke followed him into the garden with a cigarette on the lips. He had tried to stop smoking, but there are things a man can never give up, like mentholated Camel.

"You don't smoke, do you? What a pity. One or two cigarettes once in a while doesn't hurt anyone, Mr. Perfect Abs." Zeke blew out the smoke. "Munich. A wonderful city, especially in October."

"We’re gonna talk tomorrow."

"One day I take a look at the yellow press and I see you with Historia Reiss, and I think you're a lucky bastard. You’re young, attractive and rich, but Martinique stands between you and the love of your life. Damn, I’m happy I’m not you."

"I love you too." Eren frowned.

"I’m trying to help you. Don't screw it up, okay? A bad step now and you will regret it all your life." His brother clapped him on the back. "Now If you can excuse me, I'm going to make love to my wife in my fifteen-year-old room."

"I didn't need to know that."

…

Having the house to herself, Mikasa went down to have black tea. Frugal breakfast, as always. She felt like an intruder in her own town and jet lag was not benevolent. She wanted to stay in bed, she’s just got ants in her pants. She did push-ups and thought about the last exhausting year. Operation Gauguin, as she called it, had been a true odyssey. Fuck the Caribbean. She had missed Europe, her family and friends, but duty is duty. As for Eren, she could not reproach him for anything. He was angry. She should not have slept with him before she left; Mikasa kept thinking about it for a moment. Secrets and sex are a bad combination for consciousness. Besides, she left without saying goodbye. She behaved like a real motherfucker and would do it again: sentimentality is not advisable before a possible trip with no return. No, she couldn't listen to Eren's feelings before getting on the plane. Deep down, she suffered from the greatest weakness: love.

She lay down on the floor and closed his eyes. God, the cold slabs were nicer than any bed in the Caribbean. The woman forgot the physical and mental exhaustion when Eren touched the knocker. She took a breath and decided to improvise. The first thing Mikasa noticed was Dior's perfume. He was wearing an unbuttoned black polo shirt, gray jeans, and deck shoes. The three-day beard and dapper cut fit him very well. Those tropical eyes ... Shit!

Silence. Glances. It was inevitable. Eren closed the door behind him and received her kiss in a frenzy. Mikasa bit his lips, tugged at his hair. The man held her prisoner in his arms, sliding his hands down her back, her hips and her neck, anxious and needy. Their mouths were lost in each other's. Eren threw his head back and went deeper, searching for lost time. He licked her lips from corner to corner. The touch of tongues was deadly like a sword dance. They parted, face to face, panting, obscene. Mikasa wanted to make love to him in the middle of the hall and tell him how much she had missed him.

"Did you want to talk?" Eren planted another kiss.

"Yes," Mikasa replied. "I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I have a very interesting story to tell you, but I don't know if it will be more exciting than winning the English league."

"Ok, you know I prefer Monet, but..."

"It has nothing to do with Gauguin." Mikasa took his hand and led him into the living room. If she thought about it, it was a concise thing, but difficult to assimilate. Eren sat down on the sofa. She made him coffee and moved to his side, maturing the words in her head. "It's complicated. If you don't believe it, I get it. I’ve spent more time in Cuba than in Martinique. I haven’t done any study about Gauguin."

"What?" Eren looked at her seriously. "What's going on, Mikasa?"

"I've been working for Interpol for a couple of years. No one knows, only you. Crimes against cultural heritage."

"I don’t get it. What does that have to do with Martinique and Cuba?"

"During Nazism many degenerate works were plundered. Gauguin, Chagall, Klee... Some works were located last year. There was a certain black market for art among many American magnates. That is why I went to Cuba together with a team, to find out the whereabouts of some Gauguin works lost since 38."

"It’s definitely more interesting than winning the Premier." Eren drank from his mug thoughtfully, still amazed. "Was it dangerous?"

"Not much. At least not for me. My job is to see, evaluate and give a verdict, not shooting. Do you think I'm out there drinking Martini and driving an Aston Martin?"

"The idea excites me." The man touched the scar on her face. "And this? I don't remember it. It’s not on the maps that I have of your whole body."

"Then you will have to add it." Mikasa took the cup from him, put it on the table and leaned against him, kissing him calmly and sweetly. For a moment she thought she would never see him again, or maybe he would see her repatriated corpse with a bullet in the head. God! She hugged him and rested her head on his heart. Eren stroked her hair and she trembled at the memory. "It was a shot. I don't know how I'm still alive. I was so lucky..."

"My God," Eren whispered. "Why did you not tell me? Don’t trust me?"

"I know you. Worry wouldn't let you focus."

"Of course not. And now that I know why you left, it will take me a few weeks to recover from my fright. Damn, it hurt so much when you answered my messages as if nothing... I wanted to tell you about my feelings, but you always talked about trivial issues and I thought you didn't care what happened between us. Why?"

"I was scared. I didn't want to think about you or our plans. What would have happened to all those words if I had died? Look at this scar. It’s a miracle I’m still alive. It happened a few days after arriving. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. A rich man held a clandestine exhibition, I infiltrated and they discovered me. I didn't want to tell you that I love you and then die. I don't do things that way."

"And how do you do it?"

"Like this." Mikasa kissed him again.

#eremika #Eren Jaeger #Mikasa Ackerman #eren x mikasa #zeke jaeger #snk #shingeki no kyojin #AoT #attackontitan #fanfic

[svubloods]

THE PEOPLE ERIKA LEFT BEHIND: Imagine looking into your Mother’s Death (PART TWELVE)

Masterlist with all the parts HERE

Imagine looking into your Mother’s Death

“So what you’re telling me is that you learn three languages at this place and none of them are Spanish?” Your Abuela, otherwise known as your Grandmother Lucia questioned in genuine shock, “And we pay how much for this fancy school?” 

The latter question was directed to your Father, Rafael, who was walking on the other side of you, as all three of you made your way towards your school. Walking down Manhattan streets in step, chatting away. This was definitely not a usual occurrence. You usually walked by yourself or Sarah walked you as both your school and your Dad’s apartment were both in central Manhattan, only occasionally over the past four months that you had been living with you Father did your Grandmother walk you. And never before had they both accompanied you. But today was different, your Grandmother was making Mr Barba go out to breakfast with her for a catch-up as he had been so busy recently with a big case and your Dad reluctantly agreed and cleared his schedule for the morning. 

You were preparing to leave as you did every morning when your Father suggested walking with you before they headed off to a breakfast place. He was quite hesitant in his suggestion, unsure if he was going too far as if he was worried that he was making a mistake. You saw his visible relief when you agreed and you also caught your Grandmother beaming but you didn’t make a thing of it. 

“We aren’t paying anything for this school,” Mr. Barba informed, in an exasperated tone, but sending a quick smirk in your direction, “She’s on scholarship, I’ve told you this, remember?” 

You smiled back at her in confirmation and suppressed a giggle, despite everything you found Mr. Barba’s and your Grandmothers exchanges quite amusing.

“Okay, so you’re telling me he hasn’t been teaching you anything?” She persisted, looking at you and then shooting disappointed daggers at her son, as you continued to navigate the busy morning streets. 

You looked at your Dad for a the answer to that question too. 

“I gave her book,” He offered, sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders in a childish manner. 

You couldn’t suppress your laugh and neither could Mr.Barba at that point. Abuela Lucia was not amused swotting at you both in frustration but it was lighthearted. 

“Then it’s decided, I’ll start teaching you Spanish. We’ll have our first lesson on Saturday,” She insisted, determined. 

You felt Mr.Barba tense up slightly beside you, you glanced up at him and narrowed your eyes. 

“That’s not necessary Mama,” He began, “She already has so much to learn. I don’t want too…” 

“It’s fine,” You interjected with a smile, “I want to learn. I’m technically Cuban too, aren't I?” 

“Yes, you are,” Your Grandmother confirmed, “And you have to learn eventually,”

“Are you sure?” Mr . Barba questioned, ignoring his mother and looking back at you. 

“Why not?” You shrugged, nonchalantly, “It should be fun!” 

“Well, okay…” He considered, somewhat nervous, shooting concerned glances to his mother. 

“This is perfect, how about I host next lunch Saturday?” Your Grandmother started to plan almost ecstatically, “And you can finally see where I live and where your Dad grew up. I’m going to take you to get the best Cuban food you can have outside my kitchen and I can show you round the neighbourhood and you can meet everyone…they are all so excite…” 

“Mom,” Mr .Barba interrupted cutting her off suddenly, making you jump ever so slightly, before more calmly adding, “Not yet,” 

“But I want to go,” You insisted as you all finally reached the school gates.  

“You do?” He asked, surprised, raising an eyebrow almost suspiciously at you. 

“Can I not be curious about my own heritage?” You shot back, pointedly, eager to make sure he was suspicious of you. 

“I just figured it would be too much too soon,” 

“You figured wrong,” You corrected. 

“I guess I did,” He accepted, unable to suppress the wide smile forming on his face. 

“Then it’s settled,” Your Grandmother grinned. 

“Sounds like a plan,” You agreed, “I’m sorry to cut this short but I have to go or I’m going to be late,” 

You then swung your bag over your shoulder while spinning on your heels and walking past the gates towards your school. 

“hasta luego querida,” Your grandmother called after you.

You looked back and tossed a wave over your shoulder at both of them, “Adios Abuela,” and after you tentatively added, “Adiós señor Barba,” 

“Where’d you learn that?” He shouted.

“The book,” You responded before turning back around and rushing towards the entrance as the bell rang out. 

Rafael Barba turned to look at his mother after waiting and watching his young daughter disappear into the crowd of other children all in the same uniform. He turned to see his Mother beaming at him, he rolled his eyes at her in response. 

“What?” He questioned, “Stop looking at me like that,”

“Can I not be happy to see my baby happy?” She snapped back feistily, as she linked arms with him as they continued to make their way to breakfast, it was only a few blocks away now. 

“Who says I’m happy?” He retorted.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, it’s written all over your face,” She responded, grabbing his face and squeezing it.

“Perhaps, I need to work on my poker face then if I’m that obvious,” He commented dryly.

“I’m also your Mother, you can’t hide anything from me,” She added pointedly, “I know when you’re angry, sad, happy. I feel it in my heart. A mother always knows,” 

“I am happy,” He finally admitted, almost in relief, resting his head on her shoulder momentarily, “Things have been…”

“Better?” She offered. 

He nodded, “A lot better, sometimes...I can’t even believe it,” 

“What changed?” She probed. 

“We started talking. We had some difficult conversations and I started to let up on some things and we just started getting along…but I don’t know…” He offered, hesitantly. 

“What do you mean by ‘difficult conversations’?” She probed once again, inquisitively.

“You know,” He began to respond vaguely, “About Erika…”

“We haven’t ever discussed her either, you know? Well, not properly at least,” She pointed out, encouragingly. 

“That’s because…there isn’t much to say,” He answered falsely, not wanting to go into the details of everything and unnecessarily worry her, “She was just a girl I met at a random bar, we had a couple dates and then I never saw again. And now I won’t ever,” 

“She’s with the Lord now,” His Mother whispered as if she was speaking to herself, “God bless her soul,”

“You don’t know that. You didn’t know her,” Barba commented without thinking. 

His Mother eyes him suspiciously before letting it slide. 

“Well, she gave me my only grandchild. I would hope that’s where she is and that she is at peace so one day she can see Y/N again and so I can thank her for Y/N too,” Rafael’s mother explained.

“Her actions also kept you away from her for years,” Barba pointed out. 

“But I have her now,” She reminded, “…And so do you,” 

“I do,” He nodded, before quickly adding,  “Well at least I think so…”

“You know you can’t jinx it just by talking about it,” She countered. 

“I know I just don’t want to think about it or put too much pressure or thought in case…” 

“It gets bad again?” She offered once again, rubbing his upper arm in a comforting gesture.

“I can’t help but think I’m going to mess this up somehow and things are going so well,” He confessed, “I just want it to stay like this,” 

You slipped into the shadows, burying yourself into the crowd, making sure they couldn't see you as you watched them until they were out of sight. When that happened you walked back out the same way you came and did so undetected. You caught a glance at both of them turning the corner, still chatting away, probably talking about you. 

It was always easier talking to your Grandmother than it was talking to him at least you weren’t pretending when you did. 

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you had somewhere you needed to be and you had to make sure you didn’t miss them. The sensation of exhilaration coursed through you as you made your way to your destination. You’d never skipped school before, you couldn’t even fathom it and now here you were. And though you felt a twang of guilt, you knew you had to do this if you wanted to find out the truth. 

It’s been two months since that dinner with your Dad in which he rather reluctantly admitted to you that one of the reasons he took you away from your family was that he believed that your Grandfather covered up your mother’s murder and portrayed it as a car accident. Things stayed the same for a couple days, perhaps unsurprisingly it took you a while to process. It elicited strange feelings for you, you without a doubt knew that your Grandfather was not capable of doing something like that so it wasn’t that. It was more towards your Mother. 

Your whole life you’d been given this rather unrealistic perception of your Mother. Everyone talked about her good qualities, their favorite and fondest memories with her, why she was special, amazing, etc but never anything on the opposite end of the spectrum. Her bad qualities, her annoying habits, her biggest mistakes. And while finding out she was murdered hit you very hard in a rather morbid way you felt more connected to her than ever. Suddenly she was a real person with flaws, issues, and to be blunt people aren’t murdered for no reason. She wasn’t this unmatchable unattainable super amazing person that everyone portrayed her to be. She was just a person, like you. 

And upon finding yourself more connected to her than ever you were also overwhelmed with the feeling of needing to do something. You felt responsible and you felt the weight of that the lack of justice brings and it seemed like no one was doing anything to try and figure out what really happened to her. 

So that left you to do something about it.

Given the limitations of being thirteen, your investigation into this coverup had been taking a while and two months in you knew you needed to enlist some help with this. You’d been trying your best, from what you gathered from Mr. Barba’s first confession is that if you play ball he’s more free with answers. So reluctantly you’s been ‘warming’ up to him and acting as if you were started to get settled, burying your disdain and putting on a charade. Having the investigation to focus on improved things a lot at school and at his place so everyone was under the assumption that you were settling down. School was a lot better, not that your grades ever slipped, but you were back to acting like before this all happened. Acting like you were progressing also meant everyone was less uneasy around you and gave you more freedom, which gave you more freedom to investigate.

You won’t say that what didn’t know what you were doing was wrong. You knew it quite well and you did struggle with it. Pretending to be nice to Mr Barba so he would trust you, so you could investigate, all with the intention that by solving this you could potentially be allowed to go live back home as he claimed that the whole reason he was so unwilling to compromise was because he thought your Grandfather was in on the coverup. Finding out the truth would reveal this not to be the case and maybe you could get him to let you go back home. You felt guilty because he would smile and look so happy whenever you engaged with him positively, you could tell he really believed he was making progress with you. He really believed it and it was all a lie.

The public library was only a quick subway stop away. The library itself was quite busy for a Wednesday morning but then again, you never went to any library other than your school library on a Wednesday morning. It was starting to feel like that everything around was serving as a reminder to remind you that you shouldn’t be here right now. You were technically doing something bad, skipping school, even if you believed you were doing the right thing. Though while you walking in your uniform raised a couple of eyebrows, to your relief that was the extent of the curiosity you aroused. You tried to walk quickly as if trying to make yourself invisible as you headed for the archive room.

It didn’t take you long to find what you were looking for or should you say, who you were looking for. You took a confident towards his turned back before hesitating. There was a high chance that he could refuse you and take you straight back to school. Your confidence dwindled so you opted to just walk past him in hopes that he would notice you.

That didn’t take long either.

“Y/N?” You finally heard his voice say, you’d been caught, “Is that you? Y/N?” 

You turned around slowly and rather reluctantly to face him. You flashed him a nervous smile hesitantly, with a pleading expression to boot. 

“Heyyy,” You let out. 

“What are you doing here?” Will whispered harshly, stepping right up by you so those around you couldn't hear him scolding you, “Why aren’t you in school? Does anyone know you’re here?” 

“No,” You responded, simply. 

“You can’t just skip school whenever you like. I’m taking you back right now and calling…” He began, grasping your arm and gently starting to pull you towards the door. 

“No, you can’t,” You insisted, in a hushed tone, stopping and shaking his hand off you, “I came here to see you,” 

“How did you know I would even be here and why didn’t you just call?” He began to ask, confusion written all over his features. 

You looked around nervously before pulling him aside out of earshot of all the people milling around you. 

“I need your help and…you’re the only one I trust right now,” You admitted. 

“With what?” He asked, confusion turning to concern, “Are you okay, Y/N?” 

“I don’t know anymore,” You confessed truthfully, “That’s why I need your help. I need you to help me find out the truth about what really happened to my Mom,” 

“What are you talking about? Your Mom…” He began, looking taken aback for a second before looking confused. 

“You can’t keep avoiding this,” You whispered. 

“Oh Y/N,” He breathed, not meeting your eyes. 

“That’s why I need your help, come on,” You sighed before grabbing his arm and dragging him along with you. 

“Where are we going?” He whispered, stumbling along with you. 

“The private study room. I booked it for the next couple hours,” You responded, continuing to guide him along. 

“Of course you did,” He commented, “How did you know I was here?” 

“I called your office and they said you went to the Library every Wednesday morning to read the latest law reviews,” You shrugged, stopping at the door and opening it for him to step inside. 

“You’re telling me that my assistant just told you exactly where I was?” He probed, skeptically

“I did pretend to be your mother if I’m being honest,” You confessed with yet another shrug, “Come take a seat,” 

“You know I could take you straight back to school,” He pointed out, taking seat heavily as you settled yourself across the table. 

“Then why aren’t you?” You asked, tilting your head at him in curiosity. 

“Because I know you and I know you’ll do this no matter what I do,” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

“I haven’t been avoiding you, Y/N. Just you finding out has brought up all the emotions of when I found out what really happened to your Mom. I guess I’m not as over it as I thought,” 

“You always used to talk about it as if you were there when it happened,” 

“Yeah, that’s because it was easier than admitting the truth. When your Mom died we were in the middle of a massive argument and I had stormed off and skipped that security detail that day because I was so mad. I heard over the scanner that there was an officer down where I was supposed to be. So while mopping in a bar your mom was murdered. I should have been there and when I arrived they told me it was an accident and I believed them because theses people it was my colleagues. It was only a few years ago when I found out the truth. I was going to therapy because even after all that time I was carrying so much guilt and I used my connections and I got the actual case file and it just wasn’t what the media reported.” He explained sadly, clenching his fist and unclenching as he spoke, his breathing heavy and his eyes cloudy. 

“It’s not your fault,” You comforted. 

“Thanks, kiddo,” He acknowledged, but his tone made it clear that he didn’t quite believe your words. 

“And you didn’t do anything with what you found out?” You questioned. 

“What could I do? I’m not a cop anymore and I don’t think the Reagan’s know,” He replied. 

“But that doesn’t make sense, one of them must have pulled the file at least once,” You figured, confused. 

“I’m sure they have…on the system,” He countered, “On the system, it was a car crash. I only found out the truth because I went to official records and pulled all the case material and even there was the file that you can find on the system and at very bottom was the original file. And it was in the restricted section, I only got access because I knew a guy that worked there and even then I had to sign a log and at the time I was the only person who had ever requested to see it. Your Dad must have done that too being an ADA and all and that must be how he found out,” 

“So they really don’t know?” 

“I don’t think so and I wasn’t prepared to in a way let them loose her all over again. At that time they had accepted it, they had moved on…” 

“But they deserve the truth!” You insisted. 

“This will only hurt them, I can promise you that because there aren’t any answers or explanations just more questions which will only cause more grief,” He elaborated for you. 

“So if I figure it out then we can tell them, right?” You asked. 

“It’s not your responsibility Y/N and frankly it’s not your responsibility to do so either. It’s unhealthy…” He started. 

“Then whose responsibly is it?” You sighed, stopping momentarily and sinking back in your chair, “Because they aren’t doing a good enough job,”

“I understand you’re frustrated I am too but it still isn’t your responsibility to figure out,” He insisted, his eyes pleading you to stop, to let it go. 

“I just you need you to understand. If I can figure this out, I might be able to go home,” 

“What do you mean?” He inquired. 

“Mr Barba told me that one of reasons he won’t let me see my family because he thinks my Grandpa had something to do with the coverup so if I prove him wrong he might let me see them properly again or even better yet let me live with them,” You explained, smiling a little just at the thought of being home again. 

“I can understand why he would think that but I’m sure they have no idea what really happened, including your Grandfather,” He confirmed, “But I still don’t think this is a good idea for you to take on,” 

“Why not?” 

“You’re thirteen, Y/N. You’re a child.” 

“Everyone keeps on saying that and I’m sick of it. Being a child doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion or feelings. I’m sick of everyone deciding what’s best for me without even asking me what I think. Do you have any idea what it’s been like over the past four months? I just want to go home even if it means pretending to like that evil man just so he isn’t suspicious, even if it means doing the job that some actual adults should have done. I just want to go home and be normal again. I…just want to go home…” You somewhat exploded, your emotions spilling over and your eyes blurring. 

“Okay,” He finally agreed, circling the table and holding you close, “I still am not happy with you doing this but I also know that you will do it without me even if I don’t agree. 

“So you will help?” You asked, looking up at him as you hugged him hard. 

“I’ll help you prove your Grandpa wasn’t involved in the coverup but not your Mom’s murder, that’s…that’s too far,” He responded, before kissing the top of your head tenderly. 

After that, you proceeded to show him everything you had gathered over the past month or so. You also convinced him to go get his copy of the original case file that he had made secretly to show you from his apartment. He informed you before handing over the file that he taken out all the crime scene photos but he gave it to you none the less, reluctantly though. He watched over you like a hawk as you went through it silently, absorbing the information. As you did it still didn’t register that this person was your Mother, there was no overwhelming feeling of sadness or any other emotion, just determination to figure out it all out.

“Don’t you think that’s rather cruel?” He pointed out, bluntly, after a long silence, “What you’re doing, to Mr. Barba that is.” 

You looked up and locked eyes with him from across the table. His head was tilted to the side as he watched you carefully as if tracking your every move with a form of hesitation as he continued to debate his involvement. You paused for a second, considering his suggestion. 

Before shaking your head and in equal bluntness in your tone, responding, “No,” 

“Really? Do you honestly believe that?” He countered. 

“Perhaps you’re right,” You offered, “But I don’t care. I care about this and only this,” 

“This isn’t you, Y/N” 

“It’s who I am now,” You corrected, dryly, “…It’s who he made me,” 

“You shouldn’t let it do that…You shouldn't let him do that to you, Y/N.” 

You shrugged, “This isn’t about him anymore. It’s about her,” 

“What’s your next move?” He asked. 

“Think you could get me in touch with the original detectives on the case?” You asked. 

“I can try,” He nodded, “But for now, I’m taking you home.” 

“Will you call me when…” 

“Yes,” He confirmed, taking all the evidence off you as you both headed out the door. 

“I know you’re not happy Will,” You commented, nudging him gently. 

“I’m not,” Will sighed, “But not just because of this but also because I didn’t really realize how unhappy you were and still are. I really am sorry for everything that’s happened Y/N,” 

“It’s okay,” You shrugged, faking disregard. 

“But it’s not,” He insisted, “The fact that you’re going to such lengths just to get shot of getting out of living with him. No, this isn’t right.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“That I’m…nothing. I’m just going to take you home and we’ll figure this out together,” He promised.

You nodded in agreement. 

“I’m really glad I have you, Will,” You confessed. 

“I’m glad to have you too kiddo,” He winked, a playful tone sparking in his voice, “It’s going to get better. I promise you,” 

“I almost believe you,” You smirked. 

Later on, you found yourself doing your homework at the kitchen counter as your Grandmother Lucia cooked dinner for you and Mr. Barba who would be coming home at any minute. You were chatting idly, having Will helping you out was making you feel a lot less stressed and heavy. 

“You know your Dad does that same thing you do,” She suddenly stated, causing you to glance up at her.

“What?” You inquired. 

“You both tilt your head to the side when you’re concentrating or reading but you scrunch up your nose when you’re confused. It’s adorable,” She beamed as she continued to cook. 

“My Grandma Mary used to call me her little bunny because of that,” You remembered fondly. 

“What was she like?” Abuela Lucia inquired, “Your other Grandmother?” 

“She was very happy like all of the time happy. It was sort of strange actually, she always used to say that life was too short to waste my time being miserable. She was a terrible cook but really good baker. She always used to compare me to my Mom so I would connect to her. She was definitely the funniest in our family, usually unintentionally, because she acted without thinking a lot, and she was such a badass too. She ran her own business, had five kids and a bunch grandkids and it never seemed to overwhelm her. I don’t think there was anything she couldn't handle. She was really great and I miss her a lot.” You retold briefly, not wanting to make yourself sad by thinking about how much you missed her sometimes, “But Grandpa says that even though we miss her we can be happy knowing that she is with my Mom again. Because my Grandma missed my Mom a lot,” 

“She sounds wonderful,” Abuela Lucia complimented, smiling to herself. 

“Why did you ask?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about how I’m really glad that I get to be your Grandmother after missing out n so much and I just wondering who the person who also got the pleasure was,” 

“Can I ask you a question?” You pondered aloud. 

“Sure,” She encouraged. 

“What was my Abuelo like?” 

You caught her physically tense up but neither of you got to say another word as the buzzer rang out in the apartment, distracting you both. 

“Your Dad’s probably forgotten his keys again,” She joked. 

“I’ll get it,” You offered, hopping off your seat and heading over. 

You swung open the door without really considering who was standing at it. 

“Hey, Mr. Bar…Grandpa?"

#the people erika left behind #the poeple erika left behind #TPELB #law and order svu #Law and Order: Special Victims Unit #law and order:svu #law and order svu imagine #law and order special victims unit #Blue Bloods #blue bloods fanfiction #blue bloods imagine #svu #svu imagine #svu fanfiction #ada rafael barba #ada rafael barba imagine #rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael x daughter #Reagan #Frank Reagan #frank reagan imagine #Commissioner Frank Reagan #commissioner frank reagan imagine #svubloods

[saiilorstars]

The Beginning of Everything

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor

(OC Face claim: Marjorie de Sousa)

// Story Masterlist //

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Ch. 11:  Understand Me

Chapter Summary: As the fight against the Sontarans comes to a close, Renata breaks down over the Doctor's choice on how to end the fight. It leads to a heartfelt moment afterwards.

Smoke had invaded almost every inch of Donna's street but all the attention for the moment was on freeing her grandfather from the car he was locked in. The smoke had practically covered everything inside.

"He's gonna choke! Doctor!" Donna frantically tried anything at this point, but nothing opened the car doors.

Suddenly, Sylvia pushed Donna out of the way and shattered the windscreen with an axe. Everyone had frozen to stare at her. "Well, don't just stand there! Get him out!" the woman flapped a hand at her father inside the car.

"I can't believe you've got an axe!" Donna gaped.

"Burglars!"

"Are you alright?" Renata helped the Doctor get Wilf out of the car. The man looked pale but otherwise fine.

"Get inside the house. Just try and close off the doors and windows," the Doctor instructed Sylvia who quickly took her father's arm.

Ross stopped by them in a black cab. "Doctor! This is all I could find that hasn't got ATMOS."

The Doctor graciously took it. He glanced at Renata and saw the blonde was more than ready to go. "Donna, you coming?" he then called for the ginger.

"It's alright if you don't," Renata assured her. She learned fast that for humans family meant everything, to most anyways.

Donna agreed but her mother did not. "Donna! Don't go! Look what happens every time that Doctor appears! Stay with us, please!"

"You go my darling!" Wilf dissuaded any of Donna's doubts. "Don't listen to her! You go with the Doctor! That's my girl!"

"What did you do to those people?" Renata mumbled the question to the Doctor as she got into the cab with him. Sylvia looked like she harbored a deep disdain for the Doctor.

"Eh, long story," he sighed. "Talk it over dinner?"

Renata blinked at the question. It took her by surprise that he would actually want to talk about it with her, and over dinner...the routine he still had trouble adjusting to. "Sure," her lips stretched into a very happy smile.

The Doctor could tell she loved the idea. It wasn't easy to please her and it was a shame because he really liked her smile.

~0~

Donna crinkled her nose the moment they got out of the cab at the factory. "The air is disgusting!"

"You shouldn't expose yourself too much," Renata worried for the weaker lung system humans had.

"She's right. You should get inside the TARDIS! Oh, never given you a key!" the Doctor got a second TARDIS key from his pocket and held it out for Donna. "Keep that!"

"You give keys out?" Renata's flat tone told Donna that she didn't have a key.

"Why don't you have one?"

"Because she kept trying to run away," the Doctor answered with a gaze directly set on Renata. He was a bit guilty for forgetting to give her a key though. Time had just gone by from him.

"You kidnapped me," Renata reminded him with the same flat tone.

"Seriously, I want to hear that story," Donna pointed a finger at the two and snatched the key from the Doctor with her other hand. "After we get all this fixed up."

And so the three separated with Donna heading into the TARDIS and the two aliens into the factory.

"I have to ask…" Renata began slowly once she and the Doctor entered the factory, "...do you know what you're doing?"

"Eh," the Doctor beamed. "This is my forteshay! We'll be great!"

"You mean you will be great. I-" Renata gestured to herself, "-am barely even recognized around here. I'm not complaining, I mean, I did let the Master do horrible things to these people."

The Doctor stopped walking and turned to face her. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah it was. Just like always, I didn't have the courage to do something," Renata shook her head. She crossed her arms. "That's always been my thing. And it's cost me so much…"

The Doctor noticed her change in expression. She was staring at him with such meaning that it made him guess this was something important from her past. There were so many things hidden behind her brown eyes…

"We should get to the humans," Renata cleared her throat once she realized her lingering stare. She needed to stop doing things like this.

The two Time Lords arrived at the central command room where every employee was busy at work.

"Right then, here I am, good. Whatever you do, Colonel Mace, do not engage the Sontarans in battle, there is nothing they like better than a war," the Doctor warned the man. "Just leave this to me."

Mace eyed the two aliens with some suspicion. "And what are you going to do?"

"I've got the TARDIS, I'm gonna get on board their ship," the Doctor announced and missed Renata's scrutinizing look beside.

There was no way in hell that was it. He had something else hidden inside that dusty brain of his. It had to - oh. Renata covered her nose with her hand and acted like she was just being casual. Something smelled.

Her eyes widened when she traced the smell to the incoming Martha Jones. "Oh hell no," Renata mumbled and went for her when the Doctor grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards. She threw him a glare.

"No," he whispered. Renata relaxed only a little knowing that the Doctor had also caught the putrid smell. This was not Martha Jones. She was a clone. Martha was off somewhere and they would find her.

~ 0 ~

Martha the clone cluelessly followed Renata and the Doctor to the alleyway where the TARDIS was meant to be. They stopped short when they saw the TARDIS was not there anymore.

"But... where's the TARDIS?" Martha played her cards right and acted rightly surprised.

"What are you doing?" Renata watched the Doctor taste AIR air.

"Taste that, in the air. Yecch. That sort of metal tang. Teleport exchange!'

"It's the Sontarans, they've taken it. And with…" Renata stopped when the bell in her head went off. Oh, if there was anything about the Doctor she was sure of it was that he was good.

And he continued playing his blissful act. "I'm stuck, on Earth like... like an ordinary person. Like a human! How rubbish is that!" he blinked and frowned at Renata. "How did you ever do that?"

"Because, as it turns out, I like normal life," Renata smiled a bit.

"So what do we do?" Martha called for their attention.

"Well... I mean it's shielded, they could never detect it…" the Doctor waited for some sort of expression but the clone was probably incapable of it.

Renata turned to 'Martha' and narrowed her eyes. Martha caught the look and waited for something to be said. When it didn't happen, she made a gesture. "What?"

"What's happening with the air, have you called your family?" Renata asked and almost rolled her eyes at the clone's lack of knowledge. "You told Donna to talk to her family and...you haven't? Not even to warn them?" the Doctor put a hand on Renata's shoulder, his silent form of indicating she was treading along dangerous territory.

Thankfully, the clone was too focused on not blowing her cover. "Course I will, yeah, but, what about Donna? I mean, where's she?"

"Oh, she's gone home. She's not like you, she's not a soldier," the Doctor swiftly supplied the excuse and started back to the factory. "Right. So, avanti!" for security measures, he brought Renata right beside him.

"Change of plan!" he informed the UNIT employees when they returned to the base.

"Good to have you fighting alongside us, Doctor," Mace nodded but the Doctor disagreed.

"I'm not fighting, I'm not-fighting, as in not hyphen fighting, got it? Now, does anyone know what this gas is yet?"

"We're working on it," the clone answered.

"I bet you are," Renata mumbled under her breath.

A different woman came by to them with more information on hand. "It's harmful, but not lethal until it reaches 80% density. We're having the first reports of deaths from the center of Tokyo City."

"And who are you?" asked a bewildered Doctor.

"Captain Marion Price, sir," the woman saluted to him.

"Oh, put your hand down. Don't salute!"

"Jodrell Bank's traced a signal, Doctor, coming from 5000 miles above the Earth. We're guessing that's what triggered the cars," informed Mace.

"The Sontaran ship," the Doctor hummed.

"NATO has gone to Defcon One, we're preparing a strike."

"Um…" Renata blinked and quickly glanced at the working employees behind them. "Yeah, no. You can't do that." Mace settled a hard look on her and she raised her hands in defense. "Sontarans are pretty well developed in their weaponry and...just overall. "

"Just let us talk to the Sontarans," the Doctor jumped in with the question.

Mace looked at them both like they were out of their minds. "You're not authorized to speak on behalf of the Earth."

"I've got that authority, I earned that a long time ago," the Doctor begged to differ. He went right ahead and connected to the system in order to get in contact with the Sontarans. "Calling the Sontaran Command Ship under Jurisdiction Two of the Intergalactic Rules of Engagement. This is The Doctor."

In no time they had a Sontaran on screen. "Doctor, breathing your last?"

Mace blinked at the figure of alien on the screen. "My God, they're like trolls."

"Really? You want to make them more angry?" Renata pointed him to stay quiet.

"So, tell me, General Staal, since when did you lot become cowards?" the Doctor heard Renata's deep sigh beside him.

"How dare you!?" Staal practically screeched in offence.

"At this point I'd be better off talking," Renata mumbled. She was good at talking when it came to things SHE she was passionate about.

When she ran her foundation, she was always in the market looking for potential donations and that required a lot of negotiation skills. But to her, it wasn't business. It was all for the single cause of helping people. She was good at it. She knew she was because of the large donations she would receive from particular stingy people.

But this was war talk.

She didn't like war. War meant death and she had many people taken from her because of war.

The skills just weren't there.

"...but poison gas?" the Doctor unbeknownst pulled Renata from her thoughts. She was glad to see him finally getting back on track. "That's the weapon of a coward and you know it. Staal, you could blast this planet out of the sky, and yet you're sitting up above watching it die. Where's the fight in that? Where's the honor? Or, are you lot planning something else? Cos this isn't normal Sontaran warfare. What are you lot up to?"

"A general would be unwise to reveal his strategy to the opposing forces," Staal declared.

"Aaah, the war's not going so well, then? Losing, are we?"

"Such a suggestion is impossible."

Mace got the feeling that this other opponent of the Sontarans were not exactly humans. "What war?"

'The war between the Sontarans and the Rutans," the Doctor answered him. "It's been raging, far out in the stars for 50,000 years. 50,000 years of bloodshed, and for what?"

"For victory. Sontar-ha!" Staal led the rest of the Sontarans into a joint chant.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and decided to give their ears a break. "Give me a break." He switched the channel of the screen to a normal cartoon show.

"You can't be serious," Renata stared incredulously at the Doctor. He smirked and twirled his sonic between his fingers.

Mace disapproved with the tactics as well. "Doctor. I would seriously recommend that this dialogue is handled by official Earth representation."

But there, Renata had to contradict. "I know it looks bad -" she waved a hand at the Doctor who kept twirling his sonic like nothing, "-but he really is good at this-" but the sonic twirling got on her nerves and so she snatched it from him. "Stop it!"

The Doctor laughed and took his sonic back. He switched the channel back to the Sontarans. "Finished?"

"You will not be so quick to ridicule when you'll see our prize. Behold!" Staal moved out of the way to showcase the TARDIS in their ship. "We are the first Sontarans in history to capture a TARDIS.

"Well. As prizes go, that's... noble," the Doctor eyed the screen carefully, knowing Donna had to be watching from inside the TARDIS. "As they say in Latin, Donna nobis pacem."

Renata hoped to God that Donna was not as terrified as she thought the ginger would be. It was rather rude not to tell Donna of the plan, but Renata doubted the Doctor had time to come up with a different plan.

"Did you never wonder about its design? It's phonebox," the Doctor continued nonchalantly. "It contains a phone. A telephonic device for communication. Sort of symbolic. Like if only we could communicate. You and I."

"All you have communicated is your distress, Doctor," Staal snapped.

"Big mistake though. Showing it to me," the Doctor warned and raised a small device. "Cos I've got remote control."

"Cease transmission!" Staal immediately ordered and ended the contact.

"Oh, well," the Doctor go up from his chair with a mighty casual face.

Mace looked more peeved than ever. "That's achieved nothing."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," the Doctor smiled knowingly. Mace still wasn't convinced.

"He usually has something good," Renata offered words of encouragement but she too failed and sighed when the man walked away.

"You sure seem to know about me more than I thought," the Doctor eyed her.

Renata cleared her throat and searched her brain for a quick excuse. "I've just... I've caught on, that's all. But…" she looked around before taking him by the arm to the doorway away from the others, "I have to say I'm a little upset you put Donna into a dangerous situation. If you needed someone up on the Sontaran ship you could have asked me."

"I didn't exactly have time to do it. We had to be alone for me to explain out loud, since…" he stopped and rubbed the side of his neck.

Renata waited for him to finish his thought but he seemed reluctant to. "Since what?" she ultimately asked.

"Since, well, we're not...you know…" he pointed between them, specifically their heads, "Telepathically connected?"

"Oh…" Renata blinked. "I guess...I guess not. Hadn't really thought of that actually."

Being able to telepathically communicate with one another was child's play for Time Lords. Even a newborn had that ability packed down. Renata had gotten so used to being alone on Earth and cancelling out her abilities with a perception filter that now that she was free, the thought to open that ability with the Doctor hadn't even crossed her mind.

Judging by the Doctors face, he had thought of it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Renata couldn't help smile at his shifty behavior. He looked so nervous, it reminded her of their younger days. He was just as jumpy and adventurous then but also a little more easy to make nervous. Apparently she did that on a regular basis.

"You were angry with me and then…" the Doctor gave a shrug. "I don't know, I just...I didn't want you to think I was pressuring you."

Renata swore she was reliving the past then.

A young Renata (then Zuriah) finished overlooking a couple of papers. When she lowered them down, her surprised expression came face to face with a younger Doctor sitting right in front of her.

"This is actually...good," she breathed in.

The Doctor sarcastically rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, I'm known for bad ideas-"

"Bad ideas-"

Once again the Doctor rolled his eyes. "Yes, alright-"

"Actually, terrible ideas sometimes-"

"Okay-"

"-and in some of your ridiculously finest moments, awful-"

"Alright," the Doctor finally cut her off. Zuriah sheepishly smiled in return. "What I was trying to say was that I didn't say anything because I wanted things to be good. To be in check, I meant. Because I know how you like everything about this foundation to be perfect-"

"Perfect is good," Zuriah said logically, making him smile.

"Yes, fine-"

"No, it is fine," Zuriah gently corrected but the Doctor just motioned her to stay quiet and let him finish.

"I wanted everything to be properly done before you got to see it. I triple checked everything and there are no mistakes."

Zuriah's eyes flickered from the papers to the Doctor. "Well, this is actually really great. I could have a potential investor in the foundation. That'll be big! Me, not even graduated from the academy…"

"It'll make you even more unique!"

Zuriah blushed. "Thank you, but...you could have told me about this earlier. I would have helped."

"I just...I didn't want to pressure you," the Doctor rubbed the side of his neck. "I know how...complex you are with the foundation, so... I needed things to be perfect for you."

Zuriah chuckled at this nervousness. She didn't want to admit it, but she thought he looked adorable.

"I think…" Renata couldn't form a coherent sentence then, her face inexplicably warm.

The Doctor would've paid her more attention if Martha the clone hadn't walked in at that moment. She was overlooking a clipboard but no doubt with a second agenda. The Doctor strode up to her and snatched the clipboard from her.

Martha hadn't been expecting his presence but made due. "There's carbon monoxide, hydrocarbons, nitrogen oxides but 10% unidentified. Some sort of artificial heavy element we can't trace. You ever seen anything like it?"

The Doctor hated that he truly didn't know. "Must be something the Sontarans invented. This isn't just poison, they need this gas for something else. What could that be?"

"Uh, Doctor…" Renata was staring at the room. "The humans are at it again." The Doctor rushed back into the room in time to see them prepare to launch.

"What?! I told you not to launch!"

Mace regarded him barely. "The gas is at 60% density, 80% and people start dying, Doctor. We've got no choice."

"Launching will only speed up your deaths," Renata thought this was a logical consequence but the humans didn't see it.

"You're making a mistake, Colonel! For once, I hope the Sontarans are ahead of you."

Renata side-glanced Martha the clone who seemed far too calm for someone who was about to be 'blown up' in a matter of seconds. But that was it, wasn't it? The clone wasn't worried because she wasn't going to get hurt. The Sontarans...wouldn't fire.

"...4, 3, 2, 1…0"

And just at that moment of supposed launch, every computer went dark.

Mace saw all the computers' screens in disbelief. "What is it? What happened? Did we launch? Well, did we?"

"Negative, sir," informed Price. "The launch codes have been wiped, sir. It must be the Sontarans."

"Can we override it?"

"Now why would you want to override your get-out-of-death card?" Renata felt so frustrated it really made her wonder how the Doctor kept doing this.

"Missiles wouldn't even dent that ship, so why are the Sontarans so keen to stop you?" the Doctor asked and looked to Martha. "Any ideas?"

The clone raised an eyebrow. "How should I know?"

"Greyhound 40 declaring absolute emergency!" they all heard Ross' voice over the comm. system . "Sontarans within factory grounds, east corridor grid six!"

"Absolute emergency, declaring Code Red. All troops, Code Red!" Mace shouted into the comms.

"Get them out of there!" the Doctor rushed to the man, urgently trying to get a full on retreat...only to be ignored.

"All troops, open fire!"

"The guns aren't working. Inform all troops, standard weapons do not work!"

"Please!" Renata went after the Doctor. "They're not equipped to fight these aliens! Get them out!"

"Tell the Doctor it's that Cordolaine signal. He's the only one who can stop them-" but the was the last thing they heard from the radio.

"Greyhound 40, report!" Mace cluelessly ordered. "Over. Greyhound 40, report. Greyhound 40, report!"

By this point the Doctor was furious. "He wasn't Greyhound 40, his name was Ross. Now listen to me, and GET THEM OUT OF THERE!"

That kind of shout would have made anyone shrink. Mace knew when to give in, and so he made the order for a full retreat.

"That's not going to stop them from overtaking the factory," Renata told the Doctor, hoping he would calm down. He was no good when he was frustrated. She knew that.

"But it doesn't make sense," he was utterly confused with the war strategy. "Why attack now? What are they up to? Times like this, I could do with the Brigadier…" he made a turn at Mace. "No offence."

"None taken. Sir Alistair's a fine man, if not the best. Unfortunately he's stranded in Peru."

"Launch grid back online!" Price called them back.

Renata sighed. "You know, humans were a lot easier to handle in my time."

"You had them in historical times where they were even more ignorant," the Doctor remarked.

"Yes, but ignorance meant easier control," Renata shook her head.

Once again, the launching system failed. Price went back in to see the problem but could barely get the screens to turn back on. "They're inside the system, sir. It's coming from within UNIT itself," she resolved.

Mace overlooked any screen in his vicinity and ordered for them to trace it. He returned to where the Doctor and Renata stood and shared his one winning question. "Why are they defending the factory only after we were inside?"

"Because they wanted you here," Renata said within the second and received an odd look in return. "I fought in a war too, sir. It's a plain, simple strategy. There is obviously something UNIT had that they wanted...and now it's still here."

"Then whatever it is we've got to recover it," Mace could finally agree with her on something. "This Cordolaine signal thing, how does it work?

"The bullets. It causes expansion of the copper shell," explained the Doctor.

"Excellent. I'm on it," Mace walked off.

"For the billionth time, you can't fight Sontarans!" the Doctor shouted after him in vain.

"Don't waste your breath on them," Renata muttered.

The Doctor let it go only for the moment. They needed to get in contact with Donna up in the TARDIS but they could only talk somewhere quiet, private. He managed to secure a phone from a nearby officer, and with Renata's help, called to Donna.

"I'll keep watch," Renata promised and stood just by the threshold of the small side room. Martha the clone wasn't even paying attention to them but they weren't going to take any chances.

The Doctor was persuading Donna to take down a Sontaran up on the ship and Renata felt for the woman, understanding it was probably a scary thing for a human. There really was no training for such moments.

Luckily, the Doctor seemed skilled in persuasion. He talked to Donna with so much confidence - something Renata easily saw Donna lacked - that he definitely got Donna to go out and do what he needed. It was always his thing. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. He could talk his way out of death - he had - and probably many other things.

"Oh, you are brilliant, you are!" she heard the man practically kiss the phone out of delight.

She barely contained her smile. She turned around, her hair flipping with her, and faced a rather bright Doctor. "The way you speak to Donna...seems like you care about her a lot."

"Well-" the Doctor lowered the phone for a bit, "-don't you?"

"I mean...yeah, I don't want her to die or anything, but...I barely know the woman. And you...you seem to be like that with every human we meet."

"They're extraordinary people. You've lived with them long too…"

"Yeah, but, just as neighbors. I kept to myself except for ...you know…" Renata's smile faded, "...the Cartwrights."

The Doctor nodded. It was still a pang to his hearts whenever she spoke about her adoptive human children. Never would he forget that it was his fault they were killed. It was something he would have to carry for the rest of his lives.

"Counter-attack!" Mace's sudden appearance made both aliens rush back into the main room.

"I said you don't stand a chance!" the Doctor felt like a broken record.

"Positions," Mace flatout ignored the warning. "That means everyone." He abruptly tossed two gas masks at Renata. "You're not going without me!"

"I...I don't even know where we're going," Renata immediately turned to the Doctor expecting a full on explanation.

The Doctor took her out with them and, after putting on the gas masks, they entered the fog-ridden street. Mace showed them the weapons they were going to be using in just a minute

"Latest firing stock, what do you think, Doctor?"

"Are you my Mummy?" the Doctor comically responded. Renata whacked him on the chest.

"If you could concentrate," Mace retorted. "Bullets with a rad-steel coating, no copper surface. Should overcome the Cordolaine signal."

"But the Sontarans have got lasers!" the Doctor was tired of repeating to just be ignored. "You can't even see in this fog, the night-vision doesn't work."

"Thank you Doctor, thank you for your lack of faith. But this time, I'm not listening," Mace took off his gas mask and addressed his awaiting soldiers. "Attention, all troops! Sontarans might think of us as primitive. As does every passing species with an axe to grind. They make a mockery of our weapons, our soldiers, our ideals. But no more! From this point on, it stops. From this point on, the people of Earth fight back and we show them! We show the warriors of Sontar what the human race can do! Trap One to Hawk Major! Go, go, go!"

Renata was the first one to look up at the sky after hearing a loud whirring sound. The fog around them was swept away by none other than the Valiant. Her hearts nearly stopped but she knew that this time the ship was being used for good.

And the Master was dead.

She pulled off her gas mask with the others and expressed her impression of the humans' strategy. "This was actually not a bad idea."

"Valiant, fire at will!" Mace gave the final order.

The Valiant fired at the factory with a collection of green energy. The soldiers on the ground went in with all the power they had and actually managed to overpower the Sontarans.

While this was good news, it also meant it was time to continue the plan. The Doctor once again put Donna on the line.

"Donna, hold on. I'm coming," he reassured the probably-terrified ginger on the other line.

"Shouldn't we follow the Colonel?" the clone was right behind the two aliens.

Renata put on her best smile for the clone, even though the stench made her want to gag. "Martha, I've missed you. This can be like one of our old times."

The Doctor called the women over, and soon the three followed him and his sonic to hunt down the alien technology inside the factory. The search led them to the basement of the factory with no such disruptions from the Sontarans.

"If there's no Sontarans here, it must be where their precious cargo is," Renata muttered to the Doctor who agreed in a hum.

"They can't resist a battle. Here we go," the Doctor pushed open the doors of the lab and the first thing he saw was the real Martha Jones fast asleep over a metal table.

"Martha!" Renata cried and ran towards the woman.

The Doctor came after her and searched for Martha's vital, thankful to find one. "She's still alive," she calmed Renata's nerves.

Renata's gaze went over to the clone who had taken aim at them with a gun. "Seriously?" the blonde raised an eyebrow. The Doctor followed her gaze and shared the same, unimpressed face.

"Wish you carried a gun now?"

"Not at all," the Doctor rolled his eyes. He could feel the overconfidence radiating off the clone.

"I've been stopping the nuclear launch all this time," the clone proudly informed them.

"Doing exactly what I wanted. I needed to stop the missiles, just as much as the Sontarans. I'm not having Earth start an interstellar war. You're a triple agent!"

The clone blinked, of course not expecting her identity to be compromised so early in the mission. "When did you know?"

"We always knew," Renata revealed to her. "Clone basis. What do you humans call it? 101?" she glanced at the Doctor to make sure she'd gotten it right. He gave her a little smile of amusement but still confirmed her question. "You have a reduced iris contraction, slight thinning of the hair follicles on the left temple. And, frankly, the worst of it all-" Renata waved a hand in front of her nose, "-you smell. Badly."

"You might as well have worn a T-shirt saying 'clone'," the Doctor remarked but re-thought his statement. "Although, maybe not in front of Captain Jack. You remember him, don't you? Cos you've got all her memories. That's why the Sontarans had to protect her, to keep you inside UNIT. Martha Jones is keeping you alive." He ripped off the device on Martha's head to break the connection.

The real woman screamed awake and started ramble on over the last thing she remembered. At the same time, the clone screeched and fell to the ground. Renata went over and got the gun away from her.

"It's alright, Martha! It's alright!" the Doctor promised her, but it took several more seconds for Martha to get with the program. The cellphone he'd taken started to ring again, making him groan. "Oh, blimey I'm busy. Got it?" he answered.

"You needn't be so rude to poor Donna," Renata returned and disapprovingly shook her head at him.

The Doctor acknowledged her statement with a wave of a hand and continued speaking to Donna. "Take off the covering. All the blue switches inside, flick them up like a fusebox. And that should get the teleport working." He hurriedly moved to the broken teleport in the room and tinkered with the glitches while Donna did his task.

"Oh my God," Martha breathed in when she saw her clone still struggling on the ground. "That's me!"

"Yes, it's your clone," Renata reassured her everything was fine now. "She won't hurt you."

"It's not like she can hurt anything now," Martha got off her bed and, despite Renata's warnings, she went to the clone.

"Don't touch me!" the clone swatted Martha's hands away.

"It's not my fault," Martha insisted to speak with the clone. "The Sontarans created you. But... you had all my memories."

The clone breathed in harder, and a little faster. "You've got a brother, sister, mother and father."

"If you don't help me, they're gonna die," Martha thought that since the clone was technically her, she would have a heart somewhere.

"You love them…"

"Yes, remember that?"

"The gas!" the Doctor shouted from the teleport. "Tell us about the gas!"

"He's the enemy!" the clone gritted her teeth together.

"Then tell me. It's not just poison, what's it for?" Martha anxiously awaited for the clone to answer her. "Martha, please!"

The clone released a sigh. "Caesofine concentrate. It's one part of Bosteen, two parts Probic 5."

"Clonefeed!" the Doctor instantly knew the plan.

"What's clonefeed?" Martha looked at the two aliens questionably.

"It's your basic amniotic fluid for Sontarans," Renata explained. "They're about to breed on this planet." Martha crinkled her nose.

"It's why they're not invading the planet - they're converting the atmosphere," the Doctor finally got the idea. "Changing the planet into a clone world. Earth becomes a great big hatchery. Cos the Sontarans are clones, that's how they reproduce. Give 'em a planet this big, they'll create billions of new soldiers. That gas isn't poison, it's food!"

"My heart...it's getting slower," the clone leaned against the leg of a table.

"There's nothing I can do," Martha said sadly.

"In your mind, you've got so many plans. There's so much that you wanna do…"

"And I will," Martha gave a small smile. "Never do tomorrow what you can do today, my mum says. Cos…"

"Cos you never know how long you've got. Martha Jones... All that life."

Renata's gaze fell to the floor suddenly. The two Marthas' words had hit an unexpected home. It was easier said than done, right?

"Now!" the Doctor exclaimed and startled the blonde back to the present. He pointed his sonic at the teleport pod from outside and activated it. Donna appeared within the next second, scared out of her mind.

She hopped off and met the Doctor with a hug. "Have I ever told you how much I hate you?"

The Doctor was, at the moment, a little more preoccupied with using the teleport again. "Hold on, hold on! Get off me!" he had to move Donna out of the way to sonic the teleport again. "Gotta bring the TARDIS down."

"Well, that's still rude," Renata met Donna with a well needed hug. "You did fantastic," she praised the ginger's admiral bravery. Donna smiled shyly but took the compliment.

"Martha, you coming?" the Doctor called to the woman once the blue box was back with them.

"What about this nuclear launch thing?" Martha slowly got back on her feet.

"Just keep pressing N, we want to keep those missiles on the ground!"

Donna noticed the lying Martha on the ground and blinked. "But...there's two of them."

"It's not worth telling," Renata reassured her and moved Dona into the teleport with the Doctor and Martha.

"The old team, back together!" the Doctor grinned then looked at the two women who hadn't exactly been with him since Martha's start. "Well, the new team."

"Forced team!" Renata reminded him with a huff. "You kidnapped me!"

The Doctor let his head hang. "Again? I just-"

"I don't want to go back on that ship!" Donna let her feelings be heard loud and clear.

"No, no, no," the Doctor shook his head at her. "I needed to get the teleport working so that we could get to…" he activated the teleport again and transferred them to Rattigan Academy, "Here! The Rattigan Academy, owned by-"

"Don't tell anyone what I did!" Luke Rattigan himself stood in front of them with shaking hands aiming a gun at them. "It wasn't my fault, the Sontarans lied to me, they-"

The Doctor, completely unimpressed and outright tired, snatched the gun from Luke's hands - making the teen flinch - and chucked the gun away. "If I see one more gun…"

Renata didn't even notice her smile at him until Martha nudged her side. "Don't drool," the woman teased.

Renata blushed but couldn't snap when Donna cut in, having heard the tease and of course became curious. "Hold on, did she just say-"

"Martha Jones I will throw you into orbit," Renata muttered and stalked away.

Donna's biggened smile followed after the blonde. "Now just tell me…"

Renata purposely busied herself by helping the Doctor create whatever it was he'd thought of. The Doctor never heard anything since he was too focused on explaining - out loud - the real plan of the Sontarans.

"That's why the Sontarans had to stop the missiles, they were holding back! Because, caesofine gas is volatile, that's why they had to use you to stop the nuclear attack! Ground-to-air engagement could've sparked off the whole thing!"

"Do you breathe somewhere along those quick rambles?" Renata asked with some genuine concern. It had always been one of her famous questions, and she supposed the Doctor remembered it too because he paused his work and stared at her rather perplexed. Oh my God I will never learn, will I? she berated herself.

"So they were like going to set fire to the atmosphere?" Martha unknowingly got the Doctor back on track.

"Yeah…" he answered, still slow at first as he got over the initial surprise. He was probably overthinking things anyways. Many people could say that...then again, no one really had except for one person…he had to stop. "They need all the gas intact to breed their clone army. And all the time we had Luke here in his dream factory. Planning a little trip, were we?"

"They promised me a new world," Luke was leaning against his desk, contemplating his life choices.

"You were building equipment, ready to terraform El Mundo Luko so that humans could live there and breathe the air with this! An atmospheric converter," the Doctor tapped the device he was working on.

"Color me shocked," Renata blinked. "That big brain and you couldn't see you were being used?"

The Doctor picked up the device and ran out the room, letting the others follow him out. The sky was full of smoke, nothing could be seen beyond.

"That's London. You can't even see it. My family's in there," Donna felt her nerves wreck.

The Doctor was tinkering with the device, hoping to get the activation right. "If I can get this on the right setting…"

"Doctor, hold on, you said the atmosphere would ignite…" Martha recalled the words with looming conclusions.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" he finally activated the device. A flame burst from it and plunged into the sky, causing the ignition. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please…" he actually crossed his fingers and bounced a little, something Renata watched with almost frustration.

Martha noticed it and wondered what exactly it was. Because while it was frustration it wasn't exactly the same 'I'm upset' frustration one would think. It seemed almost like...realization.

What had Renata realized?

The fire in the sky disappeared in about a minute, clearing all smoke with it.

"He's a genius!" Luke gawked.

"Just brilliant," Donna laughed.

The Doctor didn't express the same happiness. He was still a little more urgent. "Now we're in trouble!" he grabbed the device and rushed back inside the room.

He was already inside the teleporter once again when the others got back in the room. The device was standing right beside him, and a finger was hovering over the teleporter control. "Right, so... Donna, thank you. For everything," he began, rather awkwardly yet full of sorrow. "Martha, you too. Oh... so many times. Luke, do something clever with your life. Renata, I kidnapped you and it was, unashamedly, the best decision I ever made."

Renata was stunned, but not by his words. "You…" her face scrunched into something, but Donna didn't give her the chance to express herself.

"Why are you saying goodbye?" she demanded.

"Sontarans are never defeated. They'll be getting ready for war. And, well, you know, I've recalibrated this for Sontaran air, so…" the Doctor left the rest to the imagination.

"You're gonna ignite them and kill yourself," Renata's sharpened voice was like a puncturing needle on the Doctor. Oh, she was getting mad...or something along those lines.

"Just send that thing up, on it's own. I don't know... put it on a delay!" Martha thought fast.

The Doctor shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I've got to give them a choice."

Renata felt like a ticking time bomb and the explosion was coming. "Doctor you listen-"

But the Doctor teleported before she could finish. Her eyes may have been disheartening but it was contrasted by the big scowl resting across her lips.

"Ren…" Martha didn't even want to imagine what was running through Renata's mind at the moment. She moved over to Renata's side.

"I know what you're thinking but you'll never say," the blonde began, uncharacteristically calm despite the situation. It was a scary type of calm. "If I had told him, he would've done differently. Well, I've got a newsflash for you, he wouldn't. I stopped mattering centuries ago and yet...he still matters to me - I…" she shook her head.

She would not spill tears. She had no right anyways. She made the mistake and she had to live with the consequences. She turned the Doctor away once, and she made it damn clear she would never, ever runaway with him. It was the death sentence to their once, young love and she knew it. With the centuries' pass, she thought it was all a closed story. It didn't matter anymore. He'd been married, had kids, done so many, many things without ever once attempting to find her. Granted she'd unexpectedly regenerated before graduating, but even then, he could have found her if he tried. But he hadn't. She told him never to make contact with her.

It should have been the ending of them.

And yet, today, coupled with all their recent travels, Renata came to the conclusion - the second time in her life - that the Doctor still mattered to her. She still cared for him. She loved him. She loved him in all his stupid, quirky acts and and heroic moments.

"I hate him," she swallowed hard and maintained her face of any emotions that would give her up.

"What are you doing?" Donna called to Luke inside the teleport. She'd been paying close attention to Renata but ultimately the boy messing around with the only device that could bring back the aliens got to her.

"Something clever," Luke promised them. He straightened up and gave a final smile at them before teleporting away and leaving the Doctor in his place.

The Time Lord was too shellshocked from the sudden switcheroo to speak. He clambered out of the teleporter and rested on the edge of it. Donna was the first one to march up to him and whacked him on the arm. He flinched but Donna then hugged him out of relief for his safety.

The same could not be said for a blonde Time Lady.

~0~

"You're a selfish prick, you know that!?" Renata paced back and forth inside the TARDIS, spewing out some very nice vocabulary that the Doctor flinched at every second or so.

He now knew what Renata looked like when she was mad as hell. Still, thinking he deserved it, he kept his mouth shut and allowed Renata to get her feelings off her chest.

"You don't go asking me - kidnapping me - to get me in your TARDIS only for you to then go sacrificing yourself for a stupid cause!" she was almost purple on the face after such a long sentence she said so fast.

"It wasn't 'stupid'-"

"Yes-" Renata cut him off and stormed towards him, "-it was. Sontarans don't give a damn if some of their fleet gets killed off! There's always going to be Sontarans but there is only one you-" she jabbed her index finger on his chest.

Her compliment, though obscured with crazy anger, almost made the Doctor believe he heard wrong. He couldn't help the smile his lips gave. "That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me," he remarked, making Renata blink with realization.

Oh God she had just said that.

The Doctor gingerly took her finger still threatening his chest. "And now that I know how you feel, I can honestly say I will think twice before giving myself up like that again."

Renata swallowed and pulled her finger from his hand. He was smiling so stupidly at her, full of genuine care for her. "Fine!" she relented for that case only. "You don't ever pull that on me again because it's selfish! You're selfish!" she was letting her emotions take her over and that was not good. She felt like a child, really, shouting and almost crying. "I scold you, I say things I don't mean, I make your life impossibly difficult but it is my unfortunate way of saying that I do care! I'm selfish too because I want you to take it and know what I actually mean!" Oh my god she had definitely sounded like him with his rambling.

The Doctor was sure that if he showed a smile it would be rude but he was fairly amused at her innocence. He only slightly chuckled and yanked Renata into a hug, surprising her in the process. "You think I didn't know that already? If you had actually hated me, you would've left a long time ago. Renée, contrary to the popular belief that I am a clueless idiot-"

"Which you are…" Renata blurted and scrunched her eyes shut. "Sorry."

The Doctor laughed again. "I do know what actual hate looks like, and it's not in you. It's okay if you're not good with words. I will always understand what you mean to say.'

His words made her hearts swell and him hugging her tighter didn't help her case. But, just for that one moment, she allowed herself to really feel. She accepted she still loved his hugs and the way he smelled, his natural way with words - the very talent she lacked as he stated - and his extraordinary talent at frustrating her. She loved it all and she loved him.

But he would never know.

Martha and Donna walked in at that moment, unknowingly ending the moment between the aliens. Martha was asking how Donna's family was after such a day.

"They're fine," Donna assured but she was struggling to sound casual. Actually deciding to leave her family for an indefinite period wasn't something easy to do. "So! You gonna come with us? We're not exactly short of space."

"It really would be nice to have you around," Renata told Martha, though the hope for that was minimal. From the very start of their arrival to the ATMOS factory, Renata could tell the sparkle of space adventures wasn't in Martha's eyes anymore. The woman loved her life on Earth and there was no pulling her from it.

Martha nostalgically gazed at the console room. "Oh, I have missed all this, but, you know. I'm good here. Back at home. And I'm better for having been away. Besides-" she raised her hand and flashed her engagement ring at the three, "-someone needs me. Never mind the universe, I've got a great big world of my own now!"

But almost as soon as she said that, the doors slammed shut and they heard the locking noose. Before anyone could ask what was going on, the TARDIS took off with a violent shake, throwing the others around.

"Doctor, don't you dare!" Martha had landed over a railing. "I said kidnap Renata not me!"

The Doctor was trying to figure out what was piloting the TARDIS because it sure as hell wasn't him. "No, no, no! I didn't touch anything! We're in flight, it's not me!"

"Dare I ask where we're going!?" Renata pulled herself around the console to get to the scanner in hopes of figuring out the destination.

"I don't know, it's out of control!" the Doctor reached the scanner at the same time as Renata. Both of them saw no destination but the TARDIS sure seemed determined to get to it.

#10th doctor #doctor who #dw imagines #ocappreciation #ocapp #10th doctor imagines #doctor who fanfics #10th doctor fanfics #doctor who fic #martha jones #donna noble #oc: Renata Cartwright #fic: the beginning of everything #noblecrescentedit

[hunnybadgerv]

B, H, and O?

FanFic Ask Game

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?  So far, only a little moment of one and that is the scene at the church during Leah Rook’s Rest In Pieces. I based Leah’s role for her family and her reaction to finally seeing her father’s body in the casket on my own experience with my Grandfather’s death. He was really the only consistent father figure I had, and he had a pride in me that no one else ever matched, at least until I hit my 20s. 

He died across the country, and we were driving to try and get there in time. I was driving, rather, with my mother and my three girls. We got to within two hours of his home when someone finally called and told us he had died that morning. And I’m pretty sure they only told us at that moment because we were so close. 

My mom had gotten to talk to him before he died. And with being the main driver, and the only caretaker of my girls, and of course, the oldest child and eldest granddaughter there was an expectation that I’d hold it together for the people around me. It’s what I always did. 

And I was fine up until the moment we walked into the church. Things got super tense, and I ended up collapsing in the church. Just losing all my shit. Freaked out my kids and everyone else. But for me, my grandfather’s death had not been real until that very moment. 

So, I took from that experience to enlighten and write Leah’s in that story. 

As a rule, I try to avoid using my own life and experience in my work. In part, it is because when I write something amoral, vulnerable, angry, romantic, etc. I do not want readers to assume that these things are true of me or based on my life. My way to combat that possibility has always been to avoid bringing any bit of my own life experience into my writing. 

For me, it was always like letting go of control. If I use my own experiences then I’m giving someone something they can use against me. Giving someone a tool they can use to condemn, judge, or degrade my experience. It’s a bit over the top, but it has always been something I’ve worried about because I distinctly remember sharing some of my earlier writing with people and them making those kinds of comments, derogatory statements that felt like they were attacking me rather than the writing.

I’ve moved past that inability to separate my writing from my words, but I’ve always remained wary of utilizing my own experiences in my text. I know this ended up being more than just the answer to this question, but I’m hoping you’ll allow me to indulge in this little moment. 

H: How would you describe your style? Oh gosh. I would say that my style is Restoration Realism. I know what the hell does that even mean. As a writer, I know that my writing style was heavily influenced by the evolution of the early novel (about the first 50-75 years of the novel’s existence as a medium). 

The early novels tended to focus heavily on the human experience. The authors invested you in their characters and the worlds of those characters. It really informed my own focus. And these stories didn’t have concrete a sense of plot, because the plot was the growth of the characters. So, it heavily influenced my focus on character. 

It is probably also the reason that my stories don’t follow the specific measure of plot. There is no mystery to solve (at least not a single one), there is no one quest that appears. For my writing, it is the sum of these small moments that creates the driving force of my writing. 

I’ve always been a fan of the idea that writing is getting your characters stuck in a tree where you then throw rocks at them. They not only have to dodge the rocks, but figure out how to dislodge themselves while under fire (or on fire).

And I used the phrase Realism, because even in the most fantastic of my tales, I try to ground things in a level of perceived reality. I want the things my characters do to make sense and seem accurate for their own worlds. It’s the reason I adjust some things when I write. For example, giving mages in Dragon Age some common spells that all mages would know--like being able to breathe, in some basic form all humans that are alive can breathe but we have some conditions that limit that behavior or its effectiveness. I think of magic in a similar fashion, a mage/wizard might be gifted in a certain field, but due to them being able to use magic they are able to do certain kinds of things just by being a magic user. 

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters? My stories always begin with characters. Sometimes I don’t even know what’s going to happen, but I meet a character that just fascinates me. 

Occasionally a story idea--I would not call it a plot per se. Like with the Bewitched series I’m working on it was the idea of what would happen if Sebastian’s family installed him in the Templar Order rather than as a brother in the Chantry? That essential question has me wandering through the exploration of that idea. 

As far as your typical plot, like person A is murdered and we have to solve it. That’s not really the kind of thing that I am particularly good at. I’m incredibly horrible with finding that major problem that the plot centers around. Or that quest that a character must go on. I really struggle with that! More than I can explain. 

This brings me a great deal of stress because I know that it is this struggle in the fiction that gives the characters I adore so much a cohesive place to exist and grow. Plot, in the sense of a central problem, is the thing I struggle with for long fic ideas. I either try to find this incredibly epic scale rather than something more realistic and focused. 

And I’m hoping to find a way around that. 

#FanFic Ask Game #Badger Rambling #foofygoldfish

[solesurvivorkat]

Get to Know Me!/About Me/The Self Care Tag Game

Tagged by @the-dubstep-strawberry and @ja-crispea, thank you guys!  <3  :-)

(This is long, so I put it under a tag)

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Who were you named after?: My maternal aunt (Kathy), middle name from my other maternal aunt.

Last time you cried?: (snorts) ...Okay... there’s this book that my toddler son has, called ‘Love You Forever’ - and the damn thing always makes me cry and I HATE it, lol. It’s basically a mom that watches her son grow up from a baby to an adult, and she rocks him to sleep his whole life saying, “ "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living My baby you'll be." “. ...IT’S A MENACE. He asked me to read it to him the other day & I couldn’t say no, so my husband was kind of sympathetically laughing at me (not in a mean way) b/c I was definitely crying by the end. IT’S EVIL. 

Do you like your handwriting? Ehhh.... sometimes? When I CONCENTRATE on it, it’s fine. When I scribble something out in a hurry, I don’t love it so much (though it’s still a million more times legible than my husband’s ‘chicken-scratch’ handwriting, LOL).

What is your favorite lunch meat?: Roast beef. I don’t buy it often b/c it’s usually expensive, but a good roast beef deli meet? Oof.

Longest relationship?: The one I’m in w/ my husband. We’ve been together since 2008, married in 2011 (for those who hate math like me {lol}, that’s together for 12 years in August, married for 9 years in December).

Do you still have your tonsils? Yes.

What is your favorite kind of cereal?: Don’t really have a favorite, but I like Lucky Charms (I know, I’m a stereotype, LOL), Captain Crunch, one of the Post ones w/ cranberries in it (forget what it’s called), Honey Nut Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, Peanut Butter Crunch, and a bunch of others.

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?: Right now my sneakers are the slip-on kind (though I really need to buy new ones sometime), but I have to untie my boots when I wear them b/c they have roller skate laces in them and they stay put (don’t move around a lot, which is what they’re supposed to do), so if I didn’t untie them I’d never be able to get them on/off, lol.

Do you think you’re strong willed?: Oh my GOD, yes. ...Almost to a fault, lol.  *XD

Favorite Ice Cream?: Don’t really have a favorite, but I tend to go for either Oreo, Cookie Dough, or chocolate & peanut butter.

What is the first thing you notice about a person?: Usually their eyes. I think I mention eyes a lot in my writing (again, almost to a fault, lol), but it’s b/c eyes are so expressive. ‘Eyes are the window to the soul’, as they say.

Football or baseball?: Neither - I’m really not a sports person. But if I HAD to choose one, I’d say baseball (Red Sox!).

Favorite donut?: Chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles (...yes, I like the sprinkles on it, I ‘donut’ know why. HA!!! .....I’ll show myself out. LOL)

Last thing you ate?: Chocolate-frosted Pop-Tarts, & currently, gradually drinking water flavored w/ store-brand caffeinated fruity drink mix (need this at work to keep me going b/c I don’t like coffee).

What are you listening to?: Nothing right now - quiet at work (I love when it’s peaceful at work... I don’t really get peace at home often, lol)

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?: Cerulean. ...Shut up, I like that color. (lol)

What is your favorite smell?: Don’t have one favorite... I love the smell of cookies/brownies baking, woodsmoke, cedar, Old Spice (my husband wears it, and yes - my grandfather actually DID wear it, lol!), freshly mowed lawn, mulch (I know that might sound weird, but it smells nice to me - earthy!), that smell that happens before it’s about to start raining (...I’m weird, I know lol)

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?: Probably my husband... (thinks) ...well technically it was my boss, actually. He calls us every morning when we go in to work just to check-in (not in a condescending way, just to make sure we’re doing okay & to let us know if anything’s new).

Hair color?: Medium/honey blonde. (I’m not allowed to color it b/c of work, but I would love to try a funky color again, like pink or purple... or maybe rainbow! <3 )

Eye color?: Blue on the outside/edge, brownish-green on the inside/around the pupil (I have ‘central heterochromia’ - look it up, I’ve mentioned it on my blog before, lol) 

Favorite food to eat?: Don’t have one favorite, but I tend to go for pizza, Italian, or American food 

Scary movies or happy ending?: Happy ending. I know it’s lame of me, but if a movie doesn’t end happy it bother me.  

Last movie you watched in a theater?: I... honestly don’t remember, lol. I think it was ‘Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker’.

What color shirt are you wearing?: It’s a purple-y, mulberry kind of color.

Favorite holiday?: Christmas, hands down. Halloween is a close second. 

Beer or wine?: Neither (don’t like the taste - you’ll usually find me drinking Diet Pepsi, lol. I know, I’m a dork.)

Night owl or morning person?: Used to be a morning person when I was younger, but now I’m kind of a mid-day/twilight kind of person (I usually veg at night, lol).

Favorite day of the week?: Probably Friday or Saturday

Favorite animal?: LOVE Red Pandas, they’re so cute! I would totally get one for a pet if I could. I would also love a Husky/Shiba Inu/Klee Kai (dog), but I don’t have the time to devote to one right now, unfortunately.  :-(

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Rules: answer 17 questions and tag 17 people you’d like to know better!

Nickname: Kat, Sprocket, Kit-Kat

Zodiac: Aries

Height: 5′5″ (technically a hair under, but it’s 1/4″ or less so I round it up lol)

House: Hmm... either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, I think

Last thing I Googled: (thinks) Ugh, I just did something this morning, too... I totally forget what, though.  x__x*

Song in my head: Nothing, for now.

Followers and following: Currently followed by 259 awesome people, for which I am VERY grateful.  <3  Following 80 people.  (...I am NOT trying to insult people if I don’t follow you - I swear it’s nothing personal, I just don’t have time to catch up on the people that I’m following now.)

Amount of sleep: Usually anywhere between 6-8 hours

Lucky number: 4, 7, 13 (yup lol)

Dream job: Hmm... honestly not sure. As long as I get a paycheck & don’t hate/dislike my job, I’m usually pretty happy, lol.

Wearing: Slide-on sneakers, socks, black capri leggings, short-sleeved shirt, hair braided & clipped up

Fave songs: Don’t have a lot, though I always like ‘The Sound of Silence’ covered by Disturbed. I know there’s a bunch more that I like, but none are hugely standing out to me right now.

Instruments: Played the clarinet for a year in 5th grade, played the acoustic guitar in the 12th grade, don’t currently play any.

Random fact: One of my ancestors signed the Declaration of Independence, and there’s a town in NH named after him that I’ve never gotten to visit (heard that one before? Well I only have so many facts about me, lol)

Favorite Authors: Don’t really have one

Fave animal sounds: My chinchilla makes some cute noises, lol. I like hearing cats meow too, even if I’m more of a dog person. Ever hear a Husky ‘talk’? Hilarious. I love hearing guinea pigs ‘purr’ too, so cute!

Aesthetic: Woods, rustic, ‘comfy’

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Favorite comfort food: Chocolate (shocker, I know), particularly Lindt brand

Favorite drink: Diet Pepsi

Favorite relaxing activity: Relaxing on my couch, surfing the ‘net

Favorite fluffy/feel good fic: 

Favorite calming scent: fresh laundry, the ocean, woodsmoke, mulch (I know, I know, mentioned above)

Favorite white noise: Maybe the sound of ocean waves or birds chirping in the woods

Favorite relaxing (or uplifting) song: ...Can’t think of one off the top of my head.

Favorite book to get lost in: Reading friends fanfics

Favorite TV show to chill-out: Don’t usually watch a lot of TV (usually put something on to entertain my toddler)... maybe Kitchen Nightmares, or anything w/ Gordon Ramsey - not that I really like cooking shows, I just find him fun to watch, lol. (Or Bar Rescue - John Taffer is fun to watch too lol)

The best advice you’ve ever had: Hmm... I guess just variations on being true to yourself. The people that matter the most will love you no matter what and will always be in your corner, even when you’re having a bad day. Don’t try to impress people that aren’t worth your time/don’t truly care about you - it’s not worth your time and energy. Find and be with people that make you happy, that accept you for who you truly are. Be the best person you can be, but also remember that everyone has ‘off’/bad days. You’re not perfect, you’re not meant to be perfect. Do what makes YOU happy (...assuming it doesn’t hurt anyone else, obviously, lol).

Tagging whoever would like to be tagged in!

#tagged #about me #me irl #katie irl #about katie #self care tag game

[bigboxofbees]

Quicksand / Störst av allt

This is a swedish Netflix original series (the first one!) about a school shooting, so the following analysis/review will include discussions around that topic. There will also be some smaller spoilers (if you don't want those, you can stop reading after the second image. The show sets out to explore the main character's involvement in the shooting. A thing that makes this show interesting is the fact that Sweden has no history of this type of crime. It jumps between flashbacks to the present, the present being when she was found all the way to when the verdict was being read. I would like to mention that I would not recommend this show to anyone who feels like the topics of gun violence, suicide and sexual assault might be too much for you. They do show the shooting, there's mention of suicide and it has a rape scene.

In short terms, the show can be described as a Romeo and Juliet story. It's a whirlwind "love story" that ends in death. It's about two 17-yearold (later 18-yearold) teens, Maja and Sebastian (fun fact: the actor is a singer, he almost made it to eurovision), who've known eachother since they were children. Sebastian has been away for a year, he and Maja meet again on a night outside a night club. It's been made clear that Sebastian is the kind of guy who "can get any girl". He's rich and popular, yet suddenly only has eyes for Maja. She is your average girl, according to herself. Her family has money, but cannot afford the lavish lifestyle of Sebastian's family. It's the classic rich and troubled guy falls for the girl who doesn't see herself as special. Right after they met, Maja is going on a 3-week vacation to France with her family. Sebastian (and his father) meets up with Maja in France as a surprise, and this is where their love story begins.

Maja and Sebastian falls "in love" fast, it's unclear how long their "romance" lasted, but the timeline of the show seem to only stretch about a year. Although it is important to note, this timeperiod was very intense. They spent days (or possibly a week or two) alone on a luxury yacht the same week they met, Sebastian threw a huge party (drugs and alcohol included), she learned details about him and his family, they were in an accident and they went hunting with her grandfather (fun fact: my mother was in one of his movies in the 80s!).

A side character who's also of importance is Samir (fun fact: played by a former Youtube vlogger, whom I've seen live and he's fucking awesome, just putting it out there). Samir does not come from a family like Sebastian's. He does not understand what Maja sees in Sebastian, because to him Sebastian is nothing but a spoiled rich drug addict. However, he does seem to care about Maja, so perhaps his words come from a place of concern with a touch of jealousy. Sebastian seem to have made Samir his enemy, and there are definitely some racist remarks towards his parents who are immigrants from the middle east. Cheap shots indeed, but this shows that Sebastian is afraid of losing Maja to Samir; the intelligent son of immigrants who does well for himself, unlike Sebastian. He probably sees Samir as both above and below himself in a sense.

Another noteworthy character is Maja's best friend Amanda. Maja describes her as someone who "pities everyone, but equally pities herself", as "self-centered, but cares so much about everything". When Maja confesses that she may no longer be in love, Amanda (who's at least fairly aware about Sebastian's issues) says that "some people would've left him, but you aren't leaving him". She appears to be rather loyal to Sebastian, despite being friends with Maja first. Perhaps because she likes the perks of being that close to Sebastian and his way of life? However, when she learns more about what's going on the tone changes somewhat, she realizes things are bad.

Fast forward, Maja finally decides to break up with Sebastian. This is around the time when things are starting to really spiral out of control. Sebastian's father is not a great parent (I'm being generous here), an example of this would be when Sebastian is in the hospital and neither his father nor his brother comes to visit, they are on vacation. His mother is no longer in the picture, what happened to her is unknown, but there was a disturbing comment about her and his father clearly does not like her. This all becomes a lot for Sebastian, the disappointment, the drugs, the jealousy; his only escape was Maja, and she broke up with him. Maja feels even more responsibility over Sebastian, so she kind of stays with him. Maja can't bring herself to leave him, not even after he assaults her. In court she mentions that she "wishes he had hit her harder" so that she wouldn't feel so guilty about leaving him.

Maja is being detained for being suspected of murder, attempted murder and assisted murder. She is not completely innocent, that much is clear from the start, the question is what her involvement actually was. Maja doesn't seem to be able to picture herself a life after the shooting. When her legal team says "we all want you out of here" she responds with "out to where?". Perhaps she didn't plan that far, perhaps she doesn't feel like she has anything left or perhaps she didn't plan on making it out alive. What actually happened I won't spoil.

The scenes in the courtroom brings up a couple of interesting aspects of the trial. First we have witness tampering. The police didn't handle the main witness properly and therefor the witness' memories weren't clear. What this teaches us is that even if someone is not telling the truth, they may not be lying. Because by talking to other people, your memories can be altered, especially in situations like this. Another thing is the media, which played a role in the trial. As Maja's lawyer puts it: "She was already found guilty before we started". The media had been running stories about how horrible she was, which affected everyone in the courtroom. The last thing I wanted to bring up was victim blaming, we see the classics of "Did you say no? Did you report it?" and "Why didn't you leave?".

The show certainly sets out to humanize the people of the shooting, however, it does not try to romanticize the events nor their relationship. It starts out as this fantastical love story, but turns into a very toxic relationship and a downward spiral. If anything, it serves as a cautionary tale, because sometimes we can't save those we care about. Sometimes it's best to walk away.

As a final note, it does not however explain why it happened, we never got a clear motive. All we know is that the teacher had called for a meeting about Maja and Sebastian, and this is where it happened. But, perhaps, the lack of a motive is intended as a message. People do horrible things, maybe they don't always have a clear reasoning behind it; perhaps it was irratic and impulsive with no clear motive. But I would say that the shooting isn't the most central part of the show; it's their relationship. It's not a show about a school shooting, it's a show about how a relationship can turn toxic and spiral out of control.

I absolutely would recommend the show. It keeps you glued to the screen and you can easily watch it in a day (I did). It explores interesting topics and you're never quite sure whether or not you should be rooting for Maja until the very end.

#störst av allt #quicksand netflix #netflix original #netflix series #netflix #swedish series #i spent way too much time on this

[the1rei]

Little Moments: Reboot Chapter Six: Family Matters By  Ericobard and shadows59 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: Ben 10 Series Relationship: Ben Tennyson/Gwen Tennyson Some Additional Tags: Bullying, No proofreading, Family is Drama, Long burn

It became known as 'Bloody Christmas.'  Which was sad as Ben and Gwen had been getting along so well.  Still, it gave Ben the chance to be Gwen's hero.

Read my review below:

It is unrealistic that the parents are so nervous about spending this time together. Ben and Gwen have spent the last three months studying together without much problem, and three months in close quarters before that. Their fathers seem to like spending time together 'watching the game at the pub', so it seems like Lili and Sandra can't spend a few hours together and manage to act like adults. If this was only Gwen and Ben's fear, this wouldn't be such a problem, but the parents recognize the potential conflict and can't take steps to avoid it? This paints them as just overgrown children.

Again here we have Ben's parents doting over Gwen, whereas Ben gets no reciprocal affection from Gwen's. This could be interesting if it fed into a complex on Ben's part, but there's no evidence of that in the story. So it continues only to serve to show that Gwen is the central character of the story.

Ben's parents insisting that Gwen call them by their first names only is very uncomfortable, to the degree that you would expect any normal person to reconsider insisting on it. However, this was and likely still is a fad among some parents. While I preferred it to be just vaguely talked about, I can't fault the way Shadows59 communicates just how uncomfortable it is.

Why are the 'Tradition is' sentences being cut off, there's no indication the women are cutting each other off so why aren't the sentences complete?

I love how fraternal Carl and Frank are in this story.

Why does Gwen beat Ben at the video game that he has been playing all morning and spends far more time in general playing video games?  Shadows59 is making it difficult for me not to call Gwen a Mary-Sue.

Gwen's mom got up to four, nearly to eight, what?  Where in the text is what they are talking about explained?

Shadows59 writes as if Ben picked up his present twice without putting it down. A proofreader is needed.

I'm not sure what is more unlikely. That Gwen would suggest a book on science at all for Ben instead of something he might read like a graphic novel or even just an adventure appropriate for his age range. That someone as meticulous as Gwen wouldn't have checked the book or wrapped it herself. Or that Natalie would think it was a good idea to go against her daughter's explicit advice and wishes to get her nephew 'A Brief History of Time' a book Gwen herself admitted she didn't fully comprehend. All this seems to occur for a bit of melodrama.  

I do like the idea that Ben would be interested in the guitar; he did seem to have some talent with them.

Adding Xylene into this earlier part of Max's life creates an unneeded conflict with the source material. Why put her into this story at all?

Again Gwen asserts that Ben is Max's favorite which makes the normally mature character seem unnecessarily immature and then she goes on to claim its a gendered thing and laments about her grandma being gone, the only reason for this is that she assumes that her grandmother with favor her for a gendered reason. All this even though she has never met Verdona and has no emotional attachment to her whatsoever as she says herself, no one talks about Verdona. Why is Gwen so sexist? It doesn't add an enduring flaw to the character and again just seems to be here for unneeded drama.

I do like that Shadows59 expanded on the book on magic that grandpa gave her. Writing out whole passages from it is probably a little much, but it's a good element to expand on.

The exchange about the King Arthur stories is needlessly complicated. First, Gwen has read them; then she hasn't, then she just skimmed the character names and remembered it, even though the Lady of the Lake has about ten names spelled in a variety of ways. Again this is just padding and fluff that adds nothing of substance to the story.

The fight, known as Bloody Christmas, is the key reason for this chapter being written. It starts out well; the parents are drinking wine, which can be very alcoholic, leading to speaking without entirely thinking. However, the need for it as a catalyst for the fight is undermined Sandra and Lili nearly getting into fights already and their anxiety about spending time together, showing that they are already childish enough to have this fight without any help. From there, a lot of the problems stem from people being childish. Frank has a childish temper-tantrum about Max never being there for them. In the original, the fallout of Max's absence from their lives growing up manifests in a friendly, bt cold distance between them. Shadows59 expertly compared their interactions with the interaction one has when meeting a former classmate. Here, Frank expresses jealousy over the time and attention his daughter gets from her grandfather. I do expect more maturity from this adult man, who has had a child of his own for a decade and a successful, high stress, high demand career, and being sober enough to drive home, Frank is not drunk enough to completely take leave of his facilities. Then Carl defends Max by attacking Frank's parenting. All that was said about maturity and sobriety apply here as well. Also, even within the reboot, there is no indication that there is animosity between Carl and Frank about parenting, they get along well by everything we've been shown. It's highly implied in both versions that Sandra and Lili are making the parenting decisions, and their husbands are going along with them; that's why the parenting fight was one between Sandra and Lili. I expect Frank and Carl to side with their wives, but generally to stay out of the fight because they are softer on the parenting question then their wives, as has been shown even in the reboot. That is why it feels too aggressive for Carl to take shots at Lili for her parenting; it's not his fight.  After the attack on Max, the fight again feels like it fits well, though it should be just Sandra and Lili fighting, right until the end, when Ben's parents attack Lili's motivation for her parenting method, but I'll address that next chapter.

I like the way Lili stands up for Ben's intelligence, it makes sense for her character given her problem is more with Sandra's parenting then Ben himself. It also gives back a little of the praise that Ben's parents have been showing on Gwen up to this point.

I like that in the middle of the fight Ben goes for the Omnitrix illustrating that he knows what's happening is wrong and the people he loves are being hurt, and his young mind only understands one way to stop something wrong and protect the people he cares about is a good piece of characterization for him.

Gwen's emotions causing magic to surge like that don't make sense within the context of how magic worked within the show. This shows how Shadows59 has changed how magic worked from both the original and the show. I will deal with this more in a later chapter.

"Gwen heard their parents scream and felt hers jump off the couch as they all went running around so they could unplug things and flip switches and find stuff to clean up with even as glass rained down on the floor." It is physically impossible for them to react this fast.

I like that Ben's first instinct is to protect Gwen even though this isn't a time that he needs to 'go hero.' However, it makes less sense that he would have this reaction to Lili, who was the least aggressive of the parents, and he just acknowledged that she defended his intelligence. Either of his parents would have been a better choice for this scene.

Shadows59 does a great job of expressing, in just a couple of lines, that Gwen feels responsible for causing the fight, by calling Ben a doofus. It makes sense for a character so young not to understand the difference between starting the fight and being the cause of the fight.

-Ericobard While I found things I liked in this chapter, it didn't add anything as a whole to the story and continues to add more to the problems that plague the reboot. Ben and Gwen's family is not your family; you shouldn't bring personal matters into a review or allow them to color your reading of the text. Sandra and Lili are the ones trying not to snap at each other, and their husbands are working to keep the peace. A characterization that is violated with the only excuse of 'they had a little too much wine.' Ben's parents aren't locked into a parenting style, that is the problem Lili has with them. Lili may think her method is the best, but Sandra has no method, just an ever-changing series of books. Lili isn't a perfect parent, but she is objectively the better parent.

(As always, please go leave Shadows59 a nice positive review he won’t delete.)

#ben 10 #bwen #ben x gwen #gwen x ben #benxgwen #gwenxben #ben and gwen #gwen and ben #fanfic #review #Little Moments