...I'm just now getting to the part where I start to deal with the Quattro issue, and it's a busy part. I have to set up the problem (more than 'couldn't talk to her, so left a bad first impression') before I can start to fix it.
...the same way Tony Stark does it, CD. High technology, and even more bottles. ^^
Hate to say it, guys, but I can't really write romance. Luckily, I don't have to.
1. I'm an odd combination of iron self-control and almost solipsistic romantic obliviousness. Like, I just realized LAST MONTH that a girl might've been hitting on me SEVEN YEARS AGO. Yes, I really am that bad... and I'm just as 'good' at not being physically attracted to people I don't emotionally love.
2. The oldest of the Numbers is chronologically nine. Physically, they're all over the map, from early teens to late twenties. Intellectually, I'd say a lot of them are half child, half professional fighter... and the ones that aren't are emotionally stunted. I'm mentally 28ish at this point, so this is all sorts of squick on so many levels.
3. The other side of the equation is (to varying degrees) emotionally repressed, totally clueless about relationships of any kind, batshit crazy, prepubescent, and/or physically stuck in puberty for... you know what? Screw that.
4. Cyborg puberty doesn't work quite the same way human puberty does. Less hormones-over-time, what with the way it causes growth, and more hormonally-driven accelerated growth in the tanks, while unconscious. Hormones aren't really an issue; I was able to ignore mine as a human, so my current levels are easy, and the girls are getting just enough to not screw up their bodies, but not the raging storm you'd expect.
5. After long enough thinking of them as sisters, the few Numbers I'd even consider viable options will end up sister-zoned. That should never have had to be a thing, and I blame you all for it.
**********
Looks like I was right. I am ten again... though I was never this fit the first time.
When I'd been released from the jar the last time, my highest priority had been to get myself cleaned up, down to the practice room, and testing my magic. This time, I was more worried about my body.
After finding myself back in my room, the first thing I did was to rez up a mirror, and give myself a looking over. Looks like I'm... let's call it a bit over an inch taller. Shoulders are a bit wider, proportionate to the height gain... same with muscle volume and arm length. Face looks a little more mature. Yep, he aged me up a touch.
Heh. Two years ago, I wouldn't be caught dead in front of a mirror like this. Now, here I am. Says something that I had to get turned into a skinjob to be comfortable in mine.
I frowned at that thought, looking down at my right hand, and made a fist, listening to the servos in my hand as they worked. They'd quiet down in a few more days, when I'd used them enough, but for now, they served as a reminder of what I'd become. No, not even a skinjob. I'm a toaster in a human suit... but you know what? That doesn't bother me.
Doesn't really matter what I am physically. As long as my body can do what I need of it, that's good enough for me... and it's not like anybody else cares. I've likely alienated most of the Numbers... the doctor just keeps me around to be a soldier... and I'm not even sure the TSAB will let me go free after I take down Scaglietti.
Why should I even bother stopping him, anyway? They did it themselves in canon, and I doubt I've made enough butterflies to stop that. If anything, giving Lindy the series should've kept Nanoha from crippling herself, putting Riot Force 6 in a better situation than before... so why do they need me?
That's what it's all about, isn't it? Being needed? I could've just sent the TSAB a copy of StrikerS, found some nothing of a job, and settled in to watch the fireworks. Instead, I joined the closest thing this setting has to a supervillain... because I just HAD to be involved in events. I had to be special. I'm such a fool.
If I'd just learned to be a people person, none of this would've happened. I wouldn't be hurting Quattro, bothering Uno or Tre, or screwing with the timeline. I probably wouldn't even be in this world- I'd be happy, and back home.
I had to laugh at that thought. That's really it, isn't it? Sending happy, well-adjusted people to different worlds wouldn't be *interesting*, so they take the ones who can't fit in- the ones with something to prove- or the ones they can screw up until they fit the mold.
Here's hoping all the Qwaars out there in the multiverse make it. Nobody should have to deal with that.
I gave the mirror one last look, and then turned around to get my clothes. Time to get a hold of myself. All this moping isn't getting me anywhere. First priority is to remain alive, sane, and healthy- for now, that means continuing to be Imma.
Second priority is freedom. Given what I am, I'm not going to be truly free until the TSAB has a chance to look me over, and the only way I'll risk that is after I deliver them Scaglietti's unconscious body... or at least arrange for it to be a short-term certainty. I've been setting that plan in motion already, so I just have to stay the course.
Once I'm free of the Bureau and the doctor... I'll figure something out. Magic opens a lot of doors in this society. For now, I should probably go out and face the music.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
...the same way Tony Stark does it, CD. High technology, and even more bottles. ^^
Hate to say it, guys, but I can't really write romance. Luckily, I don't have to.
1. I'm an odd combination of iron self-control and almost solipsistic romantic obliviousness. Like, I just realized LAST MONTH that a girl might've been hitting on me SEVEN YEARS AGO. Yes, I really am that bad... and I'm just as 'good' at not being physically attracted to people I don't emotionally love.
2. The oldest of the Numbers is chronologically nine. Physically, they're all over the map, from early teens to late twenties. Intellectually, I'd say a lot of them are half child, half professional fighter... and the ones that aren't are emotionally stunted. I'm mentally 28ish at this point, so this is all sorts of squick on so many levels.
3. The other side of the equation is (to varying degrees) emotionally repressed, totally clueless about relationships of any kind, batshit crazy, prepubescent, and/or physically stuck in puberty for... you know what? Screw that.
4. Cyborg puberty doesn't work quite the same way human puberty does. Less hormones-over-time, what with the way it causes growth, and more hormonally-driven accelerated growth in the tanks, while unconscious. Hormones aren't really an issue; I was able to ignore mine as a human, so my current levels are easy, and the girls are getting just enough to not screw up their bodies, but not the raging storm you'd expect.
5. After long enough thinking of them as sisters, the few Numbers I'd even consider viable options will end up sister-zoned. That should never have had to be a thing, and I blame you all for it.
**********
Looks like I was right. I am ten again... though I was never this fit the first time.
When I'd been released from the jar the last time, my highest priority had been to get myself cleaned up, down to the practice room, and testing my magic. This time, I was more worried about my body.
After finding myself back in my room, the first thing I did was to rez up a mirror, and give myself a looking over. Looks like I'm... let's call it a bit over an inch taller. Shoulders are a bit wider, proportionate to the height gain... same with muscle volume and arm length. Face looks a little more mature. Yep, he aged me up a touch.
Heh. Two years ago, I wouldn't be caught dead in front of a mirror like this. Now, here I am. Says something that I had to get turned into a skinjob to be comfortable in mine.
I frowned at that thought, looking down at my right hand, and made a fist, listening to the servos in my hand as they worked. They'd quiet down in a few more days, when I'd used them enough, but for now, they served as a reminder of what I'd become. No, not even a skinjob. I'm a toaster in a human suit... but you know what? That doesn't bother me.
Doesn't really matter what I am physically. As long as my body can do what I need of it, that's good enough for me... and it's not like anybody else cares. I've likely alienated most of the Numbers... the doctor just keeps me around to be a soldier... and I'm not even sure the TSAB will let me go free after I take down Scaglietti.
Why should I even bother stopping him, anyway? They did it themselves in canon, and I doubt I've made enough butterflies to stop that. If anything, giving Lindy the series should've kept Nanoha from crippling herself, putting Riot Force 6 in a better situation than before... so why do they need me?
That's what it's all about, isn't it? Being needed? I could've just sent the TSAB a copy of StrikerS, found some nothing of a job, and settled in to watch the fireworks. Instead, I joined the closest thing this setting has to a supervillain... because I just HAD to be involved in events. I had to be special. I'm such a fool.
If I'd just learned to be a people person, none of this would've happened. I wouldn't be hurting Quattro, bothering Uno or Tre, or screwing with the timeline. I probably wouldn't even be in this world- I'd be happy, and back home.
I had to laugh at that thought. That's really it, isn't it? Sending happy, well-adjusted people to different worlds wouldn't be *interesting*, so they take the ones who can't fit in- the ones with something to prove- or the ones they can screw up until they fit the mold.
Here's hoping all the Qwaars out there in the multiverse make it. Nobody should have to deal with that.
I gave the mirror one last look, and then turned around to get my clothes. Time to get a hold of myself. All this moping isn't getting me anywhere. First priority is to remain alive, sane, and healthy- for now, that means continuing to be Imma.
Second priority is freedom. Given what I am, I'm not going to be truly free until the TSAB has a chance to look me over, and the only way I'll risk that is after I deliver them Scaglietti's unconscious body... or at least arrange for it to be a short-term certainty. I've been setting that plan in motion already, so I just have to stay the course.
Once I'm free of the Bureau and the doctor... I'll figure something out. Magic opens a lot of doors in this society. For now, I should probably go out and face the music.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.