#i decided to make them conjoined sisters and will be referring to them as the Solar-Systers at least internally
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Finally throwing my sun and moon design out there!
#AAAH im genuinely so proud of this design!#i decided to make them conjoined sisters and will be referring to them as the Solar-Systers at least internally#they can split apart too and their organs are visible from the side when their apart and i wanna show that but im still working on it#im starting to get back into using ibis because soon enough it'll be my only option again#art#my art#digital art#tadc#the amazing digital circus#digital circus#tadc moon#tadc sun#sun#moon#gooseworx#Anyone cann use this design just please tag and credit me!
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Land Mammal | Feeding Habits Update #7
Hello! We are back for another Feeding Habits update, but this time we’re chatting chapter 8, aka Land Mammal.
Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.
Scene outline & excerpts under the cut because this one is a long one! If you missed previous updates or are new to the project, check out the novel intro page (which links all the updates) HERE!
Taglist (please ask to be added or removed): @if-one-of-us-falls @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @ev--writes , @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories , @august-iswriting, @berinswriting
Scene A:
After Harrison enters his apartment to find his ex Lonan hanging out in his kitchen in chapter six, he nopes to his room and tends to his German Shepherd puppy, June.
His mother, Suzanna interrupts him and attempts to explain that he can’t run away from his problems, and after the two argue, Harrison exits his room to find Lonan mopping up Harrison’s tracks of seawater from chapter six.
Scene B:
Harrison brings Lonan to a kiosk for canoe rentals and rents a canoe. Harrison sets up their journey whereas Lonan refuses to enter the water after subtly announcing a new fear of it. Instead, he collects beach stones from the sand. They have their first conversation in months where Harrison eggs Lonan on until he finally gets in the canoe. They set out on the water where Harrison questions Lonan regarding his relationship with Eliza (who he presumes he’s still in a relationship with) who is not there with him. Harrison accuses Lonan of murder and subsequently capsizes the canoe so they reunite underwater.
Scene C:
Harrison wakes up alone the next day on a hay bale, having stolen Lonan’s money (and shirt tea tea tea). We can assume he’s abandoned him and has travelled to the barn mentioned in chapter six. Here, he decides he needs an excuse for why he’s there early to the homeowners. He decides, since they hired him to fix up their barn, he’ll just say he was trying to be a good worker and get a head start.
However, as he approaches the farmhouse, the door is opened for him by Sharleen Harvey, his boss’ wife. He bullshits his excuse for being there so early just as Sharleen leads him to the breakfast table where Lonan sits (lol). Everyone there knows Harrison is clearly lying.
Scene D:
Harrison eats pancakes on the porch with the Harveys’ dog when Lonan joins him.
Scene Ea:
We dive into what happened after Harrison capsized their canoe. Harrison gets a lil unhinged and things get a lil murdery oops. This leads to shenanigans!! That is all I will say!!!
Scene Eb:
A very short, poetic paragraph that collects details from sentences in scene Ea that follow a Blue [NOUN] structure.
Scene Ec:
A two-sentence nudge at the ~the shenanigans
Scene F:
Harrison notices Lonan wears the ring he and Harrison tracked Eliza down to retrieve, and questions him as to why he didn’t propose to her with it. He goes on a desperate rant on why they should’ve gotten married before Lonan insists it’s now time for him to bring him home. The end of this scene signals a very slight glimpse of Harrison finally humanizing Lonan after a chapter of demonizing him (and also Harrison’s failing mental state).
Scene Ga:
Harrison falls asleep on the car ride back to his apartment in the city and doesn’t wake up until a day later. In this time, Lonan has stayed with him. He eventually wakes up and immediately notices Lonan fiddling with the guardian angel pendant he gifted him. Harrison seems to finally realize the weight of Lonan’s humanity in this scene and allows himself to trust him once again to some extent.
Scene Gb:
A second poem paragraph that references the water shenanigans that occur in scene Ea
Can you tell I’ve been really into poetry lately the poet in me said hello!
Excerpts:
This is a ~tender excerpt that explains Harrison’s mindset!
Suzanna is prettier in bad light. The tungsten of his bedroom’s cheap lightbulb cratering her waterline so the smudge of kohl shifts, the zip of her crow’s feet, the shimmer on her cheeks, all the soft things about her. She holds a beach towel, cactus print. This new life a second try neither asked for but committed to, this move back to the east their thing. Window-shopping for kitchenware on Sundays, snatching samples of bratwurst and sauerkraut for each other at the market, sharing each other’s toothpicks, burning caramel popcorn and renting the wrong DVDs, inventing new takes on boeuf bourguinon, sending postcards to each other even though they share an address. Undeniably theirs. A life unappreciated, and yet what he says next is “Where’s Eliza?” instead of I don’t want this life to end. Harrison pets the dog.
The following is the entire scene of the boys’ first interaction in months. TW: homicide, religious content, suicide, nods to self-harm
A canoe-rental kiosk ruching the Hudson River. Harrison pays for a two-hour timeslot with the last of his savings and lugs it to the shoreline by himself. It is nearly midnight, the sky clogged with fog and moonlight.
Lonan will not enter the water. Back near the kiosk, he fiddles with a beachstone, bathing in tungsten from the streetlamp above him. He gave no reason for his rejection, just picked stones as they walked along the boardwalk, through the parking lot, to the kiosk. As if he’d polish them, feed them through a rock tumbler as if he has the patience for that, tend to them like infants, shape, polish, burnish, sell them for thirty dollars a piece and donate the money to an animal sanctuary, as if has the mind to.
Harrison shifts the canoe perpendicular to the water and steps in. The boat cranks under his weight, its coldness seeping through his jeans.
Lonan stoops for more stones. His knees luminescing in white sand. His hair oilslick, cropped to his scalp like blunt grass. His fingers arrowing through sand, a raven filching seed. He unearths the stones with urgency, a paleontologist, a gravedigger.
“You’ll never make a sale on those,” Harrison shouts from the canoe. His voice splinters the night and puffs with the sand.
Lonan nearly drops his handful of stones. It takes him a moment to look up, and when he does, he searches the treeline first, the windows of a parked SUV, the gaps between a thicket of lifejackets before reaching Harrison, and he’s so deerlike, Harrison thinks, he’s so limp, so feeble, so susceptible. His hair jutting briefly from his scalp like an accordion, badly cut probably because Eliza likes it that way. His skin nearly lilac in places, a gauntness in his face, a hunger.
“My mother tells me you like her cooking,” he continues. “That you’re here for your sister. That you’re here alone.”
Lonan reaches for another stone.
“Eliza wants you to look like a deacon.” Harrison frills a hand toward his hair, snaps his fingers like scissors. “So holy. I could ordain you right now. Make you born-again. There’s so much water.”
“I don’t swim,” Lonan says. He reaches for another stone, then another so his palms turn into one.
“You don’t? You’re a land mammal. Rhinoceros. Hippopotamus. Is it the stones? You’re afraid they’ll sink you?”
“I’m not keeping the stones.”
“Then why search for them?”
Lonan sets the pile down. They clatter into the sand and toil into new holes, a sand cloud disguising them in the minute he rises, dusts himself off, limb by limb, and walks toward the canoe.
“Is it supposed to be avant garde?” Harrison asks as he gets closer. “The hair. So avant garde. So high fashion. Everyone wants you.” And then, “You’re scared of water now. The last time I knew you that’s where you wanted to be buried. It’s a good opportunity. Take the stones with you. Company that serves a purpose.”
Lonan hikes into the canoe. He takes a seat opposite Harrison and grips the paddle as if it’s a murder weapon ready to save him.
“She might be dead,” Lonan says. They push from the shore, and Lonan scores the water with the paddle until the kiosk shrinks. His hands jitter, unsteady, but takes them through the water. “She’s not with me.”
“Are those things related?” Harrison shifts closer to him, that haunted, lilac, hungry face, the edges of him he knows, he’s touched, the nose he’s nudged, the eyelids he’s dabbed, the ears he’s breathed into and out of, the mouth he’s spoken into and spoken out of. That hunted lilac hungry face, searching for a place where he can be sustenance, a place he knows, a place of comfort. The holes all closed. Those pores no longer constellations he’s memorized. That haunted lilac hungry face no longer his. “How did you do it?” Harrison asks. He stares at Lonan’s hands, the hands he should know, nailbeds he’s scored with his own, fingers he’s matched with his own, palms he’s stamped with his own. “Asphyxiation? Death by drowning. Death by land mammal.” He tries his wrist next, tendons flexing with the paddle, that expanse of skin a flute of ivory, those veins he should know, where they conjoin, where they branch like an oakwood. Those scars he knows the stories of—accidents, non-accidents, safety pins, lighters, cigarettes, ballpoint pens. Harrison could recite those stories a year ago and now they’ve dissolved, unmemories.
“It was an accident.”
“You’re a murderer.”
“I’m sorry.”
They’ve paddled so far from the kiosk, it’s like they’re on their own planet. A planet of only water. A planet uninhabitable, where land mammals sink and never come back up. Lonan’s eyes glisten with moonlight, and his waterline should be recognizable, dampening now, cattled with wet eyelashes, should be memorable, what it felt like to touch their ledge. All foreign. He’s foreign. So foreign. His anti-hair, anti-face, anti-hands, anti-wrists. He’s crying and immemorable. He’s crying and sorry.
Harrison shuffles forward until their knees touch. He reaches. He makes contact. He touches his skin. He touches his ear. He touches cheek. He touches eyes, fingerprints his irises, wrings the tears from his waterline, pulls his face by the jaw, cradling his land mammal. He is crying. They should both cry. They are both crying. Their own lake puddling in Harrison’s palm. Theirs as Harrison dips his free hand into the water. Theirs as he hushes Lonan’s writhing. Theirs as he christens him, the water gorging his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Theirs as he promises it will be okay. Theirs as he says he will get to know this stranger. Theirs as they promise to both regrow. Theirs as Harrison jerks the canoe. Theirs as they capsize. Theirs as they reunite in fizzing tide, caught in the river, both animals trapped in amber.
Tea:
The next time he is dry, he is lying on a bale of hay, wearing the wrong shirt, a hundred dollars richer. All of these things are related. The hay only because he paid for a cab with money he only has because of the shirt, five twenties easily slipped into the breast pocket when Lonan wasn’t looking. Twenty on the cab ride to Brooklyn, and now he’s face-first in a spool of hay that is better than sleeping in his own bed.
Harrison being chaotic and embarrassing lol:
A seagull on a ceiling beam gorges on a French fry. It eats with conviction, the fry lost in its throat before he even blinks. It flies through the hole in the roof as Harrison rises off the hay bale.
He did not announce his arrival to Theodore Harvey. In fact, he entered the property like it was his own, picked the barn’s lock with the edge of one of Lonan’s beachstones—he did keep one, in the pocket with his shirt, right behind the money—and slept without worrying what his mother would think. His third life is no longer necessary—it has already been disturbed. It is more efficient to deescalate than renew.
He decides he will not tell Harvey of his stay but lie and say he arrived at the farm early, 6AM, a good man trying to start his work early. Trying to impress. He’ll lie, say he tried picking up a tray of raspberry danishes from the bakery but it was too early for anyone to have opened. He’ll lie, apologize to Harvey’s wife Sharleen for showing up empty-handed. It’s rude to bring no offering.
Harrison fixes himself in the reflection of an overturned wheelbarrow, its silver belly clouded with rust. He exits the barn dry, well-rested, a richer, more fashionable man.
Before he even finishes ascending the veranda of the Harvey house, Sharleen opens the door. Her white hair is pearled into a bun. She wears a paisley patterned apron, chartreuse.
“Raspberry Danishes,” Harrison says. “All I wanted was to bring you some fresh raspberry Danishes, but all the bakeries were closed.”
Sharleen rolls up her sleeves. Her hands are caked with flour and fat.
“I considered tulips, but realized I’ve never asked for your favourite flower. Is it tulips? Hydrangeas? Chrysanthemums?”
Sharleen juts open the screen door and holds it open for him. He enters the foyer, and it smells like cinnamon, like sugar.
“I’ve heard marigolds are helpful for warding off squirrels,” he says, taking the hand she offers for his jacket. Sharleen doesn’t jump when he runs his finger across her wedding band and pecks her knuckles with his mouth. She doesn’t even speak. “Is that true?” as they usher toward the kitchen. “Pretty and purposeful. Sounds fake.”
Sharleen dusts her hands on her apron and jars open the kitchen door.
“Could be a double whammy. Or a scam. Or an old wife’s tale,” Harrison is saying as they walk into the kitchen, so occupied with the marigolds he does not notice when Sharleen returns to the stove to flip a pancake, so occupied, when he turns to the kitchen table, expecting only Harvey but seeing Lonan, all he says is, “Sounds too good to be true.”
Lonan joining Harrison on the porch after the above:
Harrison eats his pancakes on the porch. The Harveys’ dog joins him, a golden retriever named Leila. He cuts her a rift of cake and slots it into her mouth when she whines. One bite for him, another for Leila. Him, Leila, him, Leila. The good news is since he fixed their coffee machine, he now drinks drip.
It does not take long for Lonan to follow him outside. Harrison’s known this was inevitable and has dreaded the last five minutes because of it. He slits another triangle of pancake and feeds it to the dog.
It’s too cold to be out without a jacket. Wind nips Harrison’s ears and icicles his fingertips. Lonan’s shirt, the pale blue button-up he nabbed knowing he’d have cash, brays under the breeze, barely denser than a tissue.
TW: This gets a bit murder-y!
Suspended in water, Lonan was aquatic. Blue eyes turning into blue skin into blue lips into blue throat, chest, wrist. Shards of his sheared hair slung in sheathes of bubbles, his face blissfully marred by their movement. Blue collarbones, blue earlobe, blue shoulder blade, blue pinkie finger.
Harrison pulled him by the shirtsleeve before he could swim back to the surface, contorting them under the hex of the overturned boat. Him and the water a double team as they took Lonan by the shoulders and held him underwater, an insect stilled and ready to be inspected. Saltwater burned Harrison’s eyes as he stared, but that wasn’t a deterrent. If he only had a moment to look, he wanted it to be in stillness, in a place time unravels. Blue knuckles, blue abdomen, blue forearm, blue tibia.
When Harrison dragged them toward the six-inch gap between the water’s surface and the canoe’s dome, he held them both there, sheep and shepherd, slain and slaughterer. His hands cupped around his throat like butterfly wings, holding him there for safekeeping. Blue nose-bridge, blue sclera, blue cheekbone, blue teeth. He coughed water.
Iconic dialogue (TW: this is also a bit murder-y!):
“Pull me under,” Lonan said, spitting water, his voice grating under pressure. He trembled, his limbs his betrayal, tremoloing in the waves.
And Harrison did. Dousing him by the shoulders and holding him under so only he floated in the miniscule gap of air, Lonan a sunken, thrashing speck. It was thrilling, holding a body in his hands, determining its fate. And equally as thrilling to hold it as he lulled Lonan back up and over his shoulder where he deflated, gasping. At first Lonan coughed, once twice, heaving saltwater and saliva. But then a birdlike sound, compact but jittering, the wisp of a laugh, and Harrison couldn’t help but wonder if he was thrilled, too
“Do you feel accomplished, Harrison?” Lonan asked, his teeth prattling like an accordion. His hand trailed up the tail of his jacket, scrawling along the soaked leather. Lonan shifted, his body dead weight nearly drowned. And there was the sound again, chirping, “You’re not the first person who’s tried to kill me this year. Congratulations.”
Harrison angst in its prime:
Harrison adjusted his grip around Lonan so one arm supported his torso and the other scored his jaw. His fingers pressed against the skin there so it paled, exploring along that blue skin, blue mouth. The facts were: Lonan was not there for him, or so he told Suzanna, and so he was a changed man, uncoupled, unromanced, a clean restart. They would get out of the water. Harrison would climb into the backseat of the car Lonan drove instead of the passenger’s side because he wouldn’t want to look at him, and they would return to the apartment and not speak again. Suzanna would intervene in the next morning, maybe get up early to make breakfast, French toast, or crepes, or single-serve omelettes, and they would look at each other and it would be easier to forgive Lonan for a decision Harrison made. Suzanna would say he shouldn’t feel rejected when he was the one doing the rejecting and apologize a few hours later, blame it on the side effects of her cough drops. So it would be fine. They would be friends, or whatever they were before Eliza, and Harrison would live his cyclical life with a new-old person who didn’t come searching for him. Glamorous.
This is scene Ec if you were wondering what that looked like:
After, in a wash of cattails, saltwater in their mouths. Their bodies keeling over the other’s like the matrix of a ribcage. Snowmelt turning them both blue.
I find this description v cute ok I need a Harrison flannel:
Lonan is on his fifth button. His skin crests from underneath the squares of orange and red. The fabric smelling dangerously of Harrison: cigarette smoke, cinnamon.
Harrison badgers Lonan about not marrying Eliza and then it gets PURE:
“Why won’t you marry her?” Harrison asks. “You could have children. A honeymoon.”
Lonan stuffs his free hand into his pocket. His breath fogs with every exhale, his nose pinkish with cold. Harrison doesn’t feel any of it, the breath, the cold, his hands. He doesn’t move to button up his flannel. He doesn’t want to move.
“You’re going back to her. You’re here to check on Reeve, and then you’re going back. To get married. To have children. To honeymoon forever.”
Lonan’s hair is awful. Spoking from his scalp like a raven’s wings, some sections ragged, uneven. Not a haircut, but punishment.
“You’re perfect,” Harrison says. He should being shivering, be freezing, but he feels nothing. “Why can’t you say you’re perfect?”
Lonan moves first. They could reabsorb. Go back to blue. But Lonan only reaches for the flannel with his free hand and drapes it around Harrison’s shoulders. Arm by arm, slotting them through the sleeves. Button by button, securing it up his abdomen, his chest, right up to his throat. If Harrison looks closely, one of his eyes is rimmed with scarlet, like a vessel there popped, and a pool of lilac simmers, almost undetectable, across his temple.
“You could’ve married her,” Harrison says. His voice has dropped to a whisper. Lonan swings his jacket around his shoulders, securing his arms through each loop of leather, one, two. Zipping so his exposed skin may rewarm.
“I need to take you home,” Lonan says. Lonan with the broken eye. Lonan with the blackberry skin. Lonan with the teeth-shorn shirt. Lonan with the mowed hair. Lonan with the burned palms. Lonan with the wedding ring that was never really a wedding ring. Lonan who looks as if he’s always prepared to blink, just in case something comes out to get him.
The following is from scene Ga:
Harrison sleeps in the car on his way back and doesn’t wake until the next day. In that time, Suzanna slots takeout boxes through the unrolled window, three full meals: sweet corn and tomato fusilli, beef stifado, meatless cassoulet. What she doesn’t know is they sit, untouched, under the passenger’s seat, not because Lonan is averted by her cooking, but because he’s saving them to share, just in case. She brings a vacuum sealed bag of extra comforters the first evening when flurries dot the windshield, Harrison is swathed in them all by the time the snow reaches half an inch. One lined with Sherpa closest to his skin when he stirs, the bulbs of fabric like cottage cheese. In the time he’s in the car he dreams. Of driving into the ocean. Of haircuts. Marriage.
When he opens his eyes, Lonan is nuzzled against the windowpane, his arms folded over his chest. He wears only the corduroy jacket, the layers of blankets piled over Harrison’s arms in dense tufts, like the Pasteis de Nata he and Suzanna watch the bakers laminate at the local bakery.
The only valid thing about snow is that I can get these descriptions out of it:
The snow has levelled to a healthy four inches. In sunbeams, it griddles with light, fractals picking the windshield, Lonan’s eyes. And for a few minutes, this is it: the blanket life-ring, the sun coiled in the space between them. Suzanna makes apple cider in weather like this. Cinnamon to pair with the subtle remnants of winter, cloves to warm, turmeric and ginger to surprise. Inside the apartment, Harrison imagines her stirring a saucepot bobbing with fruit and rind, skinning oranges, lemons, turning the kitchen lights on, off, on, off, until her son comes home.
And to end this update, here is the final “poem-y” paragraph:
Land mammals in the water. Spitting bubbles and rims of wave. Their mouths caverns, limbs rattlesnaking, lungs inflating. Land mammals in the water. Coasts apart now re-seamed, kicking up sand, knocking teeth, touching spines. Land mammals in the water. Eyelashes drowning, mouth to mouth. Land mammals in the water, gaping at each other’s throats.
Thank you for reading! Hope y’all enjoyed this very chaotic chapter!
--Rachel
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C7 and C9 for the worldbuilding ask meme, please!
Worldbuilding starts with you! (Ask prompt, OPEN)
C7: Do gods exist? Tell us about a god or goddess that resides in the world.
Salmonid gods and deities are something I’ve been wanting to make a full post on for a while, now! Not every Salmonid is fully superstitious, nor do they all believe in the same gods, or that gods exist at all, however there are multiple deities that the Salmonids have within their mythos and lore.
We don’t know much of anything of religions in Splatoon, however given the core lore the games provide, these deities likely do not exist.
I DO have sketches of all three of these, as I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while, however I don’t have a good way to include those here. It’s long enough as is! But maybe someday I’ll finish them up and give them a proper post (But if you wanna see the sketches, all ya gotta do is ask!). In the meantime, have this:
Mother Maridae: A large Maws-like deity who is considered the mother of all life. Her constantly shedding scales birth new Salmonids, with each scale representing a new person. She has a promenade of Smallfry who swim about her like a luminous halo.
Before Smallfry hatch, Maridae gives them the care and love they need. She is benevolent and kind, and treats everyone under her care with love and respect, making her quite the idealized mother. When Salmonids perish, they return to her care. There you can either offer your scales to her and move on to the afterlife, or you can become one of her scales to be reborn into a new life.
She was the inspiration behind the Maws class. While Maws can be biologically male, most that choose to be a Maws are female, wanting to follow after Mother Maridae’s path.
As a deity, she represents fertility. It’s common for parents planning to fertilize eggs to pray to her, or make offerings for a bountiful and healthy nest.
Twins Keiko and Koichi: This deity is based directly after twin Salmonids that once existed, centuries ago. Considered the first Goldie to ever be hatched, the twins were born conjoined from the neck down, with their tail splitting into two. Upon the birth of the sisters, Salmonids thought that they were sent directly from the heavens, and were to act like deities upon the earth.
Unfortunately, due to their condition they lived a very short life, barely making it to their teens before they passed away. Myths say that the twins shed their mortal form and returned to the heavens, having fulfilled their duty.
Common myths claim that when the sisters are in good company, fortune will shower upon the Salmonids, and they will prosper and be wealthy. Their agreements result in the birth of Goldies, who are, in their own right, considered deities upon the earth.
When the sisters are arguing however, the Salmonids believe that misfortune will fall upon them. During this time, no Goldies will hatch, and they believe that the sisters finally stop arguing once a Goldie is hatched. In my more personal headcanons, the Salmonids have not seen a Goldie hatch for some time, and they consider the war between themselves and the Inklings a result of the twins arguing, and their current misfortune.
As deities, the twins represent fortune and prosperity. While some Salmonids will ask them for good fortune, it’s considered bad luck to ask them for a Goldie child.
Gardener Anno: A Salmonid deity who wears a cornucopia of foods, and rides on the tail of a giant eel named Dalfon. Anno is the god of the harvest, and his eel companion is the god of rain. This deity in particular is based off of a constellation, and farmers would refer to the position of his stars to decide the perfect time to plant their crops.
Common belief is that Anno tends to the soil and breathes life into the crops. Then Dalfon comes, bearing storm clouds on its belly, to bring forth the much-needed rain. Some depictions show the rain coming straight out of Dalfon’s sides. When the pair leaves, the harvest is over, and he sleeps until winter comes.
Every harvest, the Salmonids offer a portion of their crops to Anno and his eel, as thanks for his assistance, and the food. They believe that if the food is dissatisfactory, such as if one were to offer the worst of their harvest, Anno would be enraged and strike a famine upon their soil for the next year. Various Salmonids have their theories as to what his favorite food is, however this usually reflects their most supple or preferred crop. The most popular is corn.
The Steel Eel class is heavily inspired by Anno and Dalfon. The original purpose of the Steel Eel was to be used to water crops quickly and effectively during a drought, however they were easily repurposed for war.
As a deity, he represents prosperity, however he and his eel are both considered fickle gods, and some may consider him a representation of famine during a bad year.
That’s all I have in regards to deities at the moment. I may come up with more should the inspiration strike me, but I’m quite happy with the lineup I have now.
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C9: Is medicine further advanced than our own or is it less so? If magic exists, does it play a part with healing the sick or injured?
I don’t think magic really “exists” in Splatoon! You’re probably not really looking for that but I may as well say it!
As for Salmonid medicine, it’s getting better. I’d say they’re a few decades behind Inklings (i.e. Inklings are in 2020, while Salmonids are in 1960/70), so they don’t have as much access to the medicine and treatments that those in Inkopolis would. They’re quickly catching up, but the overfishing and oppression is really not doing them any favors at present.
Not much else to say! They’re very intelligent, but can only work with what’s available to them.
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I’m shit at explaining things so i’ll use bette and dot as a reference again (so they’re conjoined like them- like imagine having another head sitting on your shoulder? sorry) but i feel like they would share everything but personality. one is very sweet and naive, not very smart with decision making...at all. the other is antisocial, stern, and overprotective of herself and her sister. she is the one to make important decisions and tries to show dominance over the other one. maybe this is another thing why the yandere could be so “attracted” to them along with them being conjoined together? as if this yandere were to fall in “love” with two opposite people and wish they could just merge together and become one? like in his head they were made just for him 😬 when i was writing this i made a scene up where the sisters are laying in bed and the docile one is fast asleep (even smiling in her sleep) and the other is talking to their captor. He’s all like, “Your sister seems to have fallen in love with me already, now we’re just waiting for your turn” if tumblr decides to eat this up i simply won’t blame
...do you write? Because you sound like a really good writer 😂 Like fr I would read the hell out of this!
Like this scenario sounds really cool, I would probably make them normal twins in this case so it would be much easier to get to the docile twin and manipulate her before slowly corrupting the aggressive one over time. That would actually be a really good story, maybe centering more around the aggressive twin thought and making her the mc.
I think you have found an untapped market my love, this would make for a pretty interesting story. I love the tension, the power dynamics, it would be a fun time 💜😂
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mystery punk girl
alright fellas i gotta make sure i don’t embarrass myself this time, we got like, stakes and shit now. SO *breaks fingers* let’s make a masterpost of theories
aka i heard someone was interested in some mystery punk girl theories and decided to collect all the one’s i’ve gotten so far
tl;dr: mystery punk girl could literally be anything/anyone. we go over a few theories, notably ones that paint her as a younger sibling to the Calypso twins (Tyreen = First Sister). we also have one where she is a fraternal twin to Ava and mirrors Troy as the non-Siren-twin of a relationship. we also talk about why she hasn’t been getting a lot of cultist worship, like maybe she’s gone missing, or died. also that she may betray the twins (if! she was ever on their side to begin with! 👀) because her color scheme is one of a friend and tbh the twins seem suuuper close and she doesn’t seem to be getting any recognition from the cult.
from the numskull pin page, also where we learned she’s listed as ‘Punk Girl’
so to get to the point, the most obvious theory is that mystery masked girl is the younger (est?) sibling to the twins.
when mouthpiece talks in the beginning of the HBC demo, he calls Tyreen the ‘first sister’. I mention that in a post here (during my live post spamming of the event lol)
it’s mostly interesting because when you refer to someone as ‘the first’, usually the second part of that is what you’re referring to.
@sugar-high-viking brought this to my attention as well when the pins dropped, and also made a great point that she might be either a half-sibling (different colored hair), OR, to tie into my atlas theory about the twins, a similar experiment, but not blood-related (that part is in the notes of said post, i copied it here for easier reading)
which i adore because atlas twins is my favorite theory that’s probably never going to happen. (also hi if you’re reading this, sorry for the tag! i wanted to give credit because that was brilliant)
we do have a biiiit more stuff to go over.
take the mask of mayhem (yes im still working on that analysis, i promise!! i do like a facet a day if im not working on other stuff)
the whole backdrop thing feels to me like an order of importance.
we have the God Queen at the very top and in the middle.
on her left is the vault hunters, who of course are going to have a prominent role in the story.
on her right is Troy, her right-hand man (ala the cosplay guide)
and below Troy we have Mystery Punk Girl. can i call her MPG? i feel like i’m allowed to call her MPG
So her and Troy are about the same level as the Vault Hunters.
We can’t really infer that Tyreen is the oldest sibling (First Sister, with Troy possibly being the Second Brother? Or, Troy is the First Brother, Tyreen is the First Sister, and MPG is the Second Sister. i’d imagine the latter is correct because the former would have to use First Sibling to be correct) but we can guess that things on top are ordered in terms of importance.
And considering we haven’t seen NPG in ANY promo material or trailers yet? yeah i imagine she’s not shown off like the twins are, which would explain her lower level. now if that’s because she’s too important for them to be flashy with her, or if because they don’t think she’s worthy, or they want to protect her, or whatever, I wouldn’t be able to say.
Furthermore, we can also guess she’s not in an Angel-type situation. It’s heavily implied Ava is the Siren successor to Maya (but not officially stated). We know she has feathers on her outfit, but as I found out a bit ago, those (likely) aren’t meant to represent the wings that Tyreen and Lilith have on the MoM. They’re part of the clothing some cultists wear (possibly to emulate her looks like they do with Troy and Tyreen).
pictures for proof:
again, none of this is proven, as Ava nor Maya have wings on the MoM, but it is interesting to note. Also, if Ava does end up being a Siren (say her tattoos take a while to grow big enough for us to see, or they appear after her powers come in, fixing the Angel w/ no tattoos on jack’s desk “plot hole” we see in tps) then there’s no way for Punk Girl to have been a Siren.
unless.
ohohohoh...
okay, we know for a fact Troy’s red tattoos aren’t there because of Lilith.
As of right now, we have officially sourced stuff showing him with his red tattoos during the HBC (on the hologram), which we’ve proven takes place before the Sanc-III scene where Lilith gets her powers stolen.
there are plenty of theories as to why he’s got those tattoos then: because the twins were conjoined, they got the powers from a vault (the one shown on the walls of the HBC), they were experiments, they were experiments because they were conjoined twins, they’re fake Sirens, fake Sirens due to the experiments, etc, etc. i could go on for ages, but im not gonna, cause we’re not here for this.
im going to take the ‘the twins were conjoined’ theory and run with it for a secco. we had that interview where paul sage said at one point either in the development cycle OR in the timeline (the wording is not clear), the twins were conjoined twins. We’ve also seen that the spanish (i believe!) translation of the Calypso Twins yields the version that says they’re conjoined, not just normal twins. so we’re going to hope it’s the right theory.
we know there can only be 6 sirens in the universe. if tyreen was chosen but was still conjoined with her brother, it’s possible he could’ve been messed up by the magic or advanced tech or whatever it is that picks Sirens, and that’s where the red tattoos come from.
So what if MPG is the same way? twin to Ava, ended up not being the one who got the Siren power, rebelled and joined the CoV in hopes of getting her own powers, maybe even to get Tyreen to heal her since it’s possible having a twin with Siren powers can cause an affliction to the other twin.
It’d be really interesting if the two were abandoned at a young age and it ended up being that Ava was picked up by the Order of the Impending Storm and MPG wasn’t, as Ava was a Siren (like Maya) and MPG wasn’t, so she turns to the cult for help/support/whatever and the twins take a shine to her and basically adopt her as their little sibling.
(awww maaan i still gotta do my Maya masterpost. hmmm so much to do, so little time...)
tho, that’s 100% unfounded and me spitballing into the void. mostly cause i think she’s gonna end up looking a lot older in game than she does in the MoM. though, in defense, she is titled ‘Punk Girl’, not ‘ Punk Lady’ or ‘Punk Woman’ or whatever. so there’s that, and it seems wild they’d be introducing 2 young girls around the same age and NOT have them be related in some way. even if they’re just storyline parallels to each other (Ava having everything because she’s a Siren and MPG not)
A better theory, is that she’s the 3rd leader/sibling/figurehead of the cult. The game revolves around the number 3, it’s even acknowledged in universe.
cover art of a high-ranking cultist (the one with the rakk wings on the MoM, im assuming)
which is referenced in actual in-game art
we see it in the background of the behind closed doors intro
and i imagine there must be an in-universe reason for this very important cultist (TM) to be signalling the number three, right?
there’s certainly more than 3 Vaults. More than 3 opened at the time too.
3 pieces to the Vault Map? but the twins got that in its entirety. no reason to look for all three parts.
once lily gets her powers removed, there are 3 Sirens in play (that we know are 100% confirmed atm) Tyreen, Maya, Amara.
yeah, i think the most reasonable answer is that the number 3 is tied to the cult in some way.
while i find it hard to believe she’s something as prominent in the cult as a third figurehead (lack of statues, posters, acknowledge at all whatsoever), i could 100% see her being a third sibling, however.
So why isn’t she being worshipped like the twins? Maybe they’re keeping her out of the light for a reason.
Maybe she’s sick, like Troy, but Ty can’t heal her right away for some reason, or she picked Troy over her or smth (we’re told troy is the smart one, afterall, maybe Ty decided to pick the sibling she’d get the most use out of. or the one she’s closer to, being twins and all).
I had that dumb theory that Tyreen is Demeter (Troy is Demophon) and MPG is Persephone, taken away by the Vaults/Eridians/whatever in the twins’ attempt to heal her and either it locked her away somewhere, or it killed her. (Her being sick could also explain the ventilator she’s wearing, but i have another theory about that in just a secco.) And her being missing/dead is part of the reason Tyreen and Troy are trying to get the ultimate power, they’re trying to bring her back to life/heal her. And it could explain why she isn’t being referenced at all in most worship art, maybe the twins banned it or whatever. but if she is sick, i wonder why she wasn’t just miraculously healed by the Guardians (the Watcher specifically?) like whatsherface in TPS.
She could also be something like their secret weapon, maybe she has knowledge about something we don’t yet- be it warp travel, eridium testing, Sirens, Vaults, Eridians, etc, that’s giving the twins the better edge. Eridium testing could explain the ventilator, plus we see a giant waterfall of somethin’ glowing purple and i would bet it’s slag/eridium.
plus you know im a strong believer of my ‘the twins are using the chemical sludge of elpis to give their followers superpowers’ theory. i mean, if they actually are teleporting the moon (and NOT blowing it up), then it could almost make sense if they want their source of superjuice near their new base of operations/vault/whatever. mostly because we haven’t yet seen Ty give anyone Lily’s powers. As far as we know right now, she’s the sole holder of Lilith’s powers. at the very least, they’re mutating them with eridium/slag. but i wanna believe! so maybe MPG is their way of doing that. giving them insider knowledge of the chemical sludge on the moon, doing tests on it, subjecting the cultists to it, etc. We do see the big boy cultist smack dab in the middle of the mask with rakk wings, which are kind of a corruption of the angel wings we see the Sirens have. and since the Lost Legion Eternal basically have knockoff Siren/Guardian powers due to the chemical sludge on elpis, it would make sense.
she COULD also be our way into the cult. we know nothing about the gal, maybe she’s going to provide us a way to get insider knowledge. im sure whatever the twins post they’re fine with their cultists seeing, so we’d need someone higher up in the proverbial ladder to give us the good info. i do think it’s interesting she does not match the Twins’ colorscheme at ALL. she’s gray and black, yeah, but she’s also pink and orange (yellow?).
compare these two
to this:
it seems off that, if we are to consider them a unit, their colors clash so hard. (seriously, red and pink? oh my god!) I could almost see it as their way of hinting that she’s not 100% conforming to the twins.
I could also kinda see her being jealous of the relationship her older siblings have, how they’re so close because they’re twins and they share this bond over the Siren tattoos/starting a cult together. I could see her betraying them at some point because she’s sick of being pushed into the background. the pink and orange is a nice color combo compared to the reds and blacks. she certainly looks designed to be a friend.
anyway, that’s all i wrote today. im kinda tied, might add onto this later as i keep wrackin’ my brain trying to think of more theories.
#borderlands#bl3#borderlands 3#punk girl#mystery girl#mystery punk girl#ooo i can do this all day#so i won't#you know who she is
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Just One Glance|S.M|Mini Series|Part Two
<<last part|masterlist|next part>>
just another one of those love at first sight stories
A/n: So I actually got a lot of feedback to turn my little 400 word imagine into a series, so I decided why not a mini series? Also thank you to @siennarossi for helping me with this! So here it is, enjoy!
word count: 1173
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, always ready to be looked through and something waiting to be found. She seemed nothing but captivated by his eyes when he lifted his sunglasses from shielding them. His eyes were pools of the color deep sienna, enriching flakes of golden caramel floated within them which seemed to highlight the corners of his mouth, which were fighting a smile. A humbling emotion peered through the golden flakes, sending a slight shiver down her spine.
Her y/c/e orbs lured him in, they made him look as if he was studying her. Studying her eyes like a foreign dictionary as every word became more beautiful than the one before.
“Can I sit?” His voice as smooth as honey spoke, throwing a gentle point to the chair across from her.
An aroused feeling exploded inside of her as a indulging smile plundered it’s way onto his face. His perfectly aligned teeth shined brighter than any of tens of thousands of stars in the night sky could ever.
“Can I?” His voice spoke again, this time a little unsure and louder, thinking maybe she didn’t hear him.
Her mind plunged from her trance and she shifted her gaze to the seat ahead of her, “oh! Of course.”
He smiled again, but this time he let out one the most celestial laughs she had ever heard. The laugh echoed through her skull as he took the seat across from her.
“So…that’s a nice mug you got there…” The stranger pointed to her face and mimicking a circling motion.
Y/n cocked her head a little and furrowed her eyebrows, “pardon? What mug?”
“I-I’m sorry. I just I don’t know. I’m not used to talking to pretty strangers…and once again that was cheesy. It was a pickup line I read off of Instagram. Y’know what? I’m just gonna go,” he flushed red from embarrassment and started to rise from his seat.
“Wait no! It’s okay. I…I…I like…cheesy…” Her voice grew insecure with her response as she grasped his wrist in her palm. His head snapped down to where she had conjoined themselves together and shot her a relieved look.
“Oh um okay…well, I-I am Shawn,” he took his seat again and introduced himself.
A grin debuted onto her lips as she replied, “hi Shawn, I’m Y/n.”
The two now acquaintances shook hands and smiled at each other.
“So Y/n. I know this is kinda weird—who am I kidding, it’s very weird but you seemed like a nice person I just wanted to say hi…” Shawn explained.
“Really? Okay. Well hi,” Y/n chuckled, closing her binder, wanting to focus on the mystery man in front of her.
“…and I also saw you staring at me from across the street,” he concluded, nodding his head in reference to the street.
“Oh uh yeah, I uh. I-I liked your…” Her eyes wondered around his head frantically and landed on his hair, “…shades? Yeah they’re really bad ass. What kind are they?”
“Umm,” Shawn brought the sunglasses off of his head and examined them, “I believe the new Tom Fords.”
“Ah, and those cost one thousand dollars so I think I will stick with my five dollar knock off Ray Bans I got in Mexico last year,” she took the sunglasses from his hands and examined them as well.
“Do you mind?” She asked as she motioned to her face. The slightest smirk became plastered across her face, causing her dimples to become more evident.
“No, by all means go ahead,” Shawn waved off. He guided his chin onto his hand as he observed her putting the glasses on.
Y/n slid the glasses up the bridge of her nose to cover her eyes. A charcoal tint took over her vision as everything she saw turned a light shade of black.
“So how do I look?” Y/n queried, flipping her hair over her shoulder. The big rimmed glasses took up a good third of her face and in which caused Shawn to chuckle, “like a bug.”
“Well then, try on mine,” she snickered as she placed her black knockoff Ray Bans in front of him.
Shawn agreed and propped her glasses onto his nose. The small frames began to squeeze his head, a small feeling brewed inside of him that they could burst.
“How do I look?” Shawn mocked Y/n, tossing imaginary hair over his shoulder. Y/n burst into laughter as Shawn did so. Her breath became unmanageable as her eyes filled with tears.
“You-u l-look like the-e girl from-m…that one vine with-h braces,” her words were barely audible as she attempted to compose her laughter.
“Oh the one girl that’s like,” Shawn turned his head around and started making a similar beat to the song in vine with his mouth. He started to shake his head as the beat got more faster. A beat came from his mouth that sounded like a beat drop caused him to turn to Y/n with a idiotic smile playing on his face.
“Yes! That’s it,” Y/n laughed again, clapping at Shawn.
“Well then I don’t want to keep these on for much longer.”
Shawn passed her glasses back and snatched his off of her nose.
The two caught their breath from laughing and just kept a clean smile on their faces. A silence stirred in the air as they just gazed at each other as if they have known each other for years.
“So um, are you from around here?” Shawn ruffled his hair, interrupting the silence
“Yeah I am. I go to a University that’s just ten minutes down the road. How about you Shawn?”
“Nah, I would love to though. I’m just here because I am in a band and we’re on tour.”
“Oh really? That’s so cool! Are you a big band?” She beamed, stirring her iced coffee with the straw.
“Um…” Shawn checked his phone to see a text from Andrew that read, ‘congrats on the Grammy nom,’ and he returned his gaze back to the lady in front of him, “nooo.”
Y/n nodded her head and glanced down at her phone. She unlocked it and sure enough knew he was lying.
“Really? You’re not popular?” She added.
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘popular’,” he added air quotes.
“Did I also mention that I’m a intern at Peoples Magazine?” She laughed.
“What? You-u huh—no no I am-m just…kinda, what?” His face burnt up from frustration and he stared at her in utter shock.
“No, I’m just joking. My sister just sent me a reminder that I’m going to a concert tonight with her…Shawn Mendes, weird huh?”
“Uhhh very…” Shawn shrugged, trying to compose his mind after the confusion.
“So you’re actually an international singer? Wow, I feel betrayed,” her hand flew to her chest to mimic a hurt expression.
“Well other than that, I guess I will be seeing you at the show tonight?” Shawn leaned back into his chair.
She rolled her eyes and stood up from her seat, getting ready to leave, “I guess you will…”
#shawn mendes imagine#shawn#mendes#shawn peter raul mendes#mendes army#part two#part#two#fluff#shawny#shawn imagine#mendes imagine#shawn mendes#hey say jump#feedback please#love#cute#cafe
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Episode Review - “Everyone and Their Brother”
The season 2 episode, “Everyone and Their Brother,” emphasizes the complexity of sibling dynamics as well as broader family dynamics. The episode is full of issues, but it also gives viewers many elements to get excited about, and hopefully, the following episodes will show positive changes that address some of the issues in the episode.
The first 9-1-1 call focuses on conjoined twins who are celebrating their birthday. They haven’t talked to each other in years (or at least avoided talking to each other as much as possible), but they are reliant on one another, so when the one twin, Brad, starts choking on peanut butter while Scott has to try to save him by using a vacuum cleaner to suck the peanut butter out. “We’re not as close as we look,” Scott says, raising the idea that dynamics that seem close can actually have deeper layers of discordance than initially meets the eyes. Fortunately, Grace guides them through and saves both Brad “and his idiot brother.” Brad and Scott’s relationship is still complex by the end of the call, but you can tell that they love one another, and it’s fitting that the next scene cuts to Judd and T.K.
Judd and T.K. had rough beginnings that caused a physical fight between them in season one, but that argument fueled better communication between them, and Judd and T.K. formed a brotherly bond, and we can see the result of that bond in the episode. Judd is teaching T.K. to drive the fire engine so that he can get his fire specialist certification, showing T.K.’s desire to do something more with his career because he “wants a challenge.” T.K.’s impatient, but Judd is patient, and because Judd is patient with T.K., Judd pulls out the news about the baby. Judd gives some brotherly advice and talks a little about his own three brothers. Judd and T.K. are loving, but there is plenty of teasing between them to make them feel like genuine siblings. It’s revealed that Judd was the baby of his family, so he never had to deal with the jealousy of a new kid. No wonder he got a little territorial when T.K. came into the fire station in season 1 (that and T.K. was being reckless).
The complications that T.K.’s new baby brother is going to create are more than just childish jealousy over a new sibling. The conversation with Owen in which Owen decides to get his cancer surgery because he’s “Going to be a dad,” shows Owen’s tendency to dismiss T.K., the son he already has. In the next call, T.K. acts “chilly” around Owen, and for whatever reason, Owen is too dense to figure it out.
The second storyline details the relationship of Paul and his mom and sister, mostly his sister. While Paul’s mom, Cynthia is a breath of fresh air and cheery, Naomi is cold and will only call Paul, “P.” Paul confides in Mateo and Marjan that things with Naomi have been tense since he transitioned. Paul doesn’t put up with the tension with Naomi for long. He worries about his mother’s health, and Naomi quickly lashes out, and it’s clear that she hasn’t handled Paul being a man. Naomi comes off as being selfish, and she doesn’t act with empathy. She makes his struggles all about herself, and in this storyline, Paul is forced to take on the emotional burden. He has to meet Naomi halfway. She does eventually come around and call Paul by his name, but it takes great strides to get there, and they have to put Naomi in the hospital and give her MS before they reach that point. Again, the emphasis is not on Paul, but it is instead on his sister. Fortunately, Paul is a good person and even though the perspective feels way too skewed to Naomi, Paul at least gets several good lines in to try to get her to understand his perspective. One of the best lines of the episode refers to Naomi’s comment that Paul killer her big sister, and Paul answers (many scenes later), “but I didn’t kill her. She never existed. Not really,” which encourages Naomi to finally call Paul by his name.
Meanwhile, Tommy and Nancy are looking for a new member of their crew, and Nancy cannot be satisfied by any of the applicants because Nancy and Tim were more than just close, “he was like a brother.” Again, the sibling bond creates conflict as much as it is something that promotes change and growth. The applicants are all duds, and they end up hurting people more than they heal them. Finally, they find an impressive applicant that seems too good to be true to the point she says, “He’s probably a serial killer.” Nancy is open to the change, but she agrees. When the team is called to a minefield (that features two brothers who of course faced tensions of their own), Pearce refuses to go into the minefield with Owen. (Pearce makes good points about not being the bomb squad, but despite this, he clearly cares more about his perfect record than doing the right thing).
At this point in the episode, the writers nicely combine the paramedic storyline with T.K.’s storyline. In New York, T.K. was a dual function medic, so he volunteers to do the job that Pearce won’t do, and of course, he has to trust Owen and work collaboratively with him to save the two brothers who are in danger. T.K.and Owen still have issues, but they’re both professionals and they’re both dedicated to doing the job right despite any of the issues they may have. Firefighting is what brings T.K. and Owen together, so it’s no wonder that they best communicate with one another on the job.
With their professional relationship still intact, they’re able to save the brothers, but their personal relationship is still like a minefield. Maybe they’ve missed the explosions thus far, but if things don’t change, there’s bound to be a blow-up. When Tommy finds T.K.’s resume, she knows what an outstanding choice she has found, and she brings the list of qualifications to Owen, and Owen calls the applicant a “unicorn” and doesn’t even recognize the description of his son, again showing some distance between the father-son duo. Their relationship is fragile, and it only becomes more distant as T.K. transfers to being a paramedic, and you have to wonder how their relationship will change as they no longer have the same professional closeness. By the end of the episode, T.K. goes with his parents to their sonogram, and it’s revealed that T.K.’s going to have a little brother. T.K. fondly says, “Hey, little brother. I’ll see you soon,” and it feels happy but almost ominous like its inevitable that things are going to come crashing down around the characters. The moment also shows that T.K. isn’t upset about being a big brother; rather, the friction comes from the complex dynamic he has with his parents.
In the end, all the siblings of the episode ended their storylines on good terms, despite the friction between them. It is through hardship that they realize they need to make changes. The friction that wasn’t ironed out by the end of the episode was that between T.K. and Owen. In that sibling scenario, the issue was never between T.K. and his unborn brother, but it was between his dad. Thus, while T.K. ends the episode happy to be a brother, he may not be as happy to be a son. In any case, family dynamics are complicated. Fortunately, the 126 serves as a family for one another, and their dynamics are the most important in the show and illustrate how a family can promote growth rather than just causing conflict.
“Everyone and Their Brother” is not a perfect episode, and it lacks in many of the ways that Lone Star episodes tend to lack, such as misbalanced character screentime and plots that reduce marginalized characters to storylines that show them being marginalized. Nevertheless, the actors are compelling, and despite some of the obvious frustrations with the show, viewers always get at least a glimpse of some of the features that give the show so much untapped potential.
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conjoined.
genre: fluff.
character/s: markeuri | reader.
overview: because being best friends with mark meant never having to do anything alone ever again.
"I'm not doing it if you're not gonna," Mark said, threatening to rip his paper right in the middle.
"Ugh," she groaned, shaking her head. "I wasn't informed we were suddenly conjoined twins."
Relenting, the girl sat upright in her seat and uncapped her pen once more. She would have dared him to continue tearing his paper into two, but knowing Mark, being the stubborn boy he was, he would have torn his paper anyway.
"We're not," the boy retorted, happily resuming his work. "But it'd be fun if we were in the same club! Come on, the last time we were in the same class was, when, in kindergarten? Just finish your poem so we can leave."
[Y/N] brought the tip of her pen down on the paper, but moved no further. She was quite annoyed they had to make something out of nothing in just an hour as part of the admission test. Mark insisted – 'begged' would be a better term – that they both join the journalism club because, according to him, it would look good in college application forms.
She drummed her fingers absentmindedly over her desk, where her still clean sheet of paper bearing only her name was placed. Knowing she would only get more frustrated if she glanced sideways, [Y/N] avoided looking over at Mark's paper. He had no problem scribbling down a Creepypasta-worthy horror story, because his strength lied in his prose. Hers, on the other hand, lied in poetry. Both having been raised in a literate household, with her parents being newspaper editors, and his dad owning a publishing company, the two of them have been writing since they could remember. But unlike Mark, she couldn't just come up with a stanza out of thin air; she needed to be extremely motivated and inspired first, and having a heavyweight college application form wasn't exactly motivating at the moment.
Looking out the window, she tried to look at anything, anything at all, that might spark ideas. She had less than 45 minutes left, and Mark sitting beside her was fidgety; maybe he was already proofreading his work. The time pressure was making her palms sweaty. She would never forgive herself if she turned in an unfinished work or, worse, a blank sheet.
"Pst."
She immediately turned to look at the source of the sound. Beside her, Mark was wide-eyed and grinning from ear to ear, which only meant he was up to something – and whatever that was, it didn't seem all that good.
"I have an idea."
She didn't answer at first, but her curiosity got the better of her eventually. "That is?"
Mark leaned sideways in his seat, his chair standing only on its two side legs. "Write that song you wrote for your dad's birthday last year," he whispered, his gaze straight towards the proctor, the journalism club president, who was sitting behind the teacher's desk with his headphones sitting over his ears. [Y/N] mulled over the thought and chewed on her bottom lip. She was indeed proud of that time she wrote a poem for her father's birthday, which her older sister combined with a few strums in her guitar to turn the poem into lyrics.
Quickly, so as not to waste time, [Y/N] scribbled down her poem, humming the melody to help her remember the lyrics. Mark was seal-clapping while laughing beside her. She didn't understand why – maybe he was excited? In fact, she didn't understand Mark at all. (She later wrote a poem for Mark's birthday, with all twelve stanzas highlighting how weird she thought he was.) She decided to ignore him, however, and focused on writing as quickly as possible.
After jotting down the last letter, [Y/N] felt like her hand was having cramps. She sighed loudly, her head slumping over her desk afterwards. Mark shook her shoulder and held his hand out, to which she placed her finally complete application form. With narrow eyes, he scanned the sheet from front to back, reciting a few verses of the poem silently to himself when he thought the phrasing sounded weird. Finally, he gave her the form back, including his own.
Her eyes widened when she noticed his paper attached to hers. "Whoa. You? The Mark Lee? Asking me? A muggle? To check his work? Is this the end of the world?"
The boy emitted a giggle, followed by a whine. "Just hurry. It's almost time and I'm so eager to get home."
[Y/N] laughed, shrugging her shoulders as she lifted Mark's paper up to her eye level. Ignoring his messy penmanship and a few erasures here and there, she decided his story didn't need much editing. They nodded at each other before standing up at the same time. Once they got to the proctor's desk, Mark insisted they both hold their papers together "for good luck" as they submitted it to the indifferent club president.
After gathering their things, the two hurriedly left the classroom. They skipped down the stairs and turned left down the hallway to exit the campus. She strode the way towards the train station with a small jig, happy to finally have the pressure lifted off her shoulders. Mark only followed close behind, nudging her out of the way when she was about to slam face first against a concrete post, or when she almost knocked over a stall selling apples along the street.
The overexcited girl only calmed down once they were standing by the platform, waiting for the next train to arrive. She looked over to where Mark was standing, both hands in his pockets, whistling as he observed the other people waiting in line.
"Hey Lee."
"Mhm?"
"What if I don't get accepted into the club?"
Mark snickered. "Then it sucks to be you."
She frowned, crossing her arms.
"I was kidding!" The boy quickly defended. "I'll tell them we're a package deal. It's either you and me or none at all. I don't even understand why you have to worry. We have our parents. We have leverage."
"Don't you think it's better if we get admitted because we have talent rather than we get admitted because of our parents?"
"You're right," Mark admitted with a sigh, watching as the train sped past them in a blur. "Though if I do get accepted and you don't, I'll refer you to the chess club."
"Hey!"
Mark didn’t have a chance to respond, because as soon as the doors open, he raced her to the nearest vacant seat, leaving her still standing on the platform while other commuters rushed past her. "Such a kid." She shook her head, unamused.
She entered the train once the crowd thinned out, but seeing how all the seats were occupied, she was left to stand beside her comfortably-seated best friend. "Let's share the seat," she said with a frown once the train started to move.
He slid his arms free from his backpack and clutched it against his chest, shaking his head. "Nah. Standing for a long time would make you taller, and you do need a little more height, missy."
"You're such a pain in the ass," she groaned. "I could have gotten home earlier if you didn't ask me to go with you to that club."
"Oh please, we're required to have at least one club now, remember? If it wasn't for me, what club would accept you? And besides," Mark rolled his eyes and slouched further in his seat. "What would you do without me?"
Before the train completely stopped, [Y/N] held onto the metal pole near the doors and turned to look at him so quickly he was afraid her neck might snap. With her hair flying behind her as she smiled at him, he felt his breath hitch. She shrugged, one hand clutching the strap of her backpack.
"Without you? I'd die, Mark Lee. I'd die."
And then once the train comes to a complete halt, she gave him one last wave before stepping onto the platform. Mark waved at her from the window beside him, and watched as her figure disappeared among the crowd.
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The Journey - Part Two
Thank you @jia911 and @bluebelle18 for your help!
Part One can be found HERE.
Timeline for Part 2:
This part focus on the events between episodes 10x21 and 10x22 and goes through to the developments of episode 22. Cristina was upset about losing the Harper Avery Award and was being constantly invited to other places to give a speech, ultimately deciding to go to Zurich. Derek invites Amelia to join him on a case of conjoined twins and treats her like an idiot in front of everyone.
The Journey – Part Two
Derek paced back and forth outside Owen’s office, waiting until the chief’s meeting was over so he could finally talk to his friend. After long fifteen minutes, a woman who Derek knew worked at the legal department walked out, making room for the neurosurgeon to finally go in.
“Hey, Hunt, when you have some time, there is something I want to talk to you about. I have finally made up my mind about the Cooper twins’ case,” The neurosurgeon revealed.
As it happened often, the chief of surgery at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital got a weekly load of requests from patients all around the country applying for cutting edge procedures. Owen had forwarded Derek a case of conjoined twins who had done their research and elected GSMH as their place of choice to have the risky surgery that might finally separate them after years. Derek had met them just days before, promising he would look over their case very carefully before making a decision on whether or not he’d agree to operate on them.
“I want to give it a shot.” Derek said with conviction.
“Good.” Owen furrowed his eyebrows, not quite understanding why Derek seemed borderline angry about his decision. If he had opted to take on a case as difficult and challenging as the Cooper twins, the least he could show was a bit of excitement.
“I’m going to need you to sign off so my sister can scrub in with me.” Derek said between his teeth, apparently angry.
“Your sister?” Owen frowned in confusion, not following.
“Yeah, the one who’s also a neurosurgeon?” Derek asked impatiently, taking a seat before his friend. Amelia had been to Seattle a few times before but he couldn’t remember if she and Owen had ever been properly introduced. “She showed up at my door a couple of days ago and since she is available, I want her to assist me on the procedure.”
Owen could see that while Derek apparently had made his decision, he didn’t exactly seem to be at peace with it.
“I know you’re not particularly fond of having co-surgeons on your cases,” Owen tried to interpret Derek’s mood. He knew the neurosurgeon had a good reputation and lately, over the past few years, his ego had become increasingly bigger, especially after some successful results on complicated procedures. But it wasn’t possible that Derek expected to perform alone in a case as risky as the twins’. He would definitely need a few extra sets of hands. “But you can’t work on this one alone. You need a full team for the Cooper’s case.”
Owen knew the twin girls had been born joined by their heads and separating them was a very invasive and complicated surgery. For starters, the hospital needed to ensure two skilled neurosurgeons who could quickly take the lead on each twin after they’d been separated. And it was his job to make sure nothing was missing.
“It’s not that I want to work alone on it,” Derek explained, knowing it was impossible, especially after the girls had been separated. He would probably need all the help he could get. “I just didn’t want to have Amelia in the OR with me.”
Owen took his time processing the information. Derek wasn’t making any sense. If he doubted his sister's skills, then why was he appointing her to the case? Owen chose to believe that his friend wouldn’t ever compromise the chances of a patient by simply favoring a family member who might not have been qualified for the job.
But then Owen thought harder, trying to dig through his memory and it finally clicked. He’d seen the work of Derek’s sister before, on two separate occasions. First, she had diagnosed a difficult tumor with resourceful skill. Then she had suggested a new approach and convinced Derek to operate on a tumor that perhaps no other surgeon would dare to touch. In both times, she had succeeded. So it was unlikely that the neurosurgeon wasn’t qualified.
“What are you saying exactly? You want your sister to scrub in but you don’t think she is the right person for it?”
“She is the right person for it,” Derek affirmed. “Amy is probably the only one I would trust to operate on my brain,” He added and in that comment Owen knew Derek considered his sister’s skills to match his own, which was a huge compliment. “Her abilities are not what concerns me.”
“What, then?” Once again Owen tried to understand.
Derek got silent for a second, pondering about what to say. Truth was, he really didn’t know why he was so defensive about having his sister on the case.
Or maybe he did and just didn’t want to admit it.
The past few weeks had been overwhelming and there were so many uncertainties about his career that he was having a hard time adjusting to that new reality. Derek had always been confident about his skills and abilities. His career had never given him any reason for concern. But lately, it seemed like spending his days at GSMH operating on challenging tumors didn’t fully satisfy him anymore. Especially not when younger, talented neurosurgeons could match his talent. Derek needed something more. Something that didn’t threaten his comfort zone.
And having Amelia there doing his job certainly did.
While rationally he knew that Amelia was the most qualified neurosurgeon to operate on the Coopers with him, it made his bruised ego intimidated that she might not only perform well, but too well. Derek wasn’t used to that. He had never felt threatened by anyone before. Especially not by his little sister. It made him comfortable that everyone saw him as reference. And at the same time he didn’t want that to change, he was also never going to admit it.
“You know what, why don’t you just get Morton or Knox to do it with you?” Owen decided to end the agonizing silence, noticing Derek was having a hard time admitting why he wanted his sister on the case. It might have to do with some family drama and Owen definitely didn’t want to get caught up in the middle of that. “They work under you, they’re good surgeons and they’re familiar with your preferences. It might be a better idea.”
“I don’t need a good surgeon, I need a great surgeon,” Derek said decisively, hating the taste of the words coming out of his mouth. He was being petty, jealous and he hated it. “I need Amelia.”
“Okay,” Owen agreed with a head nod, rightfully assuming the woman was probably more qualified for the job than the other surgeons they had available. “Just bring her over to get her up to speed while I take care of the paperwork. When are the Coopers coming back for a follow up consult?”
“I’ll call them today and get them admitted for pre op tomorrow at the latest. I want everyone available for this case. It’s not going to be easy.”
“No, it won’t.” Owen agreed, already pulling in a file. “You get back to me as soon as you can.”
.
As Derek left to get things prepared, Owen logged onto the computer with human resources data and looked for the file of Amelia Shepherd. As he opened the document, he noticed she had been at the hospital in two separate occasions, both times to operate with her brother. As Owen read her credentials, he briefly remembered about the day Cristina had complained about Derek’s sister, affirming that she was the typical stuck up neurosurgeon.
Owen twitched his lips in annoyance, not looking forward to dealing with an egocentric know-it-all. In her file, it said Amelia Shepherd worked in a hospital called St. Ambrose in Los Angeles. Owen had never heard about the place before. He wondered why a seemingly competitive, up to speed surgeon who had graduated top of her class in Harvard and done her residency at Johns Hopkins would choose to work in a lower ranked hospital. Maybe they were simply paying her a fortune, he thought. But Owen was too distracted absorbing other bits of information to pay much attention to anything else.
Just that morning, he’d had a board meeting and throughout the entire day, his voicemail wouldn’t stop beeping. Once again, Cleveland Clinic was calling. After another brief look at the computer screen, he noticed another email arriving from Zurich. Everyone was crazy after Cristina, wanting her to talk more about her conduit experiment and Owen was convinced that she should go for it.
Right now, his ex-wife seemed to be unsure about the next step she wanted to take. Owen knew that Cristina valued her career above everything but staying at GSMH meant she would probably never get the recognition or opportunities she wanted. After Dr. Russell had quit, obviously because he didn’t think he would ever win the Harper Avery Award by working at GSMH, Owen had thought about offering the position of head of Thoracic Surgery to his ex wife. Even though Cristina hadn’t finished her fellowship that long before, she was more qualified than anyone he’d met and what she lacked in experience with leadership she could make up with ambition and drive. But somehow, Owen had never gotten around to offer her the job.
Not only did he know it would hold her back from achieving her dreams, something he did not wish, he also acknowledge that maybe they would both be better if they parted ways. Their wishes were very different so it would probably be wiser if they stopped holding onto notions of “could have been”s and instead focused on moving on for real.
His personal life was such a mess that Owen convinced himself to focus on work instead. There was a giant pile of papers he needed to read and sign, and later that day he would still have to meet with the financial department, not to mention now Derek had added to his workload by bringing a case that would definitely attract press coverage and a lot of attention. Letting out a sigh, Owen forced himself to forget all about his problems, so he could focus solemnly on what was more pressing at the moment.
.
Amelia could not believe what she was hearing. After spending the last couple of days pretty much only taking care of her niece and nephew, her brother had came home that evening with a large file. He then started to fill his sister on the case of the conjoined twins and only later she realized that he was actually asking her to be his co-surgeon.
Amelia hardly ever said no to surgery, much less to an opportunity like that. The case was interesting by itself but what really touched her that time was how her brother had asked her to assist him. Not only Derek was the oldest and most experienced, Amelia knew he considered her to be immature and impulsive, something he had never really hid. So to hear her brother invite her touched Amelia very deeply, because she knew he wouldn’t have her on board unless he fully trusted her abilities.
Derek never really gave her any room or time to ask why he had chosen her, of all people. Before Amelia realized, she was walking into the hospital where her brother and sister-in-law worked, being introduced to the staff that would also be a part of the case.
But slowly, throughout the day, Amelia’s cheerful mood vanished. The way her brother would introduce her to everyone as “Amy” instead of professionally treating her as his equal took a toll on her good humor.
She should have known. It was very unlike Derek to actually see her as a capable and responsible person. Whenever he did things like compliment her abilities or even allow her to watch his children, her heart would fill with hope that maybe their very unleveled relationship would finally find some balance. But it never took Derek more than twenty four hours to prove that, at the end of the day, he would always consider himself to be above her.
At first, every colleague Amelia was meant to work with had promptly welcomed her to the team. But as they spent more hours at the skills lab and Derek went on treating her like she was somehow impaired, Amelia noticed the reservation with which some of the co-workers started to treat her. It wasn’t fair. Derek could think ill of her at home all he wanted, but when they were at work, the least he could do was treat her with respectful professionalism.
Amelia was already boiling with anger when she met her brother later one morning, after he was done rounding on his patients.
“Hey, I need you to go update Hunt,” Derek said distractedly while handling the mannequins at the skills lab, not even bothering to look at her. Amelia could see he was irritated at the laparoscopic equipment.
Earlier that week, she had handled the machinery with graceful ease and hit the right points only on her second try, but Derek was obviously still struggling to get the hang of the new software set up they had installed specifically for that surgery.
“Who the hell is Hunt?” Amelia replied bitterly, too angry at his attitude to even pay attention to what he was saying.
At her insolent question, Derek stopped what he was doing and finally brought up his eyes.
“Owen Hunt?” He said the name like she should know it. At Amelia’s shrug of shoulders, he grew impatient. “The chief of surgery?”
“Oh.”
“He wants an update on our plan to see if the Coopers’ insurance will cover the procedure or if the hospital might need to look for funds.” Derek explained, already looking back to the 3D model in front of him as he resumed practicing.
“You’re the lead surgeon on the case,” Amelia rebelled. “You go do it.”
“I’m busy,” Derek replied like he was reprimanding a child. Amelia wondered if he was trying to purposefully drive her mad.
The youngest surgeon took a deep breath, trying to make sense of her brother’s irritable manners. She assumed it had everything to do with the fact she had already mastered the new controls while Derek only now seemed to have adjusted to it. Feeling a wave of evil pride taking over her, Amelia left the skills lab, making her way to the chief’s office after asking a resident for directions.
.
Amelia gave the door three knocks and patiently waited. She was so angry with Derek that the few seconds of standing outside felt like an eternity.
Soon enough, she heard a muffled come in from the inside. Taking a deep breath, the neurosurgeon finally opened the door to the chief’s office.
Amelia had been in several meetings with chiefs, directors and even principals before. She was too confident in her skills to be nervous about those. Besides, Derek’s constant nagging about her capabilities had made her completely oblivious to any kind of anxiety about that encounter.
Amelia didn’t exactly know what she expected to find but she was surprised to see the broad shouldered blonde man standing behind the desk. That wasn’t at all what chiefs usually looked like.
“Hi,” She sheepishly started, suddenly overwhelmed by how hilarious that entire situation was. She was having to introduce herself to her brother’s boss because Derek was even more stubborn than she was. The realization brought an adorable grin to her face as she stepped forward to greet the man who called the shots on that surgical floor. “You must be Owen Hunt.”
“Yes...?” Owen gazed at the woman in confusion. He felt like he should recognize her and yet he couldn’t quite remember where exactly he’d seen her before. The baggy navy scrubs surely didn’t give a clue but her smile was strangely familiar.
“I am Amelia Shepherd,” She confessed, stretching out her hand to give him a handshake. “Derek’s sister.”
And then, all of a sudden, Owen’s brain twisted in a knot.
That was Derek’s sister?!
At the mention of the neurosurgeon, he quickly remembered where he’d seen that woman before. She was the mysterious babysitter he’d been admiring the other night. Of course!
But as Owen gazed at her, studying her features, he felt even more confused. Babysitters surely didn’t wear attending navy blue scrubs or had surgical caps hanging in their pockets. Which could only mean that the woman standing in front of him was the same one to hold the impressive resume Owen had thoroughly read earlier that day.
But how could it be? In the previous times Owen had heard about Amelia Shepherd, everything pointed to her being an unattractive, boring middle age woman who probably never smiled.
“Something wrong?” Amelia asked with half a grin. He looked alarmed and she couldn’t quite tell why.
“Oh, no,” Owen shook his head, trying to set his mind straight. Seeing the doubt stamped on her face at his obvious reaction, he explained embarrassingly, “It’s just that you’re not at all what I imagined.” He added, on purpose not mentioning he had long ago made a mental image of Amelia that was nothing like her real figure.
“What does that mean?” Amelia folded her arms and asked very defensively. What was that guy saying?
“It’s just that you’re...” Owen stopped, refraining from saying she was more attractive and charming than he had imagined. “Young.” He settled for saying, noticing in the scowl she made that he hadn’t picked the right word. “Anyway, I am sure you have more important things to talk about... Did Derek send you here?” He asked, clearing his throat and putting on his most professional tone.
“Yes,” Amelia dryly replied and then proceeded to update the chief of surgery on the data her brother had requested. As she did it, Amelia couldn’t help feeling like the guy’s reserved silence and uptight manners irritated her even further.
What did he mean, young?
Amelia was so tired of that stupid prejudice. Everyone would take a look at her and simply assume that because she was young and looked to be even less than her age, she wasn’t yet experienced or qualified. Her quarrel with Derek had been exactly about that and Amelia was growing tired of people’s biased opinions. The last thing she needed was for this seemingly obnoxious chief of surgery to give her the same kind of treatment.
“Okay, well, it’s good to have you on board,” Owen said when they finished going through the surgical plan. He was still alarmed about his earlier assumption that she had been the babysitter and the memories of how he had lusted after her made him blush, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t know Amelia Shepherd and had no right to look at her in any way that wasn’t strictly professional. Doing his best to come off as polite and impartial, Owen avoided looking at her unless it was extremely necessary, for his conscience was still throbbing about the way he’d watched her play with her brother’s kids.
Owen’s principles and correct conduct made him realize he had been invading her privacy by doing so the other night and that was inexcusable, even if he hadn’t meant any harm.
“Thank you,” Amelia replied coldly, wrongly assuming his reserve and strict professional manners were due to disappointment after noticing she was young. The guy had probably already made assumptions.
A heavy atmosphere lingered in the air and Owen cleared his throat, determined to break the uncomfortable silence.
“I saw on your file that you went to Harvard Med,” The chief of surgery tried to break the ice and gave her a polite head nod. “So did I. Did you by any chance take Professor McCarthy’s pharmacology class?” He asked about the first random memory that came to mind when thinking about his college days. “I surely don’t miss it.”
“No,” Amelia replied with vengeful determination. “He’s dead.” She lied.
“Oh?” Owen was shocked to hear it. Soon after, they went back to the silence that was making him uncomfortable but not her, apparently. “What about Professor Rafferty’s neuroanatomy class? She used to fail everyone back in my days... But I am sure you didn’t have a problem with it,” Owen nodded gently, assuming that she had always liked Neuro, considering it had become her specialty.
“I didn’t have a problem with it,” Amelia confirmed his suspicion with an evil grin. “But I also didn’t have a problem with Professor Rafferty.” She added, knowing it wasn’t true. Everyone who had graduated Harvard Med at some point had to painfully endure one of the toughest classes there. “She retired.”
“Oh, she did?” Owen’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.” He said, more to himself than her.
“Well, that’s what happens when people get old,” Amelia felt the satisfaction to be tormenting him. It was obvious he was older than her, but not that much older and yet she was doing everything in her power to make it seem like his days in college had been a lifetime ago. If he thought he could use her age against her, then she would do the same to him. “They usually retire. Or die.” She added, rejoicing in the startled expression on his face.
Soon after that, she excused herself and left. Owen stood behind his desk with a heavy frown upon his head, trying to make up his mind about whether or not he’d just been called old by Derek’s Shepherd’s little sister.
.
“Hey Callie,” Owen hurried his pace in the cafeteria, trying to catch up with the orthopedic surgeon. “You’re on Shepherd’s conjoined twin case, right?”
“Yeah,” Callie frowned, wondering where Owen’s interest was coming from. She took an empty table by their left, being followed by him.
“I want you to be honest with me,” Owen placed his tray on the table but barely looked at his food, trying to catch Callie’s attention as she took a bite of her sandwich. “What did you think of Shepherd’s sister?” He asked, instantly realizing the question appeared too forward. “I mean, have you met her yet?”
“Yes, I’ve met her...” Callie gave him her typical you’re not telling me everything face, but when Owen remained in silence, almost apprehensively, she gave up trying to find out more. “She was in the skills lab earlier this morning.”
Callie then remembered of how Derek had treated Amelia, almost patronizing her. She had paid him back by maintaining her serenity while keeping up with his ideas and fast thinking, and then had even helped out some residents who were having a hard time figuring out the idea behind their surgical approach.
“The residents sure did like her,” Callie added with casualty, before taking a sip of her water. Owen was surprised and then wondered why he had gotten the idea that Amelia Shepherd was an egocentric showoff who probably pushed her residents around. “She seemed pretty alright. Why do you ask? Are you worried about something?”
“She has amazing references,” Owen dodged the question on purpose. Finding out that the hot babysitter from the other night was actually Derek Shepherd’s sister had messed with his head. And there was also the fact that she actually seemed talented, smart and maybe even nice, not at all typical arrogant neurosurgeon he had first assumed she would be.
“Yeah, it is all very confusing... Derek treats her like she is a dud, but she actually seems very competent judging by what I saw earlier today.” Callie confessed between laughs. “I guess their feud must be a brother and sister thing.” She shrugged, remembering what Derek had said about completely trusting his sister’s skills when she had confronted him about it not long before. “But well, I guess soon enough we’ll find out how good or not she is.”
Owen found out exactly what Callie meant when, soon enough, the Shepherds operated on the conjoined twins and Amelia’s patient presented with better outcome than Derek’s. Owen knew that surgeries had uncalculatable risks, but he couldn’t believe it was a coincidence that even with the worst prognosis, the twin B operated on by Amelia was actually doing well, whereas the one Derek had taken the lead on unfortunately didn’t make it through.
A couple of days after the surgery, he stopped seeing Amelia at the hospital and realized it made complete sense. Derek had told him she lived in Los Angeles and had a fiancé there, so it was to be expected Amelia returned home any day now. As for his ex-wife, Owen was surprised to find out she had received and accepted an invitation to run a hospital in Switzerland. With a mix of a constricted heart and painful relief, Owen prepared himself to watch her leave for good. It was probably for the best, but he drowned in work even further, telling himself that the busier he was, the less time he would have to mourn about everything his life could have been but never really turned out to be.
.
On a grey afternoon not too long after that, Amelia let out a heavy sigh as she sat on her brother’s spacious balcony. The wood furniture fit the room very well and she particularly liked the stretch of grass that occupied the entire yard, from the house all the way up to the lake.
Her eyes noticed the tin box in which she found out Owen Hunt lived and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the image of him. Why did all attractive males have to be such idiots? The way he had condescendingly judged her on her age still made Amelia furious. She remembered that after the hype of the surgery had passed and her head had cooled down a bit, she had bumped into him in a scrub room and decided to give her negative first impression another try. After all, she was supposed to be leaving soon and wouldn’t hurt to leave the door open with the chief of surgery at GSMH in case she ever wanted to come back for more cases.
But as she had approached him, Owen had coldly avoided her gaze. When Amelia had tried to engage him in conversation, he had grabbed his buzzing phone and excused himself, telling her he had a meeting to get to.
Even though he hadn’t been particularly rude, he also hadn’t been courteous either. And if Amelia had already decided to loathe him before, now she really didn’t need another reason. Men were all the same, she thought. Even though more female surgeons hit powerful positions everyday, for some guys surgery was still the boys’ club and Amelia wondered if Owen Hunt was one of those men. It fit him well, she decided with scorn. He was already uptight and broody as hell. That was practically one step away from thinking he was superior.
It would never cross Amelia’s mind that Owen’s bad mood might have anything to do with the fact that not only had he felt ashamed to be looking at her through the window, he was also in a very bad place in his personal life at the moment. All she had gotten from him was cold reserve that bordered indifference, even though she had repeatedly tried to be nice. So it was much more obvious to assume he was just another self-centered jerk who couldn’t bother to take a second to say anything nice.
And that’s exactly why Amelia felt so surprised that afternoon when she turned her head and noticed the tall, broad shouldered surgeon sitting on the steps of the wooden structure his trailer stood on with a children’s pink bike on his hands.
Her first reaction was to get up and go back inside the house, avoiding him completely. But she found the scene so intriguing that Amelia couldn’t help herself. Before she could even notice, her feet had already made her cross the back yard.
Owen noticed he wasn’t alone when he heard the sound of muffled footsteps coming in his direction through the grass. Looking up, he saw Derek Shepherd’s sister approaching and instantly wondered what she could possibly want.
“Nice bike,” Amelia said to break the ice. She didn’t know why, but he was intimidating. And surprisingly, it had nothing to do with his size.
“It’s Zola’s,” Owen replied, immediately turning his eyes back to the screw he was fixing.
Amelia noticed the button up dark plaid shirt he was wearing, much different than the preppy ones he would wear at work. This time, there was no tie. He looked charmingly casual with the first two cases of the shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up all the way to his elbows. They probably had nothing in common, Amelia decided. She was very urban and modern, whereas he fit perfectly in that nature scenario, surrounded by a lake, a long stretch of grass, an old trailer and thick woods. The screwdriver he had in his hand and the tools scattered around the wooden deck added the perfect touch to make him look completely different than the serious, centered chief of surgery she had met.
“Why are you fixing Zola’s bike?” Amelia asked, slightly bending over to inspect it. His hands were particularly large and matched very well with his built physique and craftsman exterior.
“Because it was broken,” Owen replied the obvious.
“Clearly,” Amelia chided, feeling the familiar irritation she always seemed to feel whenever he was around. “I meant, why are you doing it?”
Owen stopped tightening the screw and looked up to meet her eyes. He had never quite noticed them before, but she had amazing blue eyes. With a shrug of his shoulders, the surgeon confessed:
“I don’t know, I noticed she hasn’t been riding it for a couple of weeks now and she used to do it all the time. Then I found the bike lying around there, next to the garage,” Owen pointed towards the house. “And I saw one of the wheelies was loose. So I am fixing it.”
Once he was done explaining, Owen went back to the job he was almost done with, leaving Amelia to wonder about the situation. That did not make sense at all. Why would an uptight, self centered and maybe even sexist chief of surgery worry about the broken toy of a little girl?
“I am sorry about the other day in the scrub room,” Owen looked up to meet the woman’s eyes, genuinely regretting the way he had acted. He had evasively tried to avoid her, still too embarrassed about his wrong assumptions about her. “I didn’t mean to leave so abruptly like that.” He confessed and Amelia noticed he seemed sincere. “You and Derek did an amazing job. I was hoping to tell you that next time I saw you, but you haven’t been at the hospital ever since.” The chief of surgery added with a polite head nod.
“Well, I don’t work there,” She reminded him with a gentle smile. “I actually have to go back home to my job.” She confessed, not sure why the idea didn’t excite her.
“Well, feel free to come back and operate with Derek whenever you want.”
Amelia smiled at herself, realizing that even when that man let his guard down, he was still formal and uptight. Hoping to make him feel more at ease, she swiftly took a seat on the steps next to him by the deck, watching as Owen grabbed a bottle of beer from the grass.
“Do you want one?” He asked looking into her eyes. Amelia couldn’t remember him holding her gaze like that and she took her time to study how bright blue his eyes were.
“No, thank you,” She dismissed his offer with a gentle wave of her hands. Amelia had been sober for quite a while now and she was determined to never have another slip.
Once again, they felt into an easy silence as Owen’s hands skillfully finished repairing the broken wheelie under Amelia’s careful watch. She noticed he looked unusually athletic for a chief of surgery. And not at all a typical gym fabricated kind of athletic. Instead, he looked like a man who was used to heavy handwork. Amelia laughed at herself to imagine he could probably carry heavy boxes and fix things with his hands. The idea contrasted with his smart eyes and professional position, but it completely suited his lifestyle choice to live in a trailer, have a full set of tools and fix loose screws from broken wheelies.
Dark clouds were gathering in the sky and Amelia figured it would rain very soon. That was Seattle, she realized.
“Well, I guess I should get going,” Amelia said after a few minutes of examining him. She got up and rubbed her hands on her pants, determined to get rid of the dirt from the ground. “It was nice meeting you. Thank you for the opportunity of letting me scrub in with Derek.”
“Anytime,” Owen replied with a nod, getting up too. He swiftly pulled Zola’s bike back to a standing position and Amelia noticed both wheelies worked perfectly now. “Do you mind taking this back to the house with you?” Owen asked, giving the bike a little push to see if it was safe for Zola to resume playing with it.
“Not at all,” Amelia promptly agreed, glad to have something she could keep her hands busy with.
The neurosurgeon was already a few steps across the yard when she heard his voice, almost immediately followed by a roaring thunder.
“Shepherd?”
Amelia only had time to turn her head before feeling the first heavy drop of rain falling on her face.
“I spoke to a colleague at Mas Gen today,” Owen lied. He was bluffing but she would never know it. “He said Professor McCarthy’s lecture on antiarrhythmic drugs was a success last week.”
Amelia knew he was talking about the same professor who she’d claimed to be dead only to insult him.
“Maybe someone psychographed it,” Amelia replied with a witty smile, biting her lower lip while silently refusing to admit she had been busted.
Owen struggled to contain a chuckle. He lifted his head and when his eyes finally met hers, both surgeons instantly smiled with easy contentment and now found camaraderie.
“So, I'll see you around.” Owen gently gave her a head nod walking back to his trailer after feeling the rain start to fall heavier.
Amelia took her time processing her discoveries about him. The guy had a fascinating combination of traits. At the same time he seemed to be responsible and serious, he was also capable of tricking her in her own game. She thought about the way he had stepped up to fix Zola’s bike even though no one had asked him to. Owen Hunt had just given the toy for her to take back, so it was obvious he hadn’t done it for recognition. No egocentric guy would ever take his time to do that. Amelia was usually very good at reading people, but for once, she felt like she was having a hard time figuring someone out. The feeling wasn’t only unusual, it was also quite amusing.
Too bad she was going back home, because it felt like she had just found someone who apparently could keep up with her sharp intelligence and sneaky manners. Giving him one last look, Amelia grinned and gently nodded her head, certain she was probably never going to see him again.
“Goodbye, Owen.”
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#omelia#owen hunt#amelia shepherd#omeliafic#omeliafanfic#amenff#greysanatomyfanfic#thejourney#thejourneyfanfiction
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i decided to infodump about my RWBY OCs, Team STAR under the cut!! they’re part of a conjoined alternate universe with my friends and we’re gonna have our own little story/AU and it’s gonna be awesome
this post is a Work In Progress because i don’t have the mental energy to come up with everyone’s backstory and semblance in one go. feel free to hmu with suggestions, thoughts, comments, ideas, whatever i love to communicate
(“Partnered with” refers to Beacon’s method of pairing up students and does not necessarily mean they are in a relationship)
Spica Viridian
She/her. Leader of Team STAR. Partnered with Arcturus.
Personality: Kind, enthusiastic, cheerful, warm, loving. She's shy around new people. She’s definitely the “team mom” type and works hard to keep everyone together. She can’t stand arguing mostly because she has a bit of a temper that can grab a hold of her and swallow her up, so she tends to fight back by appearing as mellow and soft as she can. Her biggest weakness is when things don’t go her way, she tends to spiral out of control pretty quickly.
Name significance: Spica is a star in the spring triangle. Viridian is a shade of green.
Likes: Flowers, nature, sunlight, adventure, fashion, Arcturus, fantasy, the sky, rabbits, peaches, strawberries
Weapon: Javelin/crossbow combination named Starose Blossom
Semblance: Sun’s out guns out Increases her physical strength, defense, and speed when the sun is high, especially outdoors. Decreases her physical strength, defense, and speed when the sun is not out. Fighting indoors is actually worse than fighting at night, as the moonlight is reflected sunlight so it makes her pretty much average strength. Her first strategy in any indoors fight is to blast a hole in the ceiling.
Backstory: Spica grew up in Mistral with her two siblings - an older sister and younger brother - and their mother. Her father died when she was younger. Her mother works as a botanist as well as growing medicinal herbs, so Spica grew up learning about and loving plants. Her older sister, Heather, decided to go to Haven to become a Huntress with the goal of travelling outside the kingdoms and studying the plant life and world outside the kingdoms for clues on how to better humanity, and perhaps find a way to expand civilization. Spica didn’t want to be left alone, and had an interest in Heather’s goals as well, but Heather insisted it was too dangerous for her to become a Huntress. So, unbeknownst to her family, Spica traveled off to Beacon to pursue becoming a Huntress herself.
Pinterest aesthetic/moodboard for Spica
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Leah Tearose
They/them or she/her. Partnered with Rebecca.
Personality: Fun, creative, playful, mischievous, loyal, clever. Leah hides behind a very silly persona but is actually highly perceptive and one of the most tricky and strategic members of Team STAR. Despite all they’ve been through, Leah is still able to genuinely smile and loves to be around other people, though with their friendliness comes a slight edge of caution. Leah is the type to see the good in everyone and believes people are mostly good. That being said, she loves animals even more, especially puppies. They’re an artist and paints a lot, often doesn’t bother to clean up and just walks around covered in paint.
Name significance: Leah was loosely taken from Denebola, a star in the spring triangle. (Leah is pronounced LAY-uh). Tea rose is a shade of pink.
Likes: Painting, red, hearts, puppies, other people, romantic comedies, cherries, shirley temples, roller coasters, high places, art, pop/electro music
Weapon: A lance that unfurls into a metallic whip. Can be loaded with different kinds of dust - Leah’s favorites are fire and ice. Named Denebolance.
Semblance: Denebola symbolizes misfortune and disgrace... I wanna do something with that. Ideas?
Backstory: Leah’s story is that of an inverted tragedy. She started with nothing and rose up from the ashes. Leah is a pillar of strength and resolution - they’ve been beaten down every step of their childhood but now they’re free and happy and surrounded by love and able to do the things they love. I haven’t worked out the specifics of Leah’s backstory yet.
Pinterest aesthetic/moodboard for Leah
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Arcturus White
He/him. Member of Team Star. Partnered with Spica.
Not pictured: black wolf tail because I decided to make him a wolf faunus.
Personality: Quiet, moodly, easily frustrated, temperamental, sensitive. Has a carefully cultivated facade. He basically is a “jerk with a heart of gold” but he doesn’t intend to be a jerk; he just has bad social skills and a rough past. Spica was the first person he really opened up to and he cares about her immensely. Just like Spica, he has quite the temper, but his is more slow burn while hers is more explosive and dies quickly. He has little interest in people outside the small group of people he cares about (all of Team STAR and a few others)
Name significance: Arcturus is a star in the spring triangle. White is a color.
Likes: Black cats, music, technology, stormy weather, outer space, science, science fiction, data and coding, the moon, abstract art, Spica
Weapon: Kusarigama. The sickle part is pretty big and the weight at the end is spiky. He has to quickly maneuver and jump around in his fighting style to use both the sickle and the weight effectively while avoiding and utilizing the chain that holds them together. The sickle has a pistol attached. Named Fenris Howler.
Semblance: He can blend in completely with the shadows - that is, wherever there are shadows, he can become temporarily invisible. It’s like he becomes one with them. Obviously, he prefers to fight in places with low light and lots of shadows. Bright lights and complete darkness are his enemies.
Backstory: Arcturus is from Menagerie. He was an orphan who fled from the orphanage and fell in with the wrong crowd - he actually spent some of his teenage years in a gang. After a falling out with the leader that led to someone’s death (I’m still thinking about this) he decided to run to Beacon, where he thought they wouldn’t follow him. Naturally an albino, he dyed his hair from white to dark purple as a semi-disguise, just in case. This is all really up in the air I just came up with this on the spot please help me
Pinterest aesthetic/moodboard for Arcturus
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Rebecca Regulus
She/her. Member of Team STAR. Partnered with Leah.
Personality: Vain, confident, intelligent, resourceful, and elegant. Has a royal air to her. Unlike many, her vanity is not at the expense of other people - she loves other people almost as much as she loves herself, and she’s rather kind. She’d rather build people up to be (almost) as glorious as her than tear them down. She has a knack for leadership and responsibility, and was surprised she wasn’t the leader of team STAR.
Name significance: The hex color #663399 is called Rebecca Purple. Regulus is a star in the spring triangle.
Likes: Girls (in a lesbian way), gold, leadership, history, architecture, deer, chess, beauty, lilies, culture / anthropology, learning, helping others find their own beauty, victory
Weapon: A golden broadsword. Not sure what other modifications? She’s the type to just use a regular sword and be badass with just that. Named Aurum Caliburn.
Semblance: Undecided. Thoughts/ideas?
Backstory: She was actually born pretty poor. Her parents “didn’t want her” so she was raised by her aunt. She lived on the poverty line for most of her life, but her sheer determination, hard work, and intelligence helped her become a perfect student and get her an entry to Beacon (also a full scholarship? Does Beacon cost money?) She’ll admit that she’s mostly here for the money, but not wholly for selfish reasons - she wants a better, more comfortable life for herself, her aunt, and her cousins. She’s made some money with her skills already and puts on a pretense of being already rich - it makes her feel more confident.
Pinterest aesthetic/moodboard for Rebecca
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Team Attacks & Relationships
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Arcturus x Spica
Combo name: Total Eclipse (using their semblances in combination), Nature’s Howl (using Arcturus’s chain and weight to swing Spica’s javelin?)
Interpersonal relationship: The two eventually end up dating. Spica is the first person Arcturus really trusts and opens up to. Spica is caring enough to see Arcturus has good intentions but doesn’t know how to deal with people, and Arcturus appreciates that someone actually cares enough to get to know them. They both have anger issues that manifest in different ways, but the two are able to calm each other down most of the time. Their relationship is healthy and built on mutual trust, kindness, and understanding.
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Spica x Leah
Combo name: Painted Roses (some kind of combo with Spica’s javelin and Leah’s whip used in combination to corner the enemy)
Interpersonal relationship: Spica really takes a shine to Leah’s silliness and creativity, and Leah likes painting Spica’s flowers. The two get along very well and enjoy hanging out together. Common pastimes include going to see movies together and going to fairs/festivals and art shows. When Spica gets overwhelmed or upset, Leah tries to calm her down; at first, Leah became very afraid when Spica showed her not-so-pretty side, but over time as they grew closer Leah learned to trust Spica and that Spica would not do anything to hurt them.
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Spica x Rebecca
Combo name: Royal Garden (gotta think of what they can do together)
Interpersonal relationship: Spica respects Rebecca’s intelligence and confidence. Rebecca holds respect for Spica as well, however, there was a bit of tension when Rebecca did not get the leadership position. Although Rebecca isn’t too self-important, she is vain and took the news kind of badly. She tried not to hold it against Spica and uplift it, but she found it hard to commit to that and had a bit of internal struggle. She still holds a ghost of a grudge though the two work together quite well. They’re friends, but not as close as the others on the team.
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Leah x Arcturus
Combo name: Blood Moon (that’s a terrifying name but a blood moon is when the moon appears red and red is leah’s color and arcturus is a wolf so the moon so)
Interpersonal relationship: Arcturus finds Leah a bit childish at first, but admires their cheerfulness. Upon learning of Leah’s harsh past, Arcturus begins to truly respect how easygoing and bubbly Leah can be even after going through such hardship. They share details of their past and form a close friendship built on the fact that they’re both trying to move on from their respective pasts. Leah’s cheerfulness begins to rub off on Arcturus, who becomes more laidback and even a tiny bit goofier (though it manifests in the form of sarcasm, usually). They genuinely enjoy each others’ company.
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Leah x Rebecca
Combo name: Queen of Hearts
Interpersonal relationship: Being partners, Leah and Rebecca have had a lot of time to work together and get to know each other. Their friendship got off to a rocky start - Rebecca got frustrated with Leah’s messing around and not quite being as serious. Eventually, after having a heart-to-heart about Rebecca’s past and how she needed to do well and how she grew up on the poverty line, Leah became more understanding and promised to be more serious during training. The two formed a friendship where opposites attract - Rebecca influences Leah to be more serious and work hard, while Leah helps Rebecca relax and just enjoy herself instead of being so uptight all the time. They have a mutual appreciation of art, and Rebecca is always happy to pose for Leah’s paintings.
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Arcturus x Rebecca
Combo name: Purple Prose (Arcturus wanted something less pretentious but Rebecca insisted)
Interpersonal relationship: The two seemed to get along right off the bat. Arcturus is quiet and not good with people, but he can respect Rebecca’s methodical and commanding personality. He thinks her whole fancy/elegance thing is kinda dumb, and she thinks he’s too brooding and emo, but they do get along pretty nicely. They almost have something like a sibling relationship, and when they argue, it’s usually over something stupid like their attack name.
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Art
Arcturus sketch by @clokworke-arts
Arcturus, Spica, and 2 of my friend’s OCs by @truechastiefol
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