#and i talked to both of my supervisors who also gave me good advice

[stevethehairington]

besties i have an interview tomorrow for a new position that i want so so so bad and i am. QUAKING IN MY BOOTS ABOUT IT FUSKSKFKSKS

[victoriansecret]

I'm in my mid-30s and my ever-growing love for history has spurred me to consider a career change into the field. I'd love to work in a museum or archive in a research or curatorship role (rather than as an academic), and I live somewhere where I could take time out to get a masters degree.

From your experience - is a change like this feasible? Is there work available? Will a late (re)start be a hindrance to getting a foot in? Is a degree worth it, or should I aim to get volunteer experience instead? Or am I better off sticking with my current decent office job and treating historical research as a passion/free-time activity instead?

This is a great question, and I wanted to give you as good an answer as possible so I outsourced to a friend and former colleague who worked in collections. This is what she had to say: *follow the Emerging Museum Professional FB page. There is lots of advice there

*I don’t think it’s ever too late to follow your dreams. You’re in your mid-30s, not 99! (Although even then I’d say go for it!)

* I’d recommend volunteering at a place you would be interested in working in. It’ll give you a better sense whether or not this is actually a field you’d like to get into, or just a fun hobby. Both answers are totally ok

* I’m a fan of experience over degrees, but it really depends on where you would want to work. Many positions require a masters degree, but not all. If you are in a small town, or more rural area, it would be easier to talk your way into a position than if you are in a big city

* if you’ve loved history for a long time, try to articulate how skills you have in your hobby or through your office jobs relate to the museum field. I used to manage cafes and found that many of those skills transitioned into collections management (inventory, databasing, customer interactions, etc.)

Best of luck! ---

I will echo her point that it's definitely not too late and if it's something you're truly passionate about it's worth at least considering. Obviously it's not always that simple - giving up a stable, decent job is a risk etc., so while I'm generally not a fan of volunteer work, it might be worth trying it just to see if it's something you would like as much as you think. I will also agree with her point about experience over degrees. I've never been to college at all myself, which is a huge rarity in this field, and when I got my first museum job my only work experience was running a salad bar at a restaurant. But my supervisor told me, years after the fact, that part of why she gave me an interview was that in my cover letter I made an analogy comparing running a salad bar to being a historic interpreter: something about how being in the middle of the dining room meant the bar and by extension myself were always on display, and how that would mean I'd be more comfortable with thousands of guests seeing me in period clothing etc. Granted, interpreting is very much about talking and making analogies to help guests understand the past, so it's a bit different from the behind the scenes work in how those skills translate, and how demonstrating an ability to talk is directly related to the work itself, but still. I hope this is helpful, and I hope that if you do decide to pursue this it works out how you hope! Thanks for the question!

[toadkisses]

alistairs years in review

alistair has decided to publicly journal a summary of whats been going on the past two/three years or so. nobody is expected or obligated to read it, im just nostalgic for when i used to update my blog very frequently w/ life events :-)

this does contain descriptions of animal neglect btw though!

early 2020 i went to dog grooming school, i really loved my mentor. it was the first time since i was a kid that i looked forward to school! it was especially nice for a while because i was the only student for a bit. part of my education was handling phone calls and talking to clients, and i told my mentor how people have been trying to get me to be comfortable on the phone for years and no one has yet. but wouldnt you know! i really did get there!

i like working with the dogs, and i find caring for them to be really enriching. im also pretty good at it! i like grooming poodles the most, their hair texture is really great to work with.

a few months in though, we went into lockdown and i didnt get back to school for a while. eventually i did return, and there were other students, so it was cool that i got to have one-on-one education and companionship too?

before i graduated i had a job offer, a salon reached out to my mentor looking for new graduates. when i graduated my mentor hugged me because im one of her favorites :-)

the new salon was an interesting experience. there were three other groomers, a bather, and a receptionist. they were all very welcoming and involved me in conversation, gave me advice. i liked them and felt comfortable, the position also had some pretty nice benefits. however, after a few weeks i noticed they had a very different opinion on how to correct dog behaviors.

physically disciplining dogs is a divisive issue in the animal care community. i’ve always been against it, and my mentor was as well. however, it is commonplace in some practices to hit a dog if it is being aggressive or reactive. i very strongly disagree with it, but i wanted to give context that it is considered acceptable by many people who work with dogs.

my coworkers weren’t as extreme as some people i’ve heard about, but my supervisor still whacked a dogs muzzle with a metal comb when it whined and pulled away while she was brushing its tangles out. spankings were not uncommon.

they also made “jokes” and comments about gay and trans people that made me VERY uncomfortable. i wasnt out to any of them, so my supervisor felt comfortable commenting about how many gay people they had apply to the position and how it was so weird. when a coworker talked about a same gender client tipping her well and complimenting her appearance, and joked that it was because the client had a crush on her, the receptionist yelled, “FAGGOT!!!!” to much laughter.

i wound up talking to the owner (who was not a groomer or regularly in the shop) and resigned. i was there for maybe two months? i wish it had worked out, and the owner took me seriously and wanted me to stay while he instituted new policies, but i think it would have been very obvious who the whistleblower was since i was the only new person in the salon, haha. my mentor was really supportive and encouraged me to find a job elsewhere, and helped me look at options. she’s great!

after about a month, i applied to a salon near my home. a week later, i got a call from the doggy daycare i worked at for multiple years previously, and they wanted me to come over and groom for them. i found out later that they were in the process of buying the salon i applied to, which is how they knew i was looking for a job.

the center is connected to a vet office, and they told me they were in the process of opening a grooming branch for dogs being boarded. there was only one other groomer at the moment, and i’d be assisting her until the client base grew enough for both of us to be actively grooming. i was happy enough with this when it was presented.

i was happy to be back in the daycare environment, since it was familiar to me and i knew most of the staff pretty well. i was working with a groomer with about ten years experience, who was about 50, and we got along well.

issues became apparent fairly quickly, though. the room we were grooming in was in a windowless basement, so it got up to 80 degrees fahrenheit and 80% humidity at some times. the lighting was pretty poor. there was black mold under the sink, which i had actually found a year earlier while working there, and it hadnt been addressed since.

sometimes when grooming, one will have to stop the groom or do a less polished job than one would like if the dog is being aggressive or is clearly overstressed. other times, a dog will have health conditions that make it impossible to groom in a normal salon environment. when this happens, the usual course of action is to recommend that the dog be taken to a veterinary groomer, so they can be given medical support during the groom, by people who are trained to handle behavioral or health issues.

neither i nor my coworker were aware when we took the job that we would be getting veterinary groom clients.

you see neglect cases every so often when you are a groomer, and its never pleasant. matted fur makes every step a dog takes painful. it constricts bloodflow to the skin, so when you shave the dog, the blood rushes through previously bound vessels, and they can bleed through their skin. even if they dont, it still feels painful, but the mats have to come off, or theyll just get worse. mats can hide fungal or bacterial infections, or wounds, or bugs, or waste material. and, since its painful, and the dogs arent used to being groomed and dont understand, theyre often combative. im obviously very sympathetic, and would never blame a dog for acting aggressively under these circumstances. but i still have to avoid getting bit!

before working at the vets, i would usually see neglect cases about once a month. and i would be patient, and help the dog feel better, and was usually able to walk away feeling more good that i had helped it, than sad that it was necessary for me to.

at the vets, we were seeing neglect cases almost every day. we were left alone in a room with a dog that one of the vets was scared to get close to, and expected to shave his entire body. the dogs didnt get any sort of sedative or calming agent, because the vet office hadnt established any such protocol yet. and even though he had scars on his neck from a shock collar, by bringing a dog to the groomers, in the eyes of the law, the owner isnt neglecting it.

every day had the two of us in a hot, poorly lit room, me trying to hold a thrashing, panicked dog still enough for my coworker to groom it. even the normal clients we got still had to be done in a difficult environment.

the emotional toll was intense, and i gave them my two weeks notice after a few months. the owner of the clinic has known me since i was a teen, and tried very hard to keep me. and again, i wish it could have worked out. but the physical environment wasnt suited to grooming, and i was not up for burning myself out on grooming when i had graduated six months prior.

i still live at home, and since i had been suicidal, my family was understanding with me taking a break from work, and i was lucky enough to be able to.

im going to cut this here, but im planning on writing more about my dreadful medical experiences and how my darling perfect girlfriend and i got together later :-)

[myglogic]

Priceless | Bang Chan | 04

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Pairing: rich kid! Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x female reader

Genre: Crime, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count: 3,4k

Summary: Chan knows. He knows who you are.

DISCLAIMER: Everything in this fanfic is fiction - that includes Chan’s fictional father who of course does not represent Chan’s real father! ♥

There he was, sitting in his chair while staring at you. One of the biggest and most successful journalists of Seoul Times and also your new boss. He was wearing a nice suit, probably Gucci or something. His hair was slicked back and he looked like he walked straight out of a magazine.

Before he could say anything you politely bowed. “Hello, Mr. Lee! My name is Y/N and Hana asked me to work next to you as your assistant. I hope that we can do a great job together.”, you said as politely as possible. Your hands were sweaty and you just hoped that you didn’t embarrass yourself.

Then you heard a laugh. “Why are you so formal? Okay, I get it, I’m your boss. But you look around my age. Please, call me Minho. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”, he got up and shook your hand.

You looked at him in shock. “Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just… you are such a big name around here. I wanted to be polite.”

He gave you a smile. “It’s okay, really! Oh, and I don’t usually wear this kind of attire. I just had an interview where they took pictures of me. Expect me to come here with my beloved sweatpants.”

You looked at him weirdly. Well, if you had such a high position you could do whatever you want. But he was a little too laidback. Not that it was bad but it was just unusual. “Okay. What should I do? Research? Edit articles?”

Minho sat back down and put his feet on his desk with his hands behind his head. “Is that what you have been doing the whole time? Editing?”

You nodded as you put your own stuff on your desk. “Yeah. So much for a journalistic degree, huh?”

Minho smirked. “Well, you aren’t here to do that. What is your dream? Tell me. You must have come here with something on your mind.”

You took a sip out of your water bottle as you thought about his question. “I guess writing the frontpage article? I actually asked Mr. Park and had a proposition but he didn’t see me as experienced enough.”

Minho played with his bracelet and then looked at you. “As you can see, we don’t have much of an age difference. Persistence is the key and a little help from someone who has experience. That would be me in this case. When I started here 4 years ago, I was doing the exact same thing as you but I convinced my supervisor that I was capable of doing more.”

“Are you saying that you want to help me?”, you asked in surprise.

He nodded confidently. “Yes! What do you want to write about?”

You hesitated for a second. Could you trust him? At the same time, this was your chance to finally do more than just editing. “Kevin Bang, how shitty of a person he is and all of his wrongdoings.”, you said in a serious tone.

Minho’s eyes widened a little at the mention of his name. “What? Kevin Bang? You do know that he has a lot of power over the media, don’t you?”

“There was this girl who exposed him at the gala, so there is already a lot of negative press. I have been doing a lot of research about him. I have more proof than any other reporter in this city.”, you said confidently.

Minho’s expression faltered. “What kind of proof?”

“I won’t show you that. If you help me with Mr. Park, I will write the article and when it’s finished, you can read over it. Is that alright with you? Because I’m still not done with my research.”, you told him, waiting for his response. You needed to make sure that you could trust him.

Then he looked at you with the same amount of confidence as you. “Okay. Just write your article and if it’s frontpage-worthy I will tell Mr. Park about it.”

You smiled brightly at him. “Thank you, Mr. L-, I mean Minho.” You were excited and would have hugged him immediately if he wasn’t your boss. Hana was right, you could learn from him and see it as an opportunity to gain more experience.

Your first workday with Minho was more than okay. You got to know each other and it turned at that he was a really nice guy. It helped that he was your age too. He must have been a super genius to graduate so early and get so many promotions at that age. He was impressive, you had to give him that.

Maybe Minho was your ladder to success.

♥.

Three weeks passed and Chan was still driving you to work and home. You were still helping him with university work. Every time Chan drove you home, he insisted on eating something together before dropping you off home. Your relationship developed more into a friendship. Chan made you laugh and you had to admit that you had a great time with him whenever he was with you. He always asked you if you were fine and if you didn’t, he would make sure that you would feel good again. It felt nice for change.

This time you met Chan at a place of your choice. It was actually a small tteobokki stand in your neighborhood. Chan was a little confused at first.

“You brought me here for tteobokki?”, he asked, not really happy about your choice.

“Look, to understand Shakespeare, you need to have a full stomach and the best ttebokki in town!”, you said and fed him with one rice cake. “Nice, right?”

Chan was chewing but his expression changed quickly into a happy one. You smiled at him knowingly. You couldn’t figure out how he could be so sweet but his father was not? “Okay, I need more of this!”, Chan said while eating one more, happily.

“I noticed that you were a little down today, so I thought I would take you to my favorite spot in my neighborhood.”, you smiled at him, genuinely. Of course, you wanted to know if it had something to do with his father but something deep inside of you was curious and cared about Chan’s own feelings and thoughts. But you were totally denying that.

This was the thing. You were starting to see Chan in a completely different light. Very different from his father. You still didn’t trust him because, after all, he still is a Bang. But he was gentle and caring. Whenever he noticed that you had a bad day, he would bring you chocolate after picking you up from work. It was the small things that made you think differently of him.

“Really? Thank you.”, he smiled as he continued to eat the delicious rice cakes.

“So, spill. What’s bothering you?”

Chan stopped eating and sighed. “Maybe not here.”

You looked at him, confused. “Where else?”

“Follow me.”

Before you knew it, you were back in Chan’s car, heading to an area in Seoul that you have never been to before. It was a very posh and rich area, which didn’t surprise you. But what surprised you wasn’t the villa that Chan parked his car in front of. No, in fact, it was the treehouse that was behind the villa which seemed to carry a lot of memories for Chan.

The treehouse however was at least 4 meters up and it looked huge. Perks of being a rich kid.

“You want me to climb up there?!”, you said, your eyes widening. You would probably break a bone. Hell, you would break ten.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s safe, I promise!”, Chan assured you as he climbed up. You had to admit, the treehouse looked bigger than your apartment. Well, your apartment wasn’t that big either.

“If I break something, you have to buy me a new car!”, you said, jokingly, climbing the wobbly ladder. “Okay, I shouldn’t look down. Oh my god. Okay I looked down and that was the worst decision of my life!”

Chan smiled down at you as he watched you from the treehouse. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“A little.” That was the understatement of the century. You hated it. The background behind that was a kid that pushed you from the diving board when you were 6.

You were pretty far up and saw Chan’s face getting closer and closer. “Here, take my hand.”, he said as he reached out to you. You quickly grabbed his hand. You weren’t sure what kind of workout Chan did, but he pulled you up effortlessly but lost his balance and somehow you landed on top of him, your faces just a few centimeters apart.

“Thank you…”, you said, blushing furiously. What the hell? You shouldn’t be blushing, get your act together!

Chan cleared his throat as he looked at you. “Yeah, no problem.”

You quickly got up and looked around in the treehouse. It was decorated with tiny furniture. There was a rug where Chan sat down on. On the walls were pictures of his family, pictures which were probably drawn by Chan himself as a kid and a big teddy bear.

One picture piqued your interest. “Is this your mother?”

Chan stood up and stood next to you to inspect said picture. On the picture Chan looked around the age of 4 with his mother lifting him up in the air. Both of them looked happy. As if that was the happiest day of their lives.

Chan sighed a little. “Yeah. It was a year before she died.”

You have always wondered what really happened with his mother. The media never really spoke about Chan’s mother, probably because his father didn’t want it. “I’m sorry. What was the reason…? You don’t have to answer me though! Only if you are comfortable.”

Chan sat down on the rug again with you sitting closely next to him. “Oh, don’t worry. It was cancer but they found it in a very late stage. She had no chance of survival.”, he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Chan’s hand was right next to yours and you slowly put your hand on top his hand. “Everything happens for a reason. Even sad things like this.”

The young boy turned his head towards you. “Yeah. You’re right.”, he said as he took your hand and squeezed it. “The reason I took you here to talk is because I always come back here when I have a bad day. This house still belongs to dad and we used to live here when my mom was still alive. I think it’s the last memory I have left from her and coming back here feels like I’m getting motherly advice. I know it sounds stupid.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken, feeling his hand in yours. “No, it doesn’t. Everyone deals differently with their problems. I get it. No one will search for you here. I can see why you would come here.”

Chan completely turned to you. “I have a feeling that my dad doesn’t really trust me with his business. He is like a stranger sometimes. I feel like I only have a real father if I go to events with him. He is acting so strange when it comes to his job. I don’t know.”, he confessed.

The first thing that came to your mind was not “what is his father hiding?”, as it should have. No, you thought about Chan, who was telling you about his feelings and thoughts. You just wanted to hug him. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. My problems sound like a luxury to you, right?”

You thought about it for a second. “No, not really. I may struggle with money but I am truly happy when it comes to my family. You know… My father struggled a lot in the past. We lost everything because of some things and people in the past. But he never gave up on us. And not having a proper family sounds horrible to me. So, no. Your problems aren’t a luxury.”

“This is the first time that someone listened. I mean, really listened. Thank you, Y/N.”

Chan’s eyes never left yours. The air somehow thickened. You could have cut the tension with a knife. Before you knew it, both of you were inching closer to each other slowly. You didn’t know what was happening. It was as if your body was reacting on its own.

Before anything could happen, your phone rang and you quickly sprang apart. You then came back to your senses. You couldn’t fall for him. Never. You were planning on destroying his father. This was the last thing you should do!

“Uh… I should take this. I’ll go down… And then you can drive me home.”

Chan just nodded, not able to say anything after that weird situation.

♥.

You decided to not bring that almost kiss thing up again. Chan didn’t bring it up either. You were both talking about your feelings that day and you were emotional. Things like that can happen, right? Maybe. Maybe not.

You didn’t want to think about that moment because it made you feel weird. You felt flustered, your hands felt sweaty, so no. This was not the right feeling towards someone whose last name is Bang.

However, you couldn’t risk losing him because you still needed him for your article. This time, you invited him over to your little apartment because he was about to write his exam about Shakespeare and you wanted to study with him in a cozy environment. And nothing screamed more cozy than your apartment. You had told Jisung to go out so that he wouldn’t see Chan. He assumed that it was for a date and still teased you about it.

You were a little nervous for Chan to come to your apartment. Not only because of the whole treehouse incident but more because of the fact that you were hiding the true reason why you were spending time with him.

To make him feel more welcome, you decided to bake some cookies. They were in the oven and waited to be eaten. Then you heard the bell and you quickly let Chan in. “You look cold!”, you said and ushered him in.

“It is cold.”, he said and looked around in your apartment. “Looks cozy.”

You nodded. “I know, right?”

Chan then sat down on the couch of your living room and looked at you. “So, I brought my Shakespeare stuff. I hope I will pass the test without any problems.”, he said and smiled. “But with you as my teacher, I will pass for sure.”

You blushed a little. “No! You are a good student. Don’t pin this on me!”, you smiled at him and sat down next to him.

Chan sighed happily. “Isn’t it weird to sit here? You didn’t really like me and your car doesn’t work because of me. And yet, we’re here and you help me with Shakespeare.”

You felt a pang of guilt hit you because of the boy sitting right next to you. “Yeah. I guess my love for Shakespeare saved you, huh?”

He chuckled. “Thank god for Shakespeare.”, then Chan stopped and sniffed. “Uh… It smells like something is burning?”

Then your eyes widened. “Fuck! My cookies!”, you quickly ran to the kitchen to find very black cookies that looked inedible now. You immediately turned the oven off and were met with black smoke.

Chan opened the window of your kitchen. “Why did you make cookies?”, he said and laughed hysterically at your baking fail.

“I just wanted to make something sweet. It helps while studying.”, you pouted. “Damn it.”

Chan walked up to you and took your face in his hands, making your heartbeat quicken. He squished your cheeks together so you had to pout more. “Don’t be sad. Let’s make another batch and then we can eat them, alright?”

You put your hands on top of his and pushed them down. “Yes, sir.”, you said while trying to hide your embarrassment. “Okay, I bet you never baked before.”

Chan looked offended and dramatically put his hand on his chest. “Why would you say that? I could be a great baker!”

You gave him a deadpanned look. “You are rich, Chan.”, you said while your facial expression literally said: “Of course, you never baked.”

He sighed. “Okay, I don’t cook or bake often. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t have a secret talent?”, he then laughed.

You grinned at him. “Yeah, sure. Let me take out the ingredients and then we’ll start.”

Before you knew it, you were baking with Bang Chan. He helped you measure all the ingredients and for a moment you felt like you were in a relationship. As if he was your boyfriend and everything was fine. You quickly gave yourself a reality check. You were here with him for your own selfish reasons.

“Hey, Y/N.”, Chan said while you were stirring the batter.

“Huh?”, you looked up at the boy who was eating some chocolate chips. “Don’t eat that!”

“Stop nagging. You have something on your face.”, he then said with a sly grin on his face.

“What? What is it?”, you said in panic, wiping your whole face. “Where is it? Is it gone?”

Chan stepped closer to you. “It’s right… here!”, Chan smeared some flour on your face.

“Oh no. You did not do that!”, you squeaked and giggled as you threw some flour at Chan’s face. It was way more than what Chan threw.

Chan stopped for a second. “Oh, it’s on!”

After that short sentence a flour war broke out. Chan was hiding behind the little kitchen island and then you were running around, making everything dirty. Suddenly, you slipped on the flour, right on top of Chan who held you but slipped due to the same reasons.

You were laughing hysterically on the floor. Once again, everything seemed so simple and natural between the two of you. You couldn’t believe that he was the son of the man who destroyed your parents’ lives. “Who is going to clean this up?”, Chan asked, still laughing.

You just looked in his eyes, not daring to look away. “I don’t know. The kitchen fairies?”, you said, still lying on top of him.

“Yeah. I don’t think so.”, Chan said, also looking at you. The look he gave you made you feel weak in your knees. What the hell was happening?

You then slowly got up and tried to clean the flour in the kitchen and on yourselves. “Just because we wanted to bake some stupid cookies.”, you said but with a smile on your face.

“Well at least now they are in oven and hopefully will not burn!”

“I should probably take a quick shower. Don’t be shy to take anything you want. Feel at home, Chan.”, you assured him as you went to the bathroom.

Chan then was left alone in your apartment. He sat down on your couch for a few minutes, thinking about what happened in the kitchen just now. He thought about how much he enjoyed your company. It was weird but he didn’t mind the feeling that come when he sees you.

He didn’t know why but he somehow felt drawn to your bedroom and you did say that he can feel at home. Curiosity got the best of him and he went into your bedroom, just to have a look. Because a bedroom says a lot about you as a person.

He entered the room and was greeted with pastel colors. Your room was clean but your desk was a mess. Must have been from work, Chan thought. But then, something caught his eye. On your desk, he found a folder with the name Kevin Bang on it. Chan took the folder and while going through it he found a lot of information on his father. But not only that, there were more scandals and bad publicity than anything positive. Chan didn’t know what to think of this.

He then turned around to see something red that caught his eye poking out of your closet. As he walked closer to it, he saw that it was a dress, with a mask hanging from the clothing hanger. Chan’s eyes widened as he connected the dots. The information on his father and then this dress?

Chan would recognize that dress anywhere. The dress that destroyed his father’s reputation. The dress the woman who danced with him wore. The dress that shouldn't be here. Chan started shaking from anger and disappointment. What the hell was he doing here? His heartbeat quickened and his palms were sweaty. He started shaking a little bit because of the feeling of frustration. The boy was trying to stay calm as he took deep breaths.

Chan didn’t hear you coming in with wet hair and some loose clothes, trying to dry your hair with a towel. But as soon as you saw him staring at the dress, you dropped the towel in shock.

He turned to you with an expression that was unreadable.

You started shaking in fear. “I can explain.”, you said, breathing shakily.

Chan just stared at you, waiting for an answer.

Shit.

♥.

Author’s Note: Chapter 4 is here and Chan finally found out. What do you think his reaction will be? I hope you like it! 

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Three

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut.

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength.

Masterpost

“Oh!” You pause the TV.

“Y/N! It’s the middle of the second season finale are you fuckin’ kidding?!”

“I forgot to tell you something earlier.” You giggle.

“Alright, what is it?”

“Our new intern goes to my college, my undergrad, and he’s part of the film club, the one I helped create when I was a student, and he asked me to come to a meeting next Thursday. Would you wanna come with me? The meeting itself is at like 8PM, but I thought we could go beforehand, I could give you a little tour…”

“He asked you to come to a meeting?”

“Yeah! He wants me to like explain what I do now, and how being the film club helped me in a professional sense. He’s even going to email the director of alumni relations to see if they’ll do an article on me for the alumni magazine, but I doubt they will.”

“Why not? You’re incredibly successful, and didn’t you say an alum helped you get the job? I bet once you tell them that they’d feature you. You could talk about how important the alumni network is.”

“Harry!” You squeal and tackle him down, kissing him all over his face. He starts laughing underneath you.

“What? What?” He could barely breathe from your sudden affection.

“You’re so cute when you’re being supportive.” You nuzzle into his neck and he rubs your back.

“Well then I must be cute all the time then, huh?”

“Mhm.”

//

You forgot how beautiful your campus could be in the fall. Even though it was in the city, it had some beautiful parks and pathways. After work you had changed into a pair of jeans and a blouse. You didn’t want to look too fancy. You showed Harry different buildings where you had class, and the dorm you lived in freshman year. You both decide to go eat at a pub you used to love.

“Harry, it’s okay, have a beer if you want.”

“But I feel bad…”

“I really don’t mind. I’m fine with the seltzer water.” You smile reassuringly and he order the beer.

Once you’re done with everything you walk him around some more. You show him where you lived sophomore year, and then start walking towards the building where the film club meeting is. You see a group of people walking towards you and you gasp.

“No fucking way.” You groan and hide slightly behind Harry.

“What?”

“Nothing, we just need to walk very fast by-“

“Y/N?” A man says.

“Shit.” You say under your breath. “Um, Chris?”

“What are you doing here?!” He goes to hug you but you clutch at Harry.

“I was invited to a film club meeting…what are you doing here? I thought you graduated…”

“I did! I’m an RD.” He smiles and looks at Harry.

“Sorry, uh, this is my fiancé, Harry.”

“Hey, mate.” They shake hands.

“Wow! Congratulations. Well I won’t keep you. We should catch up sometime.”

“Sure.” You give him a fake smile and keep walking. “Gag me.”

“Who was that?”

“A guy I hooked up with like once, and he wouldn’t leave me alone. It took me going to California for him to stop asking me to come over. It was so annoying. Like take a hint dude.”

“Why didn’t you wanna hook up with him again?” Harry asks with a laugh.

“Oh, like you would always hit it twice.”

“Good point.” He smirks. “Suppose I don’t blame him, I mean, I’ve seen what that ass looks like when it’s bouncing up and down on my cock, I’d probably want you to come over again too.”

“Harry!” You smack him in the arm, making him laugh. “One beer at dinner and you’ve gone all goofy.”

“I’m just teasin’.” He throws his arm around your shoulders as you continue your walk to the building.

“Here it is, let me just text Zach that we’re here.” You both wait a few minutes, and Zach comes out to open the door.

“Hi, Y/N! Thanks again for coming, everyone is really excited. You must be Harry.” He smiles and shakes Harry’s hand. You both walk into the building. “Y/N talks about you all the time, it’s so cool that you have your own photography studio. I bet you could show some of these guys a thing or two.”

Harry liked Zach so far, he seemed polite and genuine.

“All the time, huh?” He nudges you.

“Not all the time, only when it’s relevant.”

Zach leads you into the room you knew very well. It was a computer lab you used to hold your film club meetings in. There was a screen, projector, white boards, all things you and your friends needed to have productive meetings.

“Hey, everyone!” About fifteen or so students turn to look at you and Harry. “This is Y/F/N Y/L/N and her fiancé Harry, Y/N graduated in 2017 and she’s one of my supervisors at my internship. She is one of the founding members of this club!” They all clap for you, and you’re a little surprised. “Come on in, tell them about yourself, what you do.”

You step further into the room so you can see everyone clearly.

“Thanks Zach, um, hi everyone!” You say brightly. “I’m feeling really nostalgic right now since I used to have my meetings in here too. We worked on so many cool projects, and my sophomore year we even made a short film that I stared in.” Harry’s eyebrows raise. He didn’t know you were in front of the camera as well as behind it.

“That’s why you look so familiar! At the beginning of every school year we watch a ton of past projects. You played the girl that went missing right?” A students says.

“Yeah, that was me.” You laugh.

“And you made that one about the purple pencil, that cracks me up.” Another says.

“Yes…that one was like a film challenge that the president at the time had us do. It was a lot of fun. Being in this club really took me out of my comfort zone. I never would’ve learned how to properly use a camera for filming or even taking pictures if it weren’t for film club. I have a job in marketing now where I get to edit video and sound clips, and I even supervise part of our social media department now. I really enjoy what I do.”

“Y/N was able to do well in her interview because another alum was already working there, and gave her some tips.” Zach explains.

“That’s right. It’s really important to know who your alums are, that’s why LinkedIn is so crucial.”

“Could you pull yours up?” A student asks.

“Sure! If that’s something everyone wants to see…”

They all agree and Zach logs onto the computer that’s connected to the projector. Harry takes pictures of you while you’re going over your LinkedIn.

“I think the best advice I could give is just don’t be afraid to try things. If you want to get better at something you need to practice. I went from using Windows Movie Maker, to iMovie, and now I use Adobe Premiere. It’s okay if things take time, and if there is something you want to do and you’re not sure how, don’t be afraid to Google it. I remember I had no idea how to do like a slow zoom, and I just looked it up and it was super easy to get the hang of. Create the content you’d want to watch, and have fun with it.” You smile.

A few students ask you some questions, and you end up giving out some of your business cards, good thing you brought them. Some students wanted to be able to reach out to you for resume help.

“Thanks again for coming. I’m gonna put another bug in the director’s ear. I think this is something that should be in the magazine. Oh! Do you plan to come to Homecoming Weekend?” Zach asks.

“Um.” You blink. “God, I haven’t gone to Homecoming since I was a student myself.” You snort.

“It’s alumni weekend too, you should come. I’ll be working at the alumni table, then I could introduce you.”

“When is it?”

“First weekend of October.” You look up at Harry. He looks at the calendar on his phone.

“Think I’m free…” He says.

“We could certainly try to swing by…that’s like next weekend…I have some friends that might wanna come too.”

“I can send you an email with the registration link and with all the activities for the weekend. It’s a lot of fun, as I’m sure you remember.”

“Yeah, I sort of participated in different activities…” You blush.

“Well either way.” He shrugs.

“I’ll let you know at work if we’ll be able to go. This was a lot of fun though, I’ll come back any time.”

You say goodbye to everyone, and walk out hand in hand with Harry.

“You’re really good at explaining things.” He says to you.

“What do you mean?”

“Like…you never got frustrated, or annoyed. Some of their questions were stupid, I easily would’ve gotten aggravated.”

“They don’t know what they don’t know.”

“All I’m saying is, like, ten years from now I could see you bein’ a professor or somethin’. You’ll have your MEd, you could teach an online class as a TL and see how you like and then go from there. You love learning, Y/N, why not get paid to do it?”

“I think I could see that for myself, but yeah, ten years from now. I’m curious to see how I could keep moving up at work. It would be weird to leave there. I mean, I know people don’t stay at the same place for thirty years anymore…but it would be sad to go. Plus I would miss Niall way too much.”

“Yeah, but he could easily find another job if he wanted. You shouldn’t stay somewhere just because your friends are there.”

“Says the person that persuaded the two friends he made at work to follow him to his studio.” You nudge him playfully.

“Alright you got me there, but seriously, don’t use him as an excuse.”

“I know, you’re right. Let me actually get the Med first, and then I’ll start thinking about things I wanna do years from now, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You both get into your car and head home.

“So I know we like just got engaged, but I was thinking while the weather is still nice it might not be a bad idea to start lookin’ at some potential spots we’d wanna get married at…” You could tell he was slightly nervous to bring it up.

“I think that’s a good idea. I think you and I need to sit down and consider a budget before we hop in the car and start looking. We need to do some research online.”

“That money you wouldn’t let me pay you I was thinking could go towards the wedding.”

“Harry.” You sigh. “Shouldn’t that money go back towards the business? Or couldn’t it be saved for a holiday bonus for Mariah and Isaac.”

“I have money set aside for that already.” He says matter of factly. “You won’t let me pay you, and that’s money you’ve earned. So we should use it towards something.”

“Fine.”

“At least we’ll save money on a photographer. Mariah’s really talented.”

“I know! She’s great at capturing the moment. Did you want her to be the one to take the photos?”

“Considering how Lou’s probably going to be my best man, she’s the only other person I would trust.”

“That’s so cute you both are gonna be each other’s best men.” You giggle. “I sort of had an idea for Niall.”

“I’d really rather him be in my wedding party, he’s been my friend longer, and-“

“Actually, I don’t want him in either of our wedding parties.” You pull into the parking garage and you both get out.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s the whole reason we’re together right?”

“Yeah.”

“So…why not let him be the one to make it official?” Harry stops short when you get into the lobby of your building.

“You want him to officiate the wedding?”

“Yeah…it just feels right.” You shrug. You both get into the elevator. “What do you think?”

“I think I need to make sure I’m filming when we tell him because he’s gonna cry.” Harry smiles. “It’s a great idea, Y/N.”

“We should pick up a little gift for him, or like take him to dinner.”

“Ohhh, I like that.” He kisses your cheek as you both enter your apartment.

Buster greets the two of you, he was doing much better. You both sit down on the sofa and flip the TV on.

“Who were you thinkin’ for your wedding party then?”

“Well, it’s going to be really hard to pick a maid of honor…it always supposed to be Kate. I was her, you know? But obviously that’s not happening. I don’t know how I’d be able to choose between Sarah and Rachel.” You sigh. “I’m equally close with them…I’ll have to talk to them about it and see what they think, honestly. I don’t want anyone’s feelings getting hurt.” Harry nods. “Then my sisters would be in the party too, El of course.” You think a bit more. “That might actually be it. I have other girlfriends, but I don’t need a ton of bridesmaids. What about you?”

“Louis, obviously, Mitch…him and Sarah said congrats by the way I completely forgot to tell you. I was thinking of maybe askin’ Isaac…I’d like my sister to be in my party too.”

“Aw, that would be so cute! Oh, and I bet by the time we actually do get married Michael will be able to walk all on his own, he could be like the flower boy or something.”

“That would be really cute. Didn’t you say you wanted it to be kind of Jewish too? Like you wanted someone there to bless us?”

“My cantor from my old temple, yeah…but we don’t have to if that’s too formal.”

“No, I think it would be nice to add in there. I just don’t wanna wear the little hat if that’s okay.”

“Don’t worry.” You laugh. “You don’t have to wear the little hat.” You burst out laughing.

“What?” Harry laughs.

“I was just picturing Gemma walking one of my sisters down the aisle.” You wipe tears from your eyes. “We’ll really have to figure all this out soon.”

“That would be pretty funny.” He puts his arm around you and pulls you close. “It’s nice talkin’ about this without it bein’ hypotheticals, like, this is really happening.” He kisses your forehead.

“I know, I’m really excited, babe.” You give him a quick peck. “We just need to get through Erica’s wedding and Lou and El’s.”

“I know, a lot is gonna happen all at once.” He sighs. “Lou’s is before your sister’s though, June if I’m remembering from the save the date correctly.”

“Yeah, and Erica’s is in July, I could kill her.”

“Why?” He chuckles.

“Because it’s going to be the dead of summer, we’re going to look sweaty and gross. And of course she’s getting married at some farm, so it’s gonna be all humid and blah.” You groan. “Whatever makes her happy I suppose. I’m just glad Mike finally asked her, took him long enough.”

“Everyone does everything in their own time, baby. Weren’t they really young when they first got together?”

“Yeah she was a senior in high school, and he was out of school for a couple of years…it was a pretty cute way they met. She was working at a RiteAid at this outlet mall, and he was working at Game Stop, and I guess he would go to RiteAid like every day for a snack on his lunch break, and he would say hi to everyone but her, so one day she gave him shit for it and they started talking. Turns out his aunt was our neighbor and we had like played with him when we were kids and didn’t even know. And his older sister was best friends with Bridget when they were in high school.”

“Wow, small world.”

“Right?”

“That is a pretty cute story, but I like ours better.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, I mean, how romantic is it that a mutual friend set us up, and we had this really great dinner date?”

“It’s pretty romantic, doll.” You yawn. “Yikes, I’m tired. I’m glad tomorrow’s Friday.”

“Me too, let’s head to bed.” He stretches as he stands and follows you to the bedroom.

//

It felt so good to sleep in Saturday morning. You stretch as you sit up, and start to get out of bed, but Harry yanks you down to him, making you squeal.

“Why do you always insist on gettin’ right up?” He mumbles as he wraps himself around you to spoon you.

“I don’t want Buster to shit himself.” You giggle.

“He knows to go on the piddle pad if we don’t get right up.” He pushes his morning wood against your ass.

“Jesus.” You groan. “You don’t wanna cuddle, you just wanna having a morning fuck.” His arm slips up under your shirt so he can caress one of your breasts.

“I want both.” He says into your ear. His hand slides down to between your legs and he smirks. “Seems like you do too.” He starts to rub circles on your clit while he grinds against you. You back up against him to really feel how hard he is.

Heavy petting was rare between you two. Usually you would just end up diving into the sex, but this first thing in the morning was like heaven. The way he would really ease you into it. His fingers slowly start to slip inside, and you find yourself turning onto your stomach. Harry gets full on top of you, his chest flush with your back. You your ass up slightly so he can continue to finger and rub you. He gets his fingers in and then drags them out and up to your clit. You moan out in your pillow. He continues to grind against your ass, getting right between your cheeks. He had his boxers on so you weren’t worried about anything slipping into the wrong hole.

“You’re so wet.” He groans. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Yes.”

He leans up, only for a moment, to get his boxers off. He gets back on you the way he was, nice and close, and slides in.

“Ah, fuck.” You moan out.

Harry keeps his fingers on your clit while he rocks in and out of you. His other hand slides up to the back of your head, and he gets a light grip on your hair. He knows not to pull too hard.

“Feels good, angel?”

“So good, Harry.”

He continues to rock in and out of you, and once you come from him rubbing on your clit, he pulls out to flip you over. He yanks your shirt off so you’re fully exposed to him. He slides back in and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. One of your hands is tugging on his hair while the other is digging into his back.

“Really give it me, babe, come on.”

“Want it hard, Y/N?”

“Hard and fast.”

Harry grins and sits up, grabbing both of your legs to put over his shoulders. He stretches his neck and cracks his knuckles, making you laugh. He loved when you two would laugh when you were intimate. It didn’t always need to be so serious. He pulls out nearly all the way and slams back into you. You gasp at the feeling, but you love it. He does this over and over, picking up the pace each time, making the bed start to shake. He was hitting the right spot over and over. You fist at the blankets with your head slamming far into your pillow. You grit your teeth as you feel your orgasm approaching. He could tell you were close from the way you were clenching around him. He almost wanted to pull out and make you beg him for it, but he also loved seeing how far gone you were and didn’t want to tease you. He knew he was hitting just the right spot, just a few more thrusts…

“Holy shit!” You scream as everything in your vision goes white. Tears well up in your eyes as he fucks you through the orgasm that was making you feel like you were going to collapse from within. “Oh my god, Harry! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your praise was enough to make him lose it, and his come spurts inside you, filling you to the brim. He looks down at you to see your chest still heaving. He pulls out of you slowly and you whimper from the loss of contact. He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“Good game.” He shakes your hand.

“Oh, shut up.” You swat at him and laugh.

You both shower quick, and go out to feed Buster. He did, in fact, need to use the piddle pad. After he eats Harry takes him out for a proper walk while you get some breakfast for the two of you going. Just some simple oatmeal.

“So, do you wanna go over a budget today? We could set up at the dining room table, and you could get a spreadsheet goin’ on your laptop.”

“Yeah, we can definitely do that.” You smile.

You and Harry sit down at the dining table, while Buster rests his head in your lap as he sits at your feet.

“Does he do that a lot?”

“Hm?” You look down at Buster. “Yeah, he likes to sit under my desk like that with me at work.” You grin at Harry. “He’s just like his daddy.” You pinch his cheek and he swats your hand away.

“Shut up.” He nudges your shoulder. “Want me to replace him right now, cause I will.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You pull up excel and name a bunch of rows with what you’ll need money for. Venue, food, drinks, photographer/videographer, DJ, hotel rooms, bachelorette/bachelor party, bridal shower, dress, etc.

“My friend Adam, the guy we got Buster from, is actually a really good DJ…”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, he always used to put playlists together for our parties and stuff. I’m pretty sure he has a DJ business on the side. I could ask him what his rates are.”

“That would be great. So…I don’t want this to be crazy expensive…like it seems silly to drop what could someday be a down payment on a house on a party for one night.”

“I agree. I don’t want it to get out of hand. I feel like the venue will be the most expensive. Let’s try to figure out where we want it so we can compare prices. Some hotels have the food and drinks included and some don’t.”

“I think…like in my wildest dreams, I’d love for it to be at a hotel on the Cape, like have the beach behind us…the ceremony outside, and then the reception would be indoors, but maybe there’s this outside patio area or something?”

“Ohh, I can really picture that. We both love the beach, let’s look and see.”

“I feel like that’s gonna be expensive.”

“We won’t know unless we look.” He grabs your laptop and opens Google. “Maybe we could find an inn or somethin’.”

“True, that would be cute actually.”

The two of you see the different options out there and find two you really like. You book a couple of tours on their websites so you can physically see the spaces.

“Oh, I wanted to ask, are we doin’ like a traditional cake or did you want cupcakes? I’ve seen a lot of people save money on just doin’ cupcakes, and then havin’ a small cake just made for the couple.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Then we could have a variety of cupcakes so everyone could find something they like. There’s a bakery I really like that back home that did my Bat Mitzvah cake, I’d like to go there to maybe do a tasting?”

“Sure.” He smiles. “I’ll let you set that up, and you can just tell me when.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we could do like a lemon cake since we both like that.”

“Mm, my mouth is already watering. I’ll definitely set that up soon. I guess there’s not much else we can really do until we set a date, and then we can work backwards.”

“Guess you’re right.” He rubs his eyes and rests his chin in his palm. “What were you thinking for a bachelor and bachelorette?”

“God, I have no idea. I’m the sure the girls will think of something.”

“Did you wanna do a combined thing, or be completely separate. S’not like it’ll be the night before the wedding, like it could be a month or so ahead.”

“To be honest, I’d like to have a weekend with just the girls…”

“Alright.”

“Is that okay? I mean, I had a lot of fun for my birthday, but-“

“No, I really don’t mind. I just didn’t know if you wanted a combined trip, but we can have separate things.” He shrugs.

“What do you think you wanna do?”

“I was thinin’ maybe like a trip to Mohegan Sun with the guys. We went years ago, and it was a lot of fun.”

“Oo, do a little gambling, that would be fun.” You sigh. “I’m not gonna be able to drink during any of this.” You groan.

“You’ll still have fun, baby.”

“I know, but I’m gonna have to tell my friends why I’m not drinking…”

“You can just say you’re on a medication that doesn’t allow you to consume alcohol, you don’t have to specify any more than that if you don’t want to. Do you really think they’ll judge you?”

“It’s not the judgement…it’s the look on their faces I know they’ll give me. The medication has helped me a lot, I think.”

“I’m really proud of you for taking it so consistently.”

“I just take it with my birth control…it’s easy to remember.”

“Babe.” He saves the file you were working on and closes your laptop. He turns so his body is facing yours. “Can you take a second and just think about how far you’ve come? In the year that I’ve know you, you’ve made so many great steps. I can remember times you getting so frustrated because you never thought you’d be in a place where we’d be able to just go at it. I mean, think of how we had sex just this morning. You weren’t in a place this time last year to be able to do that, and now you are. I know it’s not just about sex, there’s a lot of mental progress you’ve made too, but I feel like physically, I just feel so close with you, I feel like every time we do it we get closer.” Your eyes were glossy while you listened to him.

You felt overwhelmed by his kind words. He was right about everything. You had made a ton of progress, and you didn’t reflect on it as much as you should. You stand up and he pushes his seat you. You sit down on him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. He holds you close and rubs your back. Buster yips at the two of you, clearly upset that his head was no longer comfortably resting in your lap. You both look down at him.

“He really is just like me, huh?”

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

AFK - Level 35

Hey everyone! Hope you’re doing well! Please enjoy the next thrilling installment of this lovely fic :) 

I got a new job that I start on Monday, so while I won’t have as much free time to write at work, I’ve got so much more time away from the hospital that I can actually write at home! <3

Master List

Tagging: @loudartanimeeclipse, @ihavenotfallenyet

Warnings: None

Level 35

You really hoped you didn’t sound as frazzled as you felt. The conversation had been normal; you had asked if Ieyasu was busy, he said he wasn’t. You wondered if you could go down to talk. He said yes. It was normal, but this didn’t feel normal at all. You had played just about every scenario through your head on your walk over, but that still hadn’t made you feel more prepared. Figuring you had been standing outside of his office for long enough, you knocked on the door. 

“What?” Ieyasu sighed, “Oh, it’s you.”

Did you imagine it, or did he sound much less enthused to see you? No, no, he was like that with everyone. You tried to stay calm and not imagine the worst-case scenario and took a seat across from him. 

“You’re fidgeting.” Ieyasu pointed out. “What happened?”

“I-” Was that concern? If so, you were making this whole thing much worse than it needed to be. Chill, YN, be chill. “I think we may be partners?”

“Are you just now figuring this out?” He questioned, a small smirk on his face. “Was it the publishers calling about the paper that gave it away? Or maybe the invitation to speak at the cytometry conference with me?”

“No! Gods, I know we’re partners. For the love of-” You facepalmed and groaned before spitting it out. “Endless Isle. You’re Edo, right? I think we’re partners.”

“Oh, who told you that?” So he wasn’t going to deny it? Did he already know? How long had he known?

“A coworker.” You mumbled, unable to make eye contact. 

“Ah, so it wasn’t Masamune? Looks like he can keep his mouth shut every once and awhile.” Ieyasu commented. 

“Excuse me?” You asked. 

“Masamune called me last night. Was overly excited about meeting you.” Ieyasu relaxed into his chair. 

“Oh, so you found out from your friend last night then?” You wondered aloud.

“No, I caught you playing portable months ago. I had a feeling based on the stories you were telling in-game. I wasn’t sure, though.” He shrugged as if that wasn’t a big deal. 

“Wait, what?” The confusion was evident on your face as you thought back to all those times you had been playing your game around him at work. “Were you ever going to say anything? Or just let me keep telling you my deepest personal feelings?”

“I planned to notify you if the need ever arose. I would qualify this as one of those times.” Ieyasu reached for his coffee cup and took a sip as if it wasn’t a big deal at all. 

“I-” Unable to form a full sentence, you stared out the window. 

Panic already setting in as you felt your face flush. Thinking back to everything you had ever told him. Sure the work stuff was generally unproblematic, and he had helped you with Yoshimoto. It was good advice, but that also meant you had openly admitted you had a crush on him directly. Oh, gods, what did that mean? Had he forgotten? Should you ask him out? Wait, what if he turned you down? What if he hadn’t said anything since you were technically working on a development project together? 

You couldn’t tell if you were mad or embarrassed. It was weird; you had spent the whole day trying to figure out if you needed to say to him, wondering if you should have brought it up at all, and here it could have come up naturally in conversation. What would you have done if you were in his shoes? Maybe he felt like you needed a friend? Perhaps he didn’t know the words to say, sure he was sarcastic, but he wasn’t that much of an ass. 

“Do you need help finishing that thought, or do you plan to leave me hanging all day?” Ieyasu huffed, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Sorry. I guess I just wanted to let you know? Uh, I’ll get out of your hair then. Thanks for your time!” You stood up quickly and found yourself scurrying out of his office before you could embarrass yourself anymore. Was it time to go home yet?

Ieyasu hadn’t thought anything of it when you abruptly left his office, you had been fidgeting the entire conversation, and it was clear you felt some type of way. He planned to let you work out your feelings on your own, and he’d talk to you tomorrow when the both of you usually ran quests. The problem was, you never got on. 

He waited a week, thinking he’d hear something from you eventually. There were several deadlines for data publishing and a significant competitive quest that were sure to bring you in his general direction, but it didn’t work. Your supervisor dropped off the data stacks to his office, and according to the login records, you’d been AFK since your talk. He needed advice, and he only trusted one person. 

“She’s avoiding me,” Ieyasu stated plainly when Masamune picked up the phone. 

“I know, heard all about it from the Lass a few days ago.” Masamune chuckled on the other line. 

“Oh.” Something tugged in his chest that Ieyasu didn’t like. 

“No, none of that ‘Oh’ garbage.” Masamune mocked him. “She’s embarrassed, think’s she messed up, doesn’t wanna bother you.”

“I did get that impression from her the other day,” Ieyasu mentioned. 

“So, what did you do about it?” Ieyasu’s friend asked him. “I can only tell the girl you’re the stupid one so many times before she stops believing me.”

“I’m not stupid,” Ieyasu exclaimed defensively, now pacing his kitchen. 

“Uh, yes, you are.” Masamune barked out another laugh. “If you’re not, why are you calling me and not her genius?”

“Why would I bother her if she doesn’t want anything to do with me?” Ieyasu questioned. 

“See, stupid; you’re being stupid. She’s avoiding you because she likes you. Remember, she told you as much.” Masamune offered. “Which is part of the problem; she’s been gushing to her crush for months.”

Ieyasu fell silent on the other end of the line. Thinking. If she liked him, wouldn’t she have reiterated it in their conversation? Why would she be avoiding him now? 

“You’re sure about this?” Ieyasu finally asked.

“If you didn’t think, I was sure you wouldn’t have called me to start with.” Ieyasu could feel Masamune’s smirk through the phone. 

“Fine. Where does she live?” Ieyasu asked. 

“Uh, I don’t know. That’d be creepy. I caaaan help you set something up, though. What do you say? Wanna go on a date with the Lass?” Masamune asked jovially.

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable- Ch 5: Poison (S1E13)

Summary:  A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: murder, swearing, drugs

Ch 4 | Ch 6

~ ~ ~

Rain was such a strange thing in Lydia’s mind. The sound of it hitting the window next to her was soft and gentle, and so many people spoke of it like it was cleansing or refreshing. But all Lydia had to attribute it to was mud and sickness. It didn’t leave her excited for spring. She didn’t think of it as food for flowers or a new start. She thought of floods. Confinement. Tears… 

“What’s up with you?” Spencer asked, startling Lydia out of her thoughts.

“What’s up with me? What’s up with you! You’re late!” she responded, watching him sit across from her at the booth and put down his coffee.

“I just got back from a case last night,” he defended. “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I took a little extra time to take a shower before leaving.”

She looked up at his hair to find it was indeed damp, but it could easily be from the weather outside. “Fine, you get a pass. Also, I don’t need you anyway,” she joked.

His face changed to one of hurt. “Wow. I mean, you don’t, but-”

“Sarcasm, Spencer.” She couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Although, I am doing alright so far. I’m working on these extra assignments my criminology professor gave me. How was your case?”

“It went well. Found the unsub, saved the kid.”

She nodded. “That’s great!”

And they descended into silence, as they had the last time they’d met, both of them working on their own assignments.

After Lydia and Spencer had talked about helping her get her PhD, they’d made plans to meet off hours at a coffee shop so that Spencer could give her some advice for speeding up the college process. It had been terrifying at first. She’d been ready to completely back out, but Spencer had been insanely patient with her, able to convince her (after some rambling and statistics) that she was more than capable. He’d advised her who to talk to and what to ask teachers about their courses and so on to organize her thoughts. And then he just… sat with her as she worked. If she was ever confused on an assignment, he had her back. It was reassuring.

About halfway through their meeting, Spencer had put away his paperwork in favor of a book, but he found his pace excruciatingly slow. He wanted to invest himself in it, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking up at her when he knew she wouldn’t notice.

When she was extremely focused, her teeth would pull mindlessly on the dead skin on her lips. That’s what she’d been doing when he got there and saw her gazing out the window, not even realizing he’d walked in. But he hadn’t wanted to push her on that. And now all her energy was focused on her online work.

He also noticed another small tick when she was struggling with a question, because she always did it before asking him for help.

“How long have you worn a ring?” he asked her, watching her spin it loosely around her knuckle. It was a thick silver band, which was clearly too big for her fingers, and she was constantly switching it between the pointer and middle finger on her right hand.

She raised an eyebrow, but her manor was curious, rather than questioning. “I’ve had this ring since I was 16. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve just never seen you wear it before, is all.”

“It was my dad’s wedding ring,” she confided. “And you’re right. I don’t wear it when I go on cases, because getting latex gloves on and off is hard enough and I’m terrified of losing it.”

He took this answer gracefully, but Lydia could tell he was dying to ask why she had her father’s wedding ring rather than him. And before she could go back to her work, he spoke up again.

“You know, I’ve been really curious about something and you’ll have to forgive me if it offends you, but when we met, I asked you about why you had a limp and you didn’t tell me.”

She silently let go of a sigh of relief that this wasn’t related to her father (or at least, not to his knowledge). “Yeah, sorry about that. I know I was… weird that day.”

“So was I,” he reassured her. “But I’m kinda weird all the time.”

It was a sweet sentiment, but she was quick to shake her head at him. “Not at all. ‘Weird’ to me is far from the definition of Dr. Spencer Reid.”

It was like his eyes sparkled when he smiled at her. She found herself wanting to see it all the time and had to keep herself from staring.

“Right. My leg. Well, in actuality, my foot. I broke it when I was a teenager and it healed incorrectly,” she explained. “The arch is all sorts of messed up. But it doesn’t hurt and I can’t afford surgery anyway so I just let it be.”

“I’m sorry.”

She laughed, absurdly. “What for?”

“You didn’t want to get your PhD, because you couldn’t afford to go through any more years of school than you needed to and now you tell me that you’ve got this limp for the same reason? I don’t want to make any assumptions about your financial status, but I honestly do feel sorry that you think you need to sacrifice these things for it.”

This comment seemed to trigger something in Lydia and Spencer racked his brain for any indicator of what that may be.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” she responded, but it didn’t have her previous spark of interest in the conversation, so he just agreed and let her go back to her work.

~ ~ ~

“You missed the briefing,” Gideon informed Lydia as soon as she picked up her phone. It had been a week since she’d had her second meeting with Spencer and she was sitting in her apartment, working on her schoolwork.

“What briefing?”

“Jet leaves in 30 minutes. You’re needed on a case.”

Lydia scoffed. “Gideon? That’s not a heads up. This would be my 3rd case before my 50 day limit was up, why am I coming along?”

“Do you want the job or not?” he asked, frustrated, but Lydia could tell it was just his impatience.

“Of course I do. I’m on my way. But I know there’s got to be a good reason to call me in after a briefing and against Chief Strauss’s wishes.”

He sighed on the other end before continuing. “We’ve got a poisoning case. LSD. You’re a chemistry expert, so I need you.”

“Reid’s definitely more of an expert than I am. But I’ll do what I can.”

“If we all determined our worth to the team by comparing ourselves to Reid, it wouldn’t be a team… it’d be Reid,” he argued. “I’ll see you on the jet.”

~ ~ ~

“How do you want to handle the press?” Gideon directed to JJ as they all settled down for their flight.

“We still don’t even know how these people got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics,” she reasoned. “It’ll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Morgan asked and before Lydia could stop herself, she murmured,

“It’s possible.”

JJ and Morgan both looked at her with concern, the rest of the team just stayed silent and they considered how this case might affect her after what happened with her roommate. The effects of her sudden drugging had been vastly different, but in the end, Lydia could understand the victims of this situation and how they must be feeling now that they’ve come out of their intoxicated state.

Hotch cleared his throat, returning to Morgan’s question. “None of them remembers anything about the day it happened.”

“These people are so messed up, it’s made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victims’ steps,” JJ explained.

“I suggest we split up the victims, see if there’s a pattern in the victimology,” Gideon began.

“Most of them are still in the hospital,” Hotch told him. “I’ll call local PD to meet us there.”

“I’ll check the lab reports,” Spencer offered. “Maybe there’s a clue to the unsub’s motive in the specific nature of the poison he used.”

“Ambers, you’ll go with him,” Hotch ordered, handing her her own file to review the details of the case. “I want you to be supervising the lab tests and keep us updated on everything you find. Especially if any new victims come in.”

“I-” She blinked down at the reports and pictures she’d just been handed. “Unchaperoned?”

“You aren’t a girl in the Regency Era,” Gideon teased. “You can handle it.”

“Don’t break any lab equipment,” Hotch insisted. “But yes, since we don’t exactly have a crime scene for you to analyze and you have experience in the lab as well, I want you there. Don’t worry about having a supervisor for now.”

She nodded, wanting to accept before he changed his mind. She didn’t miss Gideon’s smirk either as she accepted her new assignment. He was excited for her.

And she was kind of excited, too.

~ ~ ~

Spencer kept pace with Lydia as she navigated the hospital for the clinical lab. She was surprisingly confident in herself, finally getting to work a case that wasn’t up to suspect. She didn’t have to wonder about the colors on little girls’ paintings or try to date the wax underneath a satanic symbol. No, labs were natural sciences.

And she was an expert in those.

They were met at the door by one of the biochemists. “Hi. You must be the FBI agents. I’m Dr. Marilyn Keyes.”

“Hello. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit and this is our forensic expert, Lydia Ambers.”

Lydia did her best to greet the woman calmly, but her heart rate picked up when Spencer called her their ‘forensic expert’. She made a mental note to ask him about it later, seeing as she definitely was not considered an expert on the team. She was an intern.

“Alright, I’ve got the results from the blood tests here, but there isn’t much to say. The LSD levels were scarily high.”

“Were there traces of any other drugs in their system?” Spencer inquired.

“Only one,” Dr. Keyes replied. “Rohypnol.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow and turned to find Spencer doing the same. “But rohypnol is a roofie. If the unsub’s goal was to give a bunch of people a wild trip, why give them a sedative?” she asked.

“Because one of the most well known effects is amnesia,” Spencer reasoned, but Lydia shook her head.

“I just don’t see what would make a person poison all these people with a strong hallucinogen and then knock them out before seeing the effects.”

“But it didn’t knock them out,” Spencer argued. “They all still went about their day as normal.”

“Mixing drugs to get a precise effect like that is insanely difficult. This guy has to have some background in science.”

“One of the victims, Jack Fisher, got extremely violent and beat his son almost to death.” Lydia’s eyes shot open. This was news to her, seeing as she missed the briefing. “Are you sure there wasn’t anything like PCP in their systems to cause an aggressive outburst?”

Dr. Heyes shook her head. “We only found LSD and rohypnol.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ve been assigned to oversee the lab work on any new cases brought into the hospital and to keep my team informed of the information as it comes in. May I stay in here?”

Dr. Heyes seemed surprised by the request, but nodded. “Of course. I’ll find you a space to set up.”

As she did that, Spencer turned to go. “I’ll go tell the team what we know so far. Call Gideon or me if you figure out anything else.”

“You got it.”

With him gone, Dr. Heyes paused, her eyes wide. “He’s a doctor?” she asked, completely bewildered.

Lydia laughed. “Yes. He’s got 3 PhDs, in fact.”

If Dr. Heyes’s jaw could hit the floor it would have. “And you, you’re an FBI agent?”

“No,” Lydia said quickly. “No, I’m just an intern. They only sent me here because I’m the only one on the team who was trained in a lab setting. I just got my BS in chemistry.”

She decided not to mention Reid’s credentials, mostly because if the biochemist asked why they didn’t leave Reid here instead, she wouldn’t know what to say.

“But you are so young! You don’t even look like you’re 20 yet!”

“I’m 21,” Lydia assured her. “And he’s 24. Which to be honest, is extremely young to have 3 PhDs, but you know, he’s older than I am, so I think him being an agent is less of a stretch.”

“When did you get a job with the FBI?” she inquired.

“After I graduated this past spring. I’d met them while they were working a case and I guess they were in the market for someone knowledgeable in forensics. Here I am!”

It was a lie, at least to Lydia’s knowledge. The only thing she knew about the offer put in front of her was that Gideon fought for her to get it and Hotch’s boss, Chief Strauss, was not pleased that the position existed at all. But Dr. Heyes took the response and left her to pull out her laptop and try to remind herself about everything she learned about spiking and these specific drugs when she went to UCSC.

~ ~ ~

“We’ve found another victim,” Gideon informed her over the phone. “Her boyfriend worked at the cafe where many of the victim’s had been seen the day they were dosed. We brought him into custody, but it doesn’t look like he did it. And, from what you’ve told us so far about the process of creating this mix of drugs, we’ve ruled out a prankster. They're too disorganized to do this. From a look at other factors we think we’re looking at an avenger here.”

“So, someone’s got a personal vendetta against one of the victims and the rest are just collateral damage? Or was this just his test run?”

“My guess, when he gets the person he’s going for, it’s not exactly going to end in a bad trip and some memory loss.”

Lydia sighed. “One hell of a test run. I mean, I’m looking at these results, Gideon. And the statements from the victims. This guy has made quite the concoction.”

“The profile says he may have an accomplice, but if so, he’ll dispose of them soon. If any new cases come in, let us know immediately.”

“Will do,” she said, hanging up on him.

Not 20 minutes later, her phone was going off again, this time it was Spencer.

“Hey.”

“The hospital’s about to be swamped. We’re on our way there now.”

“Swamped? Why?” she demanded, looking up at all the biochemists and pathologists at work. Shit.

“A leak hit the news. They didn’t mention why or how people were getting dosed, only that it was happening. The people are in a panic and many people are going to come in with completely psychosomatic symptoms.”

“Fabulous,” she grumbled. “Well, I can give you the results of any of the tox screens, but they won’t be in for a while. Especially if people start barging in.”

“We’ll talk to doctors and nurses and find out who is definitely not psychosomatic. Make sure that their blood gets tested first.”

“We’ll be ready,” she assured him.

~ ~ ~

“We’ve got a Lynn Dempsey,” Dr. Heyes said, offering up her lab results. “She just got in, tested positive for rohypnol, but negative for LSD.”

“Interesting,” Lydia said, scanning the file. “Maybe she just got roofied?”

“That doesn’t explain her symptoms, though. She was apparently heavily sedated when she got in, but now, she’s struggling to breath. Nausea, difficulty swallowing, and she’s lost control of leg movement.”

“What are you guys thinking?”

“She was taking an antibiotic recently, which, in the case of a severe overdose, could cause these symptoms, but an overdose like that is not an accident. That plus rohypnol is an interesting mixture.”

“Have you guys looked at any biological toxins?” Lydia inquired and she shook her head.

“We didn’t think that was the sort of thing we should be looking for.”

“It’s hard to determine what we should or shouldn’t be looking for. The LSD and rohypnol combination was interesting enough by itself. If this guy’s as good as he appears, I doubt he’s buying drugs from street dealers. He could have access to all sorts of things.”

“I’ll get on it,” the doctor informed her and hurried off.

Lydia grabbed her phone. “Gideon?”

“Whatcha got?”

“Lynn Dempsy? Rohypnol and something else. The lab technicians are working on it now. But, she’s a bad case. Either the target or the accomplice.”

“You get Garcia, I’ll call Hotch. He’s on his way to the hospital now. JJ and Reid are already there, they might have already seen her.”

“Got it. Calling Garcia now.”

She fumbled with her phone some more and got Garcia’s contact.

“Sugar! How can I help?”

“The team’s gonna need everything you’ve got on a Lynn Dempsey. We’re looking for connections to the substances the unsub’s using or perhaps anything to indicate someone wants revenge against her.”

The sound of her furious typing could be heard over the line. “Alright. I’ll send whatever information I get to their phones. Right now, all I’m seeing is that she works for Hichcock Pharmaceuticals.”

“There’s something to that. Let Gideon know. I’ve gotta go,” she finished, seeing Dr. Heyes already on her way back with papers in her hand. “Did you find something?”

“Lynn Dempsey has been exposed to clostridium botulinum bacteria,” she explained.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “Botulism?”

The doctor nodded.

Lydia was up from her seat in an instant. “I’ve gotta tell Reid. I’ll be right back.”

She threw her phone into her back pocket and ran from the lab to get to the ER.

“Reid!” she called once she reached the waiting room. He turned, JJ following suit. Hotch was on a call over the front desk. She ran up to them, not wanting to disturb anyone around them. “It’s botulism.”

“Is that what the lab reports say?” he demanded, pulling her away from the people and into a hallway.

“Yes.”

“Botulism toxin is the deadliest substance known to man. It blocks acetylcholine receptors, paralyzing it’s victims until basically choking you to death,” he explained, knowing Lydia was already aware of this.

“And without an antitoxin, Lynn Dempsey in there is screwed.”

He put his hand up to his chin. “New Jersey is the pharmaceutical and chemical capital of the US. There’ll be quite a few people with access to the toxin. It could easily be ordered in the form of botox.”

“But, it’d have to be purified,” she reasoned. “Lynn Dempsey is an executive assistant. She wouldn’t know how to do that. And she doesn’t fit the profile. But, she does work for a pharmaceutical company, so if she’s the accomplice, they might have met at work.”

He opened his mouth to add to that, but JJ called, “Reid.”

She was standing in front of Dempsey’s room, looking in.

“I think she’s trying to say something.”

He ran over to enter the room with her and Lydia walked over to Hotch to see if there was anything she could do.

“Then, you should look for Lynn Dempsey, 45,” he was saying over the line. “Garcia’s emailing a picture to your phone.”

There was silence for a moment, and Lydia watched JJ and Reid try and piece together what Dempsey was saying to them. But, the doctor had to rush in as her heart rate started increasing quickly.

“Or working with him,” Hotch offered, but Lydia wasn’t sure of the context. “I’ll call you back. Lydia, what are you doing up here?”

She looked up at Hotch and was terrified for a moment that she’d done something wrong. “I came up here to talk to Reid about Dempsey. She’s been poisoned with deadly toxin found in botulinum bacteria. And without an antitoxin within the first 36 hours, she won’t make it. Reid and I were discussing how the unsub might have gotten this toxin.”

“What were you thinking?” he asked.

“Well, Lynn works for a company with access to this toxin, but it needs to be purified from other drugs. She likely wouldn’t have this ability. We were thinking accomplice.”

He nodded. “That’s what Morgan and I were discussing. We found all the victims went to First New Jersey Federal Bank the day they were dosed and from the security footage, it looks like Dempsey was replacing candies from the candy bowl. The CDC is testing the candies now.”

“Alright. I’ll head back to the lab and start listing off any new victims that come into the hospital.”

“Thank you,” he responded and watched her go.

~ ~ ~

“So, if they worked together, let's start with people who fit the profile who’ve had a recent stressor,” Hotch reasoned, the rest of the team together in the station.

“Like anyone fired from Hichcock in the past 6 months,” Morgan offered. “I’ll call Garcia.”

Gideon’s phone went off beside him. He picked it up and announced, “It’s Lydia. Lydia, you’re on speaker phone.”

“Hey, you said you thought Lynn Dempsey was replacing the candies at the bank?” she started.

“Yes, why?”

“I’m looking through the medical records of the original victims and one of them was severely diabetic.”

“He wouldn’t have taken candy from the candy bowl at the bank,” Reid realized.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Hotch said. “We have the candies here and they’ve tested positive for rohypnol and LSD.”

“Well, not that it means that much, but the amount of LSD in the victims was fairly even across the board, but I’m finding vast differences in the rohypnol. It could be that some of the victims didn’t finish the candies and others did, but I think you should look at those tapes again and check if everyone took a candy. Maybe the unsub contaminated multiple objects at the scene?”

“It’s a bank, what else do you ingest that comes from a bank?” Gideon argued.

“I’ll look over those tapes,” Reid offered. “Thanks, Lydia.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia was finally starting to settle down, thinking she’d done her part in the case now that the last of the tox screen tests had come through and they hadn’t turned up with any strange new victims, when Hotch called her.

“Hello?”

“Ambers, we’ve got a guy named Ed Hill in custody. I want you to search his lab for any indications as to what he planned to do next or who his target was. I’m having Garcia send you the address now.”

“Wait, Agent Hotchner-” she cried, knowing he tended to hang up abruptly. Once she was sure he wasn’t going to cut her off, she continued. “I don’t have a vehicle with me.”

“Nevermind, then. I’ll have Morgan get you.”

“Thanks.”

“And Lydia?”

“Hm?”

“Hotch is fine.”

She bit down on her lip to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. “Got it.”

Once he’d gotten off the phone, she closed up her laptop and grabbed her case file.

“Leaving?” Dr. Heyes asked.

“Yes. I’m off to analyze a scene. Thank you for all your help today.”

She smiled. “Thank you for catching the guy who did this.”

“We’re not sure yet-” she started, but left it there, not sure how to continue. Dr. Heyes understood and let her go, but it left Lydia with an inexplicable feeling.

No one had ever thanked her before for her work. Not that she’d done a lot of work before this and when she’d interned at the police station in Santa Cruz, almost all of her time was spent in a lab. But, it nevertheless felt nice to know that people thought she was doing good.

And as she got to the front of the hospital and waited for Morgan to pull up she realized something. While she was here, working for the BAU, she was doing good.

~ ~ ~

The jet was silent on the way back to Virginia. Almost as soon as they boarded, everyone found a spot to rest and had fallen asleep. Lydia had considered shutting her eyes and trying to join them, but deep down, she knew she wouldn’t fall asleep. And without something to distract her, she’d end up letting her thoughts wander, which recently hadn’t ended well for her.

A quick look at the scene and a confession from Ed Hill was the end of the case. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to prevent his suicide, but she had far too much on her mind to dwell on that as well.

Lydia thought about Jenna fairly often, unsurprisingly. She wondered sometimes if she’d been aware of the other two girls’ deaths, maybe she would have been more alert and able to prevent Jenna’s. And she was constantly thinking about what had happened between the last thing she remembered and the time that Jonathan Carrey drugged her. Did she see or hear him before he was able to sedate her? Maybe she’d tried to scream, but couldn’t. Mostly, she wondered if she’d done something dumb, like opened the door for him or simply asked him why he was there.

She knew that in that memory relapse, if she’d called for help, Jenna could have made it out just fine. That was mostly why it hurt.

The other reason was because she had profited so greatly on Jenna’s murder. She’d gotten a job. And it made her feel guilty that any good could have come to her at the expense of another. She just had to hope that Jenna didn’t despise her for it in the afterlife.

But Jenna wasn’t the only death on her mind. Recent events had reminded her of her mother’s death and despite the fact that Lydia had long since recovered from the emotional toll it took on her as a child, she’d likely never have closure over what happened and it was difficult recently to be reminded of that.

But either way, she was glad her job allowed her to give closure to the families of other tragedies.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Hotch asked, sitting across from her and nodding towards the book in her hands.

She smirked and made the same motion towards the cup of coffee he just made for himself. “Aren’t you?”

“I know I’m going to have a lot of paperwork when I get back. I’m preparing myself for that.”

She closed her book and sat up straighter. “I’m not much good at sleeping without help. I’ve had to take sleep aids for most of my life.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her, honestly.

“It’s never really been an issue unless I haven’t had access to any. I’m sorry you have to stay up late filling out paperwork,” she returned.

“Lydia,” he started after a pause. “I’m truly sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable while working this job. I want you to know that I don’t have anything against you, I was just stressed your first few cases.”

“That’s alright,” she reassured him, quickly. “I’m not upset. I was worried that perhaps I was doing something wrong, but I didn’t realize how much my behavior affected your job. And Gideon’s, although I don’t control what he does. I can’t promise that I won’t end up doing something stupid and getting myself fired, because sometimes things happen, but I promise that I will do everything in my power to make it clear that you and Gideon aren’t responsible for my actions.”

“Well, we are,” he argued, which made her giggle, quietly.

“Besides, I get to call you Hotch now. That must mean we’re best friends.”

“Best friends, hm?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her over the rim of his coffee cup and took a large sip.

They’d settled into silence and Lydia was about to pick up her book again, when he said, “Lydia? I want you to know that I was given access to some of your family history when we were considering hiring you…”

A part of her had been wondering if this conversation was going to come up. Gideon had talked to her about her sister, but he never pushed her to talk about her parents. And Garcia had let the topic go after they had their conversation about secrets, leaving Hotch, who she’d never had a private conversation with before, to be the one to confront her.

“Garcia told me that you��d get the information from her background check,” she agreed. “Why?”

“I wanted you to know that sometimes these cases become difficult when they remind us of something personal. And I want you to be aware that if you are struggling while working on a case or something personal is on your mind, we’re all here for you. The team is just that, a team, and many have been through similar things to you. I want you to know that you aren’t alone in this.”

Lydia could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She didn’t think she’d ever reach the point where she broke down in front of one of them. She’d gotten so good at stopping herself that sometimes it scared her. But the offer was one of pure concern. Hotch had built a family in his team and he was opening his arms to her.

And she wasn’t really sure how to show him that she understood.

“On my first case,” she began, “we took Allison Crawford’s brother into custody. Frank. And he had an orange prescription bottle with him.” She remembered the details slowly, trying to piece together what she was thinking at the time. “And it was weird to see. Because it’s not like I don’t see those anymore, I do. But that one made me think of my mom. And it made me angry.” She shook her head, pulling herself out of the memory. “It was gone before I even knew what was happening. I’m not particularly worried about an inability to do the job. But I guess, that’s something.”

She was grateful to look into his eyes and see that he understood. And it had been a long time since she felt like she could speak openly about her life to someone and not feel weird. Or like a burden. Or pitied.

“It’s the same as when people call me Miss Ambers. I know they mean it respectfully, but it always takes me back to sitting in psychiatry or therapy offices with her. The doctors always called her ‘Miss Ambers’.”

Unbeknownst to her, another person on the plane who could imagine what she was going through had been drifting in and out of sleep and heard her confession. Reid didn’t open his eyes, afraid that she might be upset if she found out someone other than Hotch had been listening. But he took in the bits he had picked up and decided that he would keep collecting pieces of Lydia’s story until he could make out a picture of her life.

[queerchoicesblog]

New Beginnings

Folks, here’s a new update of the wlw story set in the Sixties, my third  miniseries of the wlw writing project. New beginnings have quite a lot in store for our stewardess MC!

The final Sixties miniseries update will be out either later this week or next week.

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

Previous Chapters: Living The Dream, The Girl Next Door

_____________________________

The following day I got my long awaited promotion: a generous rise and from now on only international routes for me. I made it to the big league. My world was crumbling underneath my feet but I made it. I received the news as a blessing. I followed the advice Nancy gave me when she called back to check in on me. A few days later I packed my stuff and crashed at a colleague's place: thank God, I made good friends among my former crew members and Joanna kindly agreed to host me while I looked for a new place to stay. Neither Nancy nor Jo know the full truth about the photographer who broke my heart, her sex: ironically, 'bastard' and other epithets are wonderfully neutral. Their sympathy and support helped me healing a little. It took time but, as Mom said when I accidentally let it slip during a call, I had my new beginning to focus on. I was the Pan Am stewardess every girl dreams to be one day.

I still remember the thrill that coursed through my veins as I boarded my first gigantic Boeing 712, destination Tahiti. I don't know how my voice kept appealing and steady as I explained the route and thanked the passengers for choosing Pan American Airways. I had to squeeze my colleague's hand when we took off as my heart was hammering out of the purest joy. Well, that's my life now. My parents and Nancy must have a collection of the postcards I send them from Rio, Honolulu, London, Rome, Berlin, Tokyo...you name a place on the map, I've probably been there at least once. I always send one to the address Noah gave us: I hope he receives them even if his letter are rare these days. I also sent him an autograph by Sandra Dee: last time I checked he had a big crush on her so I couldn't refrain myself when I bumped into her at a celebrity party our crew was invited to. She even pressed a lipstick kiss on the napkin when I told her my brother was a marine serving in Vietnam. I hope the war ends soon: despite what censorship cuts off from his letters, I know him and I know he's not happy there. I want my Noah back, his silly jokes and Rock Hudson look. I wish I would have spotted him waiting in line to check in for a flight to sunny Los Angeles instead of that photographer who "cared for me". I would have run at him full speed and he, turning at the right moment just like in the movies, would have waved at me and pulled me in a long swaying hug. "Long time no see, sister!" he would have laughed and we would have cried tears of joy uncaring of the people watching us. Then I would have ruffled his hair - how he hated that! - and guided him home, where he belonged, not sunny California nor Vietnam. I wasn't so lucky, I got the photographer instead. Despite a couple of years has now passed since that morning I walked out of her messy flat, she looks the same. For a moment I wondered if she'd succeeded in winning that girl's heart back. She's travelling solo as far as I can tell: either she's embarking on a new adventure or running towards someone she loves...or so she thinks. I find hard to believe she knows the difference. I kept walking towards my destination. I'm grateful she didn't see me: we don't have anything else to say to each other. We're strangers now. "Excuse me, ma'am, do you have a lighter?" My train of thoughts derails with the voice of another stranger. I turn my head to find a waitress leaning down on me with a cigarette in her hand. "Oh yes, sure" I pick up my lighter and light her cigarette. She takes a blow and exhales, thanking me. But to my surprise she doesn't walk away. After a moment, during which she probably debated whether to go for it or not, she speaks again. "Actually...do you mind if I join you...?" Her question lingers until I realize she's waiting for me to say my name. "Sadie" I say. "And please, suit yourself" As she takes a seat, I shake my head. "Forgive me, it's been a long day and usually people just read my name on the tag" "Well, Mom taught me not to stare at women's breasts because it's rude: 'look right in the eye and ask, my dear girl, right in the eye', she says" she jokes, shrugging. "How thoughtful!" I laugh and I don't do that just out of curtesy: she's genuinely funny. I take a look at her, I haven't noticed her before: how long she's been working here? To be honest, I hardly pay attention to airport clerks and waiters, I'm always on the go. "So, on a break....?" I add, letting my question lingers just as she did. "Oh yes, my shift started an hour ago but since there's no one here the boss gave us a little extra break-" "Nice but I was hoping to get your name too without looking disrespectfully at your breast, mademoiselle" We look at each other for a while then she burst into laughter and I follow. "Learning from the best, I see" she comments jokingly, catching her breath. "It's Kelsey" I bow my head lightly and we exchange a quick smile. "Pan Am, huh?" she nudges at my uniform as she inhales the smoke. "It shows?" I smile, striking a magazine cover pose that makes her laugh again. "Where did you fly to today? Or yesterday, I should probably say" "Paris" I say, in my best French accent. By the look of wonder that crosses her eyes I can tell she's never been there. Only heard of it. "Wow, romantic" she notes. I chuckle, finishing off my cigarette. "Paris is romantic only if you have a lover to stroll down the Seine with. I'm just a stewardess" I claim and well, it's true: the City of Love is not as romantic without a plus one, even if the girls and I had fun during our land off there, shopping, exploring and dining in lovely bistrot. "I thought you had a companion for your dreamy walk down the river" she shrugs, gesturing to the conspicuous teddybear in beret and striped shirt quietly sitting on a chair at my side. "Oh no, Monsieur Ted and I met in Montmarte. It was a...coup de foudre!" I comment, keeping my face straight long enough to make us both burst into another round of laughters. "It's a gift." I explain. "My best friend has a little girl, it's a gift for her. It's her birthday soon and I promised to be there, I'm sort of an aunt to her. I can't go empty handed and this guy looked nice" Nicole's face softens imperceptibly. "I'm sure she'll love it. I mean, I would have given everything to get a French teddy from my fancy aunt who flies around the world every day" I smile at the compliment. Was it a compliment? I like to think so. "How long have you been working here? I've been based here for a while but I'm afraid I don't remember you" I inquiry, hoping not to offend her. She exhales smoke and gestures it's nothing. "You flight crews are always in a hurry, we don't take it personally" Her lips quickly curl into a shy smile. "It's been a year. Well, it will be a year in a month" she explains. "It's not much but it's an honest job and just what I was looking for. The boss is fair enough and it helps paying the nurse school tuition" "Wanna be a nurse?" "Yeah, I've spent too much time with grandma during my childhood" she chuckles but the hint of a smile suggests she remembers that time quite fondly. "She worked as a nurse during the war and she used to tell me stories of back then...I'm not sure I was supposed to hear all of them but she kept talking. So I ended up being of those weird little girls who had a doll hospital in her bedroom and sew broken teddy bears to cure them. Nurse school sounded like the most logical choice" "That's sweet" I consider. "Why not a doctor though?" "Ah, I'm not sure about it...maybe in the future but I will be happy enough as a nurse, I think" I smile at her earnest answer as she continues nonchalantly. "Just like I'm quite happy now to see flight crews come and go and memorise their order-" "Oh, what's my usual order then?" I tease her. She takes a pause as if I caught her cheating then she guesses right: long black, no sugar, just a drop of milk. I tell her I wish I had her memory when I serve on board. "I'm sure you're doing just fine up there" she smiles encouragely. "And even when I'm not, a nice pair of legs and a charming smile will do the trick, won't they?" I sigh: I might not be too fond of certain looks I receive but that's how things go, I guess. At least, they saved me from getting complaints; on the contrary, on my first flight my supervisor was pleasantly impressed by my "impeccable manners and overall look" as she wrote down on my report. Kelsey opens the mouth to speak again - by the look on her face probably that she didn't mean it like that - but I anticipate her. It's how things go, she must know it too. When I worked at the diner, the costumers refrained from assessing me those looks or pinch me because they had too much respect for my parents. Most of them were long time friends as far as I can remember. So I was quite safe...I hope cute Kelsey is too. A silence falls between us. I immediately wondered if I said something wrong, I'm so used to uncomfortable silence filled with unsaid accusations and complaints that I tense up. But I soon realize that...it's okay. I did nothing wrong, she's silently agreeing with me and maybe pondering what to say next. A look filled with shy curiosity is on her face when she finally speaks again. "Can I ask you something?" "Shoot" She takes a pause as if she's still translating her own thought into words or wondering if she's not crossing a line with her curiosity. "Do you ever get homesick travelling all the time?" That's...not what I was expecting but after all, what was I expecting? Not sure how I can answer that. "Odd question to ask a stewardess" I note, rising my eyebrow and taking time. "I mean, you're always somewhere else, in between places and time zones...one might feels a bit homesick, lost maybe..." Then she shakes her head and falling back to her chair. "I'm sorry I'm just being nosey, that was a silly-" "No, it's an interesting question. I've never given that much thought... I don't know, I've never felt that way, I felt free when I boarded my first plane. I still do when I'm up there in the sky. I think most of us feel that thrill but it's just my point of view. My best friend once argued that mine is not real freedom just a - how did she call it? - oh yes, a strategic retreat so..." I chuckle, reminiscing the conversation Nancy and I had in the kitchen as I helped her with the dishes. The 'concerned sister' look she gave me, handing me a wet dish to dry. 'I'm not saying it's wrong or judging you, Sadie...I have no doubt you're living the exciting life you've always dreamed, God that every girl now dream. But you can't run away forever...' "Maybe it is different if you have something to come back to. That changes things, I suppose. Some miss family, their kids..." I continue. "And you? Do you have something to go back to?" Her question leaves me speechless and gaping. Sure, I have my parents, my friends, Nancy but she has a family of her own now as many others. My brother is far away and out of reach fighting in a war he never fully endorsed. "I don't know" I admit after a moment. Voices come from the main counter urging Kelsey to go back to work. She gives me an apologetic look before searching her pockets. "Well, while you keep looking and flying around the world, at least know that you're always welcome here" She lays a couple of cafe vouchers on the table; then she takes her leave with a gracious smile. "Sadie, Monsieur Ted...it's been a pleasure" "Likewise, Kelsey" I say, waving the teddybear arm. I should probably go home and get some rest: I wasn't joking when I said it's been a long day. I collect my vouchers, pay leaving a generous tip and head to the parking lot. When I wake up in my bed, it's getting dark outside. I brew the third coffee of the day and unpack my bag. As I collect my uniform for the laundry, the vouchers slip off the pocket I secured them into. I make to pick them up when I notice something handwritten behind one of them. I look carefully and it's a phone number with a little airplane doddle to the side. Call me ~ Kelsey

[lilith-lovett]

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Twenty One

New chapter. I am so sorry this has taken so long, the past few weeks have been very hectic and stressful but everything has been sorted out. Now I have been a little busy with University preparation as I am moving into my accommodation two weeks today but I will still be posting new chapters, hopefully a lot quicker than this one. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you for your continued support.

Masterlist

Summary: Patton returns to work and Logan spends some time with Dot and Larry

Word Count: 8826 (I am very sorry this is so long)

Warnings: Past child abuse, self-deprecation, anxiety, disordered eating, implied physical abuse, implied depression, chronic pain, past psychological/emotional abuse, homophobia, homophobic parents , food mention (if I have missed anything please let me know)

The following Monday Patton returned to work. He had dropped off Logan and Dee at Dot and Larry’s that morning but the worry only intensified. Logan had only met Dot and Larry once and now he had to spend an entire day at their house. Patton knew they would take care of him but what if it was too soon? Logan still hadn’t fully adjusted to being apart of his family, he struggled to refer to the house as his home and now Patton was leaving him alone but he had no other options. He had used up all of his time off and needed to start his new position. So, he left Logan with a promise he would return to pick him up right after work and instructions for Dot and Larry to call him immediately if anything happened before setting off for work.

Patton loved his job. He had, had several odd jobs throughout his life. From catering and retail during his teenage years to his first ever teaching placement once he completed college. As well as his volunteer positions in many animal shelters and care homes, one of which turned into his most recent job in a supervisor role at his local animal shelter, where he had volunteered from the age of fifteen. Patton adored everyone he worked with and all of the precious puppies and kittens he got to help while working there, but once he was offered a full time teaching position - which also provided a substantial raise in his annual salary and while he knew money was not everything as a single father to four children, the extra money would help - he decided to leave. Returning to his frequent volunteer shifts and allowed a recent hire to be prompted. Patton had been an assistant teacher at the local elementary school for the past two years and he loved it. He loved the kiddos. He loved his co-workers. He loved being able to have an impact so early in their education and imbue the love of learning into them in their important formative years. He was so excited to finally have his own class. He knew at first, he would only be introducing the preschoolers to what they would expect to do be doing when they entered first grade following the Summer Holidays but he was looking forward to all of the activities he had planned for the kiddos.

Patton had dressed in his nicest shirt, in a soft baby blue colour, grey fitted dress pants and his navy blue tie decorated with little dinosaurs just for the kiddos. They always loved his novelty ties. He arrived at the school bright and early and was immediately met with the lovely office woman Josie who he shared recipes with during their break times.

“Hello Patton dear, I heard about your new position. I’m so happy for you darling,” Josie called out from her office, decorated with a variety of beautiful, brightly coloured flower in glass vase and a collection of luscious greenery. She always had the best gardening advice.

“Hi Josie. Thank you so much, I’m definitely looking forward to meeting all the kiddos,” Patton responded with a smile as he signed his name into the register book.

“How is your family, I heard you adopted again?” Josie asked. Patton’s children were a common topic conversation amongst his co-workers, a majority of them were parents themselves and Patton loved hearing about their kiddos and they enjoyed hearing about his in return. They knew of some the difficult circumstances surrounding their adoption and upbringing though Patton chose to keep certain private information to himself and they respected that, but he hadn’t been at work since he began to regularly meet Logan at the Orphanage so he expected them to have a lot of questions.

“Oh yes, Logan. He is well and so is everyone else,” Patton answered.

“That is wonderful, I’m sure you will tell me all about them at break but Madelyne is expecting you in her office,” Josie said as she adjusted her violet coloured glasses. Madelyne or Mrs Harp to the kiddos was the principal of the elementary and one of the nicest people Patton had ever had the pleasure of meeting. It showed in how she treated the kids and they loved her for it. It was refreshing. Patton had experienced his fair share of teachers who were in the profession for all of the wrong reasons. Who believed that shouting at children was an appropriate method of discipline and who punished their ‘disruptive’ behaviour instead of learning the reasons behind it. But Madelyne was different and she had built a system that supported the children both in their learning and their well-being. It was a system Patton both wanted to be apart of and help put into practise.    

“Alright, I’ll go and see her right away. It was nice seeing you Josie,” Patton said pulling his messenger bag further up his shoulder.

“It is wonderful to have you back darling,” Josie replied before returning to her work on her computer, typing away happily as Patton made his way to the principal’s office.

Patton knocked twice before a voice called out from within, inviting him inside. Opening the door, he was met with the brightly coloured and pleasant smelling office of Madelyne Harp, to see her sat behind her desk which was decorated with a variety of cacti each in its own intricately painted plant pot and framed pictures on Madelyne’s own two daughters - one of which was in the same grade as Roman and the other was preparing to graduate high school - who Patton loved hearing about. Madelyne had a welcoming air surrounding her, her smile widened when she saw Patton enter. Her dark hair was braided and coiled on top of her head, secured with a yellow hair clip, she was dressed professionally in a white blouse and floral pattern wide-legged trousers, bangles and necklaces decorating her wrists and neck.

“Welcome back Patton, it is lovely to see you again,” Madelyne exclaimed excitedly standing up from her desk and making her way towards Patton, extending out a hand which he took before returning to her seat and directing Patton to sit in the seat opposite.

“It is wonderful to see you too, I am happy to be back,” Patton said taking a seat.

“And we are glad to have too, How are your children?” She asked balancing her head in her hands.

“They are really good; Roman had his birthday recently, Virgil is still practising his music, we are preparing to send Dee to preschool after the summer and Logan is settling in well,” Patton replied with a smile recalling all of the recent time spent with his kids. Yes, he loved his job but the time off gave him so much more time to spend with his children, especially Logan so he could help him in adjusting to the enormous change. He didn’t wish to reveal too much of the finer details of the adoption as it was a situation he would rather not get into it. “It has been a crazy couple of months but everything is resolved now,”.

“That is good, now lets talk about your new position. As I explained to you before, the preschool class is coming to the school for their introduction days and this will be your permanent class following the summer holidays. I understand you prepared a lesson plan?” Madelyne inquired.

“Yes, I have it right here. I am so excited to meet all of the new kiddos,”Patton replied with a smile, patting the folder in his lap which contained the colour-coordinated lesson plan and schedule he had spent the past week preparing.

“Excellent, we are so happy to have you as a full-time teacher Patton. Now, are you ready to see your classroom?” Madelyne asked standing from her seat.

“Am I ever,” Patton responded shooting up from this seat. Patton had never had his own classroom before. Most of his former positions had been merely temporary such as taking over a class while one of his fellow co-workers were on maternity leave or as a substitute due to another teacher being absent but now he would finally have his own classroom. One in which he could decorate as he pleased with his students artwork and projects, to make it as bright, warm and welcoming as he could.

Madelyne lead Patton from her office to the main portion of the building, passing by various other classrooms, exchanging greetings and small talk with the teachers who inhabited them, all of them old friends who he had worked with closely in the past. Before pausing in front of one classroom in particular, it was relatively large considerably the typical size of a first grade class, its walls were bare and striped of all of its previous artwork. Desks were grouped together and spaced out throughout the classroom, each with the name of one of the children taped to it, as a seating plan. Patton’s desk was located at the front of the classroom, it was empty apart from a large computer but Patton could already envision how he would decorate it; picture frames with photos of his family and friends, plants and flowers, his planner (which he was forcing himself to use more regularly as he was a terribly unorganised person) and he couldn’t wait to get started. A pristine white board and smart board were placed on the wall adjacent to his desk, a collection of colourful board pens in a container just below it, all ready to start writing out his lesson plan for today.

“It’s pretty plain right now but I’m sure you will brighten it up soon enough,” Madelyne said leaning against one of the desk, closest to the front of the classroom.

“It’s perfect!” Patton exclaimed taking a seat at his new desk.

“Well I’m glad you like it, it will be yours for the next school year,” Madelyne said with a smile as she stood, making her way towards the door. “Now, the children will be arriving soon and I need to get ready for the assembly. I’ll see you there Patton,”.

“Yes, bye for now,” Patton said with a wave as Madelyne left. Yes, the assembly, it was the first meeting he would have with the new kiddos. He couldn’t wait.

With Patton returning to work Logan had to stay with Dot and Larry along with Declan as unlike Roman and Virgil he was not currently attending school. Patton had explained his reasoning for not immediately sending Logan to school, being that he wanted Logan to further adjust to living with him and since it was approaching the end of the school year he wouldn’t gain much from attending prematurely which Logan disagreed with. He hadn’t attended formal education since he was six years old, primarily taught himself from textbooks while living with his parents and at the orphanage (though he had support from Maggie) and he had studied everything he could from the textbooks Maggie had given him before he left. Logan needed something to do. But he couldn’t argue with Patton’s decision. Logically it made sense though he despised the feeling of aimlessness. Patton had promised him that he would be enrolled in school the following academic year and he had arranged a meeting for him with the principal of the school, which happened to be Elliott’s father, to discuss his re-entry into education in September. Three months away.

Logan was used to being left on his own. His biological parents did it often whenever they were working - which was fairly often - he relished those fleetingly moments of freedom while his parents were away. Though he continued to spend those moments studying out of fear of his parent’s wrath but without the crushing pressure of his parents criticising his every move. However, he knew Patton disliked the idea of leaving Logan in the house alone as he had expressed this to Logan. He didn’t mind the idea of being left alone as the amount of social interaction he had, had lately was beginning to overwhelm him but Declan was also with him and he did not trust himself to look after a toddler and it appeared Patton did not want to either so he had to stay with Dot and Larry. It was another opportunity to be able to build a relationship with them, however, it was also another circumstance in which they could reject him. He would also be spending an increasing amount of time with them as a result of Patton’s work schedule and as a result they would be further exposed to Logan’s rather unconventional behaviours and habits. What if he had one of his outbursts? What if the anxious and illogical portion of his brain took over his mind? Would they take back all of the kindness they had previously shown him? No. He couldn’t think negatively. Dot and Larry had been nothing but kind and accommodating to him and he was extremely lucky that they had welcomed him into their home.      

Patton had dropped off Logan and Declan at Dot and Larry’s house before making his way to work. Dot and Larry’s house was only a short distance away from Patton’s but couldn’t be more different in style and decoration. It was significantly smaller than Patton’s house which was understandable considering they were a household of two and Patton had children yet it was just as bright and colourful as Patton’s and just as filled with memories. Picture frames covered almost every wall and surface, mostly of themselves and Emile in various locations but there was also a considerable number of Patton and his family over the years. Other decorations included small ornaments, a variety of greenery and blooming plants in decorative vases. Declan had already made a mess on the floor with the assortment of toys he had brought with him for his entertainment. Logan had also brought a small rucksack with him containing a couple of titles he had yet to read to keep himself occupied and out of Dot and Larry’s way so they did not have to satisfy himself as well as Declan, who Logan knew from experience had a very short attention span and it would only be a manner of minutes before he grew tired of the items Patton had provided and began to search for another means of distraction. But for now, he appeared content in his play.

“Okay Logan, make yourself comfortable. We don’t have anything specific planned for today but if you need anything at all please just let us know,” Larry said before he sat down on the floor with Declan and joined in on the play.

“Did you bring anything with you Logan?” Dot asked hanging up her coat and sitting on the sofa.

“Yes, I brought some books with me,” Logan replied pulling the rucksack off of his shoulders to show to Dot.

“Wonderful, I’m guessing you are a little bookworm,” Dot said in a jovial tone. Logan at first did not recognise the term but from association he deducted that it was a term used to refer someone who enjoyed the action of reading books, though he didn’t know how to feel about being referred to as an insect but he assumed from her tone she did not intend it to be hurtful.

“I suppose so, I do enjoy the activity of reading,” Logan answered, he had always loved reading ever since Maggie introduced him to the world of fiction. Losing himself in the words, slipping from his bleak existence into a fantastical world of wonder and intrigue, exploring diverse and unique characters who could take him on an adventure, if just for a short while but he relished in those moments. Alone, just him and his book, his surroundings fading away into a comfortable nothingness that his mind could shape however he wished. It was his escape.

“So do l. Ah, come with me, I want to show you something,” Dot said standing from the couch, gesturing to the stairs before making her way towards them, presumably urging Logan to follow.

Logan had little idea of what Dot wanted to show him but deducing  from their previous interaction he assumed it was related to books. Larry did not follow, remaining on the floor, occupying Declan while Logan was lead upstairs. Glancing around at the walls enclosing the staircase, more photographs caught his attention. They ascended the stairs as he did, the figures within them reversing in age as they did. Seven figures, to five. Three. Four then two. Most of them he recognised as Patton, Patton’s children, Emile and Dot and Larry themselves though the one of the faces was foreign to him but he did not mention it. He followed to the upper floor and into one of the closest rooms. Revealing a library inside. Albeit a small library more akin to a study but Logan was so astounded by the sheer number of titles, he did not care for the correct term. Dark wood shelves stretched from the floor to the ceiling hiding the wall from view, they were filled with books. Young and old, worn and new, a variety of fiction and non-fiction titles in all genres and categories. In the centre of the room, stood a similarly coloured wooden desk, free from all decorations apart for a solitary picture frame. Adjacent to it, a lavender coloured armchair, positioned diagonally against the window, a large grey knitted blanket draped over the back of the chair and decorated with two mustard yellow cushions.

“Welcome to our home library,” Dot announced gesturing to the shelves with a proud smile. “Larry and I both love reading and our little collection has certainly grown a lot. I adore gothic literature, the Brontë sisters are a personal favourite of mine and I can tell you that Virgil certainly didn’t get his taste for books from Larry or Patton,”.

As Logan perused the shelves, he recalled seeing similar titles on Virgil’s bookshelves though not to the extent of Dot’s collection, his appeared much more age appropriate. However, the shelves were not only taken up by fictional novels as there was also a substantial number of non-fiction titles of various topics such as; psychology, computer science, the human psyche and technologies. He guessed some were former books for Emile’s - considering the subject matter was closely related to his field of study and work - but that did not explain the rest.

“Are these yours also?” Logan asked pointing to the shelves which held the non-fiction books.

“Oh no, they are Larry’s, most of them are about computers or some such things. He is the tech genius in this family, I am hopeless with all of that,” Dot responded with a chuckle. Logan had received his own knowledge on technological systems and equipment exclusively from books with very little interactions with any electronic devices. Maggie owned a laptop and cellular device, she often brought them with her to work and at times allowed Logan to study them and use them for research purposes for information he couldn’t find in his textbooks. “Do you also like non-fiction?”.

“I do. I particularly like scientific practises and research journals though they do not provide the same sense of escapism as fiction does,” Logan answered as he continued to study the various books on the shelves, both fiction and non-fiction, some of which he had read many of which he hadn’t.

“It does indeed, reading gives us a place to go when we are stuck in reality,” Dot said which made a lot of sense. When Logan was trapped with his parents, he would read everything he could get his hands on for a few fleeting moments of happiness before it was torn from him again. When he was trapped within the orphanage, he treasured the books Maggie gave him and spent every free moment he had in the wondrous world of the stories he read until the was forced to return. “You can borrow any of our books any time you like Logan, I know they will be safe in your capable hands,”.

Logan did not know how to respond. Again they were giving him more. Despite the fact, he had barged him way into their family and lives and was undeserving of of their gifts and hospitality. He doubted they would listen to his protests considering the kindness they had bestowed upon him so far, so he remained quiet. A few moments passed, of Logan continuing the browse the collection as Dot watched on, before the door to the library open revealing Larry with along with Declan perched upon his shoulders, clutching his snake stuffed animal in his fist.

“Hello, we were wondering where you had both disappeared to. Admiring our library I see?” Larry questioned removing Declan from his shoulder, placing him on the floor and rubbing his shoulder so if it caused him pain.

“Yes, it is a rather impressive collection,” Logan answered.

“It is and it is one of my favourite rooms in the house,” Larry said glancing wistfully around the room. “The one thing we both wanted when we were looking at house, was our own personal library and now we have it,”.

“Read!” Declan exclaimed running over to where Logan was stood, tugging on the fabric of his trousers.

“Oh, would you like me to read you a story Dee?” Larry asked, crouching with some difficultly to Declan’s height.

“No, Lo-Lo read to me,” Declan insisted continuing to tug persistently at him.

“I think Logan would rather have some time to himself Dee darling,” Dot said attempting to reason with the headstrong toddler.

“No, it is alright,” Logan interrupted. “ Declan and I often read together, it wouldn’t be a problem to do it now,”

It was true, ever since the first night Logan arrived at Patton’s house when he read to Declan in order to calm him down, it became a near daily occurrence. Declan at any hour would simply appear, book in hand or choose one of Logan’s books for him to read and they would sit in the armchair - which appears to have inadvertently become Logan’s - for however long it took for Declan to either fall asleep or lose interest which rather surprisingly the former was more common.

“Oh well then, we’ll leave you two to it,” Dot said with a hint of surprise in her voice, ushering herself and Larry out of the room. “You are welcome to stay in here and we’ll call for you when it is lunch time,”

Dot and Larry left and Logan was left with Declan, looking up at him expectantly. He took a seat on the armchair and assisted Declan in climbing into the space left beside him but he chose to instead sit on Logan’s lap as he often did with Patton and was bouncing with excitement. Logan opened his rucksack pulling out one of the three books he had brought with, his bookmark poking out from the pages, he opened it allowing Declan to hold the bookmark and began to read.

Patton stood at the side of the assembly hall with his fellow teachers as the kiddos were herded into the hall and directed to sit in their designated year group. He was brimming with excitement and nerves. There they were. His new class. He actually had his own class. He couldn’t wait to get started. He could see it all now. His first lesson. Their first school trip. The Halloween, Christmas and end of year party. Patton knew he would try his darndest to make it perfect for the kids. He was quickly broken out of his day dream by the sound of Madelyne’s voice ringing out throughout the hall.

“Good morning children and welcome to our wonderful school, my name is Mrs Harp and I will be your Principal when you all return after the summer holidays and it is time to start the new school year,” Madelyne announced with a bright smile which was returned by many of the new students. “Now, you are all here today to get a taste of what you will be doing in your new classes and give you the opportunity to meet your new teachers, especially our brand new first graders and I’m sure will all do amazingly and will continue to do so throughout your years at our school,”.

Madelyne continued her speech, discussing the curriculum, the school’s core values and their importance, went over the school rules and what was expected behaviour wise from every student, gave a brief introduction to the other staff members they would be regularly interacting with; dinner ladies, support workers and various others and set out the activities for the day, explaining the times break and lunch would be and when they would be collected at the end of the school day.

“And now all of that is out of the way. Are you ready to get started” Madelyne asked the assembled children, her voice carrying throughout the hall. A resounding ‘Yes’ from the children answered her question. “Excellent, let’s start with our soon-to-be first graders. Allow me to introduce you to your new teacher, Mr Hart,”. Patton waved, stepping out from the line, identifying himself to the kids.

“Hiya everyone, I’m so excited to finally meet you all. Now, if you could all stand up for me and line up single-file, I’ll take you to our classroom,” Patton said barely able to contain his excitement as they all stood together and shuffled into line, it was a little wonky but a line nonetheless and they all looked up at him with their bright eyes, waiting for their next instruction. “Okay everyone, follow me,”.

Patton turned, flashing a smile at his fellow teachers who stood on the side waiting for their own classes, he received a couple of smiles and a thumbs up in return, as he walked the children all shuffled behind him, excitedly whispering to each other which only made Patton’s smile grow wider. They were already becoming friends. Eventually, they made it to their classroom.

“Okay everyone, before we go in I need you all to put your bags and jackets away. Everyone should have their own compartment and peg with your name, lets do three at a time, okay?” Patton said pointing of the first three children in the line, then the next, until they had all neatly put away their belongings and were waiting patiently to enter the classroom. “Let’s head in,”.

All the children shuffled into the classroom, talking animatedly to each other, gasping in wonder at the scale of the classroom and the bright colours which decorated the walls and the carpet. They all gathered towards the front of the classroom by the board and sat cross-legged on the floor, glancing up at him, waiting for their next instruction. Patton took a seat at his desk, swirling around on his spiny chair to face the children, the register ready on his lap.

“Good morning everyone, it is lovely to meet you finally, I’m so excited to start working with all of you,” Patton said clapping his hands together in excitement. “Now, today will be an easy, breezy day of everyone just getting to know each other and doing some fun activities. Okay, lets start with an exercise to help everyone learn each others name and get to know each other. I’ll go through the register and call out your names and when you hear your name you can say an interesting fact about yourself, do an funny dance move or just wave to everyone, if you would like. For example, hi, my name is Mr Hart and I like puppies and kittens or my name is Mr Hart…”.

Patton raised his arms and began waving them in the air, once he spoke, inducing a chorus and squeals, giggles and laughter from the children which brought a warm sensation to his chest as he looked upon their smiling faces.

“Okay, lets get started. Lilly Adams,” Patton announced and the bubbly, blonde, smiling girl seated at the front raised her arm.

“My name is Lilly and I like puppies and kittens too!” Lilly exclaimed her pigtails bouncing with the abrupt movement. Patton almost squealed aloud at how adorable she was. Patton loved having boys but had secretly always wanted a little girl.

“That’s wonderful,” Patton said beaming a smile at Lilly. “Okay , Blair Anderson.

Patton continued down the register, calling out each name as they told either a fact about themselves or did a funny action. A few of his personal favourites were Jacob’s elongated tale about his various fish and Maddie’s very impressive cartwheel, though he did have to warn her against it as she very nearly cartwheeled into a table, potentially injuring herself and others. Though it was quite impressive.

“Okay last name, Oren Wood,” Patton called out and a silence fell over the classroom as the children looked around for the named pupil, who never spoke up or raised their hand. Patton assumed they were perhaps shy and didn’t want to speak up in front of the entire class. “If you don’t want to speak, can you raise your hand so I can see who you are?”.

After a short pause, a small boy seated right at the back meekly raised his hand before quickly retracting it and averting his eyes to the floor when people began to turn and look at him. Patton noticed the discomfort from the attention placed on him, he suspected me may be anxious about the change in the environment or the activity itself and didn’t wish to contribute to his anxiety any further.

“Oren, you don’t have to talk if your don’t want to, how about a hand motion?” Patton said with a snaking motion of his hand and arm, hoping it would encourage Oren to do the same. “Can you do that for me?”.

After a moment of hesitation, Oren raised his trembling hands and begins to move them in very specific motions, pointing towards himself before raising his hands to his mouth and pressing his index finger and thumb together repeatedly. The rest of the children whispered to one another in confusion but Patton recognised the actions as sign language. ‘I like birds’. To be specific. He hadn’t been informed of any children who used sign language but luckily he had learned it in high school and continued to hone his skills throughout the years, in order to communicate with some of the children he had worked with in the past and was currently teaching it to Virgil so he would be able to communicate whenever he became non-verbal or didn’t want to talk. It was a very valuable skill.

“Oh you know sign language, I do too!” Patton exclaimed and responded in sign language while also speaking allowed for the benefit of the other children. “I like birds too,”.

A small smile crept into Oren’s face as Patton responded in sign language and it made Patton’s heart swell with pride at the sight. Patton continued with his lesson plan, directing all of the children to their new seats, allowing them to make friends with her new elbow partners before progressing with his plan. Initially going over the general classroom rules, based on behaviour both in class and in the playground towards other students and himself, the curriculum they would be following once they returned after the summer and his own expectations. As they listened with intense curiosity and a look of wonder on their faces as he described everything the future held for them within his classroom, as he could feel his excitement building. He was actually doing this. He had his own class. And he couldn’t wait to get started.

“Logan…Declan…Lunch is ready!” Larry called out from downstairs just as Logan had finished reading to Declan who was beginning to grow restless and agitated with hunger so a lunch break was welcome.

Logan descended the stairs with Declan held securely in his arms, careful not to jostle him or make contact with any of his burn spots which appeared to be bothering him so not to cause him any further discomfort. He set Declan down on the floor who sprinted towards the kitchen table, where a series of flavours of crofters were laid out in preparation for lunch. Larry assisted Declan into a chair and began to help him prepare his food, a sandwich slathered in a thick layer of strawberry jam.

“Patton told us you liked Crofters, it seems to be trend with you boys,” Dot joked taking a seat at the table, a steaming cup of sweet smelling tea in her hands. “Go head, pick anything you’d like,”.

Logan took a seat at the table, directly in front of Dot and adjacent to Declan. An empty plate and glass set in front of him, a variety of jars of Crofters, a loaf of seeded bread and several flavours of juice were also laid out for him to help himself to, though he specifically chose to wait until everyone had served themselves before serving himself. A blackcurrant jam sandwich and a glass of water, cutting it into appropriate sections before eating, with little question from Dot or Larry. They filled much of the conversation with humorous anecdotes from their rather interesting lives, basic small talk and thankfully very few questions directed towards himself. He much preferred listening to them talk without having to contribute.

“Oh, that reminds me, Emile should be arriving soon,” Dot said once she had finished her own meal before removing her plate, along with Larry’s (which was also empty) and Declan’s who had only left the crusts of his sandwich, much of the jam staining his face and hands. While Logan had two near perfect quarters of his sandwich remaining on his late. “I’m sure he will want to talk to you Logan,”.

Logan had talked to Emile very little since arriving at Patton’s, outside of their initial meeting which was also quite brief, merely an introduction before he had to leave and much of their interactions since then had been similarly short. Primarily involving Emile asking Logan how he was doing, to which he replied with a simple yet calculated answer to prevent any further questioning. To be entirely truthful, Logan had purposefully been avoiding communicating with Emile, primarily out of fear of what he would ask. Considering he was a therapist and commonly uncovered the true meaning and emotions behind a person’s words and Logan would rather that not happen. So not to expose his true feelings and fears to anyone else as he believed if Emile discovered anything about it he would immediately relay it back to Patton which would severely impact his view of Logan. He didn’t have any ill-feelings towards Emile but his anxiety certainly heightened whenever Emile was present and now he was coming over with the intention of talking with Logan. He lost the remainder of his appetite.

“Are you finished, Logan?” Larry asked gesturing towards his plate.

“Oh yes, thank you,” Logan said allowing Larry to remove his plate, only receiving a brief look of concern but didn’t question him for which Logan was thankful. Everyone relocated from the kitchen table to the living room to wait for Emile’s arrival. Declan had returned to playing with his toys on the floor, Larry was cleaning up the kitchen and Dot was sat of the sofa, a pair of thick needles in her hands entwined in a cream coloured wool. Logan decided to take a seat on the adjacent sofa, bringing out one of his books to read until Emile’s arrival.

They only waited a short while before Emile arrived, Dot, Larry and Declan immediately got up to greet him, while Logan merely closed his book and stood. Back from the remainder of the family who gathered by the door as Emile entered, dressed in his usual shirt and tie combination presumably coming from his place of work, his unnaturally coloured hair neatly combed to the side which was quickly dishevelled by him running a hand through it.

“Hello, Emile dear,” Dot exclaimed immediately wrapping her arms around Emile’s torso, as he was considerably taller than her, which he returned with a bright smile before catching the gaze of Logan.

“Hello mum, how are you?” Emile asked breaking eye contact with Logan as he broke away from Dot.

“Oh I’m fine, we are all good,” Dot responded returning to her seat on the sofa as Emile entered but he didn’t get far before Declan threw his tiny body into Emile’s legs, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Woah there!” Emile exclaimed in surprise as he managed to catch himself, regaining his balance, leaning down to lift Declan into his arms. “Hello to you too, Dee,”.

“Ucle Emmy!” Declan chirped in excitement, as he threw his arms around Emile’s neck, in what resembled a hug though Emile seemed some what pained by the force of Declan’s grip.

“Is your shoulder bothering you again?” Larry asked a hint of concern displayed on his face as he took Declan from Emile, which produced an expression of relief across Emile’s features. “We have painkillers and ice, if you need it,”.

“I’m alright dad, you don’t need to worry,” Emile replied gently rubbing a particular spot on his left shoulder, a strained smile appearing on his face. Emile’s behaviour perplexed Logan. He was clearly in pain yet refused the methods of short-term relief Larry provided. But why? “How are you Logan?”.

Logan jolted at the sudden mention of his name. He had spent so long attempting to read Emile that he had forgotten the true meaning of his visit. To speak with him.

“Oh, uh…yes, I mean…I am satisfactory,” Logan stuttered averting his eyes to the floor as his face grew hot with embarrassment.

“How about we take Dee to the park and we’ll leave you two to talk here?” Dot asked before disappearing into the kitchen, then returning with her bag. “Does that sound fun, Dee?”.

“Yes!” Declan shouted immediately running off presumably to collect his shoes and coat, followed by Larry.

They left a short while later, several handfuls of Declan’s toys he demanded that they bring with them on their outing, leaving Logan alone with Emile. He sat on the sofa, book clenched tight within his hands, staring so intently at the cover the words of the title began to warp and distort. Afraid of what Emile would ask of him. Hoping he could avoid the conversation entirely but that as simply wishful thinking.

“Let’s go sit outside, have you seen the garden yet?” Emile inquired Logan forced his eyes to meet Emile’s, they were bright yet soft, intense yet kind. He stood with the intention of following him outside, shaking his head in response to his question. “I think you will like, I always did as a kid,”.

Logan followed Emile outside, into the garden and just as he passed the threshold he was met with the most incredible sight. The garden was small but beautiful. The grass was lusciously green, swaying softly in the gentle breeze, surrounded by a variety of potted and planted flowers of every colour, gathering in an awe-inspiring spectrum of shades. To both the right and left of the porch where Logan and Emile stood, where two patches of earth and soil, sprouted fresh fruits and vegetables, similar to Patton’s but considerably larger with a greater variety of produce ready to be picked.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Emile asked gazing out across the garden, as if lost in a memory.

“Yes,” Logan answered almost breathless, without considering the question or his answer. He was simply too enamoured by the appearance of the garden but he was swiftly broken out of his daze by the painful sound of metal scraping against wood as Emile pulled out two chairs for them to sit.

A silence washed over them as they sat. Logan had assumed Emile would immediately start questioning him, he had been mentally preparing himself for a barrage of personal questions but it didn’t come. He risked a glance towards Emile and saw he was gazing out onto the garden, a wistful perhaps longing expression on his face but Logan couldn’t discern as to why. Though Emile no longer lived with Dot and Larry, they evidently had a close relationship and shared no ill-will between each other and as a result would be allowed to visit and spend time in the garden, whenever he pleased. Emile looked back at him, appearing to snap himself out of the daze he was in when he noticed Logan looking at him.

“Ah, sorry. I was just thinking about the past,” Emile said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he smiled nervously. “So, how are you settling in?”.

“It has been fine, Patton has been kind and accommodating as have Roman and Virgil,” Logan answered averting his gaze once again, returning it to the closed book in his hands.

“That is good, Patton had mentioned he was worried about how you were handling the change. He also told me you had have a rough time recently, would you like to discuss it?” Emile asked. Logan didn’t, however he didn’t know how to communicate that without sounding rude. “You don’t have to if you don’t to, we could talk about something else if you would prefer?”.

“I apologise,” Logan said unsure of Emile’s reaction to his refusal.

“No, no. You don’t need to apologise, I’m sorry if I was pushing you. You don’t need to worry about not wishing to discuss personal issues, I only want you to be comfortable,” Emile said a warm smile stretching across his face. “How is Patton doing?”.

“I believe he is well,” Logan responded thankful for the change in conversation.

“That is good, he thinks I worry about him too much. He always get on at me for it but I can’t help it,” Emile said with a chuckle.

“That is understandable, you evidently have a close relationship,” Logan said he had noticed the close relationship shared between Emile and Patton, their friendship more resembled the traditional sibling relationships he read about in some of his books. He initially believed they were siblings when he meet Emile for the first time.

“Yeah, we have been close for a while, since middle school actually,” Emile said reclining back in his chair, gazing out over the garden once again, as if recalling a memory. “He has had a difficult time in life that is why I worry, he isn’t the best at taking care of himself particularly when he started adopting, especially with Virgil and Dee. So, I have been trying to keep an eye on him,”.

Logan averted his eyes once again. So, Patton had, had difficult experience with his adoptions in the past. Was he causing more issues for Patton? He had already caused so many problems for him. Was he making everything worse?

“Are you alright, Logan?” Emile asked seemingly having noticed Logan’s change in behaviour.

“Ah, yes, I am fine,” Logan said quickly, hoping for the conversation to return to Patton.

“Okay, I need you to know, Patton certainly doesn’t regret adopting any of you, he loves you all very much and would give anything to ensure you are happy and well-taken care of. Okay?”. Emile said closing the distance between himself and Logan, placing a hand on the edge of Logan’s chair.

“Okay,” Logan responded he still struggled to believe that he was nothing but a burden on Patton and his family but Emile assurances of the opposite was somewhat comforting.

“How about we head inside, I’m sure mum, dad and Dee will be back soon,”Emile said standing from his chair, gazing once again at the garden before returning inside, Logan following behind.

Once Dot, Larry and Declan returned from their outing, Emile only stayed for a short while before leaving. Sharing a hug with his parents and Declan, directing a simple wave towards Logan which he returned as he left. It was fastly approaching the time Patton would be leaving work to collect himself and Declan to take back to the house, so instead of returning to the library he decided to remain in the living room with Dot and Larry who were closely supervising Declan, who was sitting at the kitchen table, entertaining himself with some of his toys.

“So, how was your little talk with Emile?” Dot inquired as Logan sat down.

“It is very informative,” Logan responded considering how much he learned about Patton and Emile’s relationship with one another and more about Patton.

“Was it? Well that is good,” She replied lifting her needles once again.

“Actually, may I ask you both a question?” Logan asked drawing the attention of both Dot and Larry.

“Yes, of course Logan. Ask away,” Larry prompted with a hand gesturing urging him to continue, listening in rapt attention.

“How are you so close to Patton? Emile mentioned that they initially meet in school yet you appear as if you are blood-related family,” Logan inquired he had been questioning the relationship between Patton and Emile’s family ever since meeting Dot and Larry. Why were they considered ‘honorary’ grandparents and not simply grandparents? Were Patton’s biological parents not involved with with family?

“Ah, Patton did say you were a curious one. I suppose it is a rather confusing situation, so it is understandable you wondering about it,” Dot answered setting down her needles in her lap. “It’s true, we meet Patton when he and Emile were in middle school and we were going through a rough time, he was a wonderful child so kind and caring. It was a pleasure having him over so we never questioned why we never meet his parents initially but we later found out why…”.

“Patton’s parents are horrible people who did not deserve such an exceptional young man as a son!” Larry exclaimed with such intensity that Logan flinched.

“Larry, calm down, please,” Dot urged resting a hand on her husband thigh, in an effort to calm him which was effective as he quietened, averting his eyes and clasping Dot’s hand in his own. “He is right though. They were incredibly hard on him, especially in regards to his education and they consistently put him down, they never…physically…abused him as far as I am aware but I know what they did still affects him,”.

“What did they do?” Logan asked intently listening as they retold the story. Dot and Larry shared a look Logan was unable to decipher before Dot sighed and continued.

“When he was seventeen he came out to his parents as pansexual and they…didn’t take it well. They believe it is a sin to identify as any sexuality other than heterosexual, they kicked him out. They threw their only son out onto the street because of the possibility of him loving another man,” Dot said the seething anger seeping in to her tone. “That is when he turned up on our doorstep and of course we allowed him to stay with us. He hasn’t seen or spoken to them since. He made it through school without them, he made it through several jobs without, he adopted all of you without them and has been a better parent than they ever were to him. Patton became the person he is today without them,”.

“We may not be related by blood but we are family by choice. Patton’s own family did not accept him so he built a new one and we were more than happy to become apart of it, as are you Logan,” Dot continued, stretching over to rest a hand on Logan’s forearm.

Logan was silent, processing the information. He had never expected Patton to have experienced such a traumatic upbringing and abusive relationship with his biological parents, removing him from the house because of an uncontrollable factor - he didn’t know the specific term Dot used though Maggie had taught him the difference between certain sexualities as he knew very little about relationships - which he had been told shouldn’t matter. Patton was the kindest, most accommodating and good-natured person he had ever met, he had persisted in the face of adversity throughout his own adoption, supporting him throughout the difficult situation they experienced together presumably also with Roman, Virgil and Declan during their own adoptions - though he didn’t know the details of their specific adoptions and home situation - and had yet to punish Logan for his less than favourable behaviour and traits. Logan could not comprehend how anyone could treat someone like Patton so terribly.

“But he is with us now, he is away from them and they can’t hurt him any more just like your parents can’t hurt you. You are apart of our family now too,” Dot said softly squeezing Logan’s forearm, a warm smile spreading across her face as the familiar warm sensation built within his chest.

Family. He had never had a true family before. He never allowed himself to truly be apart of one but perhaps he could be apart of this one.  

Taglist:  @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @poems-art-darkness-n-more @alex-cain @amber1594 @darkrainbow333 @falseh0od @lovingcreatorstrawberry @mason-does-a-thing @callboxkat @tacohippy56900 @anxiousangel121 @comicsimpson @harrypotternerdprincess @cobythinks @whatschooldoesntteachyou @fandomkitty8 @coloursintheblur @read-write-inspire-repeat @clinicalawesomeness @deceit-sanders-deserved-better @scared-ghosthunter @silverstarlinedart @winterrose42 @alotofstupidstuff @imalwaysthatoneperson @glitchybina @dumbgayemo @quietwords-loudthoughts @altruistic-skittles @thecrimsonstoryteller 

[crappyfics]

Coco [part 1]

Summary: It wasn’t about impressing him. It was about becoming the best version of yourself.

Word count: 2k

Notes: Couldn’t find the owner of the header.

It was a hot summer day and it seemed like it was never gonna end. Stuck at your job, you worked the stock since ten in the morning piling up boxes, moving away trolleys, receiving supplies and sending out products. Your coworkers would show up every once in a while to grab a trolly piled up with products, and only be back once they were done placing the stuff in the respective shelves. The customer traffic was at its peak that day with everyone coming by to purchase something for a refreshing drink. You had received a great shipment of gin and rose wine which were highly requested this time of the year. The store was going to close soon and you looked forward to it. Though you hadn’t finished moving things around in the stock which was a bummer, really, because it meant you would have to deal with it the next morning. So you took off your gloves and apron, placed them on top of a box pile then retreated to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. 

The cool water refreshed your skin that was hot and sweaty not only from the physical effort, but for the heat in the warehouse that you could swear was also slowing down your productivity that day. You wash your face one more time then dry it with some paper feeling much better now. Coming out of the washroom, you get startled with the inconvenient Chanyeol who’s been getting on your nerves a little more than usual. Arms crossed against his chest, he stared down at you with a smile you really didn’t appreciate right now. 

“I’m not doing overtime, Chanyeol,” you said, managing to move past him and towards the lockers. You heard his footsteps behind you, his presence was always like a shadow following you. At least at work, he always made sure you were under his supervision. 

“I wasn’t gonna ask that,” he responded with a tranquility you recognized well. He liked to play that game with you, the rat and the cat, it was ridiculous. 

“It’s almost eight and you never have anything nice to say to me after five p.m.” you spoke as you opened your locker and pulled out your sneakers dropping them on the floor and proceeding to undo the laces of your work shoes. They were heavy and dirty, so much like how you felt at that moment. 

“You’re funny,” he laughed knowing very well it was all true but he kept the commentary for himself. “I was going to tell you to arrive one hour early tomorrow,” he said, making you snap your head towards him, giving him a death glare he was so accustomed to. “We have a lot of boxes to place here in the back, and another 50 or 60 to put out in the front.” 

“Yeol, I was working in the back on my own all day,” you whined much to his surprise because he really thought you were going to attack his stomach with a punch or something. But honestly speaking, you would never hurt your boss, especially not at work. He just was never used to hear you whine if it wasn’t for special occasions, such as asking for a day off or whatever. “You gotta make one of the boys come out here and help me out if you want the stock to be done in two days. One and a half if we’re being optimistic.” 

You sat down on the bench in front of the lockers and continued to take off your shoes and change for the light weighted sneakers you had. You placed the heavy ones very carelessly back inside your locker and reached further up there to grab your jacket that was pretty useless that day given the high temperature in the city. 

“Okay, I’ll call Lay tonight,” he said. He moved closer and searched for your face in hopes to find a sign of contentment. 

“Can you call Sehun instead?” you looked up at him finding his knitted eyebrows quite funny the way they judged you. 

“And I was here all this time thinking you didn’t like the boy,” he responded leaning on the locker right beside yours and not taking his eyes off of you now that he heard something new. 

Footsteps were heard coming from the front of the store. In a trail, your coworkers walked in going directly to their respective lockers. Baekhyun came last, rolling the keys of the front door around his finger and playfully making his way to you and Chanyeol. Yeol opened his hand for Baek to drop the keys back to him. 

“He’s the fastest at moving shit around,” you simply responded. 

“Are we talking about Sehun again?” Baekhyun asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder and smiling now copying the knowing smirk of Chanyeol’s face. 

“Again?” Chanyeol asked. “So this conversation has happened before.”

“I can’t with you two.” you grabbed your bag and moved past both boys who shared a knowing look now finding it hilarious how worked up you got with the silly teasing. You headed to the backdoor but stopped before leaving. You looked back towards the boys and saw Chanyeol still chatting with Baekhyun by the lockers. They noticed you still there looking at them. “I’ll wait in the car.”

Chanyeol passed around the bottle. Only the three of you, it didn’t take too long for it to get to you. The hard whiskey was not doing wonders to your throat, but it sure was making you feel lighter, freer. You hissed with the alcohol sliding down your throat, you could feel it reach your stomach. But after that pain was gone, you were ready to take another swig, though, you passed the bottle back to Chanyeol. Baekhyun, as the designated driver, stopped after his first swig. It was always the three of you. The three of you sitting in the car, listening to Chanyeol’s rock playlist, drinking something cheap you bought, chatting, singing, and crying the night away until it was time to go home. Though growing older meant that the nights were shorter, drinking was a little more responsible, and chatting was more mature as well. Though these small things shifted, the habits were still there, your friends were still the same. 

When Chanyeol turned eighteen, he applied for a job at the liquor store and it sounded like the coolest thing in the world. After six months of working there, he had a good front with his boss at that time which facilitated the hiring of Baekhyun who just recently had lost his job at the bakery. You were only fifteen when that happened, and being the youngest of your friends sometimes took a toll on you. You couldn’t go out to the same places, neither drink, or go clubbing. It was hard for you to also see them working for the same company. You had a part time job at the grocery store which gave you some good cash for your needs as a teenager. But when you were no longer a minor, Chanyeol was already a supervisor at Spirits and saw no problem in adding you to the team. The three of you were like the dream team. You enjoyed doing a lot of the heavy work because you were good at it, Baekhyun was a master at customer service, and Chanyeol was a diplomat earning him, later on, the post of manager.

“So what is it with you and Sehun, huh?” Chanyeol’s indiscretion was probably the thing you hated and liked the most about him. He wasn’t like that at work, but once you were outside, all the teasing and bickering was maximized since there was no policy code holding him back. 

“She likes him,” responded Baekhyun, taking a huge bite on his burger. He didn’t even bother looking at you in the backseat, but Chanyeol sure looked behind to find your obviously blushed cheeks. 

“No, I don’t,” you snapped back not knowing if you were convincing enough. You shouldn’t even try lying to them because it was useless doing so. Baekhyun already knew you were clearly interested in the tall boy who ever so often makes you shake in the base whenever he towers over you. Chanyeol was a little more oblivious because he didn’t spend much time out in the back with you, he was always very busy inside his office. 

“He gave her a stupid nickname,” Baekhyun said raising up the corners of his lips which were a little dirty with ketchup and mayo. He looked stupid. “He calls her Coco.”

“I think it’s sweet,” responded Chanyeol turning back to you waiting for a response. You just looked away not knowing exactly how to get away from that conversation. You weren’t very good with boys and talking about them made you extremely uncomfortable. “Why Coco though?” he looked back at Baekhyun.

“Because she looks like a dry coconut,” he laughed causing Yeol to laugh as well. 

“No! It’s because I smell like coconut, he said.” you explained in an urge to defend your honour, to defend the nickname Sehun gave exclusively to you. “You’re an ass, Baekhyun.”

“Why don’t you ask him out?” Chanyeol suggested as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You sighed, he would never understand. You could not just go up to Sehun and set up a date. C’mon, the guy was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. And you… You were always a mess, sweaty and exhausted from work. 

“Don’t be stupid,” you snapped. 

“He likes the smell of your sweat,” Baekhyun pointed. “Shouldn’t be too hard to get him to go out with you.”

“I honestly cannot tell if you’re mocking me or being supportive,” you responded to his mockery advice. 

“I just think you need to smile a little more, you know?” he continued purposefully ignoring your inquiry. “With that ugly scowl on your face 24/7, no one is going to make a move on you.”

“Well, excuse me,” you gasped. It was unexpected to get attacked at such an odd hour. “I smile! I get stressed at work because my boss leaves me alone in the back for eight hours.”

“Don’t act like I always do that!” Chanyeol defended himself from your also very unexpected attack.

“We’re gonna work on your smile and then we can move on to your wardrobe,” Baekhyun continued not giving a single flying fuck to whatever you were saying.

“What’s wrong with it?” you questioned looking down at yourself and finding the uniform you’ve been wearing for the past twelve hours now. You stopped for a moment. Even outside work you didn’t make much of an effort to look good. You didn’t even care if you were wearing your uniform or another tshirt, because you never felt the need to look good. You didn’t care about how others perceived you either. But hearing Baekhyun point out your flawed and lazy outfits was taking a toll on you. 

For the first time ever you felt like you had to impress somebody. If you wanted Sehun to look at you the way you wanted, then you should get rid of the oiliness of your skin, the messy hair tied up in a lazy ponytail, work on a smile… And for when, one day, you guys finally go out, you will definitely need new clothes. It wasn’t about making it to impress a man, it was about looking like the best version of yourself! 

Your reflection ended as soon as Baekhyun stopped listing all the wrong things about your Walmart plain t-shirts. You hated to admit it, but he was… right. You could have a little more fun next time you go shopping and maybe spend a little more than ten dollars on a top. You looked back, finding Baek’s eyes on the mirror and he looked back at you. You could tell by his eyes that he was now smiling. You braced yourself. 

“Did you hear me, Coco?”

[hopesiick]

𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐃 // vice detective, thirty-three, red ridge native.

— unflinching, grudging, brainy, irreverent, plucky, mulish. loosely inspired by dominique dipierro (mr robot), laurie blake (watchmen hbo), eve polastri (killing eve), wendy byrde (ozark), and allie pressman (the society). this vine, too.

howdy, folks! i’m dev. 🤠 this is my dearest brain babie, jordan. normally, this is where i’d get all mushy-gushy on y’all, but the rest of this introduction is already too long as it is, and i’d rather not add insult to injury hehe. just know i’m happy to be here & even more excited to get to know you all + your brain babies, too! 🥳 @redridgeimp​​

— pinterest, stats + connections page.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: bullet points marked with three asterisks (***) feature mentions of domestic abuse and unfit parenting. reader discretion is advised.

the toussards are old money. her mother’s side of the family have made their fortune off of hay farms scattered across the state of nevada, and her father’s side of the family have mostly been cattle and dairy farmers. together, they decided to venture into real estate, too, by buying up farm land plots and selling them at a higher price, along with residential plots, too. 

they’re not showy people, but they definitely make good use of their money. jordan’s childhood home is a plantation-style house on a big ole plot of land situated on the outskirts of town. they had healthy green grass with sprinklers and a full garden. inside, everything was real wood, ivory, and silver. they had a maid and gardeners and the whole nine yards. still, if you hadn’t seen that or recognized their family name, you might have expected them to be any other family belonging to red ridge. 

to many, they gave off the image of a picture-perfect, all-american nuclear family. it’s easy to pretend, seeing as they live so far away from all the glitz and none of them -- no matter how they feel -- are willing to shatter that golden reputation, but it isn’t real. elise, her mother, wanted a doll more than she wanted an actual child, and it was society’s pressure on women to give birth that forced her hand, not any sense of innate desire for expanding the family. joseph, her father, was too caught up in his wife’s every wish and whim to really pay attention to jordan in a deep way. he never turned his back on her, but jordan never felt any deep belonging to him either -- if anything, he felt more like a 2d stand in for the father she wished she’d had. 

*** that meant there was only one adult left to really pick up her parent’s slack, and that was corinne, her aunt. corinne, who had an awful habit of bringing terrible men home. corinne, who was bipolar and unmedicated, and often in charge of taking care of jordan from the moment she was in diapers to the moment she graduated college. corinne, who was manipulated by her own sister. corinne, who was helpless to protect jordan against her mother’s attacks, and unable to shield her from the rage her boyfriends spat. corinne is like a mother to jordan. she was the hand that rubbed her back when she was sick. she was the open arms that held her when one of jordan’s teenage dates went sour. she was the one to cover for her when she snuck out and the one to teach her everything her mother considered too immoral and dirty. corinne is her mother in the way elise never could be, but still .. jordan can’t help but feel anger towards her. 

*** jordan’s known how to use, fire, and clean a gun from the age of eight. she learned how to hunt at the age of ten. she knew and helped her father field dress a handful of animals by the age of twelve. you may think this was just a bit of heavy-handed bonding between a father and daughter, but it wasn’t. elise and joseph used to go away a lot, both for pleasure and business, which left jordan in corinne’s sole care. that wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that a grand majority of corinne’s relationships were abusive, specifically physically. jordan was a child, but she was a child with a duty -- a duty to protect her caretaker if necessary. at the time, jordan didn’t think much of it. she liked feeling like she had an in with her father, liked feeling important. it was only when she got older that she realized how fucked up everything had been, and how that’s the driving factor behind the feeling of fear she just can’t drop, and the mistrust she has in others. the anger she feels towards corinne is rooted in that. she can’t help but feel like it’s corinne’s fault and she hates that her aunt -- a fully grown adult -- was the center of her childhood, instead of her own self.

skipping forward a bit, jordan went to college right after high school to major in criminal science. her lifelong exposure to such abuse left her with a taste for vengeance. see, jordan wanted to be a police officer to protect her hometown, sure, but she also wanted the badge so that she could finally dish out the punishment that so many of the officers she’d seen were unwilling to. the only way to stop that culture of turning a blind eye was to do it from the inside, and that’s exactly what she did. 

jordan’s been a cop for twelve years now. she started her career doing patrol and eventually working with the gangs and narcotics team for five years. after a lot of pestering and brown-nosing, jordan became a g&n detective. she was mostly in charge of surveillance, carrying out raids, and the planning of both. ( she had an opportunity early in her career to go undercover, but jordan’s too obvious for that. ) eventually, jordan switched departments over to the special victims unit, but that stint really only served as a segue into where she is now: the vice and support department. she used to specialize in community outreach, helping bridge the gap between the community and the precinct. she worked with groups focused on helping those affected by drugs and sex workers who have been abused. when one of the detectives assigned to missing persons cases left, jordan was quick to apply for it. needless to say, she got the job and has been doing that since.

she’s got the nose for it -- all the digging and reviewing and passion for the relentless pursuit. she doesn’t particularly like dealing with the families of those affected, but it’s part of the job. on most days, she genuinely enjoys it, but with the rise in crime and the amount of deaths at their feet, jordan can’t help but rethink her choices. she’s competitive by nature; she can’t handle these losing games. 

jordan’s a very cutthroat cop -- especially in her g&n days, when it was all heat, all pressure, all the time. she’s got an eye for weakness and isn’t afraid to exploit that on the job. she’s not above making threats -- promises, really -- and has always been the type to gather as much evidence as humanly possible, because she wants prosecutors to see justice through. she’s just really efficient. she wouldn’t be where she was at only thirty-three if she wasn’t. most of the time, you can catch her putting in overtime hours. 

that being said... jordan has a big heart. she doesn’t believe in institutions as a whole, but she does believe in people. the law is the law and rules are vital for a functioning society, but .. she may be willing to look the other way sometimes, if you’re close enough. ( i mean, she was married to a valencia member at one point, so. ) she may not agree with what some people do, but she’ll really only go after you if what you’re doing is truly heinous. ( but don’t tell her supervisors! 🥺 and don’t mention the hypocrisy to her face. )

outside of work, though, jordan’s pretty chill. she used to be a loudmouthed firecracker in her youth, but she’s calmed down significantly since then. really, she’s not so bad! maybe it's because she can't handle being alone, but she thrives from being in groups + will strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone. if she likes your shoes, she'll tell you. if you need a ride home then she’ll walk with you because she’s most likely equally as inebriated. kind of the person that you’re hesitant to approach, but when you do she treats you like you’re old friends -- even if you're not. you know that drunk girl in the bathroom that gives you sagely advice or tells you she loves your hair? that’s jordan, except she’s not drunk. 

when jordan makes her mind up on something, it’s almost impossible to get her to budge. it doesn’t matter if she’s in the wrong, she’ll trudge on no matter what. her flippancy in the face of danger – a prized act at this point – has landed her in trouble before, and it most certainly will again. she’s unyielding and unapologetic; not willing to change herself for anyone. getting her to talk about her emotions is like pulling teeth, except even that would probably be easier. she’s incredibly honest about some things as a way to hide behind it; it’s a farce that distracts people into thinking she’s being honest with them, when really she’s not -- not entirely, anyway. 

loves love, but she’s rotten at it. her anxiety gets in the way, tells her that she’ll mess it up somehow until she finally does, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. ( something-something abt the fact that she can’t comprehend someone loving her if not even her own parents could ). she’s a much better friend, and jordan thinks that’s more important anyhow. genuinely, if you’re her friend then she loves you endlessly and earnestly.

𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 !

jordan is that friend that gets a little bit too into car karaoke.

she’s also the type to order a screwdriver during an 11a brunch.

it’s a wonder that she doesn’t have tinnitus, considering she always blasts heavy metal music in her car.

makes jokes about getting married and divorced, because if you can’t laugh at your pain then you’re fucked.

if you ever visit her unannounced, you’ll spot her in t-shirts that say “milf in training”, “god looks like me”, and more.

if you’re mean to her she’ll give you a parking ticket.

she plays dirty in fights. used to bite a lot as a child and she still does. all is fair in love and war, babie! enjoy getting that tetanus shot and lovely hospital bill! 💋

pantsuits from monday to friday, and overalls without a bra on the weekend because fuck that shit. also extremely partial to shirts with low plunges. a lil bit of side titty for everyone. 

if you’re leaving a drink behind she’ll finish it for you because daddy didn’t raise no quitters.

has a lot of self-worth issues, but she’d sooner die than ever tell anyone about them or even confront them herself. 

don’t let the pantsuit fool you! there’s pure muscle underneath that two-piece, babie. 

𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄. 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔:

“i am the shape you made me. filth teaches filth.”

"can i be blamed for my efforts? all men are drawn to the sea, perilous though it may be."

"there is a place, deep in the heart of fear, where you trap yourself and claim that is safety."

"still, a great deal of light falls on everything."

"i hold a stalk in my hand. i am the stalk. my roots go down to the depth of the world."

“i always figured when i got older, god would sorta come into my life somehow. and he didn’t. i don’t blame him. if i was him i would have the same opinion of me that he does.”

“nothing washes off.”

“you cannot be stolen, ransacked, looted like an emptied bank account or a burgled house. you are the tough old tissues, the exquisite scars. you are the thing that would not die.”

𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 ! ( open to any gender ) 

jordan can’t function without a best friend, so.. gimme, please! 🥺🤲

i once read a passage talking about how the friendships you make in your childhood can never be mimicked in your adulthood, and you know what.. #true. where’s jordan’s childhood friends at? do they still keep in touch? did they have a massive fallout as teenagers where jordan told them to get hit by a truck because she was a very dramatic 16 yr old? were they frenemies? do they still have one of jordan’s things because she was terrible at remembering everything after a sleepover? did jordan’s parents help your muse’s family out? idc, just gimme!

exes / almost exes. remember what i said about jordan being a shit when it comes to love? they could’ve been serious at some point whether as adults or in their youth, maybe it was short-lived, maybe jordan never even let it get off the ground. could be on good terms or bad terms or no terms at all. 

neighbors!! jordan pulls some odd hours n sometimes plays her music a little too loud and burns her food more often than she should at 33 yrs old. she may or may not be the best neighbor to have is all i’m saying, but she tries!! 

friends!! platonic love is the most purest form of love there is and she’s got a lot of it to give!! come and get ya some! 

enemies / hateships because sometimes .. it just be like that. whether this has to do with a falling out of some sort, just straight up hate at first sight, or something to do with an encounter on the job, or something else entirely i’m here for it! 

one night stands / [old] fwb. i’m gonna be honest with y’all: if jordan likes you, then she can’t sleep with you. now, i’m gonna be honest with y’all again: jordan’s very much a yes-girl. she says and does things just to get a reaction sometimes or see what’ll happen ( something-something "sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them" ). that being said, she’ll sleep with just about anyone. maybe they don’t talk about it ever, maybe they only ever talk when they want something, maybe they regret it, maybe it’s all gucci, and maybe it was good until it wasn’t. idk! 

jordan has been shot twice in her career thus far. the first time was during a noise disturbance call and the second time was during a narc raid. if your muse wants in on that we can discuss the deets! 

and also literally whatever else your heart desires because i’m both here for the fluffiest deepest connections ever and also the angstiest makes-me-wanna-die type shit. i literally don’t say no to anything so if you have any ideas you think jordan can be a good fit for, i’m all ears!! 

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 2, Chapter 2

Or: Prospect Fights

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Brooklyn, NY—March 14, 1994

Last chapter we were introduced to our second main protagonist (and secret ��former” ancient vampire) Alicia Varney, her manservant (and sometimes lover but only if she’s really desperate) Sanford Jackson, and her (ignorantly treated and no doubt illegally owned) pet black panther Sumohn. Miss Varney decided to start her day off by taking her pet for a walk in “Prospect Heights Park”, which Jackson described as a virtual No Man’s Land abandoned by the police and local government to gangs and psychos. 

Before we move on, let’s talk a bit about the place.

In real life, the park this chapter takes place in is called Prospect Park. No “Heights”. Looks like Weinberg got the name confused with Prospect Heights, a small but affluent neighborhood and one of five that border the park. The park’s main entrance, Grand Army Plaza, is part of Prospect Heights, so along with the name and location I can see how you can confuse the two.

There really was a point, during the 70′s, where the park was considered dangerous and crime-infested. I know. A place in New York City? In the 70′s? Awful? Nah, can’t be. Back then, 44% of New Yorkers warned others to avoid the park. One New York Times article I’ve found from 2010, about a then-retiring park administrator credited with helping restore the place, begins with this about 1970′s Prospect Park:

Drugs were sold at the carousel. Muggers used the cover provided by the park’s shrubs and foliage. One year, near the skating rink, a man was found shot to death, and another year, the acting supervisor of the zoo was arrested and charged with shooting animals.

In the 1970s, Prospect Park in Brooklyn looked more like a crime scene than the pastoral refuge imagined a century earlier by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux.

As if to advertise the woeful state of the park, in 1976 Columbia, the figure driving atop the arch at Grand Army Plaza, fell over in her chariot, a victim of disrepair.

So don’t go thinking that Weinberg got all this stuff from nothing.

During the 80′s and early 90′s, thanks to efforts from both the city and non-profits like The Prospect Park Alliance, the park was cleaned up and became a nice safe place to take the kids. But this is the World of Darkness, a Harsher, Crueler Yadda Dadda Da, you get the point. Going with the usual theme of “Everything’s Awful, Always, and We’re All Going to Die (And There’s Werewolves N’ Shit)” what little restoration efforts were made to the park in this universe failed miserably. And hoooohoho man did they fail. Here’s how the chapter starts, with a more thorough description of the park now that we’ve got a viewpoint character there:

Huge white signs with blood-red lettering were posted on every gate leading into the park, declaring the area off-limits to law-abiding citizens. The posters, left untouched more as a grim joke than sage advice, were ignored by the crowds of people who constantly entered and left the forested area. Prospect Heights served as the major supply center of illicit drugs, assault weapons, and kept women in New York City. It was also the headquarters of more than a half-dozen major gangs and two terrorist groups.

Anything illegal could be bought for a price in the dense woods. That purchasing the goods required a certain amount of risk was a fact of life. It was all part of the New York scene. Those who couldn’t adapt, left. Or died.

A fifteen-foot-high steel fence surrounded the entire park. The last attempt of a previous administration to keep the cancerous growth of the park from spreading through Brooklyn and the connecting boroughs, it worked more as a barrier to keep the police out than the criminals in. At least once a month, a body was found impaled on the sharp spikes that topped the posts. Several years ago a dozen heads had decorated the pikes for days, a grim reminder of the gang warfare that waged incessantly within the gates. 

It’s like if instead of closing down and becoming an auto parts shop, your local Blockbuster turned into a snuff film distributor. Also, goddamn terrorists moved in.

No one dared to enter the park alone, or unarmed. Unless that person was Alicia Varney.

Walking in with a panther doesn’t mean you’re accompanied and armed? Good to know, good to know.

It’s currently early afternoon, and let’s see... She got up at sunrise, which in March would be between six and six-thirty. The events of the last chapter seemed to have taken about over an hour. She’d have to get from Manhattan to Brooklyn in World of Darkness New York City traffic. Assuming she was driven she probably didn’t beat rush hour. If she had really bad luck, she would’ve had to deal with squeegie-men; y’know, those guys who wash the windows of cars stuck in traffic without being asked and try to extort the driver for the “service”? And she’d have to take a route that avoided the Baseball Furies. Add all that up and... I guess? Frankly, early afternoon’s the best case scenario here.

Varney, with Sumohn by her side with a thin leather strip for a leash, enters the park near the giant carousel (which according to the PPA website is the Willink entrance, east side of the park, at Flatbush Avenue and Empire Boulevard). The carousel was “one of the last efforts in the futile attempt to restore Prospect Heights to its former glory”, making it sound like the whole thing was installed recently instead of being a part of the park since the early 1900′s.

Alright, alright, no more park talk. You’re here for vampires, not Brooklyn history, I get it.

The black panther growled softly with every step. A great deal different than an ordinary jungle cat, the monstrous beast possessed more than five senses. It detected hostility in the woods. And death.

After what we’ve been told about the park, no shit, cat.

I’ve seen some WOD vampire OC’s described as having ghoul pets, There’s this one video campaign on Youtube, Blood on the Thames, where the Nosferatu character has a pet ghouled fennec fox. But when you think about it, if ghouling works the same with animals as it does with people, then they’re not really pets. They’re mental slaves, their feelings of love and loyalty toward their owner artificial. They might look happy to see your OC, but in reality it’s having a little heart attack out of fear because the thing rubbing its belly is an unnatural dead thing that God hates and they can’t do anything but let it. And your OC wouldn’t even know.

But I’ve never seen that aspect explored before. In fanworks, Ghouling’s just a way for a vampire to have a pet with an extended lifespan. In official material, there’re other important benefits to ghouling animals. Feeding them a little vampire blood every once in a while makes them bigger, faster, and stronger, and since they’re compelled to be loyal to you, they make useful weapons. We’ll see that a few times in this trilogy.

Sumohn senses something dangerous in the park, and you won’t be surprised to learn that the she and her owner aren’t here just for exercise.

“I feel it too,” said Alicia softly, talking to the panther as if it possessed human intelligence. “They’re out there in the park somewhere. Watching and waiting for me. I first sensed their presence when I woke up this morning.

We saw you wake up this morning. You shimmied around in your sheets naked while thinking about how good it was to be alive. Then took a shower and masturbated. But maybe ancient Mesopotamians have a different way of reacting to threats on their life. How would I know?

Someone wants me dead. They’re hiding in the woods. I thought it best to confront them here, on their home ground, instead of chancing their disrupting my plans for the evening.”

She sensed this one threat in Brooklyn all the way from her Manhatten penthouse. Fucking Methuselahs...

Once they’re far enough into the woods for the setting to be dark and ominous even in the afternoon, Varney takes the collar and leash off Sumohn so it can hunt down her enemies.

Chuckling, Alicia tucked the leather strap into her belt. She had complete faith in her pet. It would find and eliminate those who meant her harm. It was just a matter of time.

While Sumohn’s hunting her enemies, Varney decides to take a stroll and enjoy nature. Big business Manhattan garbage had been cutting into her free time, and it’s been months “since she had experienced the feeling of freedom walking in the woods gave her.” She plans on enjoying it as fully and luxuriously as she does everything else, all the while “mentally” keeping an eye out for threats.

Alicia had no desire to be surprised by unexpected visitors. Jackson had been correct when he said that Prospect Heights was no place for a young, unarmed woman. But Alicia was a great deal older than her bodyguard imagined. And she was not nearly as unprotected as Jackson thought.

She hears Sumohn’s “scream of rage” break the silence, meaning her pet had just made a kill. Unfortunately, despite Varney making it sound like the panther would wipe out her enemies on its own, Sumohn worked too slowly. Varney abruptly realizes that she was surrounded by five other people. She can’t see them yet, but she can sense them with her psychic radar power that I’m assuming is an Auspex power. Two of them are heading toward her, so she summons Sumohn back to her. This being a vampire story, she does this with a brief theater kid monologue.

“I refuse to let anyone interrupt my plans,” muttered Alicia angrily. “Death is not an acceptable option at this stage of the game. Sumohn, attend me. There is killing work to be done here.”

The two hostiles reach her.

“Hey, lady?” The speaker was a short, thin man around thirty, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans. He wore no shirt, despite the cool March weather. A tattoo of a naked woman with an arrow passing through her breasts adorned his hairless chest. Stuck in the waist of his pants was a .45 automatic. “You lost or something?”

“Yeah, said his companion, tall and wide, with a shaven head, pencil-thin eyebrows, and a perpetual leer. He also wore jeans and no shirt. A 12-gauge shotgun, carried loosely in one hand, was his weapon. “Or maybe you’re looking for some action.”

They weren’t called “swarthy,” so these must be white gangbangers.

Varney realizes the assassins plan to rape her before killing her, because this is dark fantasy and rape’s gonna get brought up eventually. There’s some prose about sex and death being linked throughout history, especially hers, then she begins to deal with these guys. Now, you figure she’ll start with one of her vampire powers. Maybe a Presence power, making the gang awed and infatuated with her and drawing them into killing distance. Or maybe she’ll skip messing with their heads and use Celerity to boost her speed and reflexes, swiftly killing them before they can reach for their guns. Or

“Actually,” declared Alicia, taking a tentative step forward, “I was looking for some big, handsome men to satisfy the hunger inside me. I need to be fucked. Repeatedly. Do you two think you can help me?”

...Or that?

“Huh?” said the short man, her reply taking him completely by surprise. His face turned beet red. It was an old trick, but one that still worked. The jerks expected her to cower in fear, beg for mercy–not talk about sex. They weren’t sure how to respond.

Gun her down immediately because this is clearly a trap.

Look, despite how I might come across, I don’t get bothered every time a character does something irrational or wrong in a story. But considering this gang shares their territory with six or seven other gangs and two terrorist groups, and one bad move could get their heads mounted on the park perimeter, there’s no way they should be stupid enough to fall for this. But they do, because the writer wanted to contrive a scene where Alicia Varney “weaponizes her sexuality” I guess.

Varney’s “vulgar declaration” also lures out the three other men, who “didn’t want to miss out on any of the action.” Now all of her enemies are in view, but considering she could sense their presence accurately enough to know exactly how many of them there are, she really didn’t have to.

“You heard me,” said Alicia, raising her voice so that everyone could hear her. “I’m burning up. I want it so bad my body feels like it’s on fire.” She ran her hands up and down her hips, pressing the material of her pants tight against her skin. She moaned passionately. “If I don’t get it quick, I’ll go crazy.”

“Hot damn,” said the big man excitedly, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the buttons of his pants. “The bitch wants to get screwed, and I’m going to nail her right now. The rest of you jokers wait in line, ‘cause I’m first.”

God damn, this is so unnecessary.

The shorter guy struggles with his belt in an attempt to beat his friend to the sex, but thankfully this whole bit comes to an end when Sumohn pounces on him and pulps his head with her jaws. Trusting the panther to take care of the other guy as well, Varney turns to the three other gang members. They try to aim their guns at her, but instead start jerking around “in a ghastly parody of dancing”, unable to shoot her as she approaches.

“What the hell is wrong?” screamed the nearest of the trio, a young black man still in his teens. “I can’t do nothing.”

“A simple matter of paralyzing the part of the brain controlling motor skills,” said Alicia with a smile.

There’re some Thaumatergy powers that could do this, but Varney will turn out to have nothing to do with the Tremere, so it’s unlikely this is any of those. There’s also Paralyzing Glance, an advanced Presence power that can “send someone into a seizure of terror.” Or maybe I’m overthinking it and she’s just generically psychic.

Varney kills the teenager first by tearing out his throat, her technique described more thoroughly than when Makish ripped out a guy’s throat. The second guy, she uses the old “smash his nose cartilage into his brain” move, the second time someone’s been killed that way in this story, and not the last time someone will be in this trilogy. Apparently it’s impossible to do. Even if cartilage was strong enough to penetrate bone, using enough force to do so would likely smash the victim’s skull in anyway. But it sounds cool and Weinberg was probably fond of it. He also seemed to think it would result in a quick death because he described Varney as “merciless but not cruel” before she does it. Anyway, the third guy faints, so Varney snaps his neck while he’s unconscious.

“Very neat, Miss Varney,” said a voice from behind her. “But not really very smart. You let yourself get distracted by the diversions. I’m the real threat.”

Alicia turned, knowing she was too late.

If the assassin who snuck up on you is this chatty and you still don’t turn around by the time he’s finished, you should feel embarrassed.

Sumohn’s too busy tearing apart the guy who was taking his pants off earlier to notice her owner’s in trouble, “a wonderful ally but was too easily tempted” as the narration puts it. This sixth guy, her “true enemy” who somehow evaded her telepathic people sensor, is a well dressed young man already squeezing the trigger on his submachine gun. But instead of Varney dying and ending her role in the story weirdly early, the assassin drops with the handle of a bowie knife sticking out of his back.

“I paralyzed his fingers so he wouldn’t jerk the trigger by accident,” said a blonde man in a white suit and white shirt, walking over to the corpse. Bending down, he jerked the knife out of the body and wiped the blood on the dead man’s clothes.

Hey, Reuben.

He tells Varney that the dead guy was named Leo Taggert, who was headquartered in Coney Island and specialized in “celebrity kills”. The other jerks were local talent he hired. He was also a ghoul who could hide his thoughts, which is why Varney didn’t sense him. Varney asks who Reuban is, thinking he looks familiar yet positive she’d never met him, but Reuben only says he’s “a friend.”

He turned and started walking down the road. “Better call off your pet,” he said in parting. “That man’s quite dead.”

Distracted for an instant, Alicia glanced at Sumohn. When her gaze returned to where the stranger had been, he was gone.

Quickly she mentally scanned the area. Discounting a drug dealer and his teenage customers, there was no one within a hundred yards of her location. It was quite mysterious. Alicia hated mysteries.

Varney asks Sumohn if she saw Reuban, but because she’s a big dumb animal all Sumohn’s thinking about is “blood and death.” And probably mating, because Varney doesn’t seem like the type who spays her pets. She didn’t notice the stranger either during or after the attack, like he appeared and disappeared out of thin air.

“And this SOB,” said Alicia, kicking the dead body of Leo Taggert in frustration, “called me by my name. He was no ordinary assassin hired by my business rivals. He was a ghoul. Which ties him in with the Kindred. And the joker knew enough about me to hide his thoughts. Damn.”

At least her first fight went better than McCann’s. The only thing he has over her in this department is that he didn’t try to distract his would-be assassin with the idea of unexpected sex.

Varney assumes that Jackson’s loyal, so she figures whoever wants her dead has either been watching her closely, or they’re linked to her “friends” at The Devil’s Playground.

First there had been the distressing tiding about Baba Yaga. Now came this assassination attempt, coupled with the appearance of the oddly familiar young man. Alicia wondered grimly what else could go wrong.

It was a question best not asked.

That’s the end of the chapter. Alicia Varney’s “weaponized sexuality” scene in this chapter is the lowest/most awkward this trilogy gets. The good news is, no matter what other dumb things happens, it’s all uphill from here.

[noxus-the-venomous-blog]

Part 1 Toxic tranquility

“Alright I'm checking the hallway,” Frank said dishonestly into the walkie talkie hanging from his shoulders........

He instead adjusted his position on his chair, fulfilling only the spirit of his duty by glancing at the security monitors in front of him. Nothing as always. “Looking all clear from my end.”

His earpiece mumbled acceptance, then asked for more in depth clarification.

Frank briefly sighed in annoyance. “Yeah I went out into the hall but I haven't been to the lobby. I’m on my way.” He slowly stood with a grunt and exited the small security room. He chuckled to himself and spoke into the receiver, “hey maybe Bob’s back and messing with the security system… You don't know Bob? Also remember to say over, I have to hit a button on my end how do you not know that?”

He switched a few lights on and proceeded down the hallway slowly, glancing into each room, his  footsteps echoing a hollow sound across the narrow corridor. Offices, laboratories, storerooms, nothing out of the ordinary that he could see.

“Ok so full story, Bob was a techie who fixed computers around here. You have to have seen him, mousy little dude tiptoeing to servers and scribbling in a notepad. So like last week the big bosses from the science department come in and start making cuts in IT and this dude was on the list. But when it happened he didn't take it well. He started crying… Yeah really crying. Saying he won't leave, bringing up his kids… Three I think.”

Frank reached the lobby, a dim and soulless room. He took a seat at the receptionist desk and began booting up the computer.

He continued to elaborate on his story while waiting for the dated grey relic of a computer to load.“When he was walking out we all just stared. If this was grade school we would have laughed and threw paper balls, but no one flinched. In that moment we all felt his pain. I'm no wuss but I don't think I would have handled it better in his shoes. He trudged into the elevator and no one saw him again.”

Frank finally was able to check the cameras, each small was screen empty and unchanged.

“Nope no Bob…” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean did you not get any part of the story? The guy was broken. We have a betting poll on what day he comes back to shoot the place up… Ah you’re just naive, it’s absolutely possible! And if he does im the one left dealing… Hey we got a flicker on ground floor… That's when a door or window sensor says its open then closed then open. Is this your first night?”

His supervisor’s apparent airheadedness aside, it was probably nothing. Sensors misread all the time. But as he started walking away from the computer a feeling in his gut stirred. He glanced back at the monitor, focusing on the small flickering pixels slowly blinking on and off.

Frank hung his head back in resignation and pressed the button on his receiver. “Nah I’m gonna check it anyway, its annoying though… Its cool I dont mind, besides if Bob’s back i wanna catch him tonight, or tomorrow, I bet on the whole week.” He then changed his course, heading in the opposite direction towards the origin of the problem.

------------------------------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------------------------------

The man fumbled in his chair, sitting alone at the diner.

A waiter walked over and asked, “sir? Are you waiting for anyone? You haven’t ordered.”

He nodded his head wordlessly and stared deeply at the cheaply stained wood table. He began to tap his fingers on it but that quickly escalated into scratching a small line into the wood. He gazed at the line he was his nail was carving so deeply it took him a full moment to realize the man was still standing there. He stumbled over his words a little, “I’m… I’m sorry im just...”

“Nervous?” The waiter sat down across from the customer and placed his notepad in his lap. “It’s a big date isn't it?”

The customer nodded without looking at the man across the table. “She's almost here and we need to have this big talk that she doesn't even know she needs to have…“

“Want my advice?” the man offered with a smile. The nervous patron met his eyes. “If it’s a request then ask it with boldness, If it’s a confession then say it with humility and if it’s a declaration then be ready to mean it. “

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched. “Hm… that works. Thank you.”

“No problem. Does she have red hair? You’re going to wanna take a breath.” The waiter then stood up to help seat the woman who had just entered. She was guided over to the now much calmer man sitting in the booth, who had conveniently slid a napkin over the small scar in the table.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No that was the old company name, they changed it after it got sold… Yeah why do you think this place has downsized so much lately? New owners new problems,” Frank grumbled as he continued through a small empty cold storage room.

“I used to have a security team to back me up. Three on each shift. We had a real job to do too back then. Kids from the university constantly sneaking in after hours. Sometimes for some mischief but every now and then just to squeeze some extra time in to finish whatever assignment they were stressing over,” he explained while walking to towards a window to check the sensors. A small solid green light on each sensor let him know the equipment was functioning and the windows were latched shut.

“That’s room 204 clear too, are you sure you’re looking at the map right? None of these rooms could be were the flicker is coming from.” This wild goose chase was starting to become annoying.

He walked out of the room and in to the hallway, slowly scanning in both directions. He swore he had already checked each cluster of doors, and their interconnected rooms.  

“Hey I think I might’ve missed 209. I’m gonna check it out just to say I got all of em…” the voice in the earpiece protested slightly. “No I see your point but I’m here so I may as well check all of them. Besides I have nothing better to do. At least you're more talkative than the last dispatch. We should get drinks some time, I'll pay for it. You don't work a job this boring without a few drinks.”

He approached the room slowly and paused just before he entered. Something didn't seem right. He saw computers and monitors set up around the rooms perimeter. Dust had acquired on each keyboard as they waited for future fingertips to bring them back to life. He glanced to his left and saw the the window sealed and the indicator light green. He glanced to his right and saw no other windows or any other types of exits. But something still didn't feel rightl.

“Does the flicker look like it matches 209? No way I just walked out of 204 I’m telling you something wrong with 209. There's like a cold chill in here... Wait a second… it's cold in here. Like a breeze.” Frank’s eyes widened, he rushed over to one of the monitors at the desk and slid it over, revealing a window wide open. The sensor hanging off of it, damaged and blinking sporadically. “We’re gonna have to talk drinks another time. Bob’s back.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The food here is sub par,” the young man says nervously, trying to form an N shape in his mashed potatoes, “but it’s affordable to a degree that makes its quality seem better.”

“The chicken is bomb though,” the woman leaned over with a piece of meat on her fork, dipping it into her boyfriends mashed potatoes. His eyes widened staring at the streak she made in his nearly finished starch sculpture. She gave a flirty smile.“And you went through that burger like a lion gnawing on a squirrel.”

“When would a lion meet a squirrel?” he said with a smirk as he began scultpting what's left of his potatoes into an O shape.

She pointed at him with her fork. “City lions. People with bad vision think there buying a house cat but it never stops growing.”

“Who doesn't have that one crazy lion lady in the family because of that?”

They both stared at each other for a moment and then giggled. The woman leaned forward and spoke quietly, “so what has you so nervous. Your food handwriting is off its game, that Q looks terrible.”

He glanced away from her. “It's an O… I’m just… I have a reason to invite you here.” He looked over at the rest of the restaurant, then back to her and lowered his voice, “I have something to tell you but there's no sane way to say it. You’re going to think i’m crazy and then your going to think lying but when you realize i’m not you’re going to be angry. When that happens all I ask is that you hear me out and let me tell my side of the story. Will that be ok?”

Her smile had faded. She leaned in with gravely serious expression. “Ok but… I want to guess. I want two guesses before you say anything and that's the only way I'll hear you out.” The man almost replied but then just nodded his head. She continued, “ok… You’re going to propose to me?”

He shook his head.

“Ok then… I’m gonna go out on a limb here… You dress up in all black, wear a gas mask and steal from science factories under the name Noxious in an attempt to take over the world.”

His heart dropped. He couldn’t breathe. His pulse raced and his vision blurred. When a comet rushes through space it plays many roles. Sometimes it orbits a planet as a satellite. Sometimes it collides into mass and creates a planet. Everything it becomes will change eventually and over billions of years it will slowly play every role it possibly can in the stages of the universe. In that one shaken moment, Noxious wished desperately that that comet would play the role of destroyer and take the entire restaurant out.

He stammered ‘I... Its not-”

“I’m in.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“In what?”

“I want to join you. I want to be your partner in crime” she stated proudly while awkwardly finding her drink straw with her mouth.

This wasn’t real, was it? “How did you know?”

“I checked your computer under the folder marked ‘Noxious Agenda’ and I even corrected some grammar in a few of the documents. You have good use of metaphor for your journals,” she spoke proudly, showing she was far more prepared than he thought to accept his “devastating” news

Noxious could barely believe what he was hearing. “Wait when did you use my computer you've never stayed at my house?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I wandered in at some point. I’m so bad about fidgeting with other peoples electronics.”

His jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you’re ok with this. I thought you would leave me and report me to the police. We have so much to talk about and so much to plan.” He felt light headed and giddy. This tremendous weight had been lifted off him. He felt so relieved that she understood his scenario that he failed to see the down side of his girlfriend admitting she broke into his home and spell checked his manifesto. He felt accepted. More so he felt affirmed in his conviction. He now had a partner to aid him in his wicked remodeling of a broken world. They were both strange and off putting, and his is why they worked.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Frank scrambled around the storage room, checking the inventory. “How long until the cops show up im getting my ass played over here! Three boxes of materials are already missing and I can’t find a trace of Bob! Hello? Dispatch dont do this to me. Alright that’s not working,” he said in frustration as he returned his radio to the holster to his belt.

He reached for the cell phone in his back pocket and the moment he couldn't feel it an annoying thought dawned on him. He had left it on the security desk. Frank was all alone as he searched each room, following seemingly just behind the trail of the mysterious intruder. His concentration was broken when he heard a door shut from down the hall. He ran over and pulled out his sidearm. All he could see was more corridors of shut and open doors. He came up on one slowly.

He clutched his radio and hit the button. “Ok not sure if this is going through but Ive narrowed down his location to three doors. If it's Bob then he's manic. I'm gonna start kicking doors down and corner the rat.”

Frank flinched at a reply in his earbud. He took a deep breath as he heard the news. “Shit don't do anything, and don't confront him! Bob ain't crazy but he may have snapped, i'm running to your post as fast as I can!” He booked it.

With all the urgency he could muster he took stride down the hall, through the lobby and then down another hall. He glanced over at his security booth mid stride but couldn't see his phone immediately. Deciding to ignore it he continued up the stairs and rushed down the painted tile path until he could see the security dispatch. The place was covered in smoke, bellowing out the open armored door.

He covered his mouth and rushed in, scanning the thick smoke with his flashlight in order to find dispatch or the source of the smoke. Finally under the desk a piece of warped plastic caught his eye. It was a tube covered in tape and burnt at one end. An improvised smoke bomb.

As he saw it the door shut and latched behind him. He kicked it twice causing his firm boot to boom like a drum off the metal door. When that didn’t work he searched through the thick smoke to find the control panel. He tried the electric door release, no luck, instead he turned on the air circulation.

As the smoke began to suck out of the room he began to see two shadowy figures forming outside of the bulletproof glass observation window. Frank gritted his teeth as their figures became clearer, he pressed the intercom button and yelled, “who the hell are you two?! Get me outta here! So help me if you hurt the dispatch lady !'m gonna shove my pistol up your ass and play hide the lead!”

The two figures were fully visible now. On the left was a man with a dark hoodie, gloves and a black leather gas mask. On the right was a woman in a similar concealed outfit with a small lock of red hair falling over her goggles and respirator. She leaned in and pressed the equivalent intercom button on her side, speaking in a familiar voice, “it wasn't Bob… Over.”

----Writen by poison, edited by chem trails

[thedragonsexcalendar]

The Great Re-Branding (Logo) of 2019

Stupid Font

Back in 2015, when the first edition of the Dragon Sex Calendar (DSC) was released—I had designed the whole thing with zero anticipation of longevity. The calendar was simply a silly concept, yet one that might have a chance of succeeding, due to its stupidity alone. So I hired artists to paint gorgeous images of dragons banging, designed the calendar, built an accompanying Word Press website modeled after a Harry’s Razor’s website (LoL). I did all of this just to prove to myself that I could do it. Nike status. It was one of those ideas that if I didn’t follow through on I’d beat my self up for eternity about. Just like not telling that special someone you loved them, or not being able to apologize for something wicked you said to someone in your youth and you have no way of finding them now to properly apologize. I never anticipated that the 2015 Dragon Sex Calendar would sell out—elevated to cult status thanks to a post on Reddit in a subreddit called r/thisiswhyimbroke (thanks Adam at thisiswhyimbroke.com, BTW). So, all this to say that in that hustle and bustle of creating the first DSC I went with one of the first fonts I found on dafont.com that I felt worked. Times have changed. And I hate my current font. Sorry, "Motion Picture" font! I will always appreciate you.

Branding Crisis

Ever since the aftermath of the success of the Dragon Sex Calendar, I’ve had a branding crisis. I’ve been battling between two different "company” personas. How do I present myself? How seriously do I take myself? Do I position the calendar as a super-serious piece of art and market it that way? Or position it as a silly product, filled with subversive humor—marketing it under the guise of “seriousness,” (and everyone is in on the joke). These types of questions have had a big impact on the overall design over the years—everything from the printed calendar itself to the website, and especially the logo. The results have been a weird hodgepodge of both ideas. A deformed hybrid. This is what the homepage looked like back in 2015. Quite charming actually.

Sad Interlude

Short interlude. I’ve had a rough 2019. My wife and I miscarried twice. In May of this year, my brother Philip died in a car accident. He left behind a pregnant fiancée, who gave birth to my nephew Sullivan a month ago (he’s the spitting image of his dad BTW and I’m going to spoil the fuck out of him). The grief around the loss of my brother and our miscarriages has drained me mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. It’s impacted my relationship with everyone in my life. I’m quicker to anger than before. Things stress me out easier. I’ve had trouble focusing. But, I’m getting better. I’m aware of my grief and my “new normal” and am trying to forgive myself for setbacks but also work harder on loving those around me. All this to say I haven’t able to focus on the calendar or put much energy into it at all. For the last few years, and during all the heartache this year, I’ve known that I’ve needed to fully dive into the Dragon Sex Calendar as a brand. I’ve been ignoring it and taking it for granted. And in a way, refocusing on it has been a bit healing for me. It’s a place to put all this energy. And the first step in diving back in has been to get some professional help.

Re-Branding

Yes, I’m seeing a therapist but I’m talking about a BRANDING therapist. Enter Seafoam Media out of St. Louis. One last thing—my brother left me some money when he died. His best man speech at my wedding he spoke about how proud he was of me, at the man I’d become, and how I’d always followed my dreams, no matter how stupid. This was a direct reference to the Dragon Sex Calendar. The only way I could have ever afforded to work with a creative agency was through his grace. Thank you, Philip. I love you.

I’ve met with the agency, Seafoam Media, a few times now—most recently this last month. I a 4-hour brainstorming session with their team of experts; the social media person was there, along with the google analytics person, the copywriter, and mega supervisor who knows everything. They gave me some insanely solid advice. I’ll go into that in another post. Needless to say, the Lil’ coal in my heart was ignited by the kindling of creativity. (Barf-worthy analogy).

I’ve been making updates to the website over the last month. Which, if you’re a regular visitor you’ve probably noticed. This will continue to be updated as I come up with more and more ways to optimize and bring you guys value. Because that’s the whole point. To build a community of people who love this stupid-ass calendar and return time and again to look at my content. I can’t wait to engage with you people.

via GIPHY

On to the crux of the branding crisis. In many ways, the logo IS the product. It IS the company. "It is known." (said like Ygritte from GoT).

A good logo adds an extreme amount of value. Knowing this and not doing anything about it is something I’ve been struggling with for 5 years. And it’s finally time for a change. So this font is what I’ve been using since 2015. I want to take this “logo,” wood-burn it into a baseball bat, wrap the baseball bat with barbed-wire, and pay someone to shove the barb-wire-wrapped baseball bat up my ass 3X.

Although I’m an Art Director by day, I’m shitty at logo design. Super shitty. And tbh, sometimes the last thing on earth I want to do when I get home from designing things all day is to do more design work. So….I’ve hired an amazing agency to design a new logo for the Dragon Sex Calendar. Check out their website https://coldcastlestudios.com. This shit is amazing. Here are some samples of their logos:

My direction to them in this process was literally, "We realize how stupid the product is but we're positioning ourselves as if we take ourselves completely seriously.” With that in mind, here is a sneak peek, guys, of the preliminary look and feel of the logo. I put a bunch of ridiculous watermarks over the logo for some reason. The next round is going to include a design with a frame around the logo, a la the World of Warcraft logo—to see if that looks good and serves the logo.

I simply cannot fucking wait to reveal it to all of you. I will finally have a brand. This brand will live across all print and social media. It’s the next chapter in my company. And I couldn’t be more excited. This logo will provide the base for future, ridiculous calendars, pins, coloring books, electric cars, personal spacecraft, and dolphin tattoos. Let me know what you think of the preliminary design in the comments below. I love you all!

[princettegil]

There's been something I've been meaning to talk about for a while now but it recently came to a head about a week ago and I've came to realize that the medical field is probably one of the most uncaring amd worst places to work for someone with mental illness! You'd think the medical field would understand, right? Nope! Out of all the jobs I've had, none have been this bad at working with me or helping with my issues. I won't go into detail about what happened but I haven't had much in the way of anxiety attacks in the last couple years (cept for a couple incidents.) All in all, I've been doing stunningly better! However, when I have a job I tend to have a lot more anxiety issues (no matter what the job is, it just seems to happen.) So I've had about 3-4 attacks since I started work at the beginning of this year at a hospital (working one of the lowest rungs that still deals with patient care.) But that's to be expected; I figured that would happen since it almost always does, but I was intent on trying to sticking it out this time. Now, I don't like pity - let's just get that clear right now. I don't like pity, I don't like bothering people, I try my best to at least be as good as my peers at my job and I absolutely abhor bothering people with my issues (be that mental illness stuff or standard job difficulties.) Basically, I try to hold my own as best I can and I don't like to mention my mental health issues unless it's clear they're absolutely becoming an problem. Well, first (technically 2nd but the real first was a very small and not full blown attack) anxiety? A nurse happened to be in the room with me and took me to the main office where they let me chill a little and transferred me to work with a less trying patient. That's good! That seems reasonable yeah? Though what they did I agree was a good move, the way the nurse (an RN mind you) acted towards me was... odd. You'd expect a nurse to be well trained with things like anxiety or panic attacks and know both how to help out and seem considerate, right? Well... you'd be very wrong! Though she wasn't mean she didn't seem to understand at all what was happening to me even after I told her I was having an anxiety attack. She clearly didn't know much in the way of how to help me calm down or even deal with me at all working on her floor. But whatever, maybe she was tired? Nurses work their asses off after all! Maybe she just wasn't well trained with anxiety issues? It could happen. I gave her a pass in my mind but noted how it was strange for her to be so seemingly uncomfortable with a simple anxiety attack, especially one of a coworker. My 2nd anxiety attack went mostly unnoticed and I dealt with it the way I normally do. Took a break to go to the bathroom and try to chill out, stayed there a bit longer than my break actually allows but made sure I was okay before going back to the patient's room to continue my shift as normal. At the end though I made sure to inform my supervisor that I could no longer work with said patient because he was behind my prior anxiety attack as well. They didn't really agree but that didn't disagree with me either that they'd make sure I didn't have to work with him again. Then the 3rd anxiety attack. The big one. The awful one. The one that really forced my realization. Like I said, I won't go into detail on what happened. Lots of things happened that night all at once and some caused serious issues but are unrelated to the topic of the hospital's treatment of anxiety attacks. But the stunning thing I did realize was just how non-understanding and non-accomodating my supervisors (years long medical workers, especially in nursing fields) could be. At one of my last jobs, though they ran everyone to the brink of exhaustion and stress (causing many people to quit around the same time, including myself) they at least we're kind when they realized I had anxiety issues. It didn't actually work out the way they promised but they were willing to work with me and make simple accommodations to help me out (like working in the back when the store got really busy.) They were also very understanding and assuring even though I was terrified that they found out. At another job, though I didn't stay long last the first month's training classes, they were also understanding and my trainer took the time to explain how she understood what anxiety was like and gave me plenty of time and space to calm myself down (we got along so well I even friended her on FB after I quit and she's still really nice to me.) Basically, my other jobs were understanding. They didn't pity me (thank gods!) but they were open, supportive, understanding, accomodating and those coworkers who had been through similar really helped commiserate with me which helped me feel more comfortable knowing I wasn't alone. The hospital I work at now? None of the above! They weren't mean mind you, they technically said just enough to make it so that I probably couldn't sue them for treating me differently due to my mental disabilities (I have no intention to) but it really did seem like they wanted to put in the bare minimum of care to make sure that didn't happen. Did they tell me how they understood that anxiety was difficult to deal with? No. Did they try understandingy issues? No. Did they ask or try to accommodate me (like helping me to find a more suitable job there or letting me know I could ask to switch patients if things got hard? No. Did they seem any bit empathetic or even sympathetic? No. They gave me time to calm down (though they seemed pretty ansy for me to hurry up and breath so I could talk or rather, listen to them.) They said they were worried a couple times (while seemingly sounding and looking like they didn't give a single shit and were simply required to say it.) Did they at all mention anxiety is a disability or offer any tips for dealing with it? Nope! Instead they told me, in only slightly prettier words, to suck it up, deal with it on my own, don't cause problems, and that it's only gonna get worse from here. Not exactly kind or what you'd expect from medical personnel huh? In fact, that's my main concern - it was MEDICAL PERSONNEL! I could see this with grocery store staff or call center supervisors and probably write it off as just being ill informed or more caring about the cash and not the employees. But... trained, licensed, careered RNs and nursing staff!?!? Staff that I KNOW have had to deal with and care for mentally ill patients of all sorts? Staff that likely occasionally have to help out in the adjoining psychiatric center!? People whose job is literally to care for other people!? This is what disturbs me! This is what concerns me! If they treat a fellow employee like this then how do they treat the actual patients with problems!? Look, I know nurses don't have it easy! I have both family and friends who are CNAs and RNs and I know some of the shit they go through and how stressful it is. Especially since starting a hospital job and seeing stuff firsthand, I have MAJOR respect for those that can do such jobs! You guys have to have balls of steel! No... platinum! Dear gods the shit you ppl go through! I can easily see why you'd be frustrated especially with a coworker who can't handle the shit you deal with daily! I get it. I can see why you'd snap at patients and even eventually experience burn out and stop giving a shit in general. Hell, I wouldn't blame you one damn bit! But I would hope most of that would be split decisions, heat of the moment type stuff. Not when you've had almost an hour to absorb what's happened and had plenty of time to think through what to do or how to act. If you treat your co-workers like this, how would someone expect you to treat your patients? Not one of the 6 jobs that I've had treated my anxiety issues THIS BADLY! I'm talking data entry places, places with tiny cubicles, telarmarketing places, call centers, grocery stores, RETAIL stores! If nothing else I'd expect at least understanding from medical field workers! My supervisors, even a few of my coworkers - did not only not seem to understand but didn't even care! I was told by one to pretty much man up or quit! And some of these people, I KNOW have either personally dealt with mental health issues themselves or know someone close who has. Even if you know the job is tough, even if you know it may get worse, even if you've personally dealt with worse - you can't even say something as easy as "yeah man, this shits hard, I get it."? If I ever mentioned how hard my night was, my coworkers in the group chat didn't even care enough to respond. I mean, I'm sure you've had hard nights too! Let's talk about it! Let's commiserate and complain together! There's over I of us on this shift and I know you all have gone through shit, let's let off a little steam about it! There's gotta be at least one of you who'd love to rant it out! I find when you complain together about a tough job it makes you feel better knowing there's others in the same situation. Just knowing you're not alone can help a lot! Heck, answering every question you know the answer to with "just call the supervisors" cause you can't take 2 mins to say something like "click the x button on the menu" to help a coworker is a bit extreme isn't it? That last anxiety attack I had suicidal thoughts for a short bit in the midst of the worst part. I asked my supervisors for any advice they might have (hoping they might share some of their 20+ years of health field knowledge) they ignored my question and sent me straight to the ER even though I told them I was fine now. I can see the reaction for legal reasons but they didn't seem worried about me personally but how it may affect my job. They refused to listen to me. I went to the ER. Sat there, had blood work done and answered a few questions about how I was feeling and they let me leave. Why? Because they had determined I was fine and no threat to myself or others, just like I had told my supervisors. They never did give me advice. But they did screenshot my phone to show HR. So no, I don't want pity and I don't want people to get super worried about me but I'm always worrying that I'll be fired because of my anxiety attacks and the least a supervisor or coworker could do is tell me they understand it's tough (the job or the anxiety) or give me helpful tips or listen to me or ask how they could help. But being ignored, told to man up, told to quit, treated like I was just a legal risk and quickly unloading me onto anyone else they could - that's not how you treat someone! Someone with anxiety, depression, mental illness, learning disabilities, young people, old people - ANY PEOPLE! And what's worse is you are MEDICAL STAFF! You should KNOW about this stuff. You should KNOW how to handle it! You should KNOW to at least act like you care! You should KNOW how to comfort or calm someone or make them feel comfortable and not just like a legal risk or a bother that you don't want to deal with! HOW TF DO PATIENTS FEEL ABOUT THIS KIND OF TREATMENT!? My managers are always complaining about inspections and how the hospital is rated by patients and why and how to improve our scores. Well, as someone who's been an employee and now a patient too, lemme tell you your main patient displeasure issue - YOUR ATTITUDE! I thought before that some patients were just asking too much of the staff but now I know that they were right. But it's not about getting your apple juice quicker it's about being treated like you're either just a giant thorn in their side or a pit of money! Maybe next time I won't ignore that survery phone call.

[kjs-s]

Bad matchmaking

Pairing  Scotty x reader

Fandom Star Trek Aos

Summary   You confess your feelings to the captain and he tries to help you with setting you up with the wrong person

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: mention of a crash

A/N:   I tried to mention as many characters as I could Hope you all like it

@writing-journeyx   @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse @ohyesmarvel@agentpeggicarter  @buckyofthemyscira @romantichen @once-upon-an-imagine @locke-writes @lucetheding @marveliskindacool @captainrogerss   @jurassicbarnes @uncomfortable-writers @theassetseyeliner @sgtbxckybxrnes @thetherianthropydaily @dresupi @caplansteverogers @captainrogerss @dirajunara-archive @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @outside-the-government@thefanficfaerie @admiralamott @yallneedtrek @goingknowherewastaken @girl-next-door-writes  @janeykath318  @kaitymccoy123 @yallneedtrek @musikat18

‘’Three more moves and I will finally beat you for once.’’ You calculated how to take Christine’s king after losing four times straight. You were both skilled at chess but you played more for fun. You got tired and asked Carol to advise you about your moves beforehand. Now she was watching you play being proud of how well you followed her advice.

‘’See (Y/N), you can be an extremely difficult opponent when you focus on the game. Queen to C4.’’ Christine studied the board anticipating your next move.

‘’I am playing to enjoy my free time. I am not competitive like the rest of you. Yesterday Leonard was staring me down to distract me while we were playing. And that’s part of what I'm doing now. Rook to B6. Check.’’  

After you won the game you thank Carol for her help.

‘’Wait, was she helping you the whole time? And you left to play by myself?’’ Christine pretending to be annoyed by her friend’s betrayal.

‘’No, she was just my mentor. I wanted to win at least once this week. To gain some confidence before the mission on Friday. I haven’t been on such an important mission before and I am a little worried.’’

‘’Don’t worry about it, Ensign. You will have the best people there with you.    Jim said taking a seat next to you with Jaylah. You hadn’t noticed them earlier and he scared you a little.

‘’I know that Jaylah will protect both you and Scotty while away. And Lieutenant Collins knows what to do in the event of hostiles, he has been attacked once and beat them. There is nothing to worry about.’’ His reassuring words thought fell on deaf ears because right at that moment the people he was talking about entered the room. And all you did was to stare at the man you had fallen in love with since you started working at the enterprise, Montgomery Scott. You met in your first week when he came by your room to check on Jaylah, your roommate, who had broken her arm. She was asleep at the time so you made sure Scotty knew you were taking care of his friend. His charm and his caring personality are what drew you to him and in a few months, you ended up daydreaming about dating him.

‘’Are you listening to me?’’ Jim interrupted your thoughts.

‘’No sorry. What were you saying?’’ You turned to face the captain and give him your undivided attention.

‘’Nothing important. Now, I’m pretty sure I know why you weren’t paying attention to me.’’ He smiled knowingly at you.

‘’You know?’’ You thought you had kept your crush a secret from everyone.

‘’It’s obvious (Y/N). You are staring that I would try to believe you are trying to read his mind.’’

‘’Please don’t tell him anything. I will try to find the perfect opportunity to confess my feelings myself.’’

‘’Of course, don’t worry about it. I promise to say nothing. Now, you should go get everything ready for your mission.’’ He watched you leave and took another look at the men across the room. Scotty was still talking to Lieutenant Collins about something, the chief engineer was obviously passionate about while the other man seemed a little bored. At that moment Jim felt happy he only promised not to talk but you didn’t say anything about meddling. So, he came up with a plan to help you find your opportunity.

For the next few months, it was like someone was trying to sabotage your changes with Scotty. You barely saw him and when you spotted him somewhere he was always busy. At first, you didn’t think anything of it, still, you began getting worried. What if Jim had told him about your feeling and he was afraid to reject you?

On top of that, you weren’t sent with him on missions anymore. It was like Jim thought you and Collins made a good team you were sent everywhere together. When a linguist and an engineer were needed someone, it was always the two of you. You started getting sick of seeing his face. Not that he wasn’t attractive still you missed the time you get to spend with Scotty. You would talk about the ship, your families or your home back to Earth. You knew it would be a stupid decision to question the captain but you thought that asking him about it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe after the next mission.

So, when a spaceship crashed, you found yourself on the rescue team. You were sent to communicate with any survivors so they will aboard the ship and then allow the doctors to treat them.

The mission was hard but you and the rest of the team managed to bring all the survivors on board. The engineers that were on the team were able to salvage some of the spaceship’s part in order to be included in making the new one for the crew. You were proud of yourself since it was a major success and you finally used some of the languages that your supervisor had taught you.

However, the bliss you felt from completing the mission didn’t distract you from the conversation you wanted to have with the captain. You just had to make sure to voice everything like you wanted to gain experience working with some other members too and not as a complaint against lieutenant Collins.

‘’Hey (Y/N) congratulations on the mission today. All our patients seem to feel at ease with you and were thankful they could communicate with someone. Great job.’’ Christine complimented you.

‘’Thanks Chris, I appreciate it. Listen, I can’t talk right now and I bet you still have a lot of work. Do you mind if we talk about this over breakfast tomorrow?’’ Your eyes were once on her and once scanning the corridor for Jim.

‘’Of course (Y/N), are you looking for something?’’

‘’Yes, Jim, have you seen him?’’

‘’He was just here to be briefed by doctor McCoy about the patients. He said he was going to his quarters to work on something.’’

‘’Thank you, Chris. I will see if I can find him there.’’

Just as your friend mentioned Jim was in his quarters making sure all the parts of the crashed ship had been properly cataloged to be sent back so they can be part of the new ship. He was done when you showed up and asked to talk to him.

‘’(Y/N) just the person I wanted to see. One of them to be exact. I will plan a little celebration for our mission when the crew of the USS Gladiator is all healed. And I would love to honor all the team who achieved it. What do you day?’’ He motioned you to sit with him on the couch.

‘’That would lovely both of us and for them. To left their spirit a little. However, there is something I would like to discuss with you. I don’t want you to take this personally or as a complaint. Just as a question.’’ You paused trying to find the right words even if you had practiced this in your head all the way. Jim didn’t interrupt you, he was curious and let you speak when you were ready.

‘’Is there a reason I’m always on away missions with the same people? I mean, I could learn some more things if you change the structure of the teams.’’ You looked hopefully at him hoping he would agree with you.

‘’I see your point and I do believe it’s a good strategy. But I would hate to break you and Collins apart. You seem to work fine together and honestly, I am expecting a thank you for pairing the two of you together for so long.’’

‘’Why would I thank you, Jim? It’s not like he is the best engineer to work with. I would thank you if you paired me up with Scotty because he is the best, or with any of my friends.’’

‘’What do you mean? I pair you with him so you can talk about how you are feeling. You told me you liked him.’’ You both looked confused by his conversation.

‘’I never said that. What are you talking about?’’

‘’Back before your first difficult away mission. Don’t you remember? I was trying to ease your concerns and you totally blew me off to stare at him.’’

That day came to your mind and you realized what had happened.

‘’Oh, my God Jim, I can’t believe this. I wasn't talking about him. If you remember that scene clearly, he didn’t enter the room alone.’’

‘’Yes, he was with...  He tried to picture the scene. ‘’Scotty. He is the one you were talking about?’’

‘’Yes. I have been in love with him since my first week here. Please tell me you are the only person on the enterprise who knows about my apparent crush on Collins. You haven’t told him anything, have you?’’ You started panicking at the prospect of him believing you like him.

‘’No don’t worry. I haven’t told Collins anything about it. You should probably talk to Scotty though. With how much time you have spent with someone else he might have gotten the same idea I had.’’

‘’Jim you are absolutely right. I will go to talk to Scotty right now. Also, I'm not going to be able to have dinner with you tonight. I might end up making other plans.’’  

‘’Of course, Ensign, just make sure you thank me later for my help.’’ You gave him an annoyed look.     ‘’For making you admit your feelings by matchmaking you with another.’’ He giggled as you blew him a kiss and left to find your future boyfriend. However, what he failed to mention was that Scotty knew about his matchmaking plans from the beginning. He even helped execute some of them.

When you made it to engineering, Scotty was filing the reports from a previous away mission.

‘’Ensign (Y/LN), can I help you with something? I see here that your mission was successful. Congratulations on communicating so well with the survivors of the crash. I am sure Lieutenant Uhura must be proud of you.’’

‘’She is, all the survivors seem to trust me enough to allow me to translate the doctors that are treating them.’’ You were excited about helping those poor people. However, your nerves were overwhelming.

‘’And I'm sure you worked perfectly with lieutenant Collins.’’ You were too focused on what you wanted to tell him to notice the tone of his voice.

‘’We worked well together. But I’m sure you mentioned it because you were aware of Jim’s plans, right?’’ His eyes fell worrying you have figured out he was hoping to be in Collins’ position. However, you thought he was just sorry for helping Jim. He nodded without saying anything out of fear that his voice would crack.

‘’Well… that shows us that even though he is a certified genius our captain can sometimes be a little dense.’’ You approached Scotty and stood in front of him.

‘’He was right about me having feelings for someone. Just got the person wrong.’’ You hoped that you had given him enough clues to realize what you were implying.

‘’What do you mean? Who is the right person?’’ He dared to feel hope even after telling himself for months that you wouldn’t look at him.

‘’A beautiful guy who can always make me feel safe around him. Who makes sure I’m comfortable after any jump and who once had to carry me to the med bay. Who has an amazing sense of humor and the most adorable accent I have ever heard. Do you believe he will ever let me be more than just friends?’’ You looked into his eyes to determine the answer yet he beat you to it.

‘’Absolutely, he would a fool not to. Only an idiot would deny the opportunity to date such a beautiful creature. One that can brighten up the room with their presence and who can be reasonable even when angry. And I would like to know if that person would like to have dinner with me.’’ He shyly reached for your hand.

‘’Of course, I would. Let me change clothes and I will meet you in the dining hall.’’ You gave him a kiss on the cheek and left. You walked fast to your room and he stayed touching the area your lips were just on, both of you with wide smiles on your faces.