#2 papers to write. 8 discussion posts to make. & only a few hours to do it in

[animeyanderelover]

I recently saw a post where some people on Tumblr were mentioning that in posts the reader is often depicted as really small. So I decided to make the s/o in this story a bit taller, we're talking about 5 feet 8 inches. It'll probably be irrelevant because Toji is really big but I wanted to start somewhere. Also, despite writing an astonishing 8.4k words, there isn't really any mentions of any Yandere stuff yet. This was more of me establishing the key characters and introducing the conditions. I'll start writing Toji's downfall into obsession in part 2.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, overprotective behavior, jealousy, paranoia, abduction, violence, death

The CEO and her bodyguard

“(y/n), I just wanted to let you know that…(y/n)?”

The little woman let out a mildly worried sigh when she found you, your upper body sprawled over the large desk made out of mahogany in between a mess of different documents and other papers. Soft breaths escaped your mouth, your face smushed against a pile of the many documents and contracts. There was barely any light in the room, the earliest morning hours were still painted in only the busy lights of Tokyo with a dark sky to. The only source of light was the lamp placed on your desk. You didn’t stir much when she screeched and as soon as she realized that you were only asleep, she let out a relieved sigh.

She carefully walked closer to you, glancing at your sleeping face before reading briefly over the many documents and contracts messily placed on your desk. Her shoulders sagged a bit in defeat. She had carefully arranged and sorted them for you but of course you had to make everything so unmanageable for yourself. At least you had finished everything as far as she could tell. After all the deadline was in a few hours. Unbelievable, sometimes she wondered how you’d managed to inherit the Ito company in the first place.

She placed the files she had carried in her arms down on the desk, although it was a little struggle to find space on the table where you hadn’t scattered all the contracts and documents. After that she slowly tapped you on your shoulders to wake you up. As much as she would have loved to let you sleep since she knew that you had finished everything in one of your spontaneous night actions when the final countdown before the deadline gave you the rush of motivation and concentration to actually sit down and work, she had something important to discuss with you. Not to mention that it couldn’t have been good for your back to sleep in such a position.

The smaller woman slowly placed one of her hands on your shoulders before gently starting to shake you, hissing your name quietly out.

"(y/n)! (y/n)!"

You let out an incoherent grumble, slowly shifting your body up in the chair in such a slow and stiff motion that reminded the other woman of some depictions and movies she had seen featuring zombies. The low and weird groan you let out whilst sprawling your stiff limbs certainly added to that effect. You let out a jawn when you were finally seated straight in the chair, blinking a few times as you collected your still groggy mind from your sleep. When your eyes met the smaller woman standing right in front of your desk, you gave her a silly and sleppy grin.

"Aki-chan. What are you doing here?"

"Checking if you're done with the work you were supposed to do until today." The smaller woman answered you, watching with slight amusement and some concern as your frivolous grin was replaced by a slight frown when she mentioned something including 'work' before your eyes widened as you remembered what she meant.

"Flipping heck! What time is it?!" You shouted startled, the chair creaking ominously as you nearly jumped out of your seat before your hands flew to the wonderful mess on your desk. You gathered all wildly and completely out of original order placed documents close to you, hastily going through all of them.

"It's twenty past five in the morning. So we have roughly 40 minutes left before Sone-san has to deliver everything to our main building. You have finished everything, right?"

Her last word sounded slightly worried as she saw you hurrying through all the many papers and contracts, reading everything written on it rapidly to see if you had signed everything and had also finished your own thoughts, ideas and plans involving the future course of your industrial empire. You slumped down into your chair with relief written on your face when you were sure that you had done your job properly before arranging everything into a messy pile and handing it over to Aki with a sheepish grin.

"You may wanna rearrange that a bit because I already forgot in which order they were supposed to be in." You scratched the nape of your neck as you saw Aki throwing you a short glare.

"Not like you actually ever did this in the right order. You probably just grabbed what seemed most interesting for you at first and worked your way through everything randomly." Her grumbling voice made you chuckle a bit.

"Am I that obvious?"

"I've known you for nearly 20 years. Believe me, I know how your gears turn around up there."

Your eyes landed on the other pile of thick files she had brought with her and your face fell into a mildly mortified expression.

"Oh, you're kidding me! I just finished work! Do I have to do somethhing else now?!"

You let out a frustrated groan, banging your forehead against the mahogany wood. Gone were your hopes of going out for a while and touch some freaking grass after having been stuck in your apartment for nearly 2 weeks. Yes, you had a big apartment that had cost you about 2.3 million yen with a rooftop garden, four bedrooms, two jacuzzi baths and a restricted entry since the elevator of this place didn't go up to the fourth floor unless someone had the right key or you pressed a special button in your apartment which enabled the elevator to go up to the fourth floor. But that was no substitute for trailing down the buzzling streets of Tokyo, Shinjuku or Shibuya and visiting your favorite izakayas and bars.

"Those files don't mean any work for you. This time at least. This is actually something Sone-san, I and a few other people from Ito company have been planning to arrange for you since a while now. It's for your own safety."

Aki remarked, going through your finished work and slowly trying to sort all the mixed documents and reports back into its original order whilst throwing some glances at you. She looked weirdly serious, more serious than she already was. That probably meant that whatever those files included something unpleasant or something specifically unpleasant to you.

You cautiously eyed the pile of files she had brought with her before pulling it over. This time you weren't just scattering everything around as all of them looked from the outside identical so you grabbed the topmost file, opened it and read through the reports inside of it. Your eyebrows furrowed before you dropped the first file quickly on the desk before grabbing the second one, scanning rapidly through it before continuing this process through the next couple of files. Your facial expression gre more and more confused as your forehead had formed deep furrows, your eyebrows pulled together.

"Aki, what is this?" You asked her slightly flabbergasted as your gaze wavered back and forth between her form and the currently opened file in your hand.

"What does it look like to you?" She replied to you, sighing as she asked you this question as if already being able to predict your incoming reaction to the news.

"Well..." You started, tilting your head shortly as you gave the file a conflicted look. "It looks like you collected me a bunch of data for different highly acclaimed and trained bodyguards. If I wouldn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to force a babysitter onto me. But this has to be wrong."

You gave her a light laugh as you looked at her, waiting and praying for her stoic face to crack and tell you that this was a prank. Instead you were met with a serious look on her face, not a single muscle moving as she gave you that cursed look she always gave you when she was about to put you through something you would never do on your own account. When you were met with her unchanging facial expression, your own expression fell.

"No."

"Yes, (y/n). Yes."

"Why on earth would I need a bodyguard?!"

“For the very same reason you were forced into your apartment for the last 2 weeks.”

“You’re overreacting! Just because some random suspicious looking guy stumbled into the building and threatened to see me by essentially trying to break through the security doesn’t mean that I’m in immediate danger!”

“He had a knife with him!”

“He didn’t use it! Also, he didn’t get past the security anyways! Aki, you are-“

She lifted her index finger warningly which quickly made you shut up. Her eyebrows were twitching ever so slightly and she looked like she was having a headache. Then she just gave you that look that reminded you of an angry and disappointed mother.

“(y/n), I understand why you’re frustrated for being isolated like this. However, no one at the company wants a repeat of the incident 3 years ago. You’re too important for the company and as a CEO you have a responsibility.”

Her voice was matter-of-factly with just a slight edge to it that made you shrink the tiniest bit under her gaze. Impressive, considering that you were visibly taller than Aki. You pursed your lips when she mentioned the incident a couple of years ago.

“All of them were arrested or killed anyways so why do you mention it?”

“Because we believe that the guy who stumbled into the campus was a former member of their group.”

“…What?! B-But I thought…”

Your voice trailed off as you sank further down into your chair, a shocked look on your face as you digested the news Aki had just given you.

“We thought that too. However, turns out that a handful of them still exist outside. Their group has suffered irreparable damage so we at least don’t have to concern ourselves with any assassination attempts. What is very likely though is that they’ll try to come for the CEO of the Ito company. They’ll come for you. That’s why we need you to have a bodyguard.”

You spaced out for a moment, deep in your thoughts before you seemed to snap out of it. You tentatively reached for a folder of the many Aki and Sone-san had prepared for you and opened it, giving it this time a bit more time to scan through the detailed records and information of birthday, height, weight and experiences. Needless to say though, you still looked not entirely convinced.

“(y/n)…”

Your friend started, your eyes flickering away from the folder to look at her. Her stern expression had faded away for now as she looked at you with a more sympathetic and worried gaze.

“If you don’t want to do it for the company, do it for me. Even if the risks are lower, I don’t want to lose you.”

Wow, this warmed your heart. You were touched. Dang it, she won. You blew out some air as you just nodded.

“Fine. I’ll go through all of this and pick someone. Can’t leave you all alone after all. What would you do without me? You’d die out of boredom.”

“I could say the same about you. Without me you’d probably drown in all the paperwork or would literally forget any important appointment.”

~~~

Your eyes were glued to the ground as you walked through Tokyo's busy streets. It was early afternoon and you mindlessly picked up some of the things people walking past you were chatting about. You'd spent a considerable amount of time going through the folders, reading through all of the information Aki had collected about each and everyone of the bodyguards she had hand-picked herself. On the surface all of them seemed immaculate and you would have expected nothing less from your best friend. From snipers to professional boxers to martial art masters, all of them were experienced and skilled. Each one of them would be an excellent choice to protect you and yet...something just appeared to lack. You couldn't even put your finger around what it was besides that none of them had captured your interest.

They all seemed like terrible company and that would be a problem considering that your bodyguard would essentially be your second shadow. All were trained professionals and perfectionists, valued their work over fun and enjoyment. That shouldn't have been a surprise considering that Aki had picked all candidates as she herself was far too reserved and analytical most of the time. Of course she would want your bodyguard to have the same values as her but the problem was that that meant that you'd be stuck with an uptight and far too logical man for most of the day. Honestly, you wanted a drinking budyy who would cut you some slack instead of judging and scolding you instantly.

What gave you even more of an headache was the information Aki had given you. That there might still be some survivors from that assassination group. 3 years, it had been 3 years since that incident. Now the Ito company had you as their official CEO, the first woman in the history of the business. You'd done your best, hadn't you? Thanks to you business was flourishing and you had broadened your influence by melting together with smaller companies, branching out in different areas. You were doing good, weren't you? You owed them that much...

You abruptly stopped, trying to swallow back the dwelling feeling that was stuck in your throat like a lump. You didn't want to think about it anymore. The sound of laughter and cheers caught your attention as you lifted your head up. You were standing in front of a small alleyway. An izakaya was somehow cramped inside there and you didn't know if the inside of it would be as small as the exterior made it look like or if it would actually be more spacious. Loud noises came from inside and a whiff of smoke and food blew against your face. Your feet moved on their own accord as you walked inside through the shoji doors.

The smell of cigarettes and different foods intensified when you stepped inside as did the chatter of the many guests inside. Quite a few of them were smoking, puffing on their cigarettes whilst enjoying glasses filled with beer or some sake out of small wooden cups. Strangers were bumping elbows with each other, enjoying food and alcohol under the golden glow of the lights. A counter with a few seats facing the small and cramped kitchen was the first thing you saw, behind the counter the rest of the room was plastered with tatami-mats, a handful of low tables on it.

The owners of the izakaya, an eldery couple, greeted you kindly as you entered. Almost all of the places were taken, only two seats at the counter remained free and since you had entered now anyways and it would have been very impolite to leave again, you sat down right in front of the counter. You looked around, soaking in the carefree atmosphere inside this place before your eyes were drawn to the little TV hanging on the wall. All eyes of the customers were drawn to it and it dawned on you just then that most of them had some sort of ticket in their hand with numbers written on them. On each ticket, one specific number was encircled in red and when you took a closer look at what was played on the small TV, you realized that it seemed to be a horse race of some sort. So they were gambling, huh?

The small women, still taller than Aki though, approached you from behind the counter, offering you one of the tickets.

"Do you want to buy one too? You just have to stake your money on one of the numbers 1 to 7 and if the horse with the right number you bet on wins, you'll win 15000 yen."

You looked surprised around the interior, counting roughly 20 customers, yourself excluded. Then you turned around to look at her again.

"Wow. Will you financially be fine? I mean, you have a lot of customers and if a couple of them have staked on the right horse, you'll rid yourself of some money quickly."

"It's fine. We only do something like this twice a year. We have a lot of loyal customers here so we would like to give them back something for choosing to visit our izakaya as frequently as they do."

15000 yen really wasn't much, it was a grain of dust in comparison to the mountains of money you received and transferred everyday. You didn't plan on revealing your identity though, it was rather refreshing just feeling like a normal person enjoying her daily life as opposed to being known as the CEO of the arguably biggest and most influential company in all of Japan and having to uphold some sort of image. So despite your tiny voice of reasoning, you bought one ticket from her. And in the true spirit of a gambler, and also because you were woefully unaware of which horses in the race had a track of winning or not, you just went with a random number. You ordered some beer and Yakitori as well, watching the announcer introducing all of the horses since the race would soon start whilst also interviewing some of the horsemen and how they felt.

You initially didn't look up when you heard the owners of the izakaya shouting 'Welcome!' when another person entered through the shoji doors, your eyes drawn to the TV as you took tiny sips out of your beer. It wasn't until the person slid down on the only available seat which happened to be next to you. That's when you stopped sipping from your beer, your lips still attached to the glass as you stopped focusing on the TV. You didn't quite know how to describe it but you could sense some sort of powerful presence from next to you.

"Old lady, give me one of those tickets."

You turned around as you heard the sound of his voice, his range very unique. When you saw the mass of a man sitting next to you, your eyes became as wide as saucers. He was massive! Packed with muscles anywhere to the point where you were sure that he must have felt like a rock if you were to touch him. He had black hair, green eyes and a scar on the corner of his mouth that only added to his wild and roguish vibe. His clothes were casual, although his black shirt was so tight around him that you could clearly see the outline of every single portion of his upper body. He was ridiculously handsome, you had to admit that.

You were so caught up in admiring the bear of a man sitting next to you that you sort of forgot that you were staring at a stranger who looked like he could kill a man by flicking his forehead. So caught up in fact that you initially didn't even realize that he had noticed how you were looking at him.

"What are you staring at?" He asked you, his tone partially rude as he looked down on you. Despite his somewhat rude exterior, and damn intimidating one too, that didn't derogate your pure amazement in any way.

"You're really tall, mister. And muscular too. I think I've never met someone with such a physique." You told him in absolute awe, feeling somewhat a bit excited about sitting next to someone like him. Your self-proclaimed sixth sense told you that you should definitely try to get to know this one better.

"Are you like working out really hard to have such a body or were you just born with it?"

Your eyes finally left his muscles and looked up to meet his own gaze. One of his brows lifted up the slightest bit as he mustered you and the curious and excited look on your face. Apparently he hadn't expected you to compliment and then proceed to ask him for his way to have acquired such a body. His body looked sculpted, far too perfect for any human to ever achieve. Both of you just stared at each other, the gleam in your eyes sparkling as you looked for him, waited for him to say something whilst he seemed to think about what to say to you that would actually make you shut up. You didn't know if you were imagining it but he looked almost a bit puzzled with the way you were looking at him and responding to him.

Your face almost fell when the stranger decided to ignore you, ordering instead some takoyaki and draught beer before turning his attention to the TV. You were just about to try to spark a conversation with him again when the izakaya suddenly errupted in cheers and yells. Your head whipped around as you realized that the horse racing had started. Even the owners had joined in watching. Was gambling that popular and beloved? Would Aki allow you to enter that business too?

The desire to try to have a conversation with him was still there but you quickly let yourself be taken away by the excitement of the other customers, joining them in their cheers and shouts of encouragement. You didn't even care about the horse you had bet on and you forgot about it after a while too, just soaking in the atmosphere and allowing yourself admist the yakitori, the beer and the excitement, laughter, roars and yells of everyone else who had gotten at this point a bit drunk to forget all of your worries. It was an amazing moment for you and you made a note in your mind to definitely visit this place more often. When finally one of the horses with the number 5 crossed the finish line, you cheered for it regardless of whether it had been the horse you'd placed your bets on or not.

Collective groans and a couple of cheers echoed throughout the cramped interior as winners and losers either celebrated or lamented over their choices. You picked up an annoyed scoff from the man next to you and when you turned around and saw the slightly annoyed look on his face, you knew that he belonged to the group of people who hadn't made the right bet. Well, not like you were one to talk. You had also just picked a number by sheer coincidence. Ah, talking about that...

You pulled out the lot you had brought from the old lady which you realized you had stuffed in the pocket of your suit. You couldn't even remember which number you had chosen. You held it in front of your face...and just stared at it. The nice old lady happened to glance at the encircled number on the lot as she cleaned up all the empty glasses and plates on the counter.

"Congratulations, Miss. You've won." She told you in a warm tone as you were still staring somewhat dumbfounded at the number five you had staked your money upon. This was your first time ever gambling like this. Maybe you should try it more often? Or maybe not because Aki would surely make your ears bleed if she'd ever catch you gambling and wasting your money.

"Huh...Lucky me, I guess." You muttered to yourself. You were better in this than expected. You looked up to the guy sitting next to you and you actually caught his gaze lingering on you, presumably because you had made the right choice and won. Then he turned his head around, looking disinterested as he gulped down the last bit of his beer before suddenly standing up. Was he planning on leaving already? Was it because he had lost? This was bad, you had planned to chat a bit with him. You looked down on the winning lot and then back to him leaving and decided that in all honesty, you already had enough money.

"Hey! Heeey!" You called after him so that he would notice and turn around. He did turn his head in your direction and so did a lot of other people but you didn't care much. Most of them were drunk anyways and the 2 or 3 glasses of beer you had consumed yourself had certainly given you some courage. Not that you didn't have enough already.

"Do you want this?" You asked him, holding the lot with the winning number on it up. He tilted his head a bit and you could see his green eyes glaring at you. Geez, had you said something wrong?

"Keep it for yourself." He answered before turning his back to you. Now you were probably going to be an 'annoying leech' as Aki sometimes called you but unfortunately for you and everyone else around you, you could be awfully persistent when it came to something that caught your interest.

"Why? Don't you want the money? That's the whole reason why you got so pissed when your pick didn't win." You spoke as you walked hastily after him. A part of you knew that this wasn't without any danger because he seemed like someone not to mess with but you were curious right now. Also, you would like to get to know him better. Apparently he didn't appreciate being followed like this as he abruptly turned around and you nearly crashed into him. If looks could kill, you'd be dead by now. He really was damn intimidating. He'd make a good bodyguard with that body and his look...

"I don't want your stupid lot." He repeated himself, his glare unrelenting and you would have lied if you would have claimed that you weren't a bit scared right now. You swallowed heavily but still, walking away now would just make you look stupid and like a coward. You didn't want that either even if literally no one would have blamed you for it.

"Then tell me why." You insisted.

He stared at you, you held his gaze as good as you could. You were slightly frightened but also quite defiant right now. Eventually the anger partially faded as annoyance took over yet surprisingly, he answered you. You didn't know why. You had either expected him to just leave or knock you out. Perhaps it was a sign of some respect for you actually showing some guts in front of him?

"I don't need your pity."

"Pity?" You repeated after him slightly confused. Then your face lightened up with realization. “Ah, so that is what you mean! Don’t worry, don’t worry.” You waved your hand dismissively.

“I earn enough money already as it is so those 15000 yen aren’t really much to me. And before I let you leave and walk along the streets with a look on your face that would make everyone think that you’re about to kill someone, I’d rather just give it to you. Instead of the rich people getting richer, wouldn’t you want to take it instead to make your visit here at least worthwhile? If you don’t want it though, I’ll just give it to someone else here.”

You held the ticket a bit closer to his face, looking at him with big eyes. The look of anger had transformed into something else. It almost appeared like he was a bit flabbergasted as he scrutinized you as if you were an alien. The lot in your hand was left ignored and after a while you just let out a disappointed sigh.

“Fine. Be an idiot and ignore me then. You’re no fun after all.” You grumbled as you turned around and marched back into the izakaya to just hand it to someone else. You stopped though when you felt his hand reaching out for the lot and tugging it out of your hand. You spun giddily around as he observed the lot in his hands before sparing you a quick glance.

“Don’t think too much about it.” He spoke before walking through the shoji doors to collect the money. You waited outside for him. A question was burning on your tongue that you wanted to ask him. He didn’t look exactly surprised when he came outside and saw you still standing there although he did look a tiny bit annoyed.

“Listen. Just because I took the lot from you doesn’t mean-“

“Are you strong, Mister?”

Once again, you managed to make his tough exterior crumble for a short moment as you interrupted him in favor of asking him your question. He looked for a second or two puzzled, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Do I look like I’m not strong to you?” He asked, putting one of his hands on his hips as he gazed down at you in an attempt to figure you out.

“Oh, you look like you could break someone’s neck with ease. I just need to see for myself.”

“…Why do you want to know anyways?”

He was actually engaging in a conversation with you! Perfect! Now you only needed to convince him.

“Because I’m considering hiring you so that you can work for me.”

He hadn’t expected your answer. The bewildered look on his face appeared again, observing your face as if thinking that you were joking only to figure out that you were dead serious.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“I am not. So, I need you to tell me where you are working so that I can talk to your boss and convince him to let you leave your current job so that I can make you work for me and-Hey, where are you going?”

“What are you? A moron? What makes you think that I’ll work for you just because you gave me 15000 yen?”

He didn’t even turn around as he casually walked away from you. How infuriating! However, now you were fully invested. You just needed to catch his attention somehow again.

“You’re talking quite big. But I bet that I could convince you to work for me in 10 seconds.”

The provocation did its job. He halted in his steps and slowly turned around.

“Hoo? You think that it’ll be that easy?”

“It will be.”

You replied confidently as you pulled something out of your handbag. A piece of paper alongside with a pen.

“What’s your name?”

“…Fushiguro Toji.”

You started scribbling something down on it before walking to him, holding the check in between your index and middle finger.

“If you still reject after this, you’re either the most strong-willed person I’ve met or the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

He ripped the check out of your hand, his gaze on you for a few moments longer before he read what you had written on the check. The first thing that caught his eye was the ridiculous sum of money written on it. You had mentioned that 15000 yen wasn’t much for you but if you could casually throw out such a huge sum of money, you were even richer than he had expected. The other thing that caught his attention was the name written on it, presumably your name. (l/n) (y/n).

Wasn’t that…?

“Are you…?”

“Yes, I am. With that knowledge in mind now, what do you say?”

The corner of his mouth was pulling itself slightly up as a cocky grin spread on his face.

“Are you always walking around and throw money at whoever you deem you want to work for you? Must feel nice, being so dirty rich as you are.”

“I don’t do that with just anybody. I am stuck most of the day either in my office at work or in my office at home so if you believe it or not, you’re the first person I’m doing this with. Also, if I am as ‘dirty rich’ as you call it, I might as well use my money.”

You weren’t all that stupid after all. He could at least acknowledge that.

“What would you do if I would still decline?”

He wanted to test you, you knew that. Perhaps to abuse you a bit since you were showing so much interest in him right now.

“I would probably be quite upset and try to still convince you until I’m forced to quit and find someone else who will do the job for me. Then I’ll probably find someone or something else which will catch my attention and my interest in you will disappear until you’ll only remain as a small memory in my head. You’re at least memorable enough so that I won’t forget you like I do with 90% of the people around me.”

You were pleasantly surprised when he huffed amused when hearing your honest answer.

“You have no filter, do you?”

“No, I usually say what I think.”

“What would you want me to do if I were to work for you?”

“Tell me, Fushiguro-san. Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

"...Bodyguard, huh?"

~~~

"Can you drive a little bit faster?"

"May I ask why? You seem to be in an awful rush ever since (y/n)-san called you with a request to pick her up?"

Sone Kazuma always had to be so worringly calm and collected. Which on the one hand made him perfect for his role within the company as one of your closest assistants but she felt like he was sometimes a little bit too soft around you. Almost acted like the kind grandpa when around you.

"She calmed me randomly and begged me to pick her up because she had a surprise for me. I do not trust her sudden burst of joy. If it is one of her idiotic ideas again, she'll have to walk home on her own to reflect on herself."

"Am I driving or are you?" Sone replied amused from behind the wheel as he saw the wrinkles forming on the younger woman's face before she leaned back in her seat. She observed the many streets outside and all the cars passing by the window. She could only wonder what you had come up with this time.

"Is it here?" Sone asked her, his question pulling her out of her thoughts as he drove into a parking in the middle of a block with lots of cheaper apartments available.

"It is. She should be around here somewhere." Aki replied as Sone drove around in search for a spot, parking it in an empty spot before she finally opened the door and exited the car. Her eyes were wandering around the place as she couldn't help but wonder why you had chosen this place to be picked up. Sure, it was easier in a more empty street for Sone to find place to park compared to the busy and full streets of Tokyo but she couldn't help but feel like this was a bit dangerous. Especially if some members of the assassination group were still lurking around.

"Where is she? She's late." Aki grumbled as she pulled out her flip phone and dialed your number in, prepared to call you and give you directions if you should have gotten lost somehow.

"We just arrived, Aki-san. Let's wait a bit longer for (y/n)."

He gave her a reassuring nod and she decided to try to take his words to heart as she put the phone back into her backpag .

"5 minutes. No more."

It was rather quiet in this part of Tokyo as most of the population in the city were either at work or walking around in the full and lively streets and it was rather strange. Aki enjoyed the silence though, she wasn't the biggest fan of overly crowded places as it was personally hard for her to properly concentrate under such conditions. She followed the hand on her watch as it slowly ticked away.

1 minute, 2 minutes, 3 minutes...

"There she is. Seems like she found us."

Indeed. When Aki glanced up and followed Sone's gaze, she saw you waving from across the parking lot. Then her gaze landed on someone big right behind you and for a short moment, her usually composed mask wavered a bit as she saw the person right behind you. Massive and tall were the first things that came to her mind as he, she assumed at least that it was a man, trailed closely behind you. For the shortest split of a second she feared that he might be after you but even you couldn't have been dumb enough to not notice a person as tall as him following you so closely. Not to mention that she actually saw you turning around to him, pointing in her and Sone's direction. She glanced at Sone only to see that he had kept his calm smile, although she saw the flash of curiosity as he watched you getting closer, urging the other man to walk a bit faster.

"Aki-chan! Aki-chan! I did it! I found one!"

You cheered happily as if you had just accomplished a sublime feat and wanted her to praise you for it. Aki on the other hand couldn't stop focusing on the man behind you who she could now actually see clearer now that he was so close. A tight black shirt, dark trousers which were more on the baggy side and, from what she could at least tell, green eyes. She pursed her lips, her eyes nervously darting back and forth between you and him as she tried her hardest to suppress the fact that she was slightly intimidated now. You were already quite a bit taller than her and frequently teased her about it but even you didn't look as tall anymore in comparison to your unknown companion and if she would have stood right in front of him, the top of her head wouldn't have even reached his shoulders.

She had seen tall people before but never someone who had possessed such a pronounced physique with muscles over muscles layered across his body. She held the saliva back that she had almost swallowed just now as she attempted her best to put appear unfaced as she slowly tore her gaze away from him. She bit her tongue when he spared a glance down at her and seemed to grin slightly as if sensing her fear.

"(y/n), who is this?"

"My new bodyguard! Isn't he great?" You gestured excitedly at him with the same troublesome infatuated excitement you always held as soon as you found something extraordinary or had a new 'great' idea.

"What?"

"My bodyguard. You wanted me to choose one, right?"

For the first time in quite a while, Aki was actually left speechless as she just stared at you, spacing out in the process. He hadn't been on the list of candidates she had handed you earlier this morning. You had really just done it, hadn't you? You had picked a random man you had met on the streets and had handed your safety and security over to a total stranger. It was almost surreal.

"No."

"Yes, Aki. Yes." You replied, nodding happily as if to enhance your point. She felt the urge to lash out for a bit as the frustration bubbled hotly up in her chest but she tried to compose herself as good as she could. You had a good eye despite sometimes acting like you had been dropped first on your head as a baby, you wouldn't take this subject lightly. Esecially not with them possibly still around.

Her eyes were almost spitting fire even if her face was mostly emotionless as she looked up at him.

"You, what's your name?"

"Fushiguro Toji." He replied as he held her gaze, unfazed by the passive-aggressive tone she had just used to refer to him in a slightly rude fashion.

"What is your current job?"

Green eyes glanced at your own as if asking if he really had to answer all of those questions. When you gave him a weak nod, your eyes begging him to just go along with Aki's sudden interrogation, he rolled his eyes.

"I don't have one."

"You don't have one?" Aki repeated in a dissatisfied tone, scrutinizing him more sharply all of a sudden.

"I take some jobs when they're offered to me, receive my payment after I'm finished and then leave and wait for the next employment offered to me."

"So you're some sort of freelancer?"

"You could say that."

"Is that so?"

You could tell that Aki wasn't convinced at all judging by the way she eyed Fushiguro suspiciously. There was some tension in the air as both of them were glaring at each other and even if the height difference was almost painful to witness, Aki held her own ground well against him.

"Okay, everyone. Let's stop looking at each other as if hoping that the other one will drop dead all of a sudden. We should drive to my apartment instead to finish all the formalities. Fushiguro-san here has to sign a contract after all." You interfered as you stepped between those two in an attempt to appease both of them.

"You're really serious about hiring him? A random man you just met on the streets?" Aki inquired once more as she gave you a long and serious look. Your awkward smile fell from your face as you saw the hidden concern in her eyes, the sceptism if he was even trustworthy. And you couldn't blame her for it.

"I know that this is very sudden and I know that it looks really stupid. But you just have to trust my intuition right now. I have a feeling that he'll be the perfect choice."

"You're putting your safety and life in the hands of a stranger you just met because of your gut feeling?"

"Yes. I'm trusting my instincts here. I'm not going to ignore what my feelings tell me anymore."

He observed the sudden change in your facial expression half-interested as it suddenly matched Aki's serious expression whilst also noticing your little friend's own determination wavering as she witnessed your own.

"What about you? Why did you choose to suddenly work for her?" She eventually asked as her eyes flew to his form again, this time inspecting him more neutrally.

"For the money."

She let out a sigh, although she didn't seem to be very surprised. At least she hadn't expected anything more from him.

"Of course that's your answer. Are you suited for the role though? Can you really guard her against anything and anyone that might endanger her life?"

"Are you underestimating me? That's the second time someone has questioned me about my own capabilities today."

His green eyes shortly darted to you as he said this and Aki felt a wave of relief washing over her when she understood that you had been the first one to question him about it. At least you hadn't hired him completely blindly.

"I assume as long as the payment is right, you'll fulfill your job then?"

"That goes without saying."

She appeared to consider it thoroughly as she glanced at him, glanced at you, glanced at him again before her eyes were averted to the older men standing a few feet away from all three of them.

"Sone-san, what are your thoughts?" She asked him for his help, still quite a bit conflicted about this entire situation.

"I say that we give him a shot. From his looks alone he seems to be promising and if his motives lie only in money I don't think we have to worry. The Ito company is unmatched when it comes to wealth and influence so he shouldn't stray away from us. I have a hunch that it's better to have him on our side than to have him as an enemy."

That sounded surprisingly more shady than Toji had expected from someone so kind-looking but on the other hand people in power were rarely not corrupted somehow.

His own opinion finally seemed to cause Aki to give in as she let out a incoherent grumble before giving you the best angry look she could muster.

"If he messes up even a bit, I will have him fired and then I will pick your next bodyguard myself."

~~~

He had to hold a grin in when he saw Aki shuffling out of the car as soon as they arrived at their destination. She had appeared to sit under fire the entire care ride despite her hardest attempt to not let anyone notice. Her rigid body had told him something different though. You on the other hand had busily chatted with Sone as he had driven all four of you to your apartments. Apparently all three of you lived in the same building with the roof and the fourth floor belonging entirely to you, Aki owning one of the two apartments in the third floor and Sone living in one of the three apartments on the second floor. Otherwise the building was uninhabited since it was only for people who worked extremely close to you and despite Aki's greatest displeasure, he would be living there too. As your new bodyguard it would be wisest after all to have him all the time as close to you as possible.

Toji had to admit though that he was a bit disappointed when he saw the exterior of the building, the most boring grey sad thing he could see everywhere else in this city.

The interior however, looked far more pleasing. The first floor was the lobby of this place. An empty reception desk to welcome the most likely limited visitors into this place and, for whatever reason, a water fountain embedded into the wall. A few paintings were hung up on the walls, some showing some landscapes of cherry blossoms or landscapes and others looking like someone had given a toddler some colours, a canvas and told them to just left them alone with it. Well, all that money had to be wasted somewhere after all.

It got more interesting when all four of you got into the elevator and Aki pulled out a key, sliding it into the key hole within the lift and turned it around. One of the buttons, the one someone had to press in order to reach the fourth floor, suddenly lit up and Aki left the key in the hole as she pressed the now functioning button.

You noticed Toji's eyes resting on the key and took it upon yourself to explain to him.

"You need such a key in order to reach the fourth floor unless I'm in my apartment and press a button in my own apartment which would also allow it to reach up to the fourth floor. Currently only Aki, Sone-san and I possess such keys."

"Do I get one too then?"

You wanted to answer but were interrupted by Aki.

"Not just yet. I'm not allowing you to have one unless I'm convinced that I can trust you."

He let out a scoff through his teeth but didn't push it any further. Losing such a job with that much money offered to him would be too much of a shame.

Your own apartment was at the end of a longer hallway and already made everything look fancy and special but he couldn't help but be actually impressed when you unlocked the door and let him and the other two inside. It was huge with lots of rooms inside. He could have probably spent a good amount of time exploring each and every room but he was ushered by Aki to follow her as she marched into what appeared to be a living room.

A sliding door was right next to him and seemed to separate another room from this area. Despite the space you had for yourself, there were surprisingly few pieces of furniture. A TV installed on the wall, a modestly sized couch and what appeared to be a desk for you to do all your work on.

"This is where I live. I also have a garden up on my rooftop."

You welcomed him, gauging him for his reaction. You were just hoping that he wouldn't just see you as a spoiled and rich woman for your apartment. It hadn't originally belonged to you. You had just been forced to take it after the previous owner had been unable to live in it anymore.

"You have a garden on the roof?"

"Yes, she has. But we didn't bring you here for sightseeing."

Aki told him quickly and matter-of-factly before letting you actually offer him to show him the roof which was completely irrelevant to why he was here.

"Where exactly will I be livingthen? On the third or second floor?"

Hmm...I think having you on the third floor would be more convenient because you would be closer to me. What do you think, Aki? Would that be alright with you if the two of you would be neighbours?"

She didn't look thrilled about it at all as she threw him a side glance.

"Do whatever you want." She mumbled after a few moments and turned her head away from him, resigning herself to her fate.

"That was easier than expected but I'm glad that this is settled. Sone-san will give you the key to the other apartment on the third floor then." You said, looking mildly surprised at Aki as you had expected her to argue more.

"Don't get any wrong ideas, I think we should focus more on the contract and explain all the rules and conditions to him instead of quarreling where he will live because he will live in this building anyways and I'll have to see him regularly for now no matter what. So-"

"Ah! Before I forget it. Fushiguro-san, do you have any family? Children? A wife? Someone else, regardless if it is a relative or friend? If there is anyone, I could arrange for them to live with you or at least in the same building."

Aki arched her eyebrow as if she had expected you to have asked him such a question already but decided to keep quiet. You looked expectantly at Toji.

"There's no need for that. I'm by myself."

Pt.2

Tags: @saiyara05

[meditating-honey-badger]

First Line Tag Game

Thank you @chaotictarlos and @bonheur-cafe for tagging me.

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

In order from most recent to earliest:

Pretty Penny (911 Lone Star)

TK read the name on the tablet three times, but still didn’t trust what he was seeing. Penelope Lane. He hadn’t thought of the name in years. It had to be a coincidence, though — Lane wasn’t an uncommon name, and surely a handful of them were either pretentious or idiotic enough to name their daughter after a Beatles’ song.

2. A Healing Touch (911 Lone Star)

“Are you cold?” Carlos asked as TK pulled a blanket up to his chin. They’d had plans to go out that night, but TK wasn’t feeling like himself, so they cuddled up on the couch to watch a movie instead.

3. Agape: A Composition in Three Acts (911 Lone Star)

TK hurt everywhere. Thankfully, his ass had gone numb, but his back, neck, and shoulders ached from the hard plastic chair he'd been sitting in for days. He could have solved all of this by getting up and moving around. He could even get some water to quell his pounding headache. But he stayed put. It didn’t seem fair to get up, not when Carlos was lying in a hospital bed, his life hanging in the balance.

4. Long Way to Get (911 Lone Star)

Carlos,

I’m sitting here in my room writing a fucking letter on some scraps of paper I begged off the nurse because they took my fucking phone. I’m a prisoner here, so I guess you got what you wanted. It’s probably better this way because I’m so mad at you, I can’t even think straight and if I could see your face, I don’t know what I would do to you.  I can’t see, feel, or think anything but white hot anger, and the fact that you did this to me is the worst betrayal I could ever imagine. 

5. The Measure of a Man (911 Lone Star)

“You’re going to have to answer that sometime,” Carlos said as TK tossed his cell phone onto the coffee table.

“I need to ignore him for at least as long as he ignored me.” TK was not in the mood to talk to his father or discuss the fact that he wasn’t talking to his father. All he wanted to do was cuddle up on the couch with Carlos and fuss over him.

6. Out of the Cold (911 Lone Star)

TK arrived at the fire station ten minutes before the agreed upon time, only to find Carlos leaning against his police cruiser, sipping what TK assumed was coffee out of a large thermos. He was wearing plain clothes, rather than his uniform, but he still looked impeccable in a button-down shirt and dress pants, his hair carefully gelled so there wasn’t a flyaway to be seen.

Of course he’s early, TK thought. That boy scout has probably never been late for anything in his life. And why is he dressed like we’re going someplace nic

7. Candy is Sweet, But I'd Rather Have You (911 Lone Star)

Carlos looks around at the newly renovated 126 fire station. He’d driven by more than a dozen times since it reopened, but he’s never taken the time to really look at it. The make-shift memorial for the fallen firefighters is gone, replaced by updated landscaping. The large doors are wide open — the engines temporarily parked around the block — and a mere glance inside shows the improvements made by the fire department went well beyond a fresh paint job. It’s obvious that everything was planned meticulously and with obvious care.

8. John Grey's Anatomy (Outlander)

Exhausted, I opened my locker and pulled out my wallet and cellphone. It was four o'clock on a Friday and I was at the end of a twelve-hour shift at Boston Memorial.

9. Every Impossible Move (Outlander)

Jamie Fraser stood outside the stables, surveying the scenery before him. He'd been indentured as a Groom at Helwater, a sprawling estate in the English Lake District owned by the Dunsaney family, for the past eight years. His friend, John Grey, walked out of the stables and stood next to him.

10. Off the Only Path I Knew (Outlander)

"I invited a few guys from the shinty club over for beers tonight," Jamie Fraser told his roommate. "Ye're welcome to join us."

Tagging @lord-jen-grey @mistresspandorawritesthings @noxsoulmate @lightningboltreader @tailoredshirt (sorry if you've already been tagged).

Anybody else feel free to join in!

[brown-little-robin]

going to visit parents & adopted uncle & aunt for the weekend. is this a wise decision, given how much work I have to do? NO. Will it be good to see them? YES.

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 63]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Let’s do some of this tonight.

Chapter 29

Virgil finished eating the breakfast Patton’s mom had sent for him. It had been going on a week since they’d discussed making menus for him him. She sent up little cards with each meal and he was supposed to rate each thing she sent on a scale from 1-5. Logan would read it to him before he ate, and Virgil would mark the little box on the card corresponding to his opinion. Usually, he would put a 4 for everything (he had tried to do 5, but Logan had told him 5 was reserved for things like chicken alfredo). Three was for things that he was neutral on, 2 was for things he didn’t like but could tolerate, and 1 was for things he didn’t like. So far, the only 3 was the unseasoned porridge she’d sent one day. Yet, putting toppings on it like cinnamon and sugar and different fruits had increased its rating easily.

“Finished?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“What would you like to do today?” Logan asked. “Patton is busy until after lunch, and then we thought you might like to go back to the garden again. It’s supposed to drop in temperature over the next few days, so it will be the last good day for it.”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I don’t care what we do today though. What do you want to do?”

Logan made an expression, and Virgil titled his head. “I don’t have anything in particular I want to do,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Virgil said immediately.

“You would not be interested in the activity I wish to partake in,” Logan said.

Virgil squinted at him. “I’d be interested in laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling.”

Logan chuckled. “No, truly. The activity I would do if you were not present would involve reading.”

“You can read to me,” Virgil suggested.

“…In Sanskrit.”

Virgil frowned at him. “Isn’t that, like, some sort of dead language?”

“It is,” Logan said. “I taught the language to myself in order to read a specific book called the Pragilium Text. It’s an encoded book that leads to a magical location that I have been trying to decode for years.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “You can do that.”

“It would be in the library,” Logan said.

“Okay.”

“But…” Logan said. “It would in no way be interesting to you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Like I said. I’m content to lie on the floor for a few hours.”

Logan frowned. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You wouldn’t be making me,” Virgil said. “I want to go. Maybe you can find me an easy book I could try to read?”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, decisively.

“Very well, get dressed and I will show you the library.”

Virgil stood to do so and a few minutes later, Logan was leading him out of the royal wing.

Both of the guards greeted him kindly, and Virgil hunched his shoulders in a bit, but said a soft “hi.”

The library didn’t end up being too far away. It was through the small dining hall and to the left where the staircase to the kitchen was to the right.

“This is not the main library,” Logan said when they entered. “It is just a smaller one. The royal librarian comes here only about once a week to organize. Some other castle residents might come in too, but it is usually mostly empty.”

Virgil could tell just by listening closely for a few seconds that the place was likely empty (unless someone was lying in wait).

“I’ll look and see if there is something simple for you in case you’d like to read. You can explore a bit if you’d like,” Logan said.

Virgil nodded and stalked off into the shelves to secure the area. There were many books, not that he could quite read any of the spines. The bookcases were mostly cramped into the space. There was the open area where they’d come in with a few comfy chairs and Virgil found a desk near one of the windows. It had stacks of books including one pretty large and old one. He looked at it curiously.

Virgil heard Logan’s footsteps approach from down an aisle. “That’s the Pragilium text,” he said.

“It’s pretty,” Virgil said, looking at the design etched into the cover.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. He reached forward to touch it and opened it carefully. The print was small and didn’t look like the letters Logan had taught him so far. There was a small map on the side that Virgil could at least guess at the meaning of.

“You can read that?” Virgil asked.

“I can,” Logan said. “Very few people can though.”

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile. “Now, I found you a book. I apologize as its subject matter is for younger children, but it has many pictures that can help give you context when you don’t know something. You don’t have to read it if you do not wish to, especially as we haven’t gotten very far in our lessons, but I thought you might like the challenge.

He handed him the book and Virgil took it with a smile. “I’ll try to read it,” he said.

“Well, you have free reign of the library. Feel free to continue to explore and to interrupt me if you need to.”

Virgil nodded and took the book before deciding to finish his sweep of the library. It turned out that appearances were not deceiving, and the library truly was empty. Once he was certain about that, he looked around for a comfortable place to settle down and try to read the book Logan had handed him. He found a sturdy looking bookshelf near where Logan was reading at his desk. He scaled it quickly. It was a little bit dusty at the top, but it wasn’t a bad place. It was close to the ceiling and kept him hidden pretty well, but still gave him enough room to pop up onto his elbows. If he looked left, he could see Logan down below with his eyes trained on the book, but if he looked right, he could see the entrance to the library.

He pulled the book in front of him and looked at the cover. It was covered in drawings of different colored flowers. One simple white flower was in the center and there were three words on the cover. He squinted at it and silently tried to sound it out based on what Logan had taught him so far. He could guess that the larger word was ‘flowers’ based on context. So, he was pretty sure it read How Flowers Grow.

He flipped open the book. Logan was right, there were many hand drawn beautiful pictures. He could pretty much understand what was happening just from them even if he couldn’t read all of the words.

It was an interesting book even if he couldn’t read it and it was obviously made for small children. Judging by the pictures, it seemed to be detailing how plants, or at least, flowers grew through some kid planting and caring for a flower over the course of some amount of time.

Virgil had, of course, known flowers grew from seeds, but it was interesting to see things about how the stem would pop out of the seed in the ground and things about the roots growing.

He more looked through the pictures than read it the first time but had flipped back to the front to try to read the words when he heard the library door open.

Virgil perked up in awareness, but then settled when he recognized Patton’s footsteps. Virgil tilted his head to watch as he walked directly to Logan’s hideaway.

“Hi,” he said, gaining Logan’s attention.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied. He glanced at the window and must have seen that time had passed because he closed his book and shuffled his papers.

“The guards said you came here,” Patton said, glancing around. “Where’s Virgil?”

Instead of letting Logan answer that question, Virgil pulled himself forward, with the book in one hand and slid off the bookshelf to land lightly on his feet next to Patton.

Patton screamed briefly before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Logan had placed his hand over his heart. “Where on Earth did you come from?” he asked.

Virgil blinked at him and then pointed to the bookshelf he’d been on top of.

“How long were you up there?” Logan asked.

“Pretty much the whole time,” Virgil answered.

“I…” Logan said. “I didn’t even know.”

Virgil squinted at him. “You need to learn to look up.”

Patton giggled.

Virgil turned on him. “You need to learn to case the area.”

“Oh honey, your shirt is all covered in dust,” Patton said instead of responding to his very valid criticism. Virgil frowned. “Let’s get you changed and then go grab some lunch.”

“Lunch?” Virgil asked.

Patton chuckled and grabbed his hand. “Yes, sweetie, lunch. Then garden.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “But you do need to learn to be more observant.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say,” Patton said.

Logan just rolled his eyes.

  Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out into the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see flowers but see all of the flowers grow. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

 Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits. They ended up in the food garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on the direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

 “Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

 “Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests, I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin them so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some leftover.”

 “Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on your, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

 “Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop.”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

 “Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you want to Virgil,” Logan said.

 “Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at the large patch of bushes.

 Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

 “I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

 Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

 “Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected to understand his words and the exasperation in the tone he said them in.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

 He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

  Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

[silvokrent]

RWBY Character Analysis: Pietro and Penny Polendina

Up until now I’ve been keeping quiet about my opinions on the newest volume, in no small part because my personal life has been one absurd setback after another, and I haven’t had the energy to engage in fandom meta. If you do want to know what my current opinion of RWBY is, go over to @itsclydebitches blog, search through her #rwby-recaps tag, and read every single one. At this point, her metas are basically an itemized list of all my grievances with the show. I highly recommend you check ’em out.

Or, if you don’t feel like reading several hours’ worth of recaps, then go find a sheet of paper, give yourself a papercut, and then squeeze a lemon into it. That should give you an accurate impression of my feelings.

In truth, I have a lot to say about the show, particularly how I think CRWBY has mishandled the plot, characters, tone, and intended message of their series. And while I enjoy dissecting RWBY with what amounts to mad scientist levels of glee, I think plenty of other folks have already discussed V7′s and V8′s various issues in greater depth and with far more eloquence. Any contribution I could theoretically make at this point would be somewhat redundant.

That being said, I’d like to talk about something that’s been bothering me for a while, which (to my knowledge) no one else in the fandom has brought up. (And feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.)

Today’s topic of concern is Pietro Polendina, and his relationship with Penny.

And because I’m absolutely certain this post is going to be controversial and summon anonymous armchair critics to fill my inbox with sweary claptrap, I may as well just come out and say it:

Pietro Polendina, as he’s currently portrayed in the show, is an inherently abusive parental figure.

Let me take a second to clarify that I don’t think it was RWBY’s intention to portray Pietro that way. Much like other aspects of the show, a lot of nuance is often lost when discussing the difference between intention versus implementation, or telling versus showing. It’s what happens when a writer tries to characterize a person one way, but in execution portrays them in an entirely different light. Compounding this problem is what feels like a series of rather myopic writing decisions that started as early as Volume 2, concerning Penny’s sense of agency, and how the canon would bear out the implications of an autonomous being grappling with her identity. It’s infuriating that the show has spent seven seasons staunchly refusing to ask any sort of ethical questions surrounding her existence, only to then—with minimal setup—give us Pietro’s “heartfelt” emotional breakdown when he has to choose between “saving” Penny or “sacrificing” her for the greater good.

Yeah, no thanks.

If we want to talk about why this moment read as hollow and insincere, we need to first make sure everyone’s on the same page.

Spoilers for V8.E5 - “Amity.” Let’s not waste any time.

In light of the newest episode and its—shall we say—questionable implications, I figured now was the best time to bring it up while the thoughts were still fresh in my mind. (Because nothing generates momentum quite like frothing-at-the-mouth rage.)

The first time we’re told anything about Pietro, it comes from an exchange between Penny and Ruby. From V2.E2 - “A Minor Hiccup.”

Penny: I've never been to another kingdom before. My father asked me not to venture out too far, but... You have to understand, my father loves me very much. He just worries a lot.

Ruby: Believe me, I know the feeling. But why not let us know you were okay?

Penny: I…was asked not to talk to you. Or Weiss. Or Blake. Or Yang. Anybody, really.

Ruby: Was your dad that upset?

Penny: No, it wasn’t my father.

The scene immediately diverts our attention to a public unveiling of the AK-200. A hologram of James Ironwood is presenting this newest model of Atlesian Knight to a crowd of enthusiastic spectators, along with the Atlesian Paladin, a piloted mech. During the demonstration, James informs his audience that Atlas’ military created them with the intent of removing people from the battlefield and mitigating casualties (presumably against Grimm).

Penny is quickly spotted by several soldiers, and flees. Ruby follows, and in the process the two are nearly hit by a truck. Penny’s display of strength draws a crowd and prompts her to retreat into an alley, where Ruby learns that Penny isn’t “a real girl.”

This scene continues in the next episode, “Painting the Town…”

Penny: Most girls are born, but I was made. I’m the world’s first synthetic person capable of generating an Aura. [Averts her gaze.] I’m not real…

After Ruby assures her that no, you don’t have to be organic in order to have personhood, Penny proceeds to hug her with slightly more force than necessary.

Ruby: [Muffled noise of pain.] I can see why your father would want to protect such a delicate flower!

Penny: [Releases Ruby.] Oh, he’s very sweet! My father’s the one that built me! I’m sure you would love him.

Ruby: Wow. He built you all by himself?

Penny: Well, almost! He had some help from Mr. Ironwood.

Ruby: The general? Wait, is that why those soldiers were after you?

Penny: They like to protect me, too!

Ruby: They don't think you can protect yourself?

Penny: They're not sure if I'm ready yet. One day, it will be my job to save the world, but I still have a lot left to learn. That's why my father let me come to the Vytal Festival. I want to see what it's like in the rest of the world, and test myself in the Tournament.

Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of the approaching soldiers from earlier. Despite Ruby’s protests, Penny proceeds to yeet her into the nearby dumpster, all while reassuring her that it’s to keep Ruby out of trouble, not her. When the soldiers arrive, they ask her if she’s okay, then proceed to lightly scold her for causing a scene. Penny’s told that her father “isn’t going to be happy about this,” and is then politely asked (not ordered; asked) to let them escort her back.

Let’s take a second to break down these events.

When these two episodes first aired, the wording and visuals (“No, it wasn’t my father,” followed by the cutaway to James unveiling the automatons) implied that James was the one forbidding her from interacting with other people. It’s supposed to make you think that James is being restrictive and harsh, while Pietro is meant as a foil—the sweet, but cautious father figure. But here’s the thing: both of these depictions are inaccurate, and frankly, Penny’s the one at fault here. Penny blew her cover within minutes of interacting with Ruby—a scenario that Penny was responsible for because she was sneaking off without permission. Penny is a classified, top-secret military project, as made clear by the fact that she begs Ruby to not say anything to anyone. Penny is in full acknowledgement that her existence, if made public, could cause massive issues for her (something that she’s clearly experienced before, if her line, “You’re taking this extraordinarily well,” is anything to go by).

But here’s the thing—keeping Penny on a short leash wasn’t a unilateral decision made by James. That was Pietro’s choice as well. “My father asked me not to venture out too far,” “Your father isn’t going to be happy about this”—as much as this scene is desperately trying to put the onus on James for Penny’s truant behavior, Pietro canonically shares that blame. And Penny (to some extent) is in recognition of the fact that she did something wrong.

Back in Volumes 1 – 3, before the series butchered James’ characterization, these moments were meant as pretty clever examples of foreshadowing and subverting the controlling-military-general trope. This scene is meant to illustrate that yes, Penny is craving social interaction outside of military personnel as a consequence of being hidden, but that hiding her is also a necessity. It’s a complicated situation with no easy answer, but it’s also something of a necessary evil (as Penny’s close call with the truck and her disclosing that intel to Ruby are anything to go by).

Let’s skip ahead to Volume 7, shortly after Watts tampered with the drone footage and framed her for several deaths. In V7.E7 - “Worst Case Scenario,” a newscaster informs us that people in Atlas and Mantle want Penny to be deactivated, despite James’ insistence that the footage was doctored and Penny didn’t go on a killing spree. The public’s unfavorable opinion of Penny—a sentiment that Jacques of all people embodies when he brings it up in V7.E8—reinforces V2’s assessment of why keeping her secret was necessary. Not only is her existence controversial because Aura research is still taboo, but people are afraid that a mechanical person with military-grade hardware could be hacked and weaponized against them. (Something which Volume 8 actually validates when James has Watts take control of her in the most recent episode.)

But I digress.

We’re taken to Pietro’s lab, where Penny is hooked up to some sort of recharge/docking station. Ruby, Weiss, and Maria look on in concern while the machine is uploading the visual data from her systems. There’s one part of their conversation I want to focus on in particular:

Pietro: When the general first challenged us to find the next breakthrough in defense technology, most of my colleagues pursued more obvious choices. I was one of the few who believed in looking inward for inspiration.

Ruby: You wanted a protector with a soul.

Pietro: I did. And when General Ironwood saw her, he did too. Much to my surprise, the Penny Project was chosen over all the other proposals.

Allow me to break down their conversation so we can fully appreciate what he’s actually saying.

The Penny Project was picked as the candidate for the next breakthrough in defense technology.

Pietro wanted a protector with a SOUL.

In RWBY, Aura and souls are one of the defining characteristics of personhood. Personhood is central to Penny’s identity and internal conflict (particularly when we consider that she’s based on Pinocchio). That’s why Penny accepts Ruby’s reassurances that she’s a real person. That’s why she wants to have emotional connections with others.

What makes that revelation disturbing is when you realize that Pietro knowingly created a child soldier.

Look, there’s no getting around this. Pietro fully admits that he wanted to create a person—a human being—a fucking child—as a "defense technology” to throw at the Grimm (and by extension, Salem). Everything, from the language he uses, to the mere fact that he entered Penny in the Vytal Tournament as a proving ground where she could “test [her]self,” tells us that he either didn’t consider or didn’t care about the implications behind his proposal.

When you break it all down, this is what we end up with:

“Hey, I have an idea: Why don’t we make a person, cram as many weapons as we can fit into that person, and then inform her every day for the rest of her life that she was built for the sole purpose of fighting monsters, just so we don’t have to risk the lives of others. Let’s then take away anything remotely resembling autonomy, minimize her interactions with people, and basically indoctrinate her into thinking that this is something she wants for herself. Oh, and in case she starts to raise objections, remind her that I donated part of my soul to her. If we make her feel guilty about this generous sacrifice I made so she could have the privilege of existing, she won’t question our motives. Next, let’s give her a taste of freedom by having her fight in a gladiatorial blood sport so that we can prove our child soldier is an effective killer. And then, after she’s brutally murdered on international television, we can rebuild her and assign her to protecting an entire city that’s inherently prejudiced against her, all while I brood in my lab about how sad I am.”

Holy fuck. Watts might be a morally bankrupt asshole, but at least his proposal didn’t hinge on manufacturing state-of-the-art living weapons. They should have just gone with his idea.

(Which, hilariously enough, they did. Watts is the inventor of the Paladins—Paladins which, I’ll remind you, were invented so the army could remove people from the battlefield. You know, people. Kind of like what Penny is.)

Do you see why this entire scene might have pissed me off? Even if the show didn’t intend for any of this to be the case, when you think critically about the circumstances there’s no denying the tacit implications.

To reiterate, V8.E5 is the episode where Pietro says, and I quote:

“I don’t care about the big picture! I care about my daughter! I lost you before. Are you asking me to go through that again? No. I want the chance to watch you live your life.”

Oh, yeah? And what life is that? The one where she’s supposed to kill Grimm and literally nothing else? You do realize that she died specifically because you made her for the purpose of fighting, right?

No one, literally no one, was holding a gun to Pietro’s head and telling him that he had to build a living weapon. That was his idea. He chose to do that.

Remember when Cinder said, “I don’t serve anyone! And you wouldn’t either, if you weren’t built that way.” She…basically has a point. Penny has never been given the option to explore the world in a capacity where she wasn’t charged with defending it by her father. We know she doesn’t have many friends, courtesy of Ironwood dissuading her against it in V7. But I’m left with the troubling realization that the show (and the fandom), in their crusade to vilify James, are ignoring the fact that Pietro is also complicit in this behavior by virtue of being her creator. If we condemn the man that prevents Penny from having relationships, then what will we do to the man who forced her into that existence in the first place?

Being her “father” has given him a free pass to overlook the ethics of having a child who was created with a pre-planned purpose. How the hell did the show intend for Pietro to reconcile “I want you to live your life” with “I created you so you’d spend your life defending the world”? It viscerally reminds me of the sort of narcissistic parents who have kids because they want to pass on the family name, or continue their bloodline, or have live-in caregivers when they get older, only on a larger and much more horrific scale. And that’s fucked up.

Now, I’m not saying I’m against having a conflict like this in the show. In fact, I’d love to have a character who has to grapple with her own humanity while questioning the environment she grew up in. Penny is a character who is extremely fascinating because of all the potential she represents—a young woman who through a chance encounter befriends a group of strangers, and over time, is exposed to freedoms and friendships she was previously denied. Slowly, she begins to unlearn the mindset she was indoctrinated with, and starts to petition for agency and autonomy. Pietro is forced to confront the fact that what he did was traumatic and cruel, and that his love for her doesn’t erase the harm he unintentionally subjected her to, nor does it change the fact that he knowingly burdened a person with a responsibility she never consented to. There’s a wealth of character growth and narrative payoff buried here, but like most things in RWBY, it was either underdeveloped or not thought through all the way.

The wholesome father-daughter relationship the show wants Pietro and Penny to have is fundamentally contradicted by the nature of her existence, and the fact that no one (besides the villains) calls attention to it. I’d love for them to have that sort of dynamic, but the show had to do more to earn it. Instead, it’ll forever be another item on RWBY’s ever-growing list of disappointments—

Because Pietro’s remorse is more artificial than Penny could ever hope to be.

[peppusae]

How to say 'I love you' without saying 'I love you' | Chae Hyungwon pt 1

part: 1 of 3

other parts:  pt 1 || pt 2 || pt 3

pairing: chae hyungwon x reader

genre: fluff, little slow-burn and angst, smut

word count: 5.6k words

note: i had a dream about this plot so i must write this because after this dream hyungwon became my bias wrecker and i cry about him every day since pls send help gbye

ugh i love him so much :(((

>

How to say 'I love you' without saying 'I love you'

What’s every kpop fan’s goal in life?

To meet their idols, attend a concert, and attend a fan sign, right?

Some others... They aim higher than that.

And you’re one of those people.

In fact, you love k-pop so much that you found your career took a whooping turn and you ended up majoring in language, for the very simple fact that you could apply to join an entertainment company and be a staff/writer, the latter which makes you feel the proudest of yourself.

But life….

Life can be super mean sometimes. And you learn this the hard way, when you get rejected by SM entertainment - your first and actually the only choice because you are a major Shinee fan and life is just NOT fair at all!

One way or the another, after multiple applying, you finally get a good job in another company - Starship Entertainment.

Now, Starship was definitely not one amongst your top 5 agencies. But you always try not to let that affect your work - and over time, you come to love your job.

Especially when you get assigned as Monsta X’s writer and interpreter.

You find the members of the group very very appealing, all of them having their own charms.

Hyunwoo, who goes by the name Shownu and has an appetite that makes everyone giggle; He is such a soft-hearted soul and you really look up to him because he is always kind enough to give you a hand if he finds you doing something like lugging some boxes around, and would give the prettiest eye smiles when he gets a compliment.

Hoseok, who goes by the name Wonho and is probably the person you would sacrifice everything for; because of the heartwarming smile he has to offer, the way he continuously asks you to go through the comments he received on his vlives, and would politely request you to review what fans are saying about him on his posts.

Kihyun, who is very much Korean down to the bone with his extremely polite mannerisms and the way he always makes sure the staff - you included - are always eating as well; even if it’s a show about them. And also, the way he had once asked if he was your bias, and looked shocked to hear he wasn’t - and then continued to do things to get your attention and ask “Am I your bias now?” in the middle, like an idiot.

Jooheon, who also occasionally comes to you and asks for mini English lessons, and then gets bored after learning two or three new words - and then instead likes to chat about random things like the cats he owns, and your line of cacti which he, for some reason, is obsessed with, and your chats with Jooheon usually end with a compliment battle, and he always made you feel proud because he always says that chatting about normal things like that always inspires him a lot too.

Changkyun, who you consider as your bias wrecker because he keeps his own cool, stays in his own bubble and get things done, and doesn’t brag; instead, he’s very gentle, always the first person to notice if you’re sitting out in the lounge by yourself racking your brains for new content, and uses you as a guinea pig for testing out his lame new puns or pickup lines.

And then… Hyungwon, who doesn’t talk a lot when he’s with the rest of the group, but you found to be startlingly talkative when he’s doing a solo vlive or with only a few members like either Shownu or Wonho. In fact, you remember being wide-eyed when he continuously chatted with his fans on a vlive for a whooping 2 hours, and you can’t forget the precious and warm smile he had on his face when you said you liked seeing him so lively and talkative.

“I have a lot of things up my sleeve which you probably don’t know that much about, [Name]-ah.” He had said that time, and sometimes, you can see the way his eyes would filter through the staff during shows and land on yours, and smile at you.

And finally, Minhyuk, who was your absolute favourite out of the entire group, your bias because he gets along so well with everyone, always making everyone - including the staff - laugh, and would not hesitate to call anyone out if they’re doing something they shouldn’t. It makes you giggle, the way he would approach you in the middle of a variety show shooting they’re doing and ask if you were the writer of the show and how you had the audacity to make them walk around like lunatics. He acts like a crackhead like that, but you’ve grown to be so attached to him when you realized that, beyond his bright personality, he also is an insanely sweet person; You found this out when you had mentioned applying to SM entertainment because Shinee was your favorite group ever, and Minhyuk -even if he asked how dare you talk about other men in his presence - met up with Shinee while hosting a show and got the members to sign, and even got Kibum, your Shinee bias, to sign you a message inside their recent album.

Undoubtedly, Minhyuk was your favorite, for a good reason.

But still, to be put frankly, Hyungwon was the member that has your heart, for the simple reason that he was so unpredictable and has his own sense of humour and personality.

Since you got assigned to work with Monsta X, your life has been a messy tangle of fun, a normal day being you having a chat with Hyungwon and then getting interrupted by Minhyuk who would have zero filters and ask “Are you two dating?”, which causes the two of you to flush red for no reason, while Kihyun would overhear this and say “Huh?! You’re picking him to date but you don’t think of me as bias material?”.

The cycle would be endless, with Wonho laughing while watching the entire scene unfold, while Jooheon would join in with Minhyuk while Shownu would butt in and say “Minhyuk-ah, we have to go back to practise now tho,” and Changkyun sticking his head out from his dorm room and saying he still has 5 more minutes to finish the session of his favorite game.

You’ve grown to love this cycle and it doesn’t feel like a job, doing something you love with good people to work with, and life has been even easier after you got a dorm room within the building.

So, even if you had a roommate - and she’s nice, just not too close - things at Starship has been working out well for you.

Your daily chaos started simmering down a little once the pandemic hit, and all of the staff got confined to their rooms for work.

Because some of the shows you’re writing the scripts for are getting approved easily, you feel lucky to be one of the few staff who is now allowed to go alongside the members when they’re out for shows.

The times when you’re working from your dorm room, you feel so tired - perhaps missing the chaos you were so used to for the past couple years.

One day, you get a kakao chat from Hyungwon, asking if he can come over to discuss something with you.

It’s early in the morning - 8:15 am, and you’re half awake but you let him in, trying your hardest not to yawn too much in front of the member you considered the most attractive from the bunch.

Your roommate, Dawon, was kind enough to clean up the room a little bit when you said Hyungwon was coming over - and you said it on purpose because you knew she called Hyungwon her type and admits to having a teensy crush on him even though she knows it won’t work out anyways.

Hyungwon is wearing a caramel sweater and grey baggy sweatpants, and it always warms your heart to see the boys dressed in comfy clothes because they have to spend so much time wearing clothes that probably look good but not feel as comfy.

“Hyungwonnie, come on in!” You greet him, and he reacts with a chuckle and he always does that ever since you started calling him by that nickname after the day he said you should use casual language with him.

Hyungwon gives a little nod to your roommate in acknowledgement, and waits until you draw the curtain separating the room, before he speaks.

“I have a magazine shooting next month, and these are the set of questions they’re gonna ask me.” He says, putting the big envelope he had in his clutches on the top of your desk after he takes his seat. “I need help coming up with answers.”

Hyungwon was usually one of the few members who always comes to use the opportunity; the artists are free to ask the writers for help with answers they’ll give for their interviews, and Hyungwon always makes full use of the opportunity, and Shownu and Wonho occasionally drop by too, as well.

You’re always happy to be asked for help, but today, you find yourself sweat-dropping at the thought. You were so sleepy, the only reason you’re not dozing off is because you had forced yourself not to sit down.

“Why?”

“What?”

“You’re usually always excited when I ask for something like this, so why today?”

Ouch. Sometimes, much like you can read the boy’s faces and know what’s going on, they can sometimes do the same for you, too.

“Well, you see....”

“Have you been getting enough sleep?”

Double ouch. You knew the boys - at least, most of them - were good observers, but you didn’t expect Hyungwon to catch on so easily.

“I actually do get enough sleep, but these days, I feel extra sleepy for an hour or so after I wake up.”

This makes Hyungwon chuckle, putting the papers back inside the envelope and turning back to you.

“Welcome to the life of every human being. You sound like you’ve been babied too much.” He has to say, and you watch the way he gets up from his seat and places the envelope inside one of your drawers.

“Let’s get some breakfast.”

“W-What?!”

This makes the male raise an eyebrow, glancing around the room as if he was unsure if it really was you who said that.

“You’re acting as if we have never gone out for a meal together.”

“Well…” You say, because you’ve actually gone with him a couple of times over the four years you’ve been assigned to them.

That was probably because the boys enjoyed ordering in mostly, and eating at their own free times.

Anyhow, it was only a few times, so it definitely did surprise you.

“Okay. Where do we go?”

“I’m in the mood for some eggs and sausages, do you have anything you want to eat?”

“Hey, we’re gonna split the bill okay!?” You hurry to race Hyungwon outside, who goes out in a very knowing way, one that was like a deja vu of the times when he’d butt in when you’re trying to innocently pay for your delivered lunch tray and he’d ask to tab it over to him.

Kihyun was right, he really was different from the way most Monbebe actually looked up at him.

At the restaurant, Hyungwon takes his mask off only after you two are seated at one of the sectioned booths and have ordered your food.

“The pandemic isn’t good, but this is the only thing that I enjoy about it.” He admits, eyes going over to the lack of people inside the place which would usually be filled to the brim with office workers trying to grab a quick breakfast.

“This pandemic has made me a sleepyhead like you.”

“Hey!”

You find yourself smiling so hard around Hyungwon because during breakfast and after you had forcibly paid for you two, on your way back when he offers to buy you coffee - and even remembers your usual order - and the next two hours he spent with you while you helped him write answers and edit what he wrote, it really does not feel like he’s a celebrity at all; but more so as a close friend who makes you feel warm in ways you’ve never felt before.

“Why?”

You snap out from your little trance and go back to typing your script on the laptop, when he interrupts you.

“Why are you smiling? What kind of madness of a show are you writing now?!”

“Hey! Don’t accuse me of writing madness when your Monbebe loves it so much!”

“Yah, that’s too much! Our Monbebe will love us anyway even if you show them us being normal!”

You giggle, because really. When has Monsta X ever been normal?

---

The next day, right after you wake up, you’re working on the itinerary for Monsta X’s upcoming vacation show - a little too late, you had to admit, and that too, when you’re feeling so desperately sleepy like you’ve been feeling lately every morning.

Dawon had gone out to grab breakfast with some of the other staff, and you’re munching on your melon bread, knowing well that the espresso shot you’ve had just a while ago won’t last you for more than 15 minutes.

And it doesn’t.

In fact, you’re actually snoring when your phone rings loudly, making you lift your sorry face up from your laptop keyboard and answering as soon as you pick up the phone.

“Yes, Manager-nim? I’ll send you the itinerary in fifteen minutes!” You say the impossible, because your task in barely done, and you had a feeling you’d fall back onto the laptop keyboard the second the manager hangs up the call.

The sound of familiar chuckling makes you raise an eyebrow and glance at your phone, horrified to see Hyungwon’s name on the display.

“I need it in ten minutes, not fifteen.” He says in a heavy voice, and it makes you huff in embarrassment, glad that he couldn’t see you.

“Very funny, Hyungwon. What did you need?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to wake you up.”

“I was up!”

This makes him laugh yet again, and you sigh, typing on the keyboard as you think about what good excuse you can say.

“If you were up, you wouldn’t have thought I was your manager.”

You let out a little groan, connecting your headphones to the phone so you could multitask while speaking to the male.

“Really, now, Hyungwonnie, what did you really want? Is there something you wanted to ask again?”

“No, I really just called to wake you up.”

“Well. Isn’t that sweet of you.” You say, sarcastically.

The mini banter and sarcastic comments continue for about ten minutes, by which you’d even finished up the itinerary.

So, even if he did laugh at your sleepyhead behaviour - as if he could talk - you made sure to thank him before you go out to take the printouts and finish off your task.

---

And then, that becomes a ritual.

Hyungwon calls you every day at 8 am, right when you’ve signed in for work and are about to head to get some coffee.

He makes small talk with you, talks about little episodes he’d had, and listens to your ideas.

After the first week, you don’t feel sleepy even if you don’t get the coffee; and you don’t even get sleepy after he hangs up.

Every day, it feels like he’s prepared something new, because he makes you laugh so hard that your sleep completely vanishes.

In fact, after a couple of days, he searches up English songs on Genie Music and sings, butchering up a lot of the lyrics on purpose - you know it’s on purpose because Hyungwon has a really good pronunciation when he tries.

One day, you’re butchering up the lyrics of a song along with Hyungwon while you’re writing talk segments for Monsta X’s comeback showcase. Your roommate has been giving you funny looks recently, especially after she asked who was calling you every day and you couldn’t lie and told her it was Hyungwon.

The sudden sound of your door flying wide open and a blonde Lee Minhyuk barrelling into your room makes you stop your singing.

“Oh. So it was you, huh.” He has to say, making himself comfortable on your beanbag chair, and drawing the cloth partition between your room when Dawon - your roommate - keeps staring.

Really, Minhyuk does not know what filters are supposed to be.

“What do you mean?” You ask, and from your headphone, Hyungwon hears his friend’s voice, so he dismisses the call after saying he’ll see you again later.

“So it was you Hyungwonie has been getting up every morning to sing his heart out, huh?”

You stare at him, baffled. “Well, he does sing some normal songs, but he mostly sings crack-”

“He usually never wakes up on his own even if he has schedules, and now he has an alarm to call you every day? What, are you guys dating or something?”

“Yah, Minhyuk, what are you saying!!” You hiss, horrified, because the cloth partition does little to block out sounds from the other side.

“I always tell people if they like someone, to stop being so obvious and just ask them out. It’s easy!!”

“It’s not easy and omg shut up!! He’s just calling me because he’s waking me up, he’s just being kind!”

“Hyungwon never wakes up for us, he’s never kind to us, then! And he’s always still sleepy even if he wakes you up, because he goes straight back to bed after he wakes you up!”

You sigh out loud in frustration, shaking your head. “Come on. What did you want, Minhyukkie?”

Minhyuk gives you a knowing smile before he shakes his head, handing you the binded notebook he had in his clutches.

“You’ll give me a read-over, right? I told you about the radio-show I’m gonna start hosting in a few weeks, right? The concept is clear, but I have some topics I want to talk about and I made some scripts about how I could continue the talk.”

“You got it. I’ll need some time, though, how does Thursday sound?”

“Perfect. Thanks!” He gives you a flying kiss that makes you laugh, and then he’s out as fast as he came barreling in.

---

You expected Hyungwon to stop the calling after the confining to your room rule gets lifted up and you’ve started to go to the office for work.

But he doesn’t, and he sounds as if he’s never been as prepared before as he is now.

Even when the comeback is near and he must be practising into the late hours of the night, he never misses a single day.

A few days before the comeback, you find him having lunch with Shownu, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him in a while - and you hadn’t seen his new hair till then too.

For the first time in the four years you’ve been assigned to work with Monsta X, you take a good look at Hyungwon.

A really, really good look.

At first, he hadn’t noticed you, and while you’re refilling your water bottle with chilled water, you notice the way he’s smiling a little while he listens to what Shownu is saying. The way he uses his hand to brush the fringe of his hair he’s dyed blonde is attractive for the first time - and you’d always thought he was a really, really handsome young man… But this is the first time he looks so attractive that you feel like you’re in a daze, staring at him until chilled water fills up your bottle and pours on your fingers, finally catching your attention.

What gives?

The little yelp you let out makes both Shownu and Hyungwon glance over at you - noticing you for the first time. Hyungwon’s eyes go wide, the top of his palm going up to cover his mouth.

“Ah, [Name]-ah. How are you?” Shownu calls over to you, ever so naturally, and you greet him with a smile when it looks like he’s motioning for you to come over.

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you doing well?”

“I’m doing good, Hyunwoo-oppa. You guys must be working super hard for the comeback, right?” You say, glancing at Hyungwon, and for the first time ever, you think he’s actually… blushing ?!

It makes you flustered, thinking about what Minhyuk had talked to you about, while he accused you two of dating. Really, Minhyuk had no filters, it never fails to drive you insane sometimes.

“Yeah! You can expect a lot, please do support us a lot!”

You turn to look at Shownu, beaming at his friendly and charming smile before you excuse yourself and head back before you felt your head would explode.

Now, what the heck was that all about!?

Whatever it was, you were definitely going to blame Minhyuk for this!

---

It absolutely surprises you when Hyungwon doesn’t fail to call you, even the following morning.

You guess you had just imagined it in your head yesterday when Hyungwon looked flustered to see you.

Stupid Minhyuk! It was all in your head after all.

“Now that today’s dumb song segment is over,” Hyungwon says, after he sings a butchered up version of Pretty Please, “I’m gonna sing a song from our album!”

“Oh? Will that be okay?”

“Well, you’ll hear the album preview later today, so, why not?” He has to say. “It’s one of my favorites from the album.”

And then, he sings up to the second chorus of Beautiful Night - a song you fall in love with instantly, because the lyrics are so beautiful and Hyungwon sings as if he’s doing so with his whole soul. It almost makes your eyes teary, and you can barely tell him that you love it, before you have to excuse yourself with a little lie.

Since when did Hyungwon’s voice sound this emotional? It’s been over four years, but his voice has always been the same, beautiful voice as before. You open up Genie music, playing some of the older albums, listening to Hyungwon’s voice in the songs, and you feel like you’ve missed out this side of Hyungwon completely, this madly romantic side of him that sounds so sincere that it makes your heart race.

What is going on, seriously…

---

As the days pass by, the little tingle in your heart whenever you see or hear Hyungwon keeps on getting more and more painful.

In fact, by the end of Monsta X’s three-week promotions for Fantasia X, hearing Hyungwon singing songs for you become almost unbearably sad.

Despite having to wake up earlier, or even having to excuse himself in the middle of getting his hair and makeup done, he makes sure to call you - even if you’re sitting and listening to him when he’s in the same room as you are in.

You realize you can’t hold out your expressions if it’s in front of him, so you make sure to get up and go away somewhere when Hyungwon’s call arrives every day at 8 am on the dot.

It’s a warm Saturday morning, and you’re on your bed, your earpods on and listening to Fantasia X on Genie when Hyungwon’s call of the day arrives.

Today, it’s different.

Usually, he sings a trot song, or a really ugly version of an English song with the hopes of making you laugh so much that your sleep completely vanishes.

But today, he doesn’t say anything and immediately starts to sing soulfully; today, he sings Newton, one of your absolute favorite songs by the group, and…

The way he sings it is so, so sad .

Something inside your heart feels like it is burning, and unknowingly, your eyes brim with tears, because…

All the things Minhyuk had told you, all the things you’ve been thinking about Hyungwon lately, all the little glances he sends your way and then looks away when he sees you’re watching…

You feel your emotions going haywire, and your wishful thinking makes you start crying and you pray to god that Hyungwon, who’s singing the chorus so beautiful and sincerely does not notice.

It’s almost unbearable, and you take off your earpods and have him on speaker, thankful that he doesn’t notice you’ve reached for tissues to wipe your tears.

Since when did I start feeling this way about him?

How can I think this way about one of the members I work for?

Why does Hyungwon sing as if he’s singing just for me, and only me?

Why does it feel like we are never able to meet eyes now?

You have so many questions and no answers, and your hands are shaking as you try to press record on your phone because he sounds so, so beautiful and your crying is not helping you in focusing on his sincere singing.

It is at this moment that the door to your room flies open, and your roommate, Dawon enter the room, then freezes when she sees you crying.

“What’s going on?!”

You’re only able to hand over the phone to her, and mumble a little “Please record it for me” through your sobs.

Dawon looks very confused, raising an eyebrow when she looks at the receiver and sees that it is Hyungwon, on the call.

At that moment, Hyungwon wraps up his singing, clearing his throat a little and speaks for the first time today.

“[Name]-ah.”

You find yourself sniffling, glancing at Dawon who looks visibly upset now… and you can’t even blame her…

“[Name]-ah.” He calls your name again, and this is one of the things that makes you sad in regards to Hyungwon, because… He is a member of Monsta X, one of the manlier groups in the industry for sure, but… He’s so gentle and sweet, a kind-hearted soul, and he does not lack in anything, as he has proudly claimed so.

Even the way he calls your name out is so gentle that it makes more tears stream down your face, and you’re almost scared at how to answer whatever Hyungwon would ask from you.

“[Name]-ah. I have something I have to tell you, in person.”

Your eyes meet with Dawon, who now looks wide-eyed, and you were sure you would probably look the same.

“I… I have to tell you this in person, so, if you… If you’re willing, would you like to… go for dinner with me today?”

More tears stream down your face, and now you know you can never look Dawon in the eyes either so you bury your face on one of your pillows, heart aching too much to do anything else.

“Hyungwon-ssi.”

Dawon speaks into the speakerphone, and it makes you glance at her, wondering what she was going to say.

Hyungwon replies with a loud ‘Huh?’ in confusion.

“Hyungwon-ssi, I’m sorry, but [Name] is outside and she left her phone here.”

Dawon looks at you, lips pressed into a thin line. You feel so uneasy, and it felt like Hyungwon felt the same, because he starts to stammer.

“Wh-Wha? What?! If [Name] wasn’t the one who answered, then wh- Whaaaaa!” You hear a loud whine before the call gets disconnected with a quick mumble of “Sorry!”.

Dawon hurls the phone at your bed, and leaves the room without a word, and it pains your heart so much that you feel like you’ll die.

A text message pops up on your phone a little while later and seeing the text makes you feel a little dizzy, even.

‘If you’re freely going to allow other people to roam through your phone even, I don’t think I have any other choice but to come to see you right away.’

What?

Wait, does he mean-

You hurry to grab your phone and iPad, wiping your face as best as you could and going out of your room. You find Minhyuk and Kihyun using the Xbox in the lounge, so you quietly take a seat near them, greeting them and opening up your iPad without another word.

“[Name]-ah, why do you look so weird?”

“Yah, Minhyuk, how can you say something so rude?!”

You shake your head and give a weak smile at the two, opening up your notepad and leaning against the couch.

A moment passes by, and Minhyuk moves closer to you on the couch, so close that you actually move a little back as well.

“What?”

“I finished my game with Kihyunnie. So. Why? Why do you look so sad? Did Hyungwonie hurt you?”

Now, you’ve been doing a good job of not crying since you got out of the room, but seeing Minhyuk’s worried face and then remembering Hyungwon’s words - along with Minhyuk hitting a bullseye right away… All of that combine together and it makes you start to cry again.

“Wha? Hey?!” Minhyuk looks very startled, and he usually never looks surprised like he doesn’t know what to do, but today he looks like he’s at a dead end, and you allow him to grab your hand and tell Kihyun he’ll be right back, before he hurries to drag you over to the other end of the lounge near the vending machines.

“Yah, what is going on with you lately? Hyungwon really said something mean to you, didn’t he? Sheesh. Acting like he’s in love with you and then making you cry like this? I didn’t expect him out of everyone to behave this way.”

The more Minhyuk spoke, the worse you felt, and you’re barely able to ask him if he could be kind enough to leave you alone for a second when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

“[Name]-ah…. Minhyuk-ah?!”

You and Minhyuk glance up to see Hyungwon approaching you, and you hurry to take your hand away from Minhyuk’s clutch.

Really, Hyungwon couldn’t have caught a worse timing.

Minhyuk shoots you a sad look, then gets up from his seat, goes to say something to Kihyun, then the two of them leave while Kihyun glances at you with a worried look on his face. You can’t get yourself to look at Hyungwon, so you’re looking at your hands, fingers fumbling while Hyungwon stands in his spot in front of you, not saying a single word.

More tears fall down your face when you remember Minhyuk’s words - and how wrong was he to assume the worst from the sweetest person you know, and it pains your heart because you knew if you looked in his eyes, you wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

“Why?”

Hyungwon says a single word, and honestly, that was the only thing you didn’t have an answer for.

Why were you crying?

You didn’t know.

Why can’t you look at Hyungwon?

You had no clue.

Why did Minhyuk know right away?

That too, you didn’t know at all.

Why can’t you answer him?

You had no reason.

So instead, you find tears streaming down your face, and you wish you could leave, but you felt like you owed Hyungwon at least this much, to hear what he had to say even if you felt like something was cutting through your heart.

“Stand up.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard him ask you to do something in that voice, an angry, impatient voice you’ve never imagined you’d ever be on the receiving end for.

“[Name]-ah.”

You hum in response, eyes on the ground. Hyungwon lets out an exhale and you can feel your hands trembling because it’s while you’re looking at his shoes with an aching heart, that you realize something you’ve been wishing so hard was not true.

You were in love with Chae Hyungwon.

Out of completely nowhere, so naturally.... You were so madly in love with Chae Hyungwon; so much that looking at him now would be too much to take, now.

“You heard everything I said, didn’t you?”

Now, that’s something you didn’t expect to hear from him. He had sounded so worried and embarrassed on the phone so you didn’t think he would have any suspicious, but here he was, showing you that he certainly did.

It makes you look up at his face for the first time today, and it pains your heart.

It paints your heart, because he’s wearing clothes with a lot of creases - something he’s been wearing to sleep, and he has on a beanie that covers most of his messy-looking hair, and he’s looking at you with puffy eyes and a frown that hurts so much to look at.

You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore so you shake your head in response. Hyungwon looks visibly disappointed, like he knew right away that you were lying. You think he has something more he wants to say, because his lips part a little… And then, he lets out a sigh and shakes his head as well.

“If you are this burdened by how I feel, then…” Hyungwon’s voice trails off, taking a step back and then turning around. You watch the way he walks out of the lounge without a word, and if you felt like you’d never been more hurt before, you were completely wrong, because nothing pained your heart more than watching the male leave like that, as if he had so much to say and couldn’t…. Just like how you felt while you sink back on the couch and cry your heart out.

And from that day onwards, Hyungwon doesn’t call you again.

-----

[missmaxime]

17! 18! 30! 32! 38! <3 <3 <3

Thank you for these! 🥰 17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t. Well, not immediately. I try to distract myself for at least half an hour to an hour after posting because by the time I post I’ve already gone mental from finaFinalreRerereadFiNaldefDEFDEF.def x34 and I need to calm down. But after that I compulsively refresh AO3 (for the Beth/Rio tag) and depending on the time of day I start replying to comments or wait for it until morning. I don’t re-read my own fic until at least the day after (and inevitably fix some v obvs spelling mistakes I got blind for during edits). 18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? A little while ago I would have maybe said Wild at Heart, but I recently started editing the new chapter and now I’m feeling that story again (I got a bit lost with it over season 3, and it’s a long fic I’m not really used to writing – I had no oversight in my notes and outline and ugh). I think when I do publish it might have a bit of a different tone, especially because I think I progressed a lot over the past six months as a writer. But I have by now accepted that I will never re-write those earlier chapters, so I’m just going to move on and continue the story. BTW. If someone can recommend a/their Word Processor to get a better oversight in longer WIPs, please do! There’s no published WIP I won’t get back to from what I see now. I have a few in my WIP-folder that are a lost cause, main reasons are either because I either forgot I wrote it to begin with, or because I don’t like my style or plot anymore. 30. Post a snippet from you’re a current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. From a WIP I definitely won’t abandon, but one that’s also taking me crazy long to write (because world-building):

Annie swallows everything down, but keeps the bowl of candies protectively close to her chest. “I can’t believe they reached out to you twenty years later,” she says, plopping down next to Beth. “I can’t believe they subpoenaed me.” Annie sits up. “Technically they summoned you—” Beth gives her a look that immediately shuts her up. “You know, it’s good they did. They probably got a notification that you got rid of your Dean-shaped baggage and thought: Presto Matcho, and let’s go!” “Maybe I don’t want to be matched up.” “Relax, sis. Just go out on a date, get those cobwebs cleaned out if he’s a seven or up, and move on with your life!” “Annie!” “You’re right, maybe don’t be that picky, make it a six.” Beth’s all fired up to blow a gasket when a man with a bird tattoo sprawled on his neck enters the waiting room, accompanied by a dark-haired woman in a suit. They’re in a heated discussion, going through a pile of papers that’s full of marked segments and bookmarks. Beth’s getting a bit lost in thought, looking at him when she feels Annie leaning her head on her shoulder. “I served him too,” she whispers in Beth’s ear, pulling her back into reality again. “You!” she hears the guy say, pointing at Annie, who immediately throws her hands up in defense, totally forgetting she was holding the candy bowl which immediately tumbles onto the ground, scattering its contents over the floor. “Hey, I’m just here for my sister, don’t come at me bro!” she tries to laugh it nervously away. He doesn’t think it’s funny. But his gaze lingers on Beth a longer time than might be appropriate before turning his attention back to the woman beside him. 32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? I can have different favorites varying on the week / day. It usually changes when I post a new fic. Sometimes I’m not even super in love with a line when I post it, but it grows on me when I re-read later. So just three random ones: Regardless of his repeat observation of ‘you’re so tight, baby’, she’s definitely not going to indulge him with the Snoozefest Saga of her sex life of the past decade.  – from Stuck in the Middle It’s a decision he almost immediately regrets. Apparently, Elizabeth is very convinced of her (faulty) navigation skills. And mind you, he has an essentially AI-worthy navigation system build into his (“Is this what you drive? Don’t you think it’s a little… out there? Like, surely you don’t really need something so preposterous to arrive in?” she had laughed cutely after that, but he felt slapped in the face – and not the kind he might be paying her for) G-wagon. – from The Girlfriend Experience “Yeah,” he smiles. “We real good friends too, aren’t we?” he says suggestively. (It’s just, he can’t help it, knows it’s dumb and petty but ugh. He’s suffered through Mick’s eye-rolls enough after returning from a No Elizabeth Murder Night again. The other guy casually looking up from polishing his custom ninja throwing stars - don’t start about it, it’s a whole thing, and Rio’s convinced the man can’t even get them into a wall a three feet away if he wears that one jacket - waiting for Rio to cock his head and ask: “What?” “Nothing,” he had replied, dipping a cloth into the jar of polish. “’Nothing’?” Rio had repeated – a little more petulant than he intended. “What are you, my wife?” Ever so slowly, the corners of Mick’s mouth had turned upwards. “Heard spot’s taken.” Rio may have keyed Mick’s car that night.) Beth smiles back stiffly. - from I See Your True Technicolors I don’t know, I really like doing these kinda scene-in-scene (or sentence) things, I don’t know if this has a name. 38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? Hmm that kind of depends what part of the process we’re talking about. Let’s roughly break that up in three parts: 1. Working out the idea (8/10): Really, really chaotic. This is just days or weeks of just flashes of ideas and plotpoints and lines of dialogue shooting through my brain. Haphazardly writing those down in various docs, on paper in between my work notes, or in the notes on my phone. When I finally know the rough outline of the story I go into; 2. Writing the fic (4/10): I’m a super chronological writer, I really move from scene A to B to C until I finally arrive at Z. But when I start writing I often only really know A, D, E, J, O, Q, Z – the rest will just grow or appear organically as I write. Sometimes it does mean I won’t write for a few days because I circle back to step 1 for a certain scene. A good example is the Artic Hunter Fairytale Beth tells Jane in Chapter 2 of  I See Your True Technicolors. I knew up front I was going to write a scene where we would see how this seemingly unweighted moment for Beth – she’s just telling a nighttime story – had a massive impact on Jane. There were some themes and motives I felt like needed to make an appearance: the more tangible reason of Jane’s quest, how young kids often hold their parents’ word as truth, and I needed it to be a true heartfelt moment between Beth and Jane. But before I wrote the first line of that scene I had no idea that would be the scene that it became.  So I do outline a bit, but I need to create enough room for myself for moments like that to happen. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about writing. It’s a bit of an organized mess within a tighter frame/outline. 3. Editing (7/10): I’ve really been perfecting my Editing skills over the past 6/7 months  – it’s not perfect, but you live and you learn. I spend more time working on the fic after I ‘finished’ it, really ramped up the spelling and grammar checks (I love you Word editor, but I also hate you), and take more and more care to make sure that all my dialogue feels IC ánd distinctive enough per character (especially the latter I feel like lacks in earlier WAH chapters). So, work in progress, but I feel pretty confident in this one.   Again, thanks for sending these! <3

[theravenclawmonster]

I thought getting diagnosed would be able to get me help...(post 1 of dunno how many)

Trigger warning: This post (and the later continuation posts after it titled the same) may contain mentions of abuse, mental illness, suicidal thoughts and many more things which i will try to edit in it after writing the post(s) (hopefully i’ll remember to)

Disclaimer: this is just a written account of events that happened in my life in the past few weeks and my emotional/ physical response to those events. I am writing this here so that it stays here as help for people to read and maybe see what certain things feel like, and as proof or diary for when i forget what really happened and start to believe her words. Also, this is going to be a long post... a very long post.

So, i thought getting diagnosed would maybe help me... A couple of weeks ago, i realized that my heart has been beating a bit faster than what i remembered it used to and my blood pressure would get low. Of course like every other pain or issue ever, i tried to first ignore it and act it out (trying to look fine) but you see, with low BP i really couldn’t act okay. My brain would go numb, i would feel like my brain was pushing me (the consciousness or me in my brain) towards the top of my forehead forcing me into my skull from inside; everything else felt numb. I couldn’t really speak or even think, all words were slurred if i tried my hardest. My body moved very slowly, i couldn’t even raise a finger in the normal speed (even in front of my parents, in front of who i never ever show if i am in pain or ill. but until then i had hid it pretty well by going to my room or just not letting them see me that much). By this time i didn’t know what was happening and episodes like this continued for 3 or 4 days, until one day i remembered that i should check my blood pressure as my heart feels like drowning (it was around 90 and 65 and pulse more than 110). Now, as someone whose blood pressure has always been around 110/70, i got a bit scared; i didn’t know if it was okay to have it this low or not and i wasn’t feeling okay at all. Anyway, it dropped a bit more and my mother noticed me (until then i was completely wiped out, had no strength to even be present in my body let alone act okay. i continuously felt like if i closed my eyes i’d slip away and never come back.

My mother told me to get up and have some ORS (some sort of salts and electrolytes thingy used in dehydration etc) and eat bananas. after some time my heart felt a bit fine and my BP rose up to 105 and something. But i felt exhausted, as if i had fought a war with my bare hands. I couldn’t even ask them to take me to a doctor and after this episode was over she suggested it very ummm... very angrily... so i stayed quiet. Later my sister (married) texted me and said that Mom will get an appointment for her general physician tomorrow for you. She obviously had talked to my mother on the phone and knew all about it (or at least as much as my mother decided to tell her). The next day she took the appointment which was for almost 2 weeks later (only time available). throughout the days leading up to that she told me that i’d feel fine and we’d not even need to go to the doc.

finally, the day arrived. My mother had been telling me to write things to show the doc, my symptoms and stuff, but i couldn’t write anything. I wrote this on a paper 9in a slow child-like handwriting:

1. Pain everywhere

    Tired

    Breathe (referring to difficulty in breathing but i couldn’t write the whole sentence)

the day i went to the doctor i added “ fog/ Quick sand” to the list wanting to say that i feel like i am in a fog/ quick sand as everything including my body and my brain function becomes very slow and delayed.

I didn’t take that paper to the doctor (well, that exquisitely written note wasn’t very helpful). I had decided beforehand that i’d somehow send my mother out and talk to the doctor in private as my emotionally abusive and controlling mother makes me unable to function like a normal human being. It took me days to prepare myself to say that. I also took all my history with me from the beginning of the year. Below is the brief history:

[ I had a very bad chest infection right after chicken pox (at the start of this year, yes great start to a great year 2020), I had to get a chest x-ray in which Scoliosis (bending of spine) showed up. According to the doctors and my family, as it was an incidental finding, it was asymptomatic and therefore needed no treatment or even a brace. No one cared to pay attention to what i said or how i felt as the fucking patient who actually dealt with a lot of back and shoulder and literally almost every kind of bone pain, and for whom the discovery of scoliosis was an answer to a lot.] Anyway, back to the regular rant.

so we went to the doctor. As i sat outside waiting for my turn, i practised again and again about how to ask to be diagnosed in private and not making my mother mad. first, my mother’s turn arrived and she told me to go in with her and remember what doctor tells her for her diabetes and acidity issues. After she was done... (i am getting a bit hazy here) i think the doctor brought up my scoliosis (i went to him in the beginning of the year and he referred me to an osteopath or someone) he talked about how he discussed my case with his colleague and he advised me to go to another hospital in another city for they have a specific department for things like scoliosis. After he said it all and looked at me expectantly to start telling him why i was there, i told my, mother if she can leave, she laughed embarrassed and acted like ha ha sweety i won’t disturb you go on ahead. but i repeated it a couple more times ( i think my tone was pretty dry, but i am not sure as i couldn’t really regulate anything at that time).

She left. then the doctor asked me about my health and i started to explain, except i couldn’t find the right words and forgot everything and just burst into tears. he patiently offered me tissues and waited for my answer. I explained somewhat. i don’t really remember the symptoms i explained, just that i felt fake and weird as if it all wasn’t really happening or i was faking everything and don’t know why the hell i kept bawling my eyes out, i was fine!! stop crying and making a scene. I was also inwardly thankful that my mother wasn’t in the room as i have had a similar experience of crying in front of a doctor and she taunted me about it for months calling me fake and attention seeking and a liar. Anyway, here is a list of what i told the doctor (from what i can remember):

- i feel like i am always holding myself up tightly, if i let go i’d fall. My muscles all feel seized up

-I have difficulty in breathing, i can’t breathe deeply for years. and before it was connected to emotional issues but now its almost all day everyday.

-As because of scoliosis my ribcage is a bit twisted so if i bent over my left ribs dig into my stomach area and it is quite painful if my stomach is full, if i have gained weight or if i have gas.

-my ankles feel swollen on the inside and walking is painful, my heels hurt and the top of my foot and the pain goes all the way up to my pelvic bone and back. My back hurts all the fucking time.

-My knees hurt so much that i have not been able to put my weight on my left knee for more than a week now (it has been hurting in the past as well) and now my body had developed a weird habit of walking up the stairs without putting pressure on left knee at all, which has in turn made my right knee tired and painful.

- I can’t really feel hungry. like if i don’t eat for a long time i’d feel that painful hunger in my stomach but i have no desire to eat and i keep forgetting about it. even when i try to eat i look at food and recoil in a little, i can’t eat it usually or at least like i use to ( I loved food more than almost anything ever, with only some foods that i couldn’t eat). and even after i eat (usually only when i eat something with wheat in it) my stomach swells up a round and painful (which is even more painful when the ribs dig into it.

-My jaw feels stiff and my teeth and gums hurt as if i have been clenching my jaw (which i do catch myself doing quite often)

-oh! i actually started out with saying that i can’t really hold up my neck some of the time (like a baby), and it keep falling around if i relax, it was happening right then too. then i cried. i also mentioned something about my bones painfully feeling like they’ll fuse into each other (if i lie on my side sometimes i feel like both sides of my ribcage will collapse into each other

This was all i could remember then and i think there might be more that i told him but i don’t remember it rn

The doctor asked me things in return. he asked me about my sleep which i told him i can’t sleep. I have been a person who’d sleep 7- 8 hours a night and then also take a nap in the day. I love to sleep, i could always sleep, no matter what happened. If i had cramps, migraine, back pain, emotional abuse, my favorite character died, tired, bored anything; I’d sleep it off. But now, no matter when o lie down, firstly, i am in too much pain to be comfortable in any position, it takes hours to fall asleep and no more fun daydreaming before sleep too. and then i wake up even more exhausted somehow.

He checked my BP and breathing ( i couldn’t breathe properly maybe because of crying) and stomach softness. My BP was 135/95 which i contributed to the car ride (i have car anxiety... dunno what it is but i get super anxious and panicky in a car especially with my family) but he said it could be because you just cried so much.

so, then he said that you are too stressed and your neurons are constantly firing cuz pain both emotional and physical. (he was talking for quite some time but i don’t remember what he said) he said most of it seems to be mental but upon my request he did give a few tests (one in particular expensive one for some muscle disease or something) then he referred me to a psychiatrist. he also asked me to write down my symptoms as the more i tell the doctor the better they can diagnose. then i got out and told my mother the diagnosis and referral. she went in to the office herself and talked to him for some time.

So, we had the tests done (with my father making it a point to say loudly how expensive was one of them in particular) and got an appointment for the psychiatrist. Also said that i have some stomach acidity and gave medicine for that

this seems like a huge post so i am thinking about making another one for that session and the later drama, hopefully before i forget

part two can be found here

[semi-anonyme]

November 3, 2020

12:05pm

I woke up at 7:00am today and I knew a few things: 1.) I would buy a Vitamix and begin to make smoothies every day 2.) I would stop holding onto the past 3.) It would be my last entry on this tumblr

Today, it is Election Day. I am very much hoping Joe Biden will win, not just for my sanity but for everyone’s sanity, for a little hope in humanity’s fight against the allure of anti-intellectualism, scapegoating, its growing tolerance of hate.

I remember the last election day, or rather, the evening. We all thought Hillary would win uneventfully. I remember my colleague dipping out of work early to go to the Javits Center to celebrate her victory. I remember watching in disbelief from my basement computer, walking upstairs with my eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Are you watching the news right now Mike?” “Yeah, Trump is in the lead. It looks like he’s about to win Pennsylvania (or was it Michigan? Or Wisconsin?)” I walked to bed in disgust, woke up in disgust, confirmed my disgust.

There was not one conversation I heard on the train or in the street that day that didn’t involve Trump. That night, I drank alone at Three Diamond Door. I still remember the buff black dude sitting in the corner downing Bell’s Two Hearted IPAs.

Anyway, election day 2020. I’m going out to vote in about 2 hours. I got today off. Thanks, progressive companies.

I’ve had a lot of internal discussions with myself on here, published them as blog posts. I have timestamps to remember them by, I’m glad. In the past ~8 months since the pandemic began, I’ve gone back to a lot of my entries -- oh, this is what it was like in the beginning in March. Oh yes, May, I was indeed watching a lot of K-Dramas, it was getting hotter. Ahhh yes, I did learn a lot about not having the city as my crutch.

Just in general, on this blog, on the countless loose leaf papers in my journal, I’ve had these battles about meaning. This blog pre-dates seeing Jody my therapist, who I’ve been seeing faithfully for over 1.5 years now.

I could go on. The point I’m making rn in this last entry is this -- all that stuff is in the past, it was important, I internalized it. Now it’s time to move on. I’m glad this exists, these 450 entries exist, they exist with a purpose. But now? I know who I am, what I want to be.

I have no dilemma of engineering vs artistry. Now that I’ve been away from loud bars, I have no FOMO about the nightlife. It’s kinda just time to start from scratch, this knowledge.

I just created a new tumblr, domo-knows. I’ll likely have a companion YouTube channel in the future. Anyway, a few and somewhat ambiguous bullets for myself since, you know, this blog was always just for me.

ON THINGS I’M LEAVING BEHIND ACTIONS 1. Random drinking. Today, I’m going to buy an Other Half Finback IPAs, pop them open around 8pm and start watching election results. I’ve gone into detail before about drinking, but just to sum it up, drinking alcohol is the one thing I can say captures how complex and funny it is being a human -- how we use it socially, justify it, cling onto it, how it becomes tangled up in our highest achievements and our most shameful insecurities. I’ve consumed alcohol for these various reasons in my life:

a.) I was avoiding doing something difficult b.) I didn’t want to be alone in my room, and preferred the loud chatter of conversations and music at a cramped bar c.) I did not trust my social abilities sober, so I drank alcohol because I’ve never known anyone who has not liked me when I’ve had a couple (when I’m shit-faced, another story) d.) To hook up with a girl e.) I was bored f.) I was about to do something boring and wanted to make it more exciting g.) Because it was a beautiful sunny day, perfect for a beer on a patio h.) Because it was a cold and dreary day, perfect to brood over a Manhattan i.) I was lonely j.) My life was going too well, I wasn’t used to that, and I needed something to question k.) My life was going poorly, and I needed something to cheer me up for the evening l.) I needed to make a decision, so I drank alcohol and wrote in my journal and came to a good decision that I stuck with m.) I needed to make a decision, so I drank alcohol until I no longer cared, and the decision was punted off until the next day n.) I I needed to make a decision, I thought a drink or two would jigger my thought process, but I ended up getting distracted by something my drunk self was interested in, and the decision was punted off until the next day I’d come up with more but they’re all just variations of that and who wants to read more of that? 2. Eating sugary sweets, justifying it by saying I have “an addiction” I actually never cared for sweets until high school. Most birthday cake I had was gross, my parents bought Chips Ahoy or Oreos which tbh aren’t all that great, and I was never exposed to really good pastries until I was in college. In high school, I dropped a buncha weight entirely too quickly and I ended up with a fats and sweets “addiction” that I’ve “had ever since”. This is a common thing.

I’ve held it close to me mentally -- my “sweets addiction”. I didn’t question it, it was something I just had, something to hang onto for the rest of my life because I fucked up when I was younger.

But as I’ve gotten older, I understand that these things -- addictions -- serve purposes. They keep us comfortable in what we deem to be true of ourselves. They (poorly) provide temporary breaks from incessant mental gymnastics/fatigue. Anyway, blah blah, big sweeping declarations, blah blah, I’ve done that all before. But when I woke up today, I knew I would get a Vitamix like I’ve been talking about for years, and I made a decision to stop holding onto this. I always eat 2 meals a day with a wild west assortment of things in between, cake and cookies and granola bars and Halloween candy. Now, 2 meals and a protein smoothie/juice.

Let them muscles grow bb. Feel good about my body, treat it like the fucking temple it is.

3. Dicking around on the internet I enjoy reddit. I enjoy wikipedia. I also end up on these sites when I’m avoiding other major responsibilities and uncomfortable feelings. I know what I want: it involves a lot of deep practice. I could read about programming all day and I’d be fascinated -- you know, the history of Silicon Valley, Introduction to the Rust Programming language, new JavaScript frameworks, discussions on HackerNews about The Best Way to Build Something. But nothing beats getting your hands dirty. Nothing beats poring over source code, running into strange errors, resolving them, moving on, over and over ad nauseam until lo-and-behold, you are an expert.

I can read about music, listen to raps over and over, but nothing beats analyzing a verse over and over and actually hearing the syllables landing on, falling behind the beat.

I’m here to structure my day. I know what I want. Expertise, pride, and know-how. A differentiated skillset so I can collaborate with other differentiated skillsets. Good taste, a feeling of belonging. All that shit, all I ever wanted but didn’t know until recently. THOUGHT PATTERNS 1. FOMO What is it with being a human -- a Man, especially (sorry is that sexist, but also, not sorry) -- that makes us believe that everyone has everything we have and more? That we are the base model without power windows, and everyone else is an upgrade? I love going on walks in New York City. I love riding the trains in New York City. But while some of this love is healthy spectatorship, much of what I’ve engaged in is unhealthy envy.

I’m done with that though. I know what I like. And I know I have a dope life. And I know that I’m a good person to know, that people may have different qualities than me but I also have different qualities from them. I’m cool with my small close-knit friends. 2. INDECISION I kinda expanded on this above. I know what I want, and all questioning I’ve done (especially recently) has been my effort to save myself from doing the work, save myself from having to declare what I am. 3. ENGAGING IN FEELINGS OF BEING LATE I am 31 years old. This is something I know to be true: there is a 13-year old who can program circles around me. There is a kid who can play a rendition of Misty on piano so soulful that it’ll bring a tear to my eye. There is nothing, technically (as in, technical expertise), that I can do that can’t be done by anyone else. But I do believe in my taste and I do believe in my life experiences. And I do believe that whatever I create can only be mine, have my signature, and I think that whatever I create in this world that I’m proud of is going to be good. That’s a fact, and I’m going into the future with that as a fact.

Farewell, semi-anonyme Anyway, I was going to write more but I wanna get going, more to do. I’ve got some work to do, some voting to do, some writing to do, some planning to do.

I love you all. See you on the other side.

[wasalwaysagreatpickle]

Sunday 28 August 1831

5 55/..

10 50/..

Out at 7 at which hour Fahrenheit 67˚ and fine morning – sauntered along my walk and the new Lower Brea road to Mr Samuel Washington’s – waited 10 minutes till he was ready – then walked down to look at the slopes of the Lower Brea road which I named my intention of planting – he thought the commissioners would [want] something paying for them – no! when they had walled off the road the slopes would be mine, and I was not therefore inclined to pay anything for them – he at last acknowledged they would be mine – and there being hope of the road being opened in spring, I said I would put off the planting till afterwards – next year –

Then overtook George Robinson on the road – the footpath through Well Royde wood to be set out by Washington tomorrow morning at 8 – then along the Brighouse road till turned down to Yew Trees wood – examined the quarry and went all along the bottom of the wood – the wall on both sides the lane explained as agreed upon with Thomas Pearson junior – then from our own gates went into the Cunnery wood sent 2 men out of it – home at 10 1/2 – found 4 letters on my desk – From Mr Lawton of York with bill of charges for my will £13.13.8 – 

Long kind letter 3pp. and ends and top of page 1 written across from Mrs Norcliffe, Langton dated Friday 26th instant – she and Charlotte going a little ‘tour to Rokeby, Penrith by Keswick to Cockermouth, and Whitehaven, and must be back by the 19th’ - … ‘write to me if before September 6, Post office, Whitehaven’ – my boots from Rutter to be sent off as this evening – Isabella Norcliffe has paid for them – she to be off for Croft on her way to Scotland on Thursday – Hurried letter 2 widely written pp. from Mariana Lawton Friday 26th August – Charles better than she expected ‘though sadly cut up’ – .. ‘John has literally died a beggar…. the money given for Spurfield debts is gone, and the bills yet unpaid, the entire support of widow and 6 children must devolve on Charles – but the greatest of all the disappointments is that Mr Wood has lost the living, my being absent at the time has been a most unfortunate business, and I shall for the sake of others deeply and long lament it’ – thinks advantage has been taken of Charles’s state of depressed spirits to hurry him to a conclusion – William Ford has got the living for his son - … ‘we go to Leamington on Tuesday to the Royal hotel, and remain there I know not how long or how short a time’ – 

Letter too 2 half sheets full, with 1 page and 2 ends of envelope from Lady Gordon, 34 Hertford Street, Friday 26th August franked by her brother-in-law Mr Frankland Lewis – ‘this letter is just like yourself, sensible, agreeable and to the purpose my affairs are still under discussion and till Monday or Tuesday next I can say nothing decidedly’! her own feeling is that she ‘must go – but not in such haste – could you be in London about the 10th or 12th September and be ready to start by land for Spain on the 14th or 15th – If I go my idea is – to take Georgiana’ ….. and leave Alice with one of her (Lady Gordon’s) sisters – ‘to remain in Spain till next spring or summer – when once I had completed my Cadiz business I should be entirely yours as to where to go, or what to do – the blessing you would be to me is not to be told etc. etc. would like me to get in London a thorough understanding of the business she is [going] that I may better know how to help her to decide – Lady Stuart de Rothesay at the lodge – has written to her to know if Miss Hobart will go abroad or not this winter, and telling Lady Stuart de Rothesay her (Lady Gordon’s) ‘possible plans’ – the reason she seemed in such a hurry to be off in her last letter was because the man going out to buy or bid for her property at Cadiz was thought to be going by the 6th of September packet – but it seems is not going till October and this gives her a month longer – the voyage will be 8 or 10 days – no preparations required but ‘mosquito nets, and a case with a few knives and forks, sheets and towels, and a glass or 2 – a black mantilla and a few yards of black silk or fine bombazeen’ – To leave all about carriages and servants till next week when she hopes ‘to write without a doubt’ ….. ‘Should you prefer going by sea and returning by land? Taking one carriage only out in the steamer? – has let her house to Mr Vaughan from the 17th September – 

I must think of all this – the one carriage taken out would be mine, which would cost £30 I should suppose i.e. one half more than my own passage – say £30 and £20 and Cameron £20 and a man servant £15 and ten days living at £10.10.0 that would = £95.10.10 Take the distance from Calais by Paris and  Bayonne to Cadiz at 300 postes, at 6 1/2 from per poste, and therefore suppose postage 2000 francs, suppose 30 days for the journey at 25 francs per day self and 2 servants for living = 750 francs – then I should look after things in Paris, Travel in comfort, and see a great deal of the country for 2750 francs and £10? from London to Calais = £120 or for 20, or 25 £ more than by sea – So far, good – But the chances are 10 to one we should be robbed near Madrid or before or after or both! Il faut y purser – then I must have a passport exprès, to allow me to carry about as much and whatever money I like, to make written notes, to be armed, have an escort if I demand it, and let my carriage pass the frontiers duty free – 

Breakfast at 11 – Read my aunt all my letters except Lady Gordon’s, and read extracts from that 

Saying Lady Gordon had business in Spain but not saying what – 

Thought of staying a day or 2 longer here – Read the whole of the morning service and 1 of Mr James Knight’s [discussion] on the parables – then slept 1/2 hour and came upstairs at 1 20/.. – looking at maps and writing the above of today till 3 1/2 – then till 5 wrote 3pp. to Mariana (rather a good deal in them) and 1 page of 1/2 sheet paper to Cameron to say circumstances had occurred which would delay my leaving here for four or five days – if she had taken her place, must lose the 1/2 fare – shall hear from me again the day before I wish her to be off, but to hold herself in readiness – glad to hear from Langton very good accounts of all the family in the minster court – to apologize for my directing to her there – do not know how to direct to her at Miss Pearson’s – Tell Mariana to tell Watson to get me the stockings ordered for Madame Galvani or I must go without them – grieved more than I can tell that Mariana has so much reason to lament our tour – ‘But, Mary, who could foresee what was in the womb of time, and coming thus speedily to the birth? nor you, nor I, dreamed of what awaited us, or both had hurried home’ – 

Letter from Lady Gordon this morning who cannot fix decidedly till tomorrow or Tuesday ‘that it will still be 4 or 5 days before we can make our final arrangements’ Shall be off however as soon as I can – ‘To prolong my stay much, would now be peculiarly uncomfortable to myself as well as to Marian; and at all rates, I shall make all the haste I can’ – If they stay a week at Leamington shall hope to catch them – now think of being off from here tomorrow week, but want time [cut]. Mariana to go to Liverpool and back by steam – ‘I suppose I could do this, and still be at Leamington on Tuesday week by nine or 10 at night, at latest’ – mention Mrs Norcliffe’s having heard I was going to Paris with Lady Stuart – Charles would surely not have given the living to Mr Ford’s son, had he preferred giving it to Mr Wood – ‘as there was no Lawton for it, what strikes me as most to be regretted is, that any very young man should have it – I fear I should have thought, the next incumbent ought to be 60 at least’ – 

A little at my accounts – Dinner at 6 5/.. in 25 minutes for Mr Briggs waiting with my father and the rest – then had him in for 1 1/4 hour till I had thoroughly talked over all I had to say to him – about [Kerton’s] lease – not signed – desired the man to be told that if he did not sign before the 2nd of August next, he should have notice to quit – gave Mr Briggs the estimate for cellar and 2 chambers over it at Hardcastle’s £20 and £5 already paid by Mallinson and still owing to him for the drain that is made – spoke about Lower Brea mill, and the notice to Emmet about spoiling the black brook with the [canker] water from the colliery he is making – and about Benjamin Bottomley’s farm letting and the pew at Saint James’s for Whitley – and about planting the Lower Brea slopes and Godley Road ditto and about filling up Cunnery wood with 2000 oaks, and filling up Freeman’s quarry entirely with oaks and about the willow stakes to keep up the Tilley Holm and Dolt railing -

(Came to my room at 8 5/.. – Mr Briggs went at 7 55/..) Sent off at 8 10/60 by George my letter to ‘Mrs Lawton, Lawton Hall, Lawton, Cheshire’ and to ‘Mrs Cameron, Mrs Belcombe’s, Minster-Court, York’ – wrote the last 7 lines – then a little at my accounts again and went down at 10 1/4 – came back to my room at 10 1/4 – fine day – rainy evening after about 7 1/2 and windy – Fahrenheit 68˚ now at 10 1/4 p.m. -

[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 19]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-8 and what I have of Chapter 9 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

I have nothing really due this week, but a lot of big looming deadlines. Not sure how long I’ll be working today, but I want to do some planning and get some stuff done. :D

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

 Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

 “Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

 “Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

 He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

 “I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

 “Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

 “But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

 After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

 He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

 He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

 Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

 “It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

 “I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

 Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

 Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

 Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

 The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

 Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

 “It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

 “My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

 “Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

 He did just that as Remus disappeared back into his kitchen. The cat hopped onto his stomach, proceeding to purr loudly and kneed at chest. Janus petted the cat and listened to the noise of Remus moving around in the other room, letting his mind drift. His mind drifted to Virgil for a bit and he steadfastly did not allow it to drift to his brother. Yet, the thing that most was on his mind was the strange man who had flirted and charmed Janus all night before mercilessly screwing him over. ‘Pat’ he’d said his name was, but surely that was not his real name.

 Janus sighed and scratched the cat’s ear. “He certainly wasn’t an amateur,” Janus mused to the cat. “With that amount of precision to get in before we did, he must have someone not on the ground feeding him information. Perhaps more than one.” He was part of a group of time traveling thieves perhaps or something worse. “I didn’t get a good look at his face since he was wearing a mask,” Janus said, “but I spent a lot of time with him, and I’m sure Remy swiped the mask from the police since it had been on me when I was arrested. It’s a good lead.”

 He continued to pet Diesel Fuel. Eventually, Remus came back in, noticed Janus hadn’t bothered to get the alcohol and went outside to the cellar. “I’m going to find him,” Janus told Diesel Fuel. “I’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing, and I’ll bring him in.” Diesel Fuel mewed her support, and Janus patted her on top of the head.

Remus came back in with the bottle of vodka and handed it to him without a word. He sat down on the couch near Janus’s feet and patted his lap so Diesel Fuel would come over to him and allow Janus to sit up.

 The bastard waited until he was approximately 3 shots in (he didn’t have a shot glass and was just taking drinks from the bottle) to ask the questions Janus really didn’t want to answer. “Are you mad at Emile?” Remus asked.

Janus groaned, trying to wash out the bitter taste of shame and grief with the sharp sting of vodka. It didn’t work. “No,” he said to Remus.

“Then why have you been avoiding him?”

“Shit, I’m here because I didn’t want to think about it. Can’t we just not.”

“Don’t want to think about what?

“It’s none of your business, Remus.”

 He could feel Remus frowning at him, but Janus stared resolutely ahead. At least, he did until a foot poked his face. He slapped it away, but it did the job of getting Janus to look at Remus.

“It is my business,” Remus said, foot still in the air. “I’m your partner and your friend.”

“If I’m your friend, you’ll drop it.”

“So, you’re not mad at Emile,” Remus continued, contemplatively. “Did you do something to him, then?” Janus bit his lip and looked away. “What?” Remus asked. Janus didn’t respond. “Look, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is. He’s a good guy. Just talk to him about it.”

 “I can’t,” Janus said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably been long enough that he forgives you. You literally just have to have a conversation, say you’re sorry, and everything will be A-OK.”

“I can’t,” Janus repeated.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about it.”

Remus paused. “So, as far as he knows, you just cut contact with him all of a sudden for no reason and have been avoiding him ever since?”

Janus looked at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“That…” Remus said, “is not fucking fair Janus.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you doing that to him? He’s like… soft and feeling-y. He’s probably really upset.”

 “I know, Remus.”

“Tell him. Whatever it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Remus said. “You tell him and he either forgives you or he doesn’t. If he does, everything’s fine. If he doesn’t… well, it’s not like it would be any different from you two never being in the same room the last few years. Either way, you can’t just do this to him. He’ll probably forgive you. He’s your brother. Brothers don’t… brothers would forgive each other.”

Janus laughed softly and met Remus’s eyes. “That’s the problem,” he said. “He’d definitely forgive me.” He turned away and opened the vodka bottle again. “Now, if you’ll shut up for a few minutes, I’m going to drink until I black out.”

 Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

 She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

 “We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

 “Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

 He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of thick glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness. It was so caked on that Janus couldn’t even recognize him.

 In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

 Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

 As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

 They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

 After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

 “Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

 They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

 Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

 “Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

 “Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patton said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

 Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

 “Oh,” Patton said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

 “Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

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“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

 “He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

 He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

 “Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

 As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

 Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

 Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

 “Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

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Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

 “Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

 “There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

 Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

 “Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

 “You are the worst partner,” Janus hissed. “When I’m right you owe me 10 loafs of your fresh bread.”

“Branching out from poptarts?” Remus asked.

Janus shook his head. He still wasn’t happy about the state of things, but he could feel himself cooling down a bit.

Khalid came out of the integration room after a few minutes, leaving Pat with Remy. “What was that?” she asked him.

“He got under my skin,” Janus said.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “For now, we’re letting him go and then going back to looking for the bomb like we’re meant to be.”

 “Fine,” Janus relented. “Just do me the favor of tagging him before he leaves. Just that. I beg of you.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “If it will calm you down.”

He nodded.

“Then, let’s go,” she said. When they met back up with Remy and Pat, he saw Khalid make the subtle gesture that would tag Pat like they would have for the Millennium Birds. Pat sent him what could pass as a sweet smile if Janus didn’t know better. Then, they walked him outside, leaving Remy on clean-up duty for the make-shift security office.

“So, I’m free to go?” Pat asked. His bemused expression edged far too much on the side of amused verses confused for Janus’s taste.

 “You are,” Khalid said. “Have fun at the festivities.”

His hands went flapping about. “Oh, you too!” he said. “Well, I guess you’re working, but you can have fun anyway, I’m sure.”

“We’ll do our best,” she said.

He gave her a blinding smile and reached forward to shake her hand enthusiastically. Janus rolled his eyes and looked up at the heavens. “It was nice to meet you!” he said, “and you too, Remus!” He turned to meet Janus’s eyes. “Macy Misa.”

Janus pressed his lips together.

Then, Pat turned and walked away.

“Well, now that we’re done with that,” Khalid said, turning to them. “We have only a few more hours before midnight and we really need to find the time bomb.

 “Oh,” Pat called. He’d paused a few yards away and turned back to them. “Thanks for letting me go so easily by the way,” he said, “and just in the Nick,” he winked, “of time too.” Janus narrowed his eyes at him. He smiled back. “Wrist check,” he said holding up his arm to show off the timepiece there. Khalid immediately looked down at her own wrist just to see that the one timepiece that could move through the time lock was no longer there. Pat made a gesture and disappeared.

All three of them stared at the spot he’d been for a long moment.

Janus was the one to speak first. “I want. The yellow. To be erased. From my record.”

 Chapter 9

Khalid immediately called everyone back to base.

“What happened?” asked Fred when he and Lena arrived. The tech people were already scrambling to get through to the TPI and get the time lock broken from the outside.

“Remus, Remy, and Khalid got played by Pat or whatever his name is. It certainly isn’t Nick. He was just setting up a joke,” Janus told him.

“Stop being smug,” Remy said. “It’s not a good look for you.”

“Pat is…?” Lena asked.

“They guy who fucked me over in 1923,” Janus said, “and is currently in the middle of fucking us all over because he stole the pin timepiece, and by extrapolation, probably the time bomb too.”

 “It will be fine,” said Khalid, “because what he doesn’t know is that timepiece has a tracker on it. Wherever and whenever he went, we’ll have his coordinates.”

“Speaking of,” one of the techies said. “It’s about to break. You might want to hold onto something.” Janus grabbed for a support beam next to him as the techie put a device on the ground in the center of the base. It blinked once, twice, and on the third blink the ground rumbled. There were sounds of panicked yelps outside. The fail safe for the time lock was not nearly as gentle as ending it correctly.

 Everything settled after a few moments, and they all straightened themselves out. Janus’s timepiece buzzed to indicate it was now functioning normally. Khalid had returned her usual timepiece to her wrist and now used it to open a display they could all see. “The pin timepiece’s closest time/space coordinates are…” she trailed off. “Right outside?” She frowned. “That’s strange. Why would he still be here?” She turned to march outside, following the coordinates to a trash can. She pulled the pin timepiece out and stared at it. “Fuck,” she said.

“What just happened?” Remy asked.

“He ticked us,” Janus said. “Again.”

 “He was stuck in the time lock,” Khalid said. “That’s why he got our attention. He couldn’t leave with the time bomb unless he had the pin timepiece or we broke the time lock. Apparently, he’s smart enough to know that if he took the pin timepiece away from here, we’d probably be able to find him, but he knew we’d break the lock as soon as the pin went missing. So, he must have stashed his own timepiece and went back in time within the time lock to grab it while we were distracted with the past version of him. As soon as the time lock went down, I imagine he left.”

 “Probably with the time bomb,” Janus said.

“Probably with the time bomb,” she confirmed.

And everyone knew the only thing worse than a time bomb was a time bomb you didn’t know the location of.

They evacuated after that, of course, and time locked the location once they were out just in case they were wrong, but midnight 3000 struck without thousands of people dying in Brazil, so the time bomb had defiantly been removed from then.

The, they initiated a time travel lockdown for all nonessentials, not willing to let random history students get caught up in an explosion if Pat decided to set the thing off somewhere.

 Then, it was a matter of figuring out everything they could about ‘Pat.’ First, they checked the tracker data as Khalid had tagged him with one of the Millennium Bird trackers. It wouldn’t work outside of the zone they’d set up that day, but the record would show his behavior during the time lock after he’d escaped with the pin timepiece.

There had been many little green dots on the map that day as Fred and Lena had actually been doing the job they’d set out to do, but most of those were running around in the south. There had been one green dot, however, that appeared suddenly in the game area about 10 minutes before the time bomb had been stolen.

 They could see Janus’s yellow dot almost brush his when he’d been chasing the earlier Pat down, around when he’d lost him briefly. The earlier Pat must have all but handed it off to his future self.

“He doubled back,” Remus commented when they watched the recorded data. It was a ballsy move and one that most people balked at, because there were inherent dangers any time you interacted with yourself from a different point in the timestream. It was ripe for paradoxes. It made everyone at the agency even more worried, because if he was willing to risk that, then what else was he willing to do?

 Because of the lockdown of all nonessential time travel, people working for the TPI were not allowed to go home for the night. They were allowed to pick up anyone or anything dependent on them for care like kids and pets if there wasn’t someone in their home time to care for them, but other than that, they were unfortunately all sleeping in their offices for the foreseeable future.

“You are the only tolerable one,” Janus told the cat who upon being let loose in the office by Remus, immediately jumped on Janus’s lap.

“I have literally done nothing to you,” Lena said, but then added. “Yet.”

 “You exist. In my space.”

“Can’t we just all get along?” asked Fred. “It’s only been an hour past when we’d usually go home. I went and grabbed milk and I have my giant thing of different flavored hot chocolate under my desk. We can try them all and vote on which is better.”

“Fuck your hot chocolate, Fred,” Janus growled, having been one of the three who had chipped in to buy it for him on his last birthday.

“Don’t go after Fred, jackass,” Lena spat.

“He’s just testy because his boyfriend escaped,” Remus contributed.

Janus’s lips turned down into a frown and he cupped Diesel Fuel’s face. “We agree we’re eating him first, right?” he asked her.

 She purred her agreement.

“I’d have it no other way,” Remus replied.

“There is plenty of food,” Fred said, sounding stressed. “In fact, I was thinking we should all chip in on ordering take-out soon. “What does everyone like on pizza?”

“This is not a slumber party, Fred,” Janus pointed out.

“Shut it,” Lena snapped and turned to Fred. “I’m fine with almost everything, except…”

“Bananas and tuna salad!” Remus interrupted.

“…whatever Remus is about to say.”

Janus rolled his eyes as that started a debate about whether or not fruit and/or fish belonged on pizza. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, which was when there was a knock on the door.

 He froze when he heard the familiar voice. “Hello, hello,” said Emile, cheerfully. Janus looked up to see Emile standing at the open office door. Shit. Apparently, the man had decided to give up on sending lackeys to come fetch him and had decided to track him down himself when Janus couldn’t even escape without breaking a time lockdown. They met eyes briefly and Janus could see irritation if not anger in his eyes despite his otherwise cheerful expression and tone.

“Janus,” he said when he’d gotten their attention. “I’d like to have dinner with you.” The word choice told Janus everything he needed to know. Usually Emile was careful with how he said things to make sure people knew they had a choice. Typically he’d say something like, “I was wondering if you’d have time to have dinner with me tonight,” or “I’m about to go get food, would you like to come?” Today, there was no choice in the statement.

 Janus still dried to dodge anyway. “Uh,” he said. “We were actually about to order pizza.”

“Go ahead,” said Fred kindly. Janus wanted to strangle him. “We can order pizza with olives if you’re not here.”

“I…” said Janus. “Guess, I’ll be going with you.”

“Great!” Emile said. “Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Uh, now?”

“Now,” Emile said a bit of uncharacteristic steel to his tone.

 Well, Janus was screwed. He swallowed his nervousness and got to his feet, taking Diesel Fuel with him. He turned to hand her off to Remus with a plea in his eye, but he just got an eyebrow raise in return. Traitor.

Then, he followed Emile out of the office door. “What would you like to eat?” asked Emile.

“Uh,” Janus said. “I don’t know. You asked me to eat, don’t you have any ideas?”

“I don’t actually,” Emile replied. Right.

“…Noddle Bar?” Janus threw out the nearest restaurant he knew.

“The one noodle restaurant? Sure,” Emile answered simply. They walked side by side out of the front doors of the TPI building. Janus actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken these stairs. He usually used his timepiece to get in and out.

 The noodle bar was only moderately busy at this time. They were quickly able to find a table near the back and Emile pulled his menu up in front of him. Emile hummed as he flipped through the different displays. “What are you having?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said, only then pulling up the menu himself, but still not quite looking at it.

“What about the fortune noodles,” Emile suggested.

Janus shook his head. “I don’t like those,” he said.

Emile glanced at him through the menu displays. “You used to.” Fortune noodles were a bit cheekily named. They didn’t actually indicate anything about your future. They were just supposed to taste like what you wanted from your future. A grad student might experience a feeling like they’d just aced a paper. A child that they got to stay up an hour later that night. Janus had liked the experience when he was younger, but in recent years, he’d begun to taste the underlying chemicals in the dish until that’s all he could.

 “Well,” Emile said lightly, eyes on his menu. “That makes me even more worried for your mental health than I already was because of the almost three years of you avoiding talking to me.”

“No small talk, huh?” Janus asked.

“Forgive me,” Emile said, eyes now focused on Janus, and tone much darker. “How has your life been since I last saw your face 5 months ago during a business meeting and you refused to look me in the eye? Anything interesting happen? Shave your head and let it all regrow? Develop an allergy to peanuts? Join a convent and take an oath of silence that you only just broke today?”

“No,” said Janus quietly into the table.

 “Great,” Emile said clipped. “Small talk over. Order your food.” Janus reached up blindly to select the first thing that came up on the food and drink menu as Emile punched something into his own and both menu displays disappeared, meaning there was nothing between their faces anymore. “You know, I was willing to give you a year,” Emile said. “I was willing to let you deal with it on your own because I thought eventually, you’d come talk to me about it, but apparently I was mistaken. The next year, I thought maybe you thought I didn’t want to talk to you, so I subtly made myself available, and you never took me up on the offer. I thought maybe I was just not being clear, and I should make my desire to talk to you more explicit, but as you have been routinely, clearly avoiding me at every single turn, I’ve decided I’ve had enough. So, let’s lay it all on the table. Is it me or do you need help?”

 Janus closed his eyes. “It’s not you.”

“Then you need help,” Emile concluded.

Janus shook his head.

“Yes,” Emile snapped. “Whatever this is has gone on far too long.”

Janus stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. “And it’s going to keep going on!” he said. The food popped up at that moment. It appeared Janus had ordered lasagna and bubble tea, and Emile had ordered something with spaghetti and a fizzy drink.

“So, you’re just planning to go on being miserable then?” Emile asked, and Janus wasn’t sure if it was worse or better that he didn’t sound angry anymore.

14656

Janus slapped his hand down on the “To Go” button and his dinner was insta-wrapped by the table. “Yes,” he said.

“What exactly do you think you’re paying penance for, Janus?” Emile asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Janus said, paying for both of their meals with his fingerprint.

“That’s a cop out and you know it,” Emile said. “All you’d have to do is talk to me. Or even just talk to someone else. Please.”

“Just…” Janus said, grabbing his bag of food to avoid looking at him. “Just, leave me be.” He walked out of the noodle shop without another word.

 Chapter 10

“And I thought Remus was going to be the most disgusting roommate in this equation,” Lena grumbled. Janus and Lena were apparently the earlier risers in the group as Fred was still curled up around a pillow and Remus was sprawled out under his desk.

Janus flipped her off.

“Protein infused Poptarts and caffeinated orange juice for breakfast?” she asked. “Just eat an energy bar and have a cup of coffee like a normal person.”

He took another pointed bite of his Poptart.

“You’re a horrible roommate. This is why they gave us different partners.”

“Yeah, well you snore, asshole,” Janus said after finishing off his meal.

 “I’d tell you to go eat shit, but you already did that once this morning.”

A pillow flew across the room and somehow managed to hit the both of them. “S’op fighting,” Fred mumbled. “It’s sleep time.”

“It’s morning Fred,” Lena said.

“No,” Fred mumbled.

Janus ignored them, turning back to his integration port to continue to keep plugging in phrases of interest, but he kept getting nothing.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked after a few moments of him huffing at his screen reader.

“Trying to do anything that may change our current living arrangements.”

She puffed out an amused breath. “Can I help?”

 “Can you see any connection between these words and phrases?” he asked, pulling away his screen reader and tapping at the words he’d typed out.

“Paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback, love Bug, BB good, Mandy, Macy Misa, I believe, cool, that’s just the way we roll, burnin’ up,” she said. “What are these?”

“They’re things Pat said when we interrogated that struck me funny,” Janus explained. “I feel like he was saying something more than what he said.”

“Hmm,” she said. “PTI for the first three?”

“Maybe,” Janus agreed, “but what about the rest of it? I feel like I’m missing something.”

15080

“Millennia,” Remus mumbled from under his desk. Janus hadn’t been aware he was awake. “He said something something about it being the only time he could see the change of the millennia.” He turned his head to look at Janus. “Considering he’s a time traveler, that’s definitely a weird thing to say.”

“Millennia,” Janus contemplated. “A different turn of the millennia. Oh no.”

“What?” Lena asked.

Janus sighed, and rubbed his temple. “I know someone who studied the 1700-2200s.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“No,” Janus groaned, “because now I have to go talk to him.” He stood with a sigh and then paused. “How do I even get to Silver Mountains University without my timepiece?”

 Luckily Sliver Mountains ended up only being about an hour away from the TPI by time adherent travel, but considering Janus was used to his travel being instantaneous, it was an aggravating trip. He had to show ID and be buzzed up to the fourth floor since it was usually locked to everyone not traveling by timepiece or who worked in the office.

The receptionist was the same man as before. “I’m here to speak to Professor Eran,” Janus said.

The receptionist nodded. “He mentioned you asked to meet him but didn’t know when you’d arrive. He’ll be done teaching his class in about 5 minutes. You can wait over there.”

 Janus nodded and sat, waiting for time to slowly tick by. Virgil arrived after a few minutes, lugging a giant bag with him. He caught sight of Janus and wordlessly jerked his head towards the hallway. Janus followed him.

“What’s in the bag?” Janus asked.

“Early 21st century cell phones,” Virgil said, dropping it on his desk. “I let my students mess around with them for their lab.”

“I see,” Janus said.

“What did you need?” Virgil asked. “You said it was official business.”

“You’ve heard about the lockdown, I presume,” Janus said.

“Yeah, it really screws up my research schedule for the summer,” Virgil said.

15412

“Do you know why the lockdown was instituted?” Janus asked. Virgil shook his head, so Janus explained briefly that they had been trying to find a timebomb on the eve of the year 3000, but it had been swiped by a free agent time traveler. “Some of the things seemed to be references to things that I couldn’t place, and I was wondering if you would recognize any.”

“Shoot,” Virgil requested, seeming intrigued by the prospect.

“Okay,” Janus said. “First, the alias he was using was Nick Jonas.” A weird expression crossed Virgil’s face immediately and Janus paused.

“You said the year 3000?” Virgil asked.

 “Er. Yes.”

“Nick Jonas. Year 3000,” Virgil repeated with a snort. “Were Joe and Kevin a part of this too?”

Janus blinked. “Yes, how did you know that?”

“Yo-you’re going to have,” his sentence was broken by a giggle, and actual full-fledged giggle, “have to give me a minute.” With that, he sort of listed to the side and seemed to purposefully fall off his chair onto the floor under his desk.

Janus blinked and when he didn’t surface after a moment, he stood up to lean over the desk and look down at him. Virgil had his arm thrown over his beat red face, as he shook from what Janus thought was suppressed laughter.

 “What?” Janus asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Just…” Virgil said, sobbing through his laughter. “Just tell me the things he said.”

“Er, mostly he just had weird inflections on words and phrases. There was ‘paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback…’”

“Wait, stop,” Virgil said. “Let me guess a few. That’s Just the Way We Roll, Burnin’ Up, Sucker.”

“The first two were, but not the last one.”

Virgil laughed. “Maybe the last one was just implied.”

Janus frowned down. “What are you talking about? What does this all mean?”

Virgil pulled himself out from under his desk and grabbed his bag of phones. He dug through it for a few seconds before pulling one out and handing it to Janus. “I have a lab for my students where they get preloaded phones from the early 21st century and are supposed to guess the demographics of the person who owns it. This one is an iPhone 3 meant to belong to a pre-teen to teenage girl from the year 2009. Look under music artists starting with the letter ‘J.’”

15810

Confused, Janus scrolled through the old style phone, finding the music app and opening it easily. Upon getting to the ‘J’s, he immediately paused on an artist called the ‘Jonas Brothers.’ He clicked on it and read a few of the song titles. They weren’t all there, but…

“That rat bastard,” Janus said.

“Scroll to the bottom,” Virgil said. Janus did and found a song titled ‘Year 3000.’

“You’re kidding me.”

“Click on it,” Virgil requested.

Janus did, listening to the fairly standard pop like intro from the time period. It wasn’t until he got to the lyrics saying, ‘He told me he built a time machine’ that he cursed, understanding exactly what Pat had been doing. When the singer a few lines latter proclaimed that his neighbor said ‘I’ve been to the year 3000’ he almost smashed the artifact to pieces right then and there.

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Virgil said, “but he’s a comedic genius.”

 Chapter 11

Khalid caught him on his way back into the TPI building. “I heard you went to Silver Mountains to follow up on a lead,” she said.

“Yeah, but it was garbage,” he seethed. “All I learned was ‘Pat’ knows early 2000s popular culture and likes to fuck with us.”

She hummed. “I’d still like a report about whatever you found. Who knows what we might end up getting from seemingly inconsequential data.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I have a mission for you.”

“We’re on lockdown,” Janus pointed out with a frown.

“For nonessentials,” she said. “This is essential.”

 “What happened?” Janus asked.

“We picked up a small time distortion in France 2027. At the moment, it is small enough not to cause any disruptions, but it is slowly growing, and we don’t know what caused it. Usually we’d just send surveillance agents at this stage, but considering what’s going on, I think it would be best to send a field agent. And it would just be you, because we don’t want to send too many people out at once.”

“Is this related to the time bomb?” Janus asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “At the very least, it’s not it being set off as it was in 2999, but if it’s been altered for some other purpose…”

 “I’ll go,” Janus said.

“I’ll send over the mission directive to everyone who needs it. You’ll go in around 3 hours.”

He nodded. “I’ll be ready,” he agreed.

In less then 3 hours, he was dressed for 2027 France and in decontamination. “Well,” he said out loud when he was given the all clear sign, “I hope I don’t explode.” He selected the coordinates on the timepiece and the next moment he was in a small alleyway in the city of Montpellier, France in 2027.

It was a little bit warm, but not stifling even in the mid-afternoon and he could faintly smell the sea on the breeze.

 After a moment to get his bearings, Janus made his way out of the alleyway and onto a small street. The street was lined with restaurants and shops as people went about their daily lives. He carefully integrated himself into the crowd and began weaving his way through them. He needed to find the source of the distortion but doing a quick scan with his timepiece told him there wasn’t any sign of it yet. He’d have to wait for it to act up.

For now, he decided to get slightly away from people by heading towards the river. He found a park that had benches along water.

16421

As he walked towards the river, he noticed a man on the bench, angled slightly away from Janus and looking out at the water. He immediately recognized the man. “You!” he exclaimed.

Pat’s head shot around to look at him, and he gave a slight head tilt. Then, he smiled, amused. “You are not the person I’m here for,” he said.

“Well, I am now,” Janus snapped. “Where’s the time bomb?”

“Time bomb?” Pat asked, eyebrows drawing together, but amusement on his lips. “Oh sweetie, the time bomb happened a long time ago for me.”

“What?” Janus asked.

“Oh, you’re just a baby,” Pat laughed. “Don’t you get it yet? The two of us are out of sync timeline wise. You’ve been apparently running around with a much younger version of me, but all of that happened quite a while ago for me. Don’t worry though, it gets better.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The time bomb has been long deactivated. Here,” he reached into his pocket and tossed him something. Janus caught it on instinct. “Proof. Don’t worry, we took all of the dangerous bits out years ago from my perspective.” It was the core of a time bomb, the time bomb Pat had stolen if he was to be believed. “You can tell your people it’s safe to remove the lockdown.”

Janus curled his fingers around it. “I don’t get it.”

Something on Pat’s wrist beeped and he looked at it curiously before he stood from the bench, “and I don’t have time to explain it.”

Janus jerked forward to grab his wrist. “Don’t you dare.”

Pat reached up to pat his face. “Don’t worry honey, you’ll be seeing me later.” He twisted his wrist and a small electric current sparked between them. Janus jerked his hand away, and Patton smiled at him. “Or… earlier.” He winked, and then he was gone.

Janus cursed, but he didn’t have more than a moment to be angry because in the next second there was a yelp, and something landed on top of him. He was bowled over into a tangle of limbs and pained noises.

“Oh my god, we need to figure out the height thing,” a familiar voice groaned, just as Janus managed to pull himself away. Pat blinked up at him and his eyes narrowed. “You,” he hissed.

“…What?”

[mcwriting]

starstruck (4)

Here it is... finally! It’s ~angsty~ but it was really fun to write. 

I will say, I realized while writing this that the timeline of this fic is sooooo short but hey, its fiction, so I guess anything can happen lol. I tried to resolve it in later chapters but it’s definitely quick moving in these initial chapters. 

There’s a lot of italics in this one lol

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Thomas Stanley Holland

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader (eventual)

Setting: LA in general

Word Count: 2240 yeet

Warnings: angst, some mild language

Rating: still k+ right now

Last time on starstruck...

“Hey what’s going on? Uh huh. No, we actually have it handled. I might or might not be with her right now… no it’s fine. Seriously, we are laying low! We’re on the way to the hotel right now. Alright, alright I’ll see what I can do. See you in a few.”

And with that, he hung up, turned to you, and said, “That was my manager. Apparently we’ve got a problem.”

                            __________________________________

You pulled underneath the awning of the posh hotel Tom was boarding at, the kind of place you only dreamed of staying.

Sure, your family wasn’t poor, but your parents definitely weren’t the type of people to spend a lot of money on hotels. They claimed to enjoy spending more money on the “fun” parts of vacations than where you slept at night.

To each their own, you supposed.

Tom wanted you to come inside, per request of his manager, so you figured you would drop him off and park so you wouldn’t be seen together. 

The valet had other plans, however, pulling you out of the car and exchanging your keys with a numbered slip of paper. 

It all happened so fast that for a moment you just stood there, stunned. You snapped out of it when the man began to drive off and Tom grabbed you to lead you inside.

The lobby was massive and covered with marble flooring. A large, plush rug covered many of the tiles and on top of it sat some luxurious couches and armchairs, framing a huge TV on the wall. 

On the other side was a long marble counter that seated hotel staff, who stood at the ready upon seeing Tom.

You also couldn’t help but note the smell, a light, sweet floral scent wafting through the air pleasantly. 

This must be rich people scent you thought to yourself.

Due to the nature of it being midday, very few people were seen in the lobby, and Tom led you straight through to a hallway and past the main elevators, his hand resting on your lower back the entire time.

“I have access to a service lift so less people will see,” he explained, as if he’d just read your confused mind.

You walked briskly with Tom through the winding hall, finally ending up at the alternate elevator, where he swiped his key card and the doors slid open with a few creaks.

You tapped your foot nervously as you passed floor by floor, letting go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding upon reaching the top.

Once again, you followed behind Tom through the hall and to his room. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, clenching onto the straps of your beach bag, as he entered to find more suitable clothing.

After disappearing for a moment, he popped his head back out.

“You can come in, you know. This might take a few minutes.”

You stepped further into his suite, making your way to the sliding doors attached to a balcony. Looking out you could see Los Angeles in full light, the people and cars below feeling so out of reach, like nothing you had ever experienced in your city.

You seemed so out of place in the heavily decorated room still in beach clothing and legs covered in sand.

You could hear Tom rummaging through the drawers and walked over, giving a gentle knock on the open door.

“Having trouble, twinkle toes?” you joked at the way he pillaged through his clothes. He smiled at your commentary.

“Maybe a bit. Do you need anything? A drink, snack? The fridge is stocked so take anything you like.”

You were surprised at his generosity and at how little he cared about paying for that stuff. In your family, everything in the hotel room was off limits if it wasn’t free.

“I think I’m good but do you mind if I use your restroom? I really need to rinse this sand off and put on some real clothes.”

“Go right ahead,” he gestured to the bathroom door.

The bathroom was also massive, especially for a hotel. The shower thankfully had a handheld spray head so you were able to just target and rinse your legs. You tugged on some athletic shorts and a loose tank top to replace your former garments.

You quickly used the toilet too and went to wash your hands, not believing how many fancy soaps and lotions covered the counter. 

As you lathered, a small bottle caught the corner of your eye. It was a light yellowish color and read “OBSESSION for men.” 

Of course he would wear Calvin Klein cologne. Now I know.

You finished up and made a final once over in the mirror, fixing some stray hairs in your ponytail and opening up the door. 

You stopped in your tracks as your eyes laid upon Tom, who was shirtless with his back to you, the elastic of his underwear poking out of his pants’ waistline.

“You’re a pretty big fan of Calvin Klein, huh?” you asked, referring to both the cologne and his boxers. He turned around, giving you a view of his bare chest, which didn’t disappoint, a fact that you pretended was annoying.

“Hah, yeah. I really want to do an ad campaign with them if you couldn’t tell,” he bent over to pick up a shirt from the bed and toss it on. 

“Well with the cologne and underwear you’re pretty much a walking billboard.”

“You like the cologne?” he asked, causing your face to heat up. You knew a blush was present and probably obvious, so you decided not to lie. 

“Yeah, actually I do. It’s a nice scent. It also happens to be all over my bed right now thanks to a certain someone,” you tipped down your chin and raised an eyebrow accusingly. 

“You want it? The company actually sent me like… eight bottles and a bunch of clothes not too long ago after I posted on Instagram about them. I can’t get rid of them fast enough,” he offered, walking towards you.

“What? No! I couldn’t just take that from you. What would I tell my friends when they see men’s cologne bottle in my room? I can’t say ‘oh yeah Tom Holland gave it to me’ and it would be majorly out of character to tell everyone that it’s what you wear.”

He went past you into the bathroom and rummaged through a toiletry bag, muttering an “aha!” when he pulled out another bottle identical to the one on the counter, except this was sealed and full.

“Seriously Tom I can’t just tak-” you started when he dropped the bottle into your bag.

“Whoops,” he quipped, “no take backs. Now your bed can forever smell like me”

You were ready to argue again (with an undeniable smile on your face) when there was a loud rapping on the main door.

Tom grimaced at you to wordlessly send a message of ‘prepare yourself’ as he took a deep breath in and headed out of his bedroom. You silently followed into the living room and watched Tom open the door, where a well dressed man and woman pair stood talking.  

                            __________________________________

At first you and Tom together discussed the plan you had made at the beach with his manager and publicist, neither of whom seemed to like the idea very much.

They asked to speak with Tom privately, so you relocated back into the bedroom and sat on the side of his bed, reminiscing on how the roles were almost reversed compared to only two evenings prior. 

You were only in there for about ten minutes, but it seemed like hours. You were too anxious to mess with your phone and instead looked out his window.

There was a quiet knock on the door before Tom opened it. You recognized the steely look in his eyes and the way his jaw was clenched. 

He motioned for you to come out, and almost immediately after stepping into the living room his manager started talking to you.

“So, y/n, right? I’m gonna have to give this to you straight. You cannot be seen with my client ever again,” she stated bluntly, “it’s nothing against you, of course, but Tom here needs to maintain a ‘single’ rep until this movie is no longer in theatres and frankly you’re jeopardizing the whole thing.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you weren’t happy to hear this woman’s feigned criticisms.

“I’m sorry, but Tom is the one who sought me out. I never liked him, you could ask any person who knows me and they would tell you the same. I’m only here because Tom asked me to meet him about getting rid of this whole ‘scandal’ or whatever you want to call it. So if anyone is jeopardizing Tom, it’s himself.”

The publicist took a step forward.

“Look, miss y/n, it’s really nothing against you, we just want to maintain his image, and the best way to do so would be for us to go online and tell everyone he helped you get medical attention for an injury, which we all know is true, and end it at that. It makes Tom look like a hero, and you’ll be popular for weeks with your peers I’m sure,” he explained, angering you further. 

“I never asked for this. I don’t want attention. I don’t want the world, or more importantly my best friend, to find out I’ve been lying about the guy I used to hate. Do you realize how many rumors this will fuel? This is ridiculous and I can’t allow you to put out my information like this.”

“Oh, well. Too bad. I just sent the tip to TMZ and they’re posting the story tonight,” he replied, “and Tom is going live on Instagram at 4:00 to address it the way we told him to and you two can’t be seen together again. Text all you want like you have been, but no public contact. Unless of course we want to do a ‘girl saved by hero reunites with him’ thing. Oh man would that look so good-”

“I’m done. This is so sick. Tom,” you looked directly into his eyes, “never contact me again, you disgusting cheap sellout bastard,” you spat, a fire in your own eyes like nothing anyone had ever seen from you.

“Y/n I-“ he began, but you were already heading to the door. You could hear footsteps behind you and the door slam shut but you kept power walking towards the main elevators, hoping they were the opposite direction from which you and Tom initially came.

“Wait!” he cried out, finally catching up and grabbing your elbow.

You threw his hand off but stopped moving forward and instead spun around to face him. Tears had made their way down your cheeks by now and you weren’t any happier to be so vulnerable in front of Tom. 

Never in your life did or expect the next (or even last) guy you’d cry over would be Tom Holland.

“Y/n, please listen,” he pleaded, his face was also red, as if he were going to cry himself. You stood firm and gave him an expectant glare, so he continued.

“I don’t want to do this, I really don’t. Please understand that I have to, though, no matter how much this hurts. We can still talk. I was so drawn to you the second I saw you in that crowd just last week and I could’ve never imagined how close you could become in the short amount of time we’ve known each other. Please, babe, I don’t want to lose you.”

Anger flashed inside of you again and you felt your chest tighten at the bomb he’d just dropped..

“Do you really, Tom? Do you really care? Because to me it sounds like you actually have a choice here, but you’re too much of a pushover to do what’s right. If you really cared, you wouldn’t do this to me. I was serious back there. Don’t talk to me again, and definitely don’t call me babe if you do.” 

 “I’m so, so sorry, y/n,” Tom’s voice finally broke, and you could see the way his lip quivered as he continued, “I’m sorry I ever got you into this mess.”

“Me too,” you whispered. 

You wiped more stray tears and turned, looking back one last time into the face of the broken-hearted celebrity, hoping it was the last time you would ever see his face, but knowing it wouldn’t be the end of it.

                            __________________________________

You exited the elevator, which you were glad was empty. More tears had fallen on the journey down and you mustered up everything you could to stop them, at least until you were off the premises of the hotel. 

Though knowing you looked like a wreck, you walked through the hotel lobby with head held high, looking straight forward at the large front doors. 

Your numbered ticket was in hand and you gladly gave it to the valet so he could pull up your car.

It was getting harder to hold it together as you waited. Finally, he appeared and parked the car in front of you.

He held out the keys and then stood directly in front of you, silently pleading for a tip, even though he could probably see the obvious anguish on your face. 

Finally, you gave in, rolling your eyes as you dug through your bag for a spare $5 bill and slapped it into his hand with disdain.

“How kind. Have a nice day, ma’am!” he voiced cheerily.

You fought the urge to flip him off as you sat down in the driver’s seat and began the journey back home, dread filling your stomach the closer home became.

                           __________________________________

A/N: yeehaw that was a fun time. Next chapter is angsty too sorry I don’t make the rules... :)

Tag List: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl

[whiskynottea]

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27,  Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35,  Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44,  Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50

AO3

A huge thank you to @theministerskat who puts up with me, and keeps betaing this story, 51 chapters in!

Chapter 51. Zambia 

Jamie had been right about one thing. It wasn’t the same.

Everything had changed. My timezone had changed, and two more hours crept in between us. Jamie’s obligations had doubled as he got further into the semester, and his free time became limited. My schedule in the medical program kept me occupied from eight to four-thirty, and then with afternoon clubs, I missed Jamie when he was waking up, and I couldn’t stay awake long enough at night when he’d get back to his dorm.

But the biggest change was the unmitigated disaster our communication had become. Or lack thereof.

The volunteer house had no wifi connection, and I had to walk to a nearby cafe to talk to Jamie, something that was impossible to do during the week since the only time he was able to call me at was midnight.

So I bought a Zambian SIM card and texted him. A lot. It still wasn’t enough, but it was the best I could do. I missed his voice. I missed seeing his face. The few times we attempted a video call all I had managed to see of him was a frozen image. Sometimes clear, sometimes blurred, because he had moved before the connection lagged. I had laughed the first time at the image of Jamie with his mouth open, his eyes turned skywards, as his voice came through the speaker with a relieved ‘finally’. I had thought the problem with the internet connection was random, and it would be better the next time we’d call. It didn’t.

We continued texting, trying to keep our lives intertwined. We sent pictures -- pictures that were pushing the limits of my patience because most of the time it took more than one failed attempt to get them through. Our messages often turned into long monologues, as the other was busy or sleeping. And then, when we had time to check our phones, we found long monologues in return.

That was how I found myself staring at a white piece of paper, brow furrowed, determined to write something that would be more intimate than a text on his phone.

My dear Jamie,

No.

My love,

No. Damn it! How was I supposed to write a whole letter when I couldn’t even write a greeting?

My sweet Scot,

Yes, that’s better.

My sweet Scot,

It’s me, your Sassenach, writing a letter to you, as if we live in the 18th century. I miss our century, to be honest. I miss proper internet connection. This 2G thing sucks.

I paused in my writing, sure that I wouldn’t give a damn about the internet connection if Jamie were with me. With a sigh, I shook my head to scatter those thoughts away. He wasn’t here, and he wasn’t supposed to be. Biting my lip, I continued, trying to focus on the positive things that had happened during the two weeks I had been in Zambia.

Being here is like moving into another dimension. I knew it would be different, but I never would have imagined people living on the same planet as us having such different everyday lives. I thought I was prepared when I landed in Africa, having finished the online training at home, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I omitted telling you last week, but I panicked so much the second day I was here, that I started crying that night in my bed. It’s silly, ridiculous, and it makes no sense, but I felt lost. Alone. It was the first time that I could become lost and Lamb wouldn’t be there to search for me. I had to make it on my own. We had no guidance on how to live here and it seemed so hard to build a life from scratch in a country where I couldn’t even communicate well enough to buy something to eat. I was terrified, Jamie. And I didn’t tell you, because I knew you didn’t want me to come here, and I felt guilty and ungrateful for the chance given to me. Anyway. I’m much better now. I met Louise and she has pretty much made everything easier. She arrived two weeks before I did, and helped me a lot during my acclimation here.

Livingstone is beautiful. It’s rural and wild. Louise said we might visit the Victoria Falls next week, so get ready for pictures! It will be awesome to explore a bit, there are so many things to do!

I know I haven’t said much about the people I’ve met here, but they are usually around and it’s weird for me to be writing about them while they are looking at me. Louise is from France, that much I have told you. She’s a free spirit, straightforward, unabashed for what she says or does, but she’s also sweet and funny. She’s always smiling -- I don’t know how she does it. Sometimes I just want to start crying when I see the scarce medical resources available here. The equipment is limited, the clinics are under-staffed, and the patients too many. But then, that’s the reason I’ve come, right? To help. I decided to help in the children’s department, although I was really tempted to volunteer for the maternity one. Louise opted for the HIV treatment.

For the home-visits, I am usually paired with Margaret. She’s from Virginia and she’s really shy. She often gets lost in daydreams, but she is also so very patient and calm. During these visits we are supervised by Chikondi, which means ‘love’ in Chewa. Isn’t that great? Chikondi is a local caregiver and he’s amazing. His English is very good and he explains every little detail for us to understand what he’s doing and why. We mostly observe and assist him with small things now, but we’ll be able to do more once we get more experience. Yesterday we sat for almost an hour after an examination, listening to the stories of an old man who has been living alone since his wife passed away last year. They had five children, but they have all moved away. We were almost ready to leave, when he looked at me for a long moment and then just started talking. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but Chikondi started translating immediately. The man’s words rolled out in his deep voice, taking their time, but his eyes danced as shared his memories with us. And when he finished telling the last story -- how he made fun of his wife for her cooking, but they both knew she was the best cook in the village --  we gathered our equipment to leave and he rose too, saying that it was time to go to see his girl, because she was waiting for him.

It was impossible not to cry as I watched his dragging steps towards the cemetery. Chikondi said that listening to our patients and giving them comfort is just as important as the medical care and health education that we provide. In that moment, I felt as though I’m here not only to help heal their bodies, but their souls too. And it struck me that we’re not so different after all. It’s magical to be human and live, and feel and remember. And to be a human who has love and time to share with others creates a beautiful, inexplicable feeling. Like you suddenly realize you’ve been breathing your whole life, but you now relish in the action, something so simple, and yet so important.

We have been seeing the same giraffe I told you about every time we go for home-based care to the village nearby. We decided to name it Mani. I’ll take a picture tomorrow, so you’ll get to know him too -- I hope he’s a he.

The volunteer house is nice. We have a pool outside the house, and a BBQ, and we’ll probably organize a get-together tomorrow. Week days are way too busy, so it’s only Saturdays and Sundays that we have time for ourselves. Jeremy and I started a Reading Club and we spend almost all of our afternoons there, reading to the children. No matter their level of poverty or their illnesses, children smile a lot. I’m starting to believe that’s the common denominator that keeps us human. It’s strange, how the laughter of children brings adults together. It feels like they are the reason we can all function in the same equation. And most times I think that looking at tiny humans running around, playing, yelling, singing, is what keeps me sane and gives me purpose.

We’ll start health talks at the local schools next week. It’s mind blowing how important health education is. Even the simplest issues, like hydration, hygiene, and nutrition, have to be discussed. I’m excited to get into these classrooms, even more so because that’s where my mom volunteered.

I’m happy to be here, but I miss you, Jamie. I miss you so much. And I’m thinking of you all the time, I hope you know that. There are so many things I would like to share with you. Even the simplest things, like a flower or a sunset. Even though you wouldn’t care about them at all. At least the flower. You might have liked the sunset. We’re talking about going bungee jumping. I wish you were here so we could jump together.

Sometimes at night I dream that you hold me in your arms and I sleep better for it.

I’m now thinking that sending letters might seem really stupid to you, so don’t feel obliged to reply. We will text anyway.

I love you.

Claire

I finished the letter with a wistful smile, folded it, and wrote Jamie’s address on the envelope.

“Claire!” Louise waved from the door. “Are you coming?”

I secured the envelope between the pages of a book in my luggage, and headed outside. I would stop by the post office first thing tomorrow.

“What were you doing, Miss Bennet?” Robert raised an eyebrow, but his gaze didn’t leave the book he was reading.

“Ha, bloody, ha.” I replied, refraining from replying to his question.

At that moment, I realised that I had forgotten to mention Robert in my letter, but I didn’t know how to describe him to Jamie either. He was the oldest one here, but he didn’t talk a lot and his cocky behavior always made me wonder why he had volunteered in the first place. He was working in the adult department and organized the Math Club in the afternoon, so we didn’t really interact during the week. He was the actual reason, however, I didn’t participate in the Math Club. I didn’t want to be stressed during the afternoon activities, dealing with his sour behavior. Jeremy was much closer to the type of people I would usually be friends with.

“So, are we doing the BBQ tomorrow?” Louise asked, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

I shrugged and saw Margaret’s anxious gaze passing across all our faces, waiting for anyone else to speak first.

“I think it’ll be cool. We haven’t really spent much time together.” Jeremy was lying in a deckchair, and he rose on his elbows to look at us. “What do you think, St. Germain?”

“Why do you keep calling him by his last name?” I inquired, narrowing my eyes at Robert as I took the seat next to Louise.

“I don’t know.” Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows, as if he had just realized he had been doing that.

“I don’t mind,” Robert said. “All my friends call me St. Germain. Not that any of you would ever be anything close to my friends,” he added, and I grimaced.

“Of course your Highness,” Louise mocked him in return. “So, it’s decided. We’re doing the BBQ tomorrow.” She bit her lip, then, and looked around. “Where is Helga?”

“She had an additional first aid training session.” Margaret fidgeted with her skirt, then fixed her gaze on the swimming pool tiles.

Louise saw me observing Margaret, and she leaned closer to me. “She’s getting better. When I first came she hardly talked to any of us.” Seeing my questioning glance, she continued. “She’s not well. Her boyfriend died last year. Cancer.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered, trying not to seem upset in case Margaret chanced a look at us. She didn’t, but Robert did, and when his eyes found mine there was an expression on his face I couldn’t quite decipher. Something between loss and understanding.

Well, that was new.  

I had no idea Margaret’s time here was part of a healing process for her, and that made me realize I hardly knew anything about my roommates’ lives outside of Zambia, and certainly not enough to reach any conclusions on their characters. Maybe Robert had been an arrogant arse who began to change his attitude after volunteering. Maybe he had realized there was something more important than his little insignificant world.

“I’m in for tomorrow,” he said in his deep voice, eyes back on the pages of his book. I had seen him reading it the previous day and I had already read the book, but never mentioned it to him. It wasn’t that I wanted to start a conversation with him.

Louise shot me a questioning stare. “Yes, yes, I’m in, too,” I agreed. “Margaret?” It took her a moment to come back to reality and I noticed that her eyes were moist. “Will you come to the BBQ party tomorrow?” I asked, trying not to add any pressure to my tone.

She nodded and smiled, the colour of her eyes a deep chocolate brown that made me smile back.

“Perfect!” Louise stood up, stretched, and declared, “We have to go shopping.”  

“Will we invite the rest of the volunteers? The locals? I’m sure Chikondi would be glad to come.”

Robert rolled his eyes, but Jeremy agreed with me. With Louise’s and Margaret’s nods, he left the house to inform everyone about our little party.

“Tell them to bring food and drinks!” Louise shouted after him and he waved his hand, signaling that he had heard her.

Margaret rose from her chair, coming to ask Louise about the food and I joined them, looking at Robert over my shoulder. “Well, are you coming? Or do we have to do everything while you lounge here with your book?” I sneered at him.

He heaved a heavy sigh and rose, leaving his book on the table next to my chair. “Happy?”

“Whatever you say.”

“Let’s go!” Louise nodded towards the street and linked her arm with Margaret’s, leaving me and Robert behind. Robert smiled at Margaret when she turned to look at us, a real smile, and it was the first time I noticed that he had always been kind to her.

Maybe he’s not that bad.

When he looked down at me, a sly grin replaced the smile on his face. “Nice hair.”

I resisted patting my hair, even though I could feel that my curls had gone wild with the humidity, but I couldn’t resist huffing.

No, he’s definitely a prat.

Five minutes later we were in the town center, checking the food counters. I stood in front of a bowl of caterpillars, wondering if any of the rest had tried them. Chikondi had told me that ifinkubala were delicious, fried and served with tomatoes, onions and nshima, the staple carbohydrate of Zambia. They certainly didn’t seem delicious.

“Don’t even think about it,” Robert drawled, glancing at the bowl with disdain.

I wondered if Jamie would try them. He was always so adventurous with food. Seeing that he had eaten haggis regularly, I could easily imagine him eating caterpillars. I took a picture with my phone, smiling at the woman behind the counter, intending to send it to him when we went back to the house.

“Are you done?” Robert asked in a bored voice.

“Yes, I’m done,” I replied keeping my own voice as flat as possible.

“Let’s go then. I think we stayed long enough in the vicinity of fried insects.”

“They’re larvae, actually.”

He rolled his eyes, making it obvious how mundane he found this information. “I want to buy vitumbuwa for my afternoon tea,” he stated, as if I was in his service and I should buy them for him.

I struggled for a moment, trying to remember what vitumbuwa was without asking him. He must have seen my face because he snickered, “The fried dough balls with sugar.”

“Oh, right!” I smiled. I wanted to buy some of them too. And even though I wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was right -- they would be perfect with tea.

I checked my phone for any messages from Jamie, but I realized it was still too early for him. I saw his smile in my background picture, however, and smiled back, as if he could see me.

Jamie would definitely eat caterpillars. And if he’d like them, he would try to feed them to me too.

For the first time in the two weeks since I had arrived in Zambia, I found an advantage on Jamie staying back in Michigan. At least I could avoid the caterpillars without a battle now. Chuckling, I walked next to Robert, who shot me a strange glance but proceeded with his search for vitumbuwa, ignoring me further.

Not caring a bit, I smiled again. Today was Saturday. And that meant I could go to the cafe and call Jamie the moment he woke up.

Chapter 52

[sepiadice]

DiceJar Campaign 0.1: A Slippery Slope (2020/01/03)

So I return to the mighty throne of the GM Screen! To pull the strings, interpret the weavings of fate, mold the world to my whims and desires!

However, I’m going from a module, namely Crypt of the Everflame, made famous by Trix’s adventures. So I’m treading old ground, though with fewer players, and only one returning from that adventure. The better part of a decade has passed since I played it, so plenty of details should’ve left the veterans.

The reason I’m playing out of the module is as a sort of learning experience: Viewing box text and published adventure design so that it may help develop my original adventures. As for why I chose this one: I really like the opening premise. New young adventures thrown together deliberately for their origin story. Often players get focused on making an exciting backstory that they forget to make what happens at the table be the most interesting part of their life. I think it’s charming.

It’s an element/theme I want to incorporate in future campaigns.

Anyways, how will the tomb dive go without Team Pesto?

Cast

Mogui (IndigoDie): A Hedge Mage for a Lord Grey. Essentially a living lawn ornament. He helps take care of the Lord’s menagerie. Sole repeat player of the Module.

Bernard ‘Bean’ Dipp (NavyDie): Still just a child, but his father is (supposedly) suffering polio, so young Bean needs to become the man of the house. GM of the campaign I just finished. Revenge time?

Yot (LimeDie): A traveling mercenary slash adventurer nevertheless being pulled into things because some players struggle with direction. Player is a vetran of an Improv club Navy and I were also members of.

Delilah Dunford (VermilionDie): The unruly daughter of the local snobby nobles. Roguish interests and talents. Player is also from my high school days, but not the High School game group.

Game Master (SepiaDie/Me): Everyone and thing else. Nervous wreck caught in his own head. Attended a High School once and participated in a college Improv Club.

Session One

I failed to change any proper nouns like I wanted, but I also avoided needing to say anyone’s names, so there’s still time.

There’s an immense backstory I summarized, because it was too long for me to read out and I can’t trust players to read.[1] Kassen is a town that evolved out of a hold built by a guy named Kassen, a soldier turned adventurer. One day, he went to fight an evil band of… bad people. Kassen succeeded, but succumbed to injuries taken. He was entombed in a crypt, where an eternal flame was lit. Every year, the mayor rides out to bring back a lantern lit by the flame to bless the town to survive the winter. Every couple of years, town youths are sent instead as a rite of passage.

This is one of the rite of passage years.

The mayor first meets with Mogui, a lonely mage working for one of the town’s two noble families. The mayor awkwardly stumbles through his invitation, which Mogui gladly accepts.

Next, the Mayor finds Bean waiting in the market square. The mayor, again, stumbles through his invitation, which Bean seems rather confused by the semantics of, needing to be specifically told not to just wait in the town center for two days but to come back on the actual day of departure.

Yot is found in a tavern, and attempts to talk a big game as the Mayor asks him to join the adventuring party. I still need to force a firmer connection between Yot and the town of Kassen, as my original plan of Yot belonging to what once was Kassen’s band of mercenaries was sunk before I could work it in.

Delilah pops up from behind the Mayor as he’s on his way to her family’s manor, and she eagerly joins the quest.[2]

Thus is our party arranged!

Two days later, at the predetermined time, they walk into the market square and I gently prompt them to give physical descriptions of their characters. Delilah is described as having slightly asymmetrical dark hair, while the rest focused more on height and relative ages.[4]

Mogui arrives with some sort of bipedal creature. Indigo didn’t actually know what he intended the creature to be, so I’m going to assume it’s a chocobo until gently corrected.[5] Everyone promptly forgot about it, even though it supposedly was following them.

The four mingle for a bit as I lost focus trying to recenter myself and review the next step. I tend to let my players just fill time until they get bored of their scene. I probably should work on keeping a good pace with the plot, but I also don’t want to step on their fun. It’s a difficult balance, especially if there’s no NPC handy to gently snark at them to move forward.

The bells of the Church of Polyhymnia[6] ring in the noontime.

The townspeople, dressed in blacks and other dark clothing, start to form a crowd around our adventurers. The mayor emerges with an old pony pulling a cart of supplies. He distributes backpacks to the adventurers, gives a prepared speech,[8] and sends our young heroes on their way.

Mixed into their supplies is a fourth of a map that, at an actual table, is supposed to be a real piece of paper torn and distributed to the players. Since we’re not in the same room and split between two states, I instead alluded to the paper in their bag for them to ask about, while also prepared to gently drop the detail if the players don’t engage. Pivot and roll!

Initially the torn map pieces are overlooked, and the party walks south, into the Fangwoods, following a trail that starts well-worn, but progressively fades.

A few hours into their hike, they come upon a fallen tree. Three orcs emerge from behind it, and initiative is rolled.

I overlooked a mechanic I was supposed to employ, a problem I had throughout the session. The module imbedded vital instructions mid-paragraph in the description, which means I overlooked having the players roll to disbelieve when they land hits or are hit. I did read the module in advance, though, but it’s easy to forget the details, especially details hidden away like that.

I’m a terrible note taker. In school, if I was taking notes, then I wasn’t paying attention to the lesson because I was focused on writing. This also made me a terrible stage manager. Half the reason behind these write-ups is to get the information down and in circulation in my memory because I’m not able to mid-session.

What I should be doing is reading (or writing) the module, and making a bullet point list of the bare mechanics. I sometimes do similar when trying to learn new systems.[9]

Delilah climbs into a tree to shoot arrows at one of the three Orcs, the other three taking the ground battle.

The orcs are quickly defeated, their corpses fading away. What a curious event that I’m sure has no explanation to be uncovered in the future. An utter curiosity.

At this point, the party finally pauses to ask if they know where they’re going.

Ah, time for pay off.

At this point, I describe how they’d been following a shrinking trail, but soon they won’t have it to rely on.

I’m asked to post the list of supplies to the text chat for them to pour over. A careful edit of the description of the map is needed, and I do so.

The party discusses the supplies shortly, and someone looks at their part of the map. I tell them it appears to be a fourth of a map.

NavyDie shrewdly asks if they’re all the same fourth of a map. He likely learned from the time I gave my players descriptions of dreams then later threw some wood blocks at them not to take paper for granted.[10]

I confirm that they each have a different fourth of the same map. So they jigsaw puzzle it, and Mending is cast. Now they have a single map, and a burned spell slot![12]

They follow their map for the remainder of the day. The sun began to set, and the party needed to make camp.

When the opportunity arises, players will want to roll dice, because rolling dice feels good,. So everyone rolled for the survival check meant for one.

Bean, our ranger, was the only one who failed. I punished him by having him punch a hole in his tent. Everyone goes to bed, though Yot elects to take watch for a few hours, with no intention of waking anyone to take a shift after him. He chose enough time, and made the proper check, to spot a wolf investigating the border of the campsite before slinking off.

Yot decides to increase the length of his watch a little longer. So he was still awake when the wolf returned with three friends.

New combat! Yot shouts to rouse his allies, succeeding in waking Bean and Mogui, who come out of their tents to assist. No one thinks to go wake up Delilah, so she gets to sit out of this combat.

A few rounds occur, with the lead wolf eventually knocking Yot down and mauling him a tad. Mogui uses magic to scare off the other two, but lead wolf stays intent on his objective:[13] food.

The wolf makes his way into the camp, takes a mouthful of food, and skedaddles. I declare the end of combat. Bean buries the remainder of the food,[14] and everyone goes back to sleep.

With the morning arrival, and the completion of a long rest, the journey to Kassen’s Crypt continues.

The map leads them to the shore of a large lake on a misty morning, the grey skies and fog obscuring the horizon. A bandit lays dead on the beach. Our protagonists investigate the body, and find signs of an attack by a massive serpent. The body also has a sword and a wallet of gold on him, but they are left as the body is entombed into a shallow, sandy grave.

Travel continues, and they crest a small hill overlooking a serpentine valley, within which rests Kassen’s Tomb.

This then proceeds into my second big mistake: I overlooked the acrobatics check hidden with the descriptions and had my players roll directly on the failure table. Again, the table carefully set apart drew my eye. I’m learning! Poorly!

Still, someone ran into three different trees on the way down, so at least it was amusing, if unnecessarily punishing. I’ll quietly retcon away any damage taken in apology at start of next session.

Down the overly slippery hill, a small stable’s worth of dead mounts await: two horses and three ponies, the horses long dead, the ponies a little more recent. None the same day our party arrived, however.

A description of a fancy rune in the doorway’s keystone is given, and the session ends, exploration of the dungeon saved for the next session a fortnight later.

As usual, the session was characterized with me being stressed over keeping it running and attempting to follow the script of the module. The few times I’ve managed successive sessions has hinted that I’m able to settle in as things go on and the players figure out the table dynamic. I’m mostly confident I’ll figure it out.

While I am learning the value of boxtexts,[15] modules still invoke a sense of containment on me. A fear that if I, as a GM, stray too far, I’ll accidentally break something. I don’t enjoy scripts, that’s why I did improv. Scripts means you can make mistakes that need course correction.

But I’m playing with friends, we’re learning to be a cohesive performance troupe, and hopefully this will turn into a podcast. For the future.

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.

-

[1] I’ll grant them the benefit of the doubt that they’re literate. [2] I’m seeing a combined Trix and the Sorceress[3] from her party. I’m going to have fun with that. [3] Indigo says her name was Makenna. [4] Which will make the process of creating sprite pawns for them slightly more difficult. I’ll ask them on the discord for physical appearances when I’m done writing this. [5] Were it not bipedal, I might’ve steered him into making it into a riding jackalope. They’re… kinda my pet fantastic beast. Usually ridden by mail carriers. [6] Originally the Church of a Pathfinder Deity, but I’m transplanting the module into D&D Fifth Edition anyways, so might as well sneak the details of my setting[7] into the margins. Helps everyone’s already just human. [7] Is this canon with the abandoned Genesys campaign? You decide! [8] When I have something to read, the mayor loses the stammering and uncertainty he has when I’m doing it off the cuff. This is because I’m not awkwardly trying to do things off the cuff. [9] I should have a file that’s basically Maid RPG Lite floating around due this same habit. [10] The one time I planned for my players to ‘cheat’ and show each other the notes I gave them, and the clowns kept the notes to themselves. You literally cannot rely on anyone to do anything like they should.[11] [11] I’d say you can trust players to make things harder for themselves, but return to footnote 10. [12] When I played through this module, I arrived after the mayor distributed the backpacks, and the party already had investigated their maps. So I don’t know how this puzzle was solved then. I also don’t remember the Orc encounter. [13] Behind the screen fun: while I rolled three times fairly, I applied the single success to who I wanted. For narrative reasons. I often play favorites in this manner. [14] Sure. [15] Along with listening to Dice Friends streams/podcast.

[psybomb]

On Government Funding

Because I’m a bit of a masochist, it seems. Got into a heated discussion the other day about various bits of the US Government, and I made the point that said government has no reason to be crying about funding. They have about a dozen different levers they can pull to increase funding, and taken together they’re MORE than enough to fund everything even the most Left candidate is currently floating as ideas.

My statement got called a bluff, and that I should prove it. Although I didn’t exactly present a dozen on the spot, I DID drop eight into the proverbial table. Going to drop them here as well, maybe someday by the magic of sharing the list will come to someone who can use it. Nothing below should be a surprise, basically none of it is of my own invention. I just farm for ideas, do the math, and present them.

Before the list itself starts, some background. The US Government tax model is transactional in nature. That is, money that changes hands while within the system generates revenue for the government. This in turn leads to twin philosophies on how to raise revenues. You either increase the amount of “mobile” money (thus increasing the number of times you get a cut), or access funds that were locked away and inaccessible.

Lever 1, Tax Static Wealth: Assess the net worth of every individual, and present a tax for worth over a certain amount. Candidate Elizabeth Warren is catching heat for this one, but it makes a lot of sense. The majority of the real wealth in the country is static, unmoving. It goes to a bank account and stays there to keep score and nothing else. The idea here is to access this locked wealth, either a one-time large hit or annual small ones. If you set the baseline amount at something like $10 million, you are effectively ignoring any money being used to actually live. At that point you have enough for yourself and your children (possibly your grandchildren) to live in comfort until the day you die without lifting a finger to work for another cent, ever.

As the goals go, this falls within “accessing locked away funds”. Probably the cleanest and easiest lever to pull with the lowest actual impact on standard of living, as long as you are careful about what’s counted (such as excluding active farmland).

Lever 2, Progressive Income Tax: Although this is in theory already in effect, much more can be done with it. Top rates have been at or over 90% in the past, and can return there. In some versions of this, the idea of a “billionaire” should not be able to reasonably exist, since personal gains over a certain point go almost entirely to the government for use elsewhere. The idea is also to exclude reinvested income, money that goes to opening plants, paying workers better, upgrading lines, etc.

This forces mobility and prevents the above hoarding that is currently taking place. It also greatly encourages companies to create better infrastructure as opposed to short-term shareholder profits, since those shareholders have way less reason to care about raw dollars after a certain point.

Lever 3, Charitable and Church organizations: I nicknamed this one the “Joel Osteen” tax. Take a good hard look at organizations like the Salvation Army or mega churches, which are currently tax-exempt on income due to it being donated. Take the difference between donated income and charitable outlays (not maintaining their church, actual actions taken feeding the poor, housing the homeless, healing the sick, etc) and remove it from tax-exempt status. Preferably, this comes with an amount ignored in order to allow small community churches to still exist. Also preferrably comes with a rate way higher than typical tax brackets.

This has several effects, besides accessing locked funds. It forces organizations that claim to be charitable to actually do charitable things instead of sponging off of people who are trying to do good. It also means that charitable giving write-offs end up doing actual goal actions.

Lever 4, Public Assistance Employer Tax: this one is simple enough. Apply an additional tax to medium and large companies according to how much public assistance cash their employees draw (things like SNAP or heavily subsidized health plans). Suggestions range from 25% to 110% (not a typo) of the amount being given to their employees. If the last one was Joel Osteen tax, this is the Walmart/Amazon one. It targets employers who profit pretty much directly off of the assistance the government has to pay their employees.

This is the first lever with potentially significant bottom-level consequences. It heavily encourages employers to keep full-time employees and pay them well (plus puts many more workers into ACA-mandated company health plans), but punishes those who can’t or prefer not to work 40 hours. It also means that most workers will only have one significant job, for good or ill. However, it again creates more asset mobility (in this case, by ensuring that workers are able to pay for goods and by offsetting what the government has to use to support the underpaid) and prevents a lot of wealth-hoarding when it comes at the expense of human misery.

Lever 5, Pursue those profiting off of public investments. Things like initial medical research, NASA-sourced materials (and even things like ergonomic seats), and the like. In essence, either make the use of these like a license, or fine windfall profits on such things. This will allow much more in the way of public research, and force price-setting to be more in the realm of reason. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is pushing this extremely hard, particularly in relation to pharmaceutical companies who are profiting off of research they themselves didn’t fund until the very last steps (if at all).

Same goals are in play. Free up cash to be more mobile on the bottom level (by both making better research available and allowing people to spend less on things they helped fund already) and prevent wealth-locking by those at the top. The problem is that this can sometimes discourage necessary public-private partnerships needed to utilize production capacity that the government does not natively have (such as actually making enough of a medicine for general sale)

Lever 6, Elimination of Unneeded Subsidies: here’s one that’s constantly floating around. The question, as usual, is determining exactly which subsidies are not needed. Me personally, the criteria are threefold. First, what percentage of the industry’s profits come as a subsidy result. Second, how important is what it is trying to encourage versus the outlays. Third, the cost of retraining affected people to similar industry that is not propped up. Yes, Coal, I’m talking about you specifically, but quite a few other pork issues can be done away with.

While this is not pure revenue like the above, it reduces waste and allows funds already being gathered to be used to better effect. The problem is that there are going to be losers on this one, lots of them.

Lever 7, Captive Consumer Regulation: this is phrased very carefully, and for good reason. In essence, certain industries have recently discovered that they can get away with highway robbery because their consumers do not have the option to walk away. This specifically refers to medical and higher education costs, but can also apply to things like bail bond companies. People who abuse a place that should be about public service for personal gain. The result has been prices increasing entirely out of proportion to costs, and significantly reduced end quality.

The goal, as usual, is to return liquidity to those forces into the system and keep those at the top for hoarding profits. In this case, fixing these systems also ends with vastly increased quality of life overall along with societal benefits. The problem, as usual, is in how to solve it. Lots of opinions I won’t get into here, the point is that none are being acted upon.

Lever 8, pursue Offshoring: This is not necessarily targeting call centers in India, I mean more in the way of tax havens and foreign incorporation. Companies that are gaining the benefits of being based in the US without paying back into the system, and people keeping their money offshore and out of circulation. I will not touch things like buying foreign steel, that is free market and not the place of this post to discuss.

The point, just like above, is to keep money in the system and moving in both directions. Use the Panama Papers (remember that?) as a checklist and get it all back within the borders. The problem is that this is the most difficult of these options to pursue, with the lowest bang for the buck. Also difficult to perform with our receding place on the world stage.

Now, I’m sure someone reading this will have issues with some of the above. No problem, more than happy to discuss them. The point is that the options exist, and heavily benefit the lowest and middle members of society. Powers in charge just do not have the will to do so for the most part, despite their being little negative impact except to those committing societal fouls already. Why is this? Various reasons, which I will discuss another time. The point is that they exist.

[oko-ideas]

My Journal: My Journey

Week 1: Wednesday, September 4, 2019

The more you know the more you know you don’t know - Aristotle

 I arrived in Canada on August 10, 2019 and had been looking forward to another exciting chapter in my education. The first class for this course GSE 510: Academic Reading and Writing was on September 4, 2019. As I made my way to the campus I kept wondering what the personality of the lecturer would be. Charismatic? Assertive? Friendly disposition? I found out it was an online course once I arrived at Nicholls room 310. Together with a group of 11 confused students we huddled around the two computers in the room for the class. Luckily for us a colleague was able to set up the big screen in the class just as the lecturer, Professor Mitchel Mc Lamon-Silk started teaching. There were initial issues with sound and feedback from the class but eventually the class ended successfully and we were generally introduced to the course. As I made my way out of Bishop’s University on my way home that night, these words kept ringing a bell in my years: “Remember how you entered; be proud of how you leave”. I just learned a new word on day one: epistemological! 😊😊 Allons-y!

 Week 2: Wednesday, September 14, 2019

There is only one good…knowledge and only one evil…ignorance- Socrates

I completed reading the preface and chapter 1 of Giltrow. A bit difficult to digest at times but I have the impression that this is the time for me to ask probing questions and take risks as I prepare to apply the necessary academic and non-academic pieces. The online class started with minimal technical hitches. Style and genre were the key areas of discussion. My colleagues gave different ways they understood style and genre but in my opinion genre determines the style to be used when writing. For example, I can post classified advertisements online or in the print media without using a dictionary, thinking about margins, spacing, font size or use of abbreviations. Practically free style. I was in a group with Todd, Kim, David and Gretchan and we had to put in practice what we just learnt about genre form chapter one. We wrote a hotel review which gave us an opportunity to use a humoristic yet mundane style to complete the review. Another interesting class. 😎 Genial!

  Week 3: Wednesday, September 18, 2019

“There is no method of knowing when one has reached the truth, or when one is closer to it than before.” Rorty, 1983

My understanding of academic writing and reading is gradually getting clearer. I spent hours reading Cleo H. Cherryholmes’s piece on academic writing in preparation for the class. I am also beginning to get a grasp of the academic community’s code of writing and the textual complexity I have to grapple with especially when reading most of the reading materials for the course. For example supporting arguments raised in research findings, questioning or challenging others and raising new areas of interest for discussion.  

Another area which has not generally attracted my attention over the years is the prevalence of patriarchy across many literary genres and the implicit or explicit gender bias towards feminism during my reading. The linguistic privilege of the masculine for in French, Spanish and English grammar is well known but can anything be done about it in the 21st century? Are researchers adequately addressing these issues? 🤓

I can still recollect one of my former French lecturers (from France) when I was in college who always had a slogan during grammar lessons...”en grammaire l’homme est fort” (The man is strong in grammar). 💪 From a historique perspective, the Académie Française, the pre-eminent French council for matters pertaining to the French language was officially established in 1635. Since it was established it has had 732 member out of which only a paltry 9 have been women. A clear case of androcentrism perpetuated for centuries not only in the French language but in other romance languages.

References.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Académie_française

https://youtu.be/NwI79Gcbq3s

Amusez-vous! 👩‍👩‍👧‍👦

Week 4 : Wednesday, September 25, 2019 Audience

I  started reading chapter 4 before  the class...quite long. I  gathered that social routines make it easier for  us to communicate primarily because  we  are  familiar with our audience. However, how do we  define audience? This is  what  we  discussed  in our  group.  We did  not come out with a clear definition but we all agreed  an audience is  the recipient  of a specific  message. This discussion additionally took us  back  to the relationship between genre and audience. 

Week 5: Wednesday, October 2, 2019. Coloring Epistemologies

Patti Lather’s text on paradigm proliferation was difficult to read so I had to read it twice before understanding her arguments and her message. She argued that researchers should have the ability to navigate the constantly changing landscape of educational research. Additionally, she called for an understanding and tolerance of diverse epistemological perspectives and methodologies, especially in the field of education. She referred to this as an “epistemology of emancipation”. I strongly believe in this call to move educational research in many different directions in the hope that more interesting and useful ways of learning would eventually emerge. This is a reflection of Giltrow chapter 3 which encourages writers to take a position as they write. I look forward to doing just this in my academic writing.

Week 6:Wednesday, October 9, 2019

Scholarly styles and the discursive I.

“Writing in the first person helps to make clear the author's role in constructing rather than discovering the story/knowledge.” ― Gayle Letherby , Feminist Research in Theory and Practice.

My main topic of interest for the week was scholarly styles and the discursive I. Reading some of the scholarly texts for this course has been challenging especially with reference to Patti Lather and the contextual complexity of her writing. This scholarly style of writing tends to be exclusionary and elitist in my opinion. Trying to derive meaning from such material can be painstaking, challenging and frustrating sometimes especially if I have to consult a dictionary every few minutes. 

Oko: after reading Patti Lather...

Another scholarly style which can be difficult to read is agentless writing or heavily nominal sentences. Noun phrases or noun strings bear a heavy load and can easily lead to ambiguity and the loss of meaning especially to the average reader looking for simple information.

There appears to be divided opinions with regard to the use of the discursive I. However, I strongly believe that writers in the scholarly style should be allowed to have some latitude in the use of the discursive I.  I believe that the absence of this technique erases elements of identity, the ability to predict or forecast based on the writer’s personal experience or observation. 

All these points discussed will help shape my writing style as I keep my audience in mind throughout the period of my academic writing at Bishop’s.

WEEK 7: OCTOBER 16, 2019

RHETORICAL TECHNIQUES: ETHOS, PATHOS, LOGOS.

The use of rhetorical devices such as ethos, pathos and logos was one of the important topics of the week. In addition to the video we watched in class, this video I uploaded even makes it easier for me to understand the use of these three techniques in writing or in speeches. Another important take from this week is the technique for citation in academic writing. It was an area I always found tricky and challenging but I am now ready to explore the technique to make my writing acceptable at the graduate level. I especially appreciate the way Prof Mitchell took his time to walk the class through the appropriate steps when citing in academic writing using a chapter from his PhD thesis. Bravo Monsieur! 🥇🥇

Reading the text, “A kind word for Bullshit” was fun. 😂😂Probably the most interesting article about academic writing I’ve ever read. So is academe the mother lode of bullshit? Is academic writing bullshit of the worst kind? Is bullshitting a male genre? And is the aim of academic writing to ex-communicate certain readers? I will ponder over these questions for a long time. 

Based on the importance of this week’s class and reading I will have another look at my Critical Response paper and make amendments and corrections. The learning process and consolidation of different writing genres is becoming more and more practical to me.

WEEK 8: WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 23, 2019.

The greatest of all pleasures is the pleasure of learning- Aristotle.

More on rhetorical concepts and writing tips.

After weeks of classes, head scratching, reading and assignments, the chips of academic writing are finally falling in place for me. This is another important week in the process of developing my writing skills even further. Last week was a pivotal point but the reinforcements this week have even added more ammo to my writing arsenal.

 Notable tips for this week 

1. Using short headings as I write

2. Supporting an argument I raised with detailed information, supported with citations.

3. Putting my unique and independent perspectives in my arguments.(Discursive I)

4. Citing other sources to support an argument (which I generally overlook).

5. Giving an account of something new I learnt in any reading.

6. Including the educational value of the text.

7.Avoiding sweeping generalizations.

8.Defining key terms when they first appear.

9. Staying within the word limit.

10. Taking APA very serious at all levels of my work. (My Achilles heel) 

With this in mind I realized I could have avoided several mistakes when I did my critical response assignment. I will certainly take everything I have studied so far into consideration as I go over my critical response paper and make the necessary improvements. 

Aristotle stated that the greatest of all pleasures is the pleasure of learning. It’s been a real pleasure for me as I have learnt so much within a relatively short period of time at Bishop’s and especially in all my three interesting courses  since the beginning of the semester. Prof Mitchel has been very patient and encouraging throughout this journey.  With this rich and insightful course on academic writing, I hope to continuously strive to maintain acceptable academic writing standards with my target audience in mind at all times. Hasta la vista...