Dr. Hermann Gottlieb (Ice Skating AU)
Sometimes, it got too hard to deal with Newton. Every time that Newton sliced into the flesh of the kaiju, scalpel sharper than the blade of Hermann’s old skates, it was hard not to flinch at the memory of a blade carving through his own flesh and bone, spilling his blood out onto the ice, all vibrant viscera, burning brighter than kaiju blue.
It got easier, over time, not to think about the blade cutting through Hermann’s knee, crippling him forever. To think of the blade as an extension of Newton rather than of himself. To think of scalpels and not the way that skates cut through the ice, sending him gliding across the frost and the snow and the skies-
Drifting with Newton feels like being on the ice again. Like finally understanding his body in a way he never did before. Like having the wind through his hair, his muscles burning, because he can feel every inch of Newton's memories, every spot where Newton's aches echo his own, every place that Newton is as sewn together and at odds with his own body as Hermann is, every moment that Newton had to push and fight to have a body that mirrored his own identity rather than that which was expected of him.
Like the way that Newton has been staring at Hermann for years, with Hermann as much Newton's North Star as Newton is his own, the way that Newton's fire has kept Hermann warm through the long, cold apocalypse but how Hermann has kept Newton chilled, kept him from burning himself to the ground, the way that both wind currents and temperature fronts are needed to maintain a proper climate.
-aletterinthenameofsanity, the sound of the saw must be known by the tree (fell in love with the fire long ago)
@hermannsthumb @volleydorks @yourmonstershowatemygodmetaphor @daisycassy
@handsofpain-archive @nix-nihili @mapletealeaves
@allofthething-things @ladybender @draconic-ice
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baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
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izzy806
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