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palepinklilies · 2 months ago

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the injury of finally knowing you

Note: Initially posted on ao3 but with a different title (this is my draft title btw); Trying my hand at posting my pieces here! I hope u guys read my stuff nd like em ^__^

Summary: Marriage is a vow… for better or for worse, for richer or poor, in sickness and in health… What’s to happen when vows are… wiped… erased… Or The one where Gojo Satoru fails to remember his darling wife at the right time.

wc: 10.2k

Chapter 1: Of lines and intersections (ch.2)

The last memory you have of him as he is, is a sore topic. Frankly, you blamed —is still blaming — yourself for the accident that befallen the sole person you love the most. Your husband, Satoru Gojo got into a terrible car crash that put him into a coma for half a year now, barely showing signs of regaining consciousness.

The night prior might be considered as your worse fight in the eight years that you’ve been together with Satoru. He always used to say that fights shouldn’t be slept in through the night, but not all things we want go as planned; because that night, you both had said words that couldn’t be taken back. Specifically, Satoru opened Pandora’s box and used it against you.

The cause of the fight wasn’t anything too destructive. Yet, it created a deep-seated wound between your relationship. It’s as simple as the talk of kids.

It’s not a sensitive topic in yours and Satoru’s marriage because you’ve already had a long conversation around wanting and having children of your own. For a while, both of you were on the same page: ‘no kids until we’ve established what we want to happen with our careers.’

Somehow, somewhere along the line, he wanted it differently. For quite some time, he’s been hinting making a family with you. It could be as simple as pulling you by the baby section in a department store, or showing you funny — adorable and cute — baby videos from the internet. At first it was endearing and warm to see him think about children so lovingly, especially with the prospect of one being half him and half you. But unlike him, you’ve yet to reach the dream younger you had always reached for.

Maybe it’s his leverage of having been brought up as a trust fund baby — someone with a golden spoon. While you had to work your way — with grit and passion, just to reach where you are now.

He’s Satoru Gojo, a genius business scion turned mogul. He’s already well respected, recognized and established for his prowess in handling many corporations and conglomerates under his family’s control.

Well you on the other hand… You’re still in law school. Against his insistence, you refused to use his money to attend law school after your pre-law undergrad. Which is why you had to apply for work to be able to afford it. One of the reasons for this is your pride. As foolish as it was, pride was your drive, not only because you didn’t want to succeed behind the shadow of his surname and money but also because you wanted to prove to his family that you’re worthy of being his wife.

Okay, but who is Satoru Gojo if not persuasive? Eventually he convinced you to accept his offer, albeit with your condition that the fees will be split in half and that it’s the only thing he will finance in your pursuit of a career as a lawyer. So when he threw those god-forsaken words of insult, it hit all your insecurities and broke you.

“I don’t understand why we can’t! I try to give you everything I can and yet this simple thing, you refuse to give to me!” His voice booms across the living room. Hearing those words only made you more heated.

“It’s not as simple Satoru! We… agreed. We agreed that we will establish our careers before we try for kids. Why are you turning back on that now?!” The pitch of your voice is starting to match his’ and the conversation was just escalating and getting more heated. The air feels heavy and your brain has triggered fight or fight and right now, fight seems to be the default choice.

“You wouldn’t understand me because you’re already at the peak of yours! — because your career is only moving up and forward. But what about me? What about my dreams?” Exasperated, you just sit down the couch, your head in your hands. Tears are also brimming your eyes and your chest feels tight and heavy.

Striking the iron while it’s hot, he resigns, “You know what, maybe my mom was right. I shouldn’t have married a selfish, poor girl like you.”

As if time stops for you; your voice gets stuck in your throat and the tears threatening to spill, had spilled. You didn’t know what or how to respond to that. Is that what he really thought of you?

For a few seconds, silence had finally taken over. The air felt suffocating. Leaving is the only thought you have above everything that’s been speedrunning your mind.

You wordlessly get up and brushed past him, only then does he see you tear-streaked face and your bloodshot eyes.

Feeling braised, he immediately realized the gravity of what he said. He quickly catches up with you as you scramble to pack a small overnight bag.

Everything feels heavy — feels tight, and all you can focus on is getting essentials: 2 pairs of undies and whatever clothing within your reach and your essential cosmetic products. Satoru watches you in chaos.

Before you enter the bathroom for your toothbrush, he wraps his arms around your torso, as if to restrain you. His head hung low atop your shoulder and you feel his ragged breathing. “Don’t leave. Please. I didn’t mean any of it. You can slap me, punch me or kick me but don’t leave, please.” A sob chokes him as he says the last word.

You’re also sobbing at this point, snot faced and all, barely able to say a word without hiccuping in between. It’s starting to physically hurt being skin to skin with him right now, so you break free from him. “Th-that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I… I just need time for myself.” You say as you step inside the bathroom. He just stands there silently crying, like you.

Before you cross the threshold to your shared penthouse he speaks, “I love you. Be safe.” More tears escape your eyes. He sounded so soft and defeated, and you know it’s nothing but sincere. Without looking back, you wordlessly shut the door until you hear the ping of the lock.

You stood in front of the door for what seems like a lifetime, crying and contemplating if you should actually leave knowing that once you do, something in your marriage will shift. Against all odds, you swallow the block in your throat and start walking away from your home, from your love, from your husband.

You ended up in a decent inn away from the heart of the city. Checking-in in a hotel was an initial thought, but with what happened hours prior, you couldn’t bear to spend more than you have to. It’s not pride — well maybe it is, however no one has the right to scorn you for choosing not to touch any amount in the shared bank accounts Satoru arranged after marriage.

Regardless, the salary you get as a part-time para-legal in a small law firm was enough to guarantee you the luxury of being away from anyone at the moment. You’re guaranteed the luxury of solitude, quiet and contemplation.

The life’s mundanity became an afterthought…ergo commitments left at work and in law school. You’d cross the bridge when you get there: you’d face the consequences of going AWOL once you’re mentally and emotionally fit to be back.

Three days passed and you still haven’t gone back to his penthouse. You also shut off your phone, disconnecting from everyone and anyone who can contact you. At one point during day 2, you felt homesick. You almost went back, keyword being almost.

The quiet and solitude gave you the opportunity to rest, sleep and tune everything out. You wouldn’t know how to face your husband anyway. Everything still hurts to the point that it feels numb. But then a thought crossed your mind: home. It was a fleeting thought, a snap decision if you will, but that same hour you packed up and waited for check-out time. You were going home.

An hour after check-out and you’re on a train back to your shared penthouse, which at this moment, is a gamble. Satoru’s spontaneous yet predictable (for you, that is). There’s a 50-50 chance that he’s home waiting for you while there’s also a chance that he’s at the office. There’s no moment for you to ponder on it, you just act.

Arriving, the only soul you’re able to meet are the trusted cleaners who comes and goes on schedule. You honestly forgot about their schedule, which is on a Friday. They meet you with curt greetings and smiles, which you return. You just hope that none of them have been talked by your husband into tipping your arrival at the unit.

Packing a small hand-carry luggage was quicker than you expected it to be. You take in a deep breath and think of ways how you can leave (without suspicion). Which is a difficult feat considering that one: leaving directly and walking out without a word would rouse so much suspicion. The word of the mouth isn’t so reliable and you wouldn’t want to leave and these people would make the false assumptions and tell on you; two: Satoru had probably gave the cleaners an order to inform him of your arrival and when you’d leave the penthouse.

Of both options, one thing is for certain, Gojo Satoru will follow you and will scour the whole of Japan just to find you.

You decide on a quick shower before leaving, which only took less than 15 minutes. You’re trying to minimize the time when Gojo could potentially come home if someone had snitched of your presence in the penthouse. Surprisingly, your exit went smoothly, even in the building’s concierge.

On the far side of the city, in the heart of the central business district, Gojo Satoru gets notified of your arrival in your apartment building. Quickly he tells his assistant to cancel today’s remaining meetings as he rushed towards the elevators. You came home. You came back. Satoru knows that this might be the last time he’ll see you. He knows he’s hurt you deeply. He knows the gravity of his words when he used the biggest insecurity you have in this marriage, hell, since the start of your relationship even.

On the monitor pad of his Jaguar, he had dialed your number 5 times in a row, only to be sent to voicemail. In all honesty, he’s praying to every god up there that you’re napping or doing other things that keeps you preoccupied enough to neglect your cellphone.

And right now as he’s currently speeding beyond the city’s limits, he’s left you yet another voicemail: “[name], hey, I’m still on my way back. I’m sorry for everything I said. I know I shouldn’t say it through voicemail but I want you to know that I am. I’m really sorry and I can’t ever justify the things I said. Wait for me at home, please. I love y-”

He wasn’t able to finish the last words when he felt a large collision against the left side of his vehicle. At that moment, time stood still for Satoru Gojo. One moment he was speeding forward with one goal in mind and in a split second he’s receiving a blunt force that made the car skid across the lightly trafficked road.

Nothing in his field of vision registered in his brain, it was all a blurry haze. Soon after the car skids to a halt, the last thing he sees is your contact name on the monitor pad before losing consciousness.

On the flip side, you’re seeing blurry hazes of Tokyo fading into greens as you’re seated on a train ride back to Sendai, your home — first home. Exhaustion is clearly seeping out from your skin albeit the lack of physical activity and work. Your mind is so muddled and fogged and it’s not helping that your brain is rejecting any other emotion aside from hurt.

Clarity and peace of mind is what you’re expecting from this short trip back home. In the back of your mind, a part of you is excited to return to your parents’ house, where you grew up and learned how to love and be loved.

After the train ride, the first thing you do is visit the cemetery. It’s been a year since you last visited and paid your respects. You brushed off a few dried leaves from the grave, and poured water over. “Hi mama, dad. Sorry it took me so long to see you again.” You couldn’t modulate your voice louder than a whisper with the tears that had started to streak down your cheeks. And there at your parents’ grave did you pour all the tears that you thought you had cried.

All the feelings of hurt, anger, pain, betrayal and most of all guilt came crashing down on you as sob your eyes out. It was only then that you felt you were safe to be vulnerable. Even without their physical presence, your mother and father had always been a source of comfort.

You kept whispering ‘sorry’s and you don’t even comprehend to whom and for what are you asking for forgiveness and reconciliation. Everything still feels heavy and all you want yo do is curl up and cry yourself dry. “Daddy I-i m-miss y-you… So m-much.” How you wished for your dad to be there. To be there and give you a tight hug and kisses on top of your head.

Catching your breath, you tried to calm down so you can vent to the empty air. Sniffling you start speaking softly, “Uh… I-i had a terrible argument with Toru daddy.” Verbalizing it only made you tear up again and a lump rise to your throat. Maybe this was what you needed: to be able to freely speak your mind without any external opinion that wouldn’t even help console your feelings.

“And it’s because I… it’s because I don’t want a baby yet…” your eyes shut tight and tears fell with it. “But I do want to be a mom so much… so so much especially if he’s going to be the dad… but I want to be a lawyer to the same extent.”

What stage of grief are you in right now? They say that going through the five stages of grief is non-linear. You could be in the first one: anger, then after a few hours you could have skipped to the third: bargaining. Some would even switch from one stage back to the other. Perhaps you’re in a limbo stage of feeling everything all at once? Is that even possible?

After crying in silence for what felt like an eternity, you stand up and dust your palms from the jeans you’re wearing. “M’sorry for not getting you guys flowers and forgetting to light some incense… I’ll see you at home…” You give a light touch to your parents’ names engraved on the stone.

The last time you’ve been to the house where you grew up in was the day of your father’s funeral. Entering the threshold once again after many years gave you a feeling of nostalgia.

You take in the dusty surrounding. All furnitures have been covered by drawsheets and the living room carpet had been rolled off to the side. Everything was almost the way that it was as you’ve last seen it.

“Mom, dad I’m home.” Only silence greets you, it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue that no one is there to greet you a “welcome home.” But still, you feel better being here. In a sense you know that your dad’s presence is here with you and that’s enough.

You decided to sleep in your parents’ room for the night so you left the luggage by the door and looked for cleaning supplies to tidy and clean the room up. In retrospect, you should’ve brought spare bed sheets and pillowcases, but you decided to simply run them in a nearby laundromat.

In the living room, you decided to look through photo albums for entertainment.

You’ve lived your life with your dad being the only parent you’ve ever known. Your mom died with the complications of giving birth to you with a weak heart. And your dad tried his best to immortalize your mom through pictures that they took during the whole pregnancy. Here you find the photo album you made of the first year you started college, the same year you met Satoru.

Coincidentally, snapshots of your relationship weren’t really put here on purpose — well for the first half of it at least.

Before you left for university your dad gave you one of his film cameras and told you to make and keep memories of college because it’s one to give the most notable memories of your lifetime. You think he was exaggerating then, but it made sense as you grew older.

Flipping the page, you see the first picture you took with Satoru and his group of friends. It was your first year as a university student, taking up literature, and he was in his second year. The only reason your paths had crossed that year was because you wanted to meet new people and make friends… so you attended a party without fully knowing how city kids define parties.

Initially, you attended the freshmen mixer within university grounds and it was fun! You met a sophomore guy who was one of the student council organizers for the networking event. His name was Suguru Geto. He had an aura that was enough for you to trust him… just a little bit though. Throughout the mixer event, you barely interacted with people your age. In your mind, you know it’s because of the fact that you were from the country side… who knows who or what city kids want as a friend right?

Admittedly, you did enjoy the mixer even if you were just seated at the corner. This went unnoticed to the senior members of the student council, hence, Geto approached you with a light taps on your shoulder. He simply gives a curt smile upon your surprised expression. “Hey, you doin’ good here? I’ve noticed you haven’t been going around talking to people.”

Embarrassing. You then reason out that no one wants to approach you or if you initiate, they usually cut conversations after finding out that you’re new in the metropolitan. “It’s fine though, I’m actually enjoying even if it doesn’t look like it. I just wish I can meet one potential friend.”

Now, Geto isn’t one to take pity in people. He’s got a quite awful attitude underneath his cool and calm demeanor. But somehow, he thinks you need a springboard. It’s out of his character to take strays in, but he does.

“Every year, after the freshman mixer, my friends and I throw a welcome party for students returning for the semester and for those new as well. If you’re interested, you can come. Just approach me after so I can write the address down.” He quickly bids you goodbye after that. You couldn’t even say a curt ‘thanks’ for his offer. Contemplating if you should go to that party is what plagues your mind as you decided to walk around in case you stumble upon someone who would appreciate talking to you.

So you did approach Geto for the address once the mixer finished… and you ended up in a… house… packed with young adults chugging alcohol, smoking and grinding against each other. You have half a mind to turn back and just enjoy the rest of the night in your small apartment, but you also wanted to experience the liberties of being a college student, namely the drinking and getting wasted privileges.

The loud bass reverberates against the floorboards and the walls of the entryway as you enter. Here you realize that you’re underdressed for the occasion. While other ladies wore micro-mini skirts, tube tops, little black dresses, and what nots, you were still wearing a university-dress code-appropriate outfit from the mixer earlier. You didn’t bother changing your cream skirt that goes just half an inch above your knees, a simple black halter top and a knitted cardigan over it.

Though you feel awkward and misplaced, you figure that you could find where they get drinks. You suspect that they’re in the kitchen, so off you go. Surprisingly, Geto is there too with a number of people laughing and bickering with each other once you stood by the kitchen entryway. He immediately took notice of you.

“Hey! Freshie girl you actually came! For one second I thought you wouldn’t.” All eyes went on you the moment he acknowledged your presence. It was agitating to be under their gazes, scrutinizing you, and perhaps the raven-haired boy took notice.

He motions for you to come closer to the kitchen island, “C’mon, what type of drink do you prefer? We have beers, cocktail punches… or are you a hard liquor type of girl?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your response. “I’ll take the beer, please.” He takes a green bottle from one of the red ice boxes and pops the cap open for you. “Here you go, one bottle.”

You’ve only drank occasionally. Like during family festivities or birthdays, and those were limited to sips of cheap champagne and traditional sake. “I’ve told you my name but I haven’t caught yours, how do you want us to call you?” he asks before you took a swig of the bottle. You apologize and tell him your name, “Hey guys! This freshie girl right here is [name]! Be nice to her.” A series of ‘hey’s and curt waves were thrown your way and you slightly bowed your head slightly as encouragement of their greetings. “Well, this is a big party! I hope you meet the potential friends you were expecting from this afternoon.” After that you were left alone as one of the ladies in the group notified everyone of a ‘beer pong’ at the back area of the house, and they left.

The condensation of the beer bottle had transferred to your palm so you looked for paper towels and after that you went ahead back to the crowd and started walking around like a lost puppy. You expected something like this and it felt surreal to experience your first college party. Could be better but not bad for a first time right?

Surprisingly, the beer was palatable at least, but you start to think that maybe the offer of the cocktail punch could’ve been better. You passed by Geto’s group in hopes of being free from the cramped living room and he sends a small wave and a curt smile your way. You can’t help but silently herald him for being so polite, when his friends (in your assumption) are snobbish.

Beside Geto Suguru was his best friend, Gojo Satoru, and the raven-haired’s greetings to you didn’t come unnoticed to him. Suguru wasn’t the type to be that friendly, so naturally, it piqued his interest.

“Who’s that? Didn’t know you were into prude freshmen now?” He scoffs. The raven-haired tossed the ping pong ball, landing inside the far right cup, “I’m not. The girl looks like a lost puppy, felt bad for her that’s all.” Satoru just hums and takes his turn to toss the ball, he misses, and Geto knows it’s on purpose so he just scoffs. “Well, I’ll take a walk around then.”

In a less dense corner of the backyard, you tried angling the film camera so that you’d be in frame. You find that taking pictures of yourself like this is more difficult than if you’d use your phone. But maybe that’s the point of it all. You can hear your father say at the back of your mind.

“Phone cameras are becoming obsolete now huh?” You look to your side to see who’s come to intrude your bubble and what stands before you must be the prettiest person you’ve seen in your lifetime. Recovering from your surprise, you put the camera down. “Umm, I don’t think so?” He chuckles, “I’m messing with you. I’m Gojo Satoru by the way.” He offers you a hand and you shook it, also telling him your name.

He offers to snap a picture of you, which you don’t accept because you feel shy. You discover that this man doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when he lightly grabs your wrist and takes the camera from your grasp. He starts pointing the camera at you, and you stand there in confusion, “well c’mon, strike a pose?”

And you do strike an awkward pose. Maybe this weird but beautiful guy can be your first friend? Or maybe he’s just looking for someone to hook-up with? That’s a common thing at parties… right?

Soon enough after Satoru had broken the ice between you and him, you find yourself back with Geto and his group, where you discover that he and Satoru are best friends. You may be naïve and new to these things but you weren’t stupid. The people in their circle definitely didn’t want you there. As you spent each passing minute in their presence, you piece that together as most of them choose to ignore you apart from the two men who took you under their wing.

It feels overwhelming having to do too much socializing for one day so you try to bid them goodbyes. Since no one acknowledged, you start to walk away, but someone grabs a hold of your arm.

“Leaving so soon? You haven’t even used the whole film roll.” He takes it upon himself to open your small shoulder bag and took the camera and raised it up, “Hey guys! say ‘cheese’!” He says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and you look up the camera with a contorted smile with flushed cheeks. “Well then, see you around campus.”

Expectations always differ from reality because it wasn’t part of yours to keep stumbling across the silver-haired man. You could be in the classics section of the library and he’d coincidentally be there too, or by the university quad where you’d often write your essays and prose, and other unsuspecting places where you’d least expect him to be. At one point you suspected it was intentional but he just brushed it off that you were simply being so observant.

For the many months that you’ve spent time with him, you enjoyed his presence and completely, laughed at his jokes — saw him as Satoru and not Gojo Satoru, the scion of a multi-billion business empire.

But you knew to keep things platonic. At the back of your mind, you were certain that he’d never see you more than a friend he met in university. You were almost certain that the moment he gets his degree, you’d never cross paths and all will be part of your college memories. But really, not all expectations become the reality.

A huge chunk of the student body knew that Gojo was a notorious playboy. This is a false accusation and merely an assumption. Yes, he did like to sleep around but not as much as they say. If anything, Geto’s more of the playboy between them, who’s engaging in different set-ups with different girls almost every week! And he wasn’t able to shield you from the potential bad (false) things you’d hear around. But you weren’t just a notch in his belt.

He was able to show you a side of him only people he’s extremely close to can see and experience. You caught his interest in that party and never left his mind since. It feels foolish to orchestrate every single time you think you come across him in campus “coincidentally,” but he succeeded.

He used his charms — more like pulled off some strings, to get your schedule and he had everything memorized just so he can get a chance to meet you. Suguru had even called him a stalker for it and maybe he almost became one until you simply expected him to be where you are. Eventually, he got you — even if it took so much work and convincing for you to believe the sincerity of his feelings.

You’ve always considered him as a friend. A friend who you have feelings for, more like. Your subconscious would always tell you that if he did make a move on you, he’d leave you hanging and bruised. It was a simple push and pull: Satoru would make moves that seem to blur the lines of friendship and you would try your best to keep it platonic and not read into it. You’d always think he’d break your heart eventually, be it as a friend or be it as a lover.

So when you woke up in his bed naked after a long night of drinking and partying, you knew for sure that was the end so you left without a goodbye. Not a single bit of what memories you can recall from the night before were laced with regret.

When he rested his forehead against yours and kissed you with his soft lips, you didn’t pull away. You wanted to, but you didn’t. When he started touching — caressing you under your dress, you didn’t want him to stop. When he whispered sweet nothings as he plowed through your sopping gummy walls, you didn’t ask him to stop. How could you, when at that very moment it felt as if you’re the only people on this earth.

The boundaries you tried to keep for the past months of your friendship had been crossed the moment you let him kiss and undress you. It was a night of passion you couldn’t forget and regret. With a heavy heart, you walked away and left half your heart with him but with pride and dignity intact. You can’t ever be just one of his conquests if you’re the first to leave.

When Satoru woke up to an empty bed that morning, he was confused. It agitated him to see you nowhere in his suite and it didn’t help that you blocked him from everywhere he could reach you.

For the following days after that he’d leave class five minutes early so that he can catch you as you leave yours; Or, he’d try to catch you in the places on campus that you’d frequent during your vacant hours but to no avail, no one could ever catch a person who’s avoiding you like the plague. But still he was relentless.

Everyday he’d try to find you in the vast campus of the university. He tried to think how you would so he can anticipate where you’d probably go — was a hit or miss situation. But he was able to catch you in a back staircase made to be an emergency exit in the same building as most of your classes.

The thought was like an epiphany for him; he was staring at the narrow line of floor to ceiling windows by the back of the buildings when it occurred to him that you initially stayed there in your first days of university.

Even if he’s the captain of the basketball team, he was quick to leave practice saying some shitty excuse of an emergency, to which his best-friend just rolled his eyes at. He knew exactly why. But he didn’t pry nor try to tell on him. And so Gojo Satoru ran across the campus and skipped steps until he reached the 4th floor landing of the staircase.

You were mindlessly listening to a posted lecture on your student portal. You’ve been having sleepless nights trying to finish all the writing and literary analyses that was required of you. Eyes drooping and almost falling asleep, you were startled by another person’s presence within the landing.

It was the single person on campus who you’ve been trying to avoid for the past weeks. It’s the only person who’s taking up a huge space in your mind when you aren’t distracted by your courseworks or classes.

Catching his breath, “y’know- this is a clear breach of building safety codes-” pants “you’re an illegal obstruction to this exit [name].” He stands before you all sweaty and still in his jersey and you couldn’t speak, dumbfounded as you figure out how he managed figure out your hiding place. You were almost successful in avoiding him completely but he just had to chase and look for you.

“W-what are you doing here??” He drops his duffel bag at the base of the next flight of stairs and sits beside you. “Why have you been avoiding me? You even had me blocked everywhere!” Always the straightforward one, he’d always speak his mind.

This was a confrontation you have been dreading to face — the reason why you had to change where you’d frequent these past weeks. Coming to terms with sleeping with a friend is one thing but having to unpack sleeping with a friend, letting him be your first when you know you have feelings for him is a whole other different conundrum.

You quickly closed your laptop and fumbled with placing your notebook inside your bag. But before you could even take a leave, he grabbed your laptop and hugged it against his side — one that was away from you. “Give it back Gojo-san.” You can see him frown and pout at what you said.

So it’s just Gojo now? Not Satoru? How cold. How cruel. You’re such a heartless woman. How could you have it in you to immediately leave seeing him? Did you hate him that much? Why were you being so indifferent when you used to smile and speak with him warmly?

“No, not when I know you’d leave once I do. Not when you haven’t answered my question.”

You bit your bottom lip, why is he making this so difficult? You still try to reach for your laptop so you can leave but he just keeps it out of your reach, until you just give up.

“Why does it matter? Can’t I simply be busy with my own life?” You say as calm as you could while avoiding his gaze.

“Of course you can. I just want to understand why. Didn’t… did… anything from that night mean anything to you?”

And there it is. You hoped to avoid this, truly. But since it fell on your lap out of nowhere, might as well face it right? “Did it mean anything to you?” The way you returned the question took him aback. Your voice was suddenly laced with indifference and he couldn’t place where that should go.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have initiated that if I didn’t want it to happen.” He tried to hold your hand but you refused his advances. “How can I trust your words Gojo?”

He’s reeling. He knows where this is going. At this moment he admits that he approached things out of order. He wasn’t able to shield you from the rumors surrounding him and his “dating” history. He shouldn’t have given in to his emotions and took advantage of your drunken vulnerability. “Is that what you think of me? Is that how you see me?” are the only things that come out his mouth. You can’t help but feel guilty when he said that.

It’s true. You believed that there’s some truth to what people say about him and, that, along with your naïveté is enough to make you an easy target for him. You let out a deep sigh.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s forget things happened alright? We’re still friends anyway.” Lies. You knew damn well you can’t stay friends with him anymore.

“No. I don’t want us to be friends anymore.” And there it is. A man of his caliber that has an equally large ego wouldn’t take it lightly — the way you left that morning without him having to put a word in.

But it takes you by surprise when he goes down a step and squats in front of you so you’d meet eye to eye. “I want you to tell me how you really feel. I want you to tell me why you think I saw you just as a body count.”

“You’re so frustrating Goj-” “Satoru. Call me by my name.” That shut you up. Everything is confusing and frustrating and all you want to do is leave his overbearing presence and cry your frustrations out of his sight.

“Why are you doing this? I’ve already slept with you! Isn’t it like rule number 1 to forget and move on to the next!” He could feel your exasperation the moment you finally looked at him with teary eyes and he only gently stares right back at you with his blue ones.

“If this is just an ego trip because I left without a word then you can just tell people whatever you want that’s in your favor.” By now tears have started to fall and yet your eye contact remains. He gently thumbs the tears away, “Fuck. You’re killing me sweets. It’s not like that… I’m sorry… don’t cry.”

It’s weird. It’s unusual. It’s confusing. It’s making your heart beat rapidly and makes your chest feel like it’s going to burst. And the next words that come out his mouth was just the catalyst for your emotions.

“Listen, to me you’re not just a body count. I wouldn’t go out my way to memorize your schedule down to the last second. If you were just someone I wanted to fuck, I’d have done that at the party.”

His thumbs caresses the apples of your cheeks and a warm smile grazes his lips, “I did all that because I like you. I took interest in you, for you… I’m sorry for doing things out of order. You have to tell me now if everything I did matters so I know when to back-off.”

The proximity of your faces and the way he holds you like you’re fragile glass makes your heart beat faster than it is. You take off all your inhibitions, all the weight holding you down and connect both your foreheads. It’s a risk but you’ll take it. “I… I like you so much Gojo Satoru.” It doesn’t take him much effort to mesh your lips together in a soft, chaste kiss.

After a few seconds he breaks away and you completely feel his lips turning into a smirk against yours, “So, the status between us now is girlfriend and boyfriend huh?”

The memory is fond, as if it happened yesterday and not years ago. From there your relationship wasn’t always sunshines and rainbows but you made it work. You both held on to each other. Love is also sacrifice as much as it’s to be received. You realize that you’d go through all of that again as long as you get to stay with the only man you’ll ever love intensely.

With a newfound sense of rationality, you realize that whatever happens, you’d come back to Satoru. You need to talk things with him in a more peaceful and stable environment. You realize that the only way to fix this is to hit the train the first thing tomorrow morning and go home to your husband.

Tokyo mornings will always be hectic as the crowd bustles to arrive at their offices, schools or whatever they had to do that day. Even if you took the earliest shinkansen that you could catch, the Tokyo crowd will always be there.

As you ping the elevators down to the lobby, your palms started to sweat and your heart, hammering against your rib cage. But upon entering your shared penthouse, it’s unnervingly quiet and still. “I’m home.” — no answer.

Leaving the luggage by the door, you immediately patter into your home gym. Considering it’s as early as 9 AM, your husband is probably preoccupied with his workout. With an expectant smile on your face, you walk inside to see no one, not a single trace of movement. Not a single trace of Satoru.

If you were nervous on the elevator ride up, you’re feeling something similar yet different in your gut. Rushing back to your bags, you rummaged for your phone. Cursing out loud that you left it off for days, you quickly turn it on.

Moments later and your phone is flooded with many missed calls, messages and voicemails from Satoru.

Lover ♡ 78 missed calls

Lover ♡: baby, I’m off to work. I love you. Call me when you see this. (Tuesday 7:12 AM)

Lover ♡: ugh this meeting is such a bore. I’m so packed with board meetings this week sweets. Hope to see you at home. Miss you. Love u <3 (Wednesday 9:43 AM)

What you weren’t prepared for was 5 missed calls from his father’s secretary with messages requesting you to call back urgently, and Suguru Geto leaving 13 missed calls and a message that made your hands tremble and the phone to fall onto the marble floors.

Geto Suguru: [name], i don’t know where you are but please call me as soon as you see this. Satoru’s been rushed to the hospital. (Friday 12:34 PM)

Your knees follow as well, hitting the hard floors as you silently weep alone. You were in shock. How? What? Why? were the only things running your mind. “It’s not… true?” you try to make yourself believe as you run up to the second floor of the suite, to your bedroom. Your cheeky husband’s just running a prank on you and even got Suguru and his dad’s assistant on board.

“Toru? Baby?” You say as you see the bed still pristinely made, just as the cleaners would’ve left it last Friday. “Satoru, this is a very bad joke. Come out, I’m not mad I promise.” Tears keep streaming down your cheeks as you make yourself believe in denial. Sooner, you’d call his best friend to ask where he is.

Suguru didn’t need to ring the doorbell for you to open the door for him. He’d already asked you to text him the passcode. It was kinda foresight on his part that you’d be a crying, confused mess so he took the initiative.

And just as expected, he arrives to see you hiccuping and sobbing alone on the living room floor. He approaches you slowly, “Hey, [name]. I’m here.”

In his head, he thinks that this situation is royally fucked up. You’re an absolute mess and he’s also a mess. Everyone’s a fucking mess with Satoru lying almost lifeless in a hospital bed and with you who’s yet to find out the state your husband is in.

Quickly wiping you tears and composing yourself, you try your best to greet Suguru, albeit in between sobs. “O-oh, G-geto-san! I-uh didn’t notice you e-enter.” Seeing your state, he decides that you’d need a primer for the events that happened in your absence.

“Have you eaten? I can whip up a quick breakfast for you.” He says as he places his hands on your shoulders and ushers you towards the breakfast counter.

“I’m fine… I-I’m n-not really h-hungry,” you try to steady your breath and words. The man before you is unrelenting though, he’s already rummaging through the fridge and has had water boiling in the kettle.

“Y’know, I’m usually never this enthusiastic about breakfast but I’m starving!” He turns around with eggs and a few tomatoes in his hands, “would you be a peach and make us warm tea? I already started the kettle.” His warm grin and presence grounds you for a moment and wordlessly follow his request. The raven-haired man huffs a breath of relief seeing you open some of the drawers for tea bags and sweeteners.

A few moments later, as he tosses the eggs around the pan, you speak again. “Geto-san… Satoru… is he– um, he’s just working on weekends again isn’t he?” Your voice starts to shake as you steep both teas.

Perhaps there’s really no way he can tell his friend, his best friend’s wife, that her husband’s currently comatose for rushing home to catch her. The finishes off the eggs with a dash of salt and turned off the range.

“There’s no soft way I can break this to you [name]…” Only then did you have the courage to look into his eyes. “Satoru’s currently in a coma. He got into a terrible car accident.”

He’s gauging your reaction. He’s purposely omitted the fact that his best friend ran multiple red lights and sped beyond limits because he caught word of you coming home. It would break you, and blame your self as the reason he’s in a vegetative state. “No… N-no you’re kidding… this is just some silly prank he got you in.” You chuckle without a trace of humor.

The man in front of you wordlessly plates the eggs and stale bread. “C’mon, eat up. I’ll take you to him.”

Suguru was patient enough to help you clean up yourself as he helped you to the bathroom and even got you a fresh set of clothes on the bed. But the gravity of the truth only weighs on you as you sit in the passenger seat and the familiar city streets and the hospital comes into view.

While the elevator lifts you up, your palms start to sweat; as if mirroring the events this morning but with more melancholy than ever. The sterile scent of the hospital is making your stomach sick and all you want to do is throw up.

You never liked being inside the hospital. It serves as a reminder of sadness, grief and death. And right now as Suguru leads you toward the VIP ward, your hands start to tremble and your pace starts to slow down.

Before the raven-haired man opens the door, you quickly grab his wrist, “Geto-san, I-I can’t. I’ll come back when he’s better.” You turn to leave and he is quick to grab your arms to stop you.

“Hey, I know this is harder for you, more than anyone else, I’m the only one who understands that. But please, for Satoru,” he says with a squeeze to your arms. With tears brimming, you nod, and he let’s one hand go to slide the door open.

When Suguru thought that this was a royally fucked up situation, he never meant it to snowball into this royally fucked up situation.

The moment after he slid the door open and you entered the room, he’s met by Satoru’s mother. And upon seeing your presence behind him, the woman immediately reached for you to slap you square in the face “You have some gall to show up here!! You witch!! How dare you! How dare you come see my son when you’re the reason he’s here.”

It all happened so fast that Suguru couldn’t stop the older woman from her rage and protect you from her misplaced anger. But still, he comes between you and Mrs. Gojo, “Auntie, please… not in front of Satoru… not like this… please.”

By that, the older woman’s cold, hatred-filled gaze had befallen Geto. “And you! I’m disappointed! You’re his best friend, how could you bring the very woman that’s the cause of my son’s suffering!”

“I apologize for not informing you beforehand, but she’s his wife. I’m certain that Satoru would want his wife to be here if he were awake.”

Trying to make yourself smaller, you just stood there shaking and silently crying, not registering how the confrontation is going down. What did she mean that it’s all your fault? You were the cause of all this? What did you do.

You tried to peek a glance out of Suguru’s broad shoulders, only managing to see the foot end of Satoru’s bed and hearing the beeping of various monitors.

Satoru’s in a coma. Your husband, your lover, is in a partial deathbed because of… you. Bile and guilt rises up, so you did what any coward would’ve done: you ran out.

Hearing the door slide open, Geto quickly turns to look at you only to see you take off. He immediately calls your name and runs off to follow you, his pace increasing as he tries to catch you, and he does.

Before you were able to enter the elevator, a hand grabs your arm which you try to shrug off. “Geto-s-san let go.” The man doesn’t, he wraps you in his arms instead; and there you cry even harder.

Geto feels… sad for you. He couldn’t ever imagine the pain you’re in at this moment as you keep saying ‘I’m sorry’s over and over again, in between your sobs. The best he could do was offer you a hug and pats on your back as you cried hard.

Suguru was kind enough to lead you to the hospital’s roof top garden to take a seat. He just let you cry all your tears, only offering pats on your back and a shoulder to cry on. Sooner the sobs and hiccups die down. Geto stood to get something to drink from the vending machine.

It seems mundane to sit in silence with the cold lemon beverage in your hand. Except, nothing about this is normal. This is a hospital, your husband is here, unconscious and barely living, and it’s supposedly all your fault.

By now, no more tears are left to be cried, you’re just staring blankly as if a void has materialized in front of you. “Geto-san, what did she mean by that?”

The man swallows dryly, thinking of ways to ease the information to you. “Hmm… you mean Satoru’s mom?” He tries to play the nonchalant one but your lack of any reaction nor reply tells him that he should just lay everything out in the open.

“Investigations during the day of the crash points to you and him having a conflict… The police said that the circumstantial evidences lead them to believe that he was driving beyond city speed limits distracted.” There’s no reaction from you so he continues.

“The footage on the black box of his car showed that he was talking to someone in haste… That he was trying to call someone repeatedly… It all pointed to you when the call registry log they had retrieved showed 28 missed calls to your number.”

Your nails start to fidget along the rim of the unopened can. So it’s like that. Have you not shut off your phone then you wouldn’t be here in this shithole. Have you just stopped being selfish and texted him of your plans and whereabouts then none of these things would have happened.

A hand on your shoulder is enough to snap you out from your thought. Turning to Geto, you give him a sad smile, “I’m sorry… I know I’ve been saying that for the past hour… but she’s right…”

The canned drink is taken from you and Geto opens it. “You don’t have to believe that. None of this is your fault. Hell, you weren’t even the one driving that goddamn truck. It was all… just… bad timing.” Geto tries consoling you. It’s true. It’s called an accident for a reason. No one wanted it to happen in the first place. He gets up and you just look at the hand he’s offering.

“So come, let’s go see Satoru,” he says with a gentle smile. The way you looked down at the drink and sipped on it is so melancholic. Shaking your head, “His mom is probably still there… I should just head home… and come another day…”

The older man just clicks his tongue. “Y’know that shouldn’t stop you from seeing him? You’re literally his wife. Plus, I have a feeling she left the hospital already. When have my hunches ever been wrong?” You resign with a sigh, stood up, and threw away the half empty can.

Actually, as Geto got you a drink, he already texted Satoru’s father of what had happened. He hoped that it would be enough to take wife off the hospital premises so that you could see your husband.

To yours and Geto’s dismay, Mrs. Gojo didn’t leave just yet. However, she wasn’t alone. Her husband is also in the room when they got there. Seemingly, this quelled the older woman’s anger that she held for you. “Auntie, sir” Geto says and you join him as he offers them a bow.

You don’t look any of them in the eye. Well, it’s rather difficult and you do have shame. After all, this was mostly your doing that their son is in that state. What shocked you is Seishiro Gojo approaching you; who gave you a brief hug.

“Welcome home [name]. It’s a relief to see you back.” The older man’s voice is stern yet there’s softness underneath. He is the first to welcome you back ever since you stormed out of your home earlier this week, and gosh did it feel so comforting.

Among all the members of the Gojo clan, apart from Satoru, he treated you the nicest. You’d even say that he welcomed you as a daughter and not just an outsider to the family, even though that only happened after Satoru fought neck and neck with his whole family the day he proposed to you.

You didn’t know what to say to him so you expressed your gratitude and kept your head low once again. This earned a snide remark from his wife, “Tsk, there’s no point in this farce Shiro.”

“Enough of that nonsense, she is family as much as anyone else in the Gojo family, and we are not doing this in front of Satoru.” It ends at that. Though you know for a fact that Mrs. Gojo will never let it go, ever. Because that’s just the type of woman she is.

After all the not-so-pleasant pleasantries, you finally got to see Satoru as a whole. It pains you to see him hooked to multiple tubes that’s probably there to help him stay alive. He looks paler than he usually is. There’s multiple minor cuts on his cheek, his brows and his chin. His forehead covered by gauze, which you’re assuming he’s suffered a fatal blow to his head.

The sight made you tear up again. Slowly, you walk towards his bed and with shaky hands, you reach for him. His hand feels warm and you think that’s a good sign. “Hi Satoru, I’m home,” you whisper and a single tear streaks down your cheek.

It takes you a long moment to absorb the feeling of being near him again. At the end of the day, he’s your person as much as you’re his’.

“I’m home… so…” Your eyelids shut close as you try to anchor yourself in this reality. “Wake up baby… please…” you whisper desperately, clutching his free hand.

Geto suggested that you stay here for the night as Satoru’s watcher, to which Mr. Gojo had agreed with. His mom was adamant and quick to leave a snide remark but couldn’t really go against the final word of her husband.

Soon the older couple left. Geto stayed for a while to answer some of your questions and got you take out before going back to the penthouse to get you an exchange of clothes.

As you sat on a stool beside your husband’s sleeping form, you couldn’t help but remember the last time you saw him. He asked, no… he pleaded for you to stay. That’s what probably hurts you the most; he practically begged you to release your anger and pain by hurt him physically so you don’t need to leave. You’d never do it, but now you regret leaving. Fuck. Sleeping in the guest bedroom would’ve given you the solitude you sought that night!

“Satoru… I’m sorry. I’m so… so… sorry I left.” The tears didn’t come as you tried to hold it in. You don’t deserve to cry, not with your husband’s current status.

Geto returns with a gym bag full of your clothes. He’s met by your hunched sleeping form, hand still clutching Satoru’s. He leaves a note on the bedside table and drapes a thin blanket on your shoulders. He hopes that you can ride the wave and see it through. You’re strong, he’s sure.

Days passed. Weeks passed.

Unable to commit to a full time at the law firm, you turned in your resignation letter and hoped they can understand the situation you are in. Law school semester continued and you try to juggle it along with looking after Satoru.

It’s been a month since the accident and you’re barely functioning outside the hospital. Partly, the reason for resigning was because you wanted to lessen the time you spent away from Satoru. He can wake up at any moment and you need to be there when he does.

Anyone who knows of your situation would tell you that it’s difficult to balance classes and taking care of your sick husband. It is. But you’d endure this for another year if it means that there is always a chance for him to wake up.

Besides, you plan on finishing this last semester so you can focus more on him. It’s almost mid-sem so it’s just a few more weeks before it’s over.

Everyday you talk to Satoru about your day. Sometimes you narrate a case that was assigned as a reading material and tell him the process on how you dissect it clause by clause, paragraph by paragraph. It’s futile though. He’s unresponsive. But people always say they can hear us speak to them. It’s never too wrong to try.

Geto drops by weekly to check on both of you. He had suggested you write down your day on a notebook so that when he wakes up, he’d still get filled in on the things he’d missed. His mother often comes as well. You know because flowers are constantly changed and replenished. Albeit, you don’t see her as often. You think she comes in the day when you’re in class.

Some nights are just harder than the others, you’d often wake up by your phone’s alarm, nose dived into your books and laptop after you passed out from studying all night or breaking down as you try to get your readings done.

Day to day life since you came back has been on auto-pilot mode. It’s a cycle of rinse and repeat. You wake up, check on Satoru, attend class, go back, check on Satoru again, study… it just circles back. So it is not a surprise that you passed out on the way to one of the lecture hall your class was held in.

White popcorn ceilings were the first to register in your line of vision as you opened your eyes. You assume that you’re in the university’s infirmary. You lay there for a few more minutes before the cream curtains are slightly drawn.

“Oh you’re awake! I’m Nurse Minato, you’ve been brought here after you passed out in the hallway… do you remember that?” You simply nod.

She does some physical tests on you to see if you’re still coherent and asks you some questions on your lifestyle, which you all answered truthfully and concisely… except for your monthly cycle.

“Alright, how about your cycle? Notice anything unusual?” She asks, eyes planted on the clipboard and scribbling down things. You remain silent, forehead scrunched down. Things were too hectic for you that you never really noticed if you had it the past 2 and a half months.

“Um… I’ve been too stressed out lately so I haven’t really noticed. Do you have my bag? I have a tracking app.” The nurse pulls out a caddy from under your bed and hands you your bookbag.

Opening the app quickly, you see that your cycle prediction show that your period’s been delayed for around 73 days. Now it’s not always accurate, but 73 days is extreme.

“Uh… it says here that I’ve been delayed for 73 days.” With that she stops scribbling and slowly looks up to meet your eyes. She says nothing and gets up to grab something from the cabinet fixtures within the room.

“Are you sexually active?”

Then it dawns on you. It is highly possible. The last time you had sex with your husband was when he returned from an overseas business trip to France. That was 2 weeks prior to your heated argument.

“Not at the moment… but I…had last contact with my husband a few months back.” She simply hums and hands you a pregnancy test. “Restroom is at the back. Come back when you’re done okay?”

You stare at the box as if it’s done you wrong. The possibility of pregnancy is actually high considering that night, Satoru asked you to hit it raw until you agreed. You laugh humorlessly. What great timing! The one time you have sex without the condom and he’s able to plant one in you?

Setting a timer, you follow the box instructions and collect your pee sample. Each passing second was agitating and had you shifting your weight from one foot to another, arms hugging your torso. What then if it reads two pink lines?

The timer blares and echoes in the confined space of the restroom. The irony of it all is that the baby you and Satoru had argued awfully about will be here in a few months. Fuck.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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webslinger-holland · 1 year ago

Text

The Emperor of Magic | Part 2

Summary: The crew begin their journey across the sea. Upon reaching land, they make their way on foot before the grand plan is finally set in motion and they come face-to-face with the emperor herself.

Warning: +18 Warning

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Type: Series

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Masterlist

The Fifth Harbor was awfully quiet during the early hours of the morning. It was so early that the sun hadn’t even begun to peek over the edge of the horizon. The sky was still covered by the black veil of darkness and the occasional speckles of stars were scattered across it.

The selected ship was a much older vessel that actually hadn’t sailed in nearly eight years. It would have been too much money to repair it. The bastard of the barrel had put a little money into the ship’s maintenance over the years in preparation for the journey. Since the ship was retired, nobody would even know it left port.

The old thing creaked and groaned in agony as each wave brushed against its side. A couple missing floorboards on the top deck were no cause for concern for the selected crew. The sails had been hand sewn by a lady down the street since it would have been much more expensive than to just buy a new main sail.

The bastard of the barrel stood at the bow of the ship, overlooking the vast sea that they were about to embark upon. He could hear the hushed voices of his crew members below as they came to approach the harbor.

“I’m not sure I like this idea,” Wylan spoke quietly as he walked alongside Jesper. “I mean, we don’t even know what we are up against.”

“I know, but I trust Kaz. He’s spent the last three years preparing for this heist. I’m sure he’s thought of every possible scenario,” Jesper defended with a shrug of the shoulders.

“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this,” Wylan sighed to himself.

On the far side of the deck, Nina and Matthias were leaning against the railing. Both of them had their heads turned in the direction of the boss. They watched him carefully.

“I don’t like this plan; it’s too risky.” Matthias finally spoke up in his thick accent.

“We get this job done and we will never have to pull off another heist again,” Nina persuaded him. She clung to his arm. “We’d be set for life,” she smiled at him.

“At what cost?” Matthias shook his head. “Our sanity?”

“Nothing is going to happen to us,” Nina waved him off. She didn’t even want to begin to think what would happen if she got into their heads. “We are going to be fine. And when this is all done, we will be a whole lot richer,” Nina added.

Matthias hummed at her comment, but looked away unconvinced. He most certainly wasn’t the only one questioning if they should really go through with the heist. All the crows had their doubts and concern.

“Raise the sails!” One of the crewmates shouted.

The ship was slow to depart from the harbor. The journey would take three days, depending on the weather. Once they make it across The True Sea, the ship was ordered to make its final stop at Arkesk where the crows would then travel north on foot.

Very slowly, Inej went to look behind them at the poor excuse she had grown to call home. She silently wondered if she’d ever see it again; not knowing what her future had in store for her. She found herself clutching one of her precious knifes, laying it flat against her chest. She closed her eyes to pray for their safety.

As the hour went on, Kaz didn’t move away from his spot at the bow of the ship. He overlooked the vast sea of waves, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of the ship. He felt a small hint of sea water brush against his face lightly.

Eventually, Jesper and Inej came to join him on either side of him. They followed his line of sight to the nothingness peeking over the edge of the horizon. The two of them shared a look between each other as if they were thinking the exact same thing.

“We’ve been thinking,” Jesper began which only caused Kaz to roll his eyes in slight annoyance. “If things do end up going south...what’s the plan?” Jesper asked curiously.

“Eliminate her,” Kaz said plainly.

In response, Jesper and Inej only looked at each other with slight worry in their eyes. They themselves knew that would be no easy task. The boss slowly turned around in his place to face his two closest allies. He placed his hands on top of the crow cane.

“And just how do we do that?” Inej inquired. She shook her head at the notion.

Even then, Inej’s knives, Jesper’s sharpshooter skills, Wylan’s explosives, Matthias’s muscle, Nina’s powers, and Kaz’s brain would be no match for a person who could control magic. They didn’t know the extent of her powers, but they knew they wouldn’t be able to take her down.

“Look for weakness,” Kaz reminded them. “Everyone has a weakness. Even her.”

Jesper shifted his weight to his other foot, clearly uncertain about this situation. Inej had that worried look on her face that she wore in situations like these. Kaz wasn’t his normal, cocky and confident self. He was more desperate.

“And when you find that weakness, strike it. And strike it hard. It won't be easy taking her down,” Kaz said strictly.

The hours eventually shifted into days. By the third day, land was visible from the bow of the ship. The ship made its way to the small abandoned port off the coast of Arkesk. The tailor quickly went to work on the three boys, changing their appearance to look more native.

“I don’t understand why I need to be changed. I am already Fjerdan,” Matthias grumbled in slight annoyance.

“And you are also a very recognizable fugitive who betrayed your country,” Kaz barked back. “You’d be arrested before you even set foot in the city.”

Once the tailor finished her work, Wylan and Kaz were completely unrecognizable. They both had dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Their complexion was much more pale which was fitting since the weather was always so drowsy and cold.

Now Matthias’s facial structure was the only thing that was changed. His nose was a little bigger and his cheekbones became more prominent. He didn’t look like his old self much to Nina’s disappointment.

“Not to worry,” the tailor spoke to them. “The effects should wear off in a day or so.”

“Let’s just hope we can get into the court by then,” Kaz said. He went to brush past the others, keeping his head low so that they wouldn’t stare as much. The crew went ahead to gather some of their personal belongings before departing from the ship.

In a safe and secluded area, a small hole was freshly dug in the ground. It was there were the crew would place their more precious belongings for safekeeping. Once the heist at the court was complete, they could return to their spot for their belongings before making their way down to Ravka.

They’d have to go into the court unarmed. So Jesper mournfully departed from his pearly guns, Inej buried her knives with care, Wylan left behind some explosives, and Kaz was forced to leave his cane.

“We go in with nothing,” Kaz told the crew.

Though Jesper nodded his head, he wondered if his boss had some tricks up his sleeve since last time he managed to sneak picks and explosives into the court. They proceeded to pack the hole back up with dirt to hide their belongings before making the journey onwards.

It wasn’t long before they crossed into Fjerdan territory. Matthias had warned them to be on the lookout for guards or scouts since they often patrolled the woods in this area. Inej only prayed they wouldn’t come across anyone since they carried no weapons. Nina kept her hands at the ready just in case.

Upon reaching the top of an incline, the group directed their line of attention to the great sight of the court ahead of them. The walls surrounding the court looked more like cliffs from a distance, having known to be unscalable. The crew continued their journey on foot, heading to the northern road since that was the only way in or out. They did not reach the road until it was much too dark outside.

They hid in the depths of the shadows. They waited patiently and watched for one of the prison wagons to travel down the road. The heartrender peered around the side of a large boulder, spotting a prison wagon coming right up the road. She focused on the heartbeat of one of the two guards driving the wagon.

All of the sudden, the guard fell unconscious which resulted in him slumping over in his seat. His partner sitting beside him went to catch him. He was slightly confused at first, but before he could even question it, he too fell unconscious in his place. The wagon came to a halt.

The two unconscious bodies were dragged out of their seats by Jesper and Kaz. In the back, Nina and Matthias went to approach the doors of the prison wagon. He grabbed the handles of the doors and yanked them open. The only problem was...

“Oh shit,” Nina sighed to herself.

“Kaz,” Matthias called out.

In response, Kaz made his way to the back of the wagon. He looked inside to be treated by their problem. It was an empty transport with no prisoners inside. Instinctively, Inej grabbed some papers off the seat of the wagon and brought them back to Kaz.

“Says right there. Zero prisoners,” Inej pointed out. Kaz felt like crumping up the piece of paper in his hands, but he was very glad he didn’t because one of his crows had an idea.

Nina grabbed a single feather out of her hat. She stuck out her tongue to lick the tip of the feather, wetting it slightly. She took hold of the paper before writing a three over the zero.

“Nobody will even notice,” Nina smiled to herself proudly. The other crow members were most impressed. They never knew that her extravagant hats held little secrets such as ink feathers and such.

The plan was back in motion. Now with Kaz and Matthias pretending to be Fjerdan prison guards, they had to dress the part too. They quickly stripped the two unconscious drivers of their attire before throwing on the outfits themselves.

Meanwhile, Jesper, Nina, and Inej climbed into the back of the prison wagon to pose as prisoners. Wylan took hold of the rifle that the one driver had, taking his place in the back of the transport with the others, especially since he didn’t have a uniform to disguise himself yet. Finally, Matthias and Kaz took the seats of the drivers. The two of them shared a look before clicking the reigns of the horses to continue down the road.

They finally came to the entrance of the court. A massive gate stood in their way with a checkpoint at the side. The prison wagon came to a slow halt and some druskelle approached them.

“Papers?” The guard asked in his native language.

Though Kaz didn’t know what the guard said, he had good insight when Matthias handed the guard the piece of forged paper. The guard looked at the piece of paper carefully, squinting his eyes slightly.

“Only three tonight?” The guard wondered.

“Yes. Slow day,” Matthias chuckled nervously. The guard nodded his head, handing the papers back to him.

“Head directly to the prison sector,” the guard instructed. He gave the signal to the other guards to raise the gate for them. He stepped away so they could move along.

With some hesitation, Matthias urged the horses to continue forward and headed into the entrance of the court. He knew the route well since he had taken it many times over. It was a silent ride for the most part. He enjoyed taking in the familiar sights of the place he once called home.

“Once we make it to the prison sector, you and I will head straight to the white island.” Kaz spoke in a hushed voice. “Jesper and Wylan are going to head straight for the armory to gather weapons to make our escape. Nina and Inej will locate our getaway.”

“And we all rendezvous at the cell. We’ll have the weapons as protection,” Matthias finished since he had heard the plan a million times over.

“We might have the weapons, but we do not open the cell without Nina,” Kaz corrected him. “She’s the only one of us who might stand a chance against the emperor. Stop her heart if it comes down to it.”

Matthias glanced at him through the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help but feel worried about her safety and wellbeing. He had seen Nina do inexplicable and impossible things, but going against someone who could control magic was something else. He feared for her.

Upon reaching the prison sector, Kaz and Matthias climbed down from their seats on the wagon. They approached the backside, checking their surroundings to make sure the coast was clear before opening the doors. The rest of the members of the crew clambered out of the prison wagon one by one. Each of them knew where they needed to go, what they needed to do, and where to meet at the end.

“No mourners,” Kaz told them.

“No funerals,” the rest of them said out loud.

They broke up in pairs with Kaz and Matthias making their way to the center, Jesper and Wylan heading towards armory, and Nina and Inej lingering near the outskirts of the city to find their getaway.

Before heading to the armory, Wylan was able to snag a druskelle uniform that fit him from a spare storage closet in the prison sector. Once dressed for the role, Wylan and Jesper began moving towards the armory. They needed to be unseen since if they were caught, it would be suspicious as to why they were located in the armory. It was especially dangerous since Jesper hadn’t been tailored to look like a Fjerdan.

The armory was the most heavily guarded sector besides the prison sector. The two boys peeked around a corner to see nearly ten guards standing in front of the doors to the armory.

“There’s no chance we are getting through there,” Wylan shook his head in defeat. They both moved to press their backs against the wall.

“Haven’t got any of those brilliant explosives on you, have you?” Jesper sounded optimistic.

“Kaz said we go in with nothing,” Wylan claimed with a shake of his head. “We’ll just have to improvise.”

Carefully, Jesper and Wylan checked some of their surroundings. While Jesper ended up looking for a little hidden door or secret passage, Wylan say something directly above them. He pointed to it.

“Look,” Wylan said hopefully. “Up there!”

It was a vent, but a rather small one at that. There was no chance knowing where it led to, but Wylan was willing to place all his bets on it. He tapped his partners shoulder.

“Hoist me up there,” Wylan spoke softly.

“Are you crazy?! You have no idea where that leads to. It could lead directly into a prison cell,” Jesper shouted in a whisper.

“Why would a vent go into a prison cell?” Wylan quirked his eyebrows in confusion.

“Why would a vent go directly into the armory?” Jesper argued back.

“I don't know! It needs airflow?” Wylan’s excuse was rather poor. He let out a loud sigh of defeat. “Just hoist me up there. If it leads somewhere else, I’ll come straight back to you. I promise,” Wylan begged.

It took a minute, but Jesper eventually caved into his request. He bent down slightly, cupping his hands together to act as a place for Wylan to put his foot. When Wylan put his foot into Jesper’s hands, Jesper very carefully hoisted him upwards. He made sure he didn’t fall over as he managed to get a grip on the edge of the vent. He maneuvered himself into the small space before continuing on.

In the meantime, Nina and Inej tried to stay in the first sector. They surveyed some possible options to make their escape. The walls were still impenetrable; there was no getting through or over them. They needed to find something inconspicuous in terms of nobody drawing notice to the fact that they will be escorting a prisoner out.

“Why didn’t Kaz think of an escape plan before we got ourselves into this situation?” Nina rolled her eyes. She sounded most frustrated.

“Because the Ice Court is unpredictable. One minute, things look like they might be going your way. And then the next minute, you set off the protocols.” Inej recalled their first heist.

“Walking out of here is going to be no easy task,” Nina shook her head at the notion.

“No, but I think I might have an idea.” Inej said with a small smile on her face. Nina followed her line of sight before her eyes settled on the same thing she saw.

In another part of the city, Kaz and Matthias spotted the various guard towers that surrounded the white island. They passed by other druskelle who simply tipped their heads in acknowledgement. They now walked the druskelle path which was one of two ways to enter the island. The bridge was made of perfectly clear glass that made it seem like they were walking in midair.

Upon finally reaching the center of the white island, Kaz and Matthias began heading towards the lower section since that was most likely where the unknown prisoner would be kept.

“How is Nina going to make it to the cell? This bridge is heavily guarded and only accessible if you are druskelle,” Matthias whispered to his partner beside him. Kaz only rolled his eyes.

“Is she all you think about?” Kaz scoffed. “You do realize there are two different points of entry. They know what to do. You worry about such little things.”

“I always worry about her,” Matthias grumbled under his breath.

“Stop right there!” They froze.

In the tunnel, Wylan squinted his eyes to try to see through the darkness. He shimmied his body through the tight space, heading towards the armory. He peeked through a small hole which lead to the center of the armory. He could see shelves of weapons ranging from knives to guns.

Very carefully, Wylan moved the vent out of his way. He slipped through the hole and lowered himself to the floor. He made sure his footsteps went unheard since there were bound to be guards nearby. He watched the guards through the corner of his eye, but realized that they had their backs turned away from him and they stood rather far away.

Upon finding one self in particular, Wylan began pocketing the smaller things such as knives (for Inej) and small guns (mainly for Jesper). No matter how hard he looked, Wylan couldn’t seem to find any explosives much to his disappointment. He grabbed a couple more guns before turning to leave. He stopped in the middle of his steps when he came face to face with an official officer.

“What are you doing here, boy?”

Much to Wylan’s relief, the officer spoke his language so he was able to understand him. But he had a thick and heavy accent which almost made it hard to hear clearly. Wylan stumbled over his words and tried to come up with some kind of excuse.

“I-I just came from training,” Wylan tried his best to sound like Matthias. “Ended up jamming my gun. Came for a new one,” Wylan lied.

Just by peeking over the officer’s shoulder, Wylan could see Jesper looking directly at him with wide eyes. He shook his head desperately, waving his hands wilding to urge him to get out of there.

“Well, there is no need to be all sneaky and such.” The officer offered him a lopsided smile, which Wylan returned nervously. He even went to far as to hand Wylan a gun off the shelf. He quickly pocketed it into his holster. “Best get back to training,” the officer encouraged.

“Right,” Wylan nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

With some hesitation, Wylan slipped past the officer and headed directly to the doors of the armory. The guards paid no mind to him. They had seen a million young recruits misuse their weapons in training. The only reason he had come up with that excuse was because Matthias had once told him he did that when he was younger.

By the time Wylan returned to Jesper, he was practically shaking from nerves alone. The two of them made a hasty escape, attempting to make their way to the rendezvous point.

At this point, Nina and Inej were hurrying across the glass bridge to the white island. They didn’t know that Wylan and Jesper were not far along behind them, heading in the same direction. They needed to make it to the cell because the guards were already on their way.

In the heat of the moment, Kaz and Matthias hadn’t moved from their spot. They could both hear the footsteps coming from behind them that belonged to the officer who ordered them to stop. The officer came around to stand in front of them. He narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously.

“What are you two doing in this sector?”

Despite not knowing Fjerdan, Kaz had a pretty good idea what he was saying by the way he emphasized one particular word. He wanted to smirk to himself, knowing that the officer was wondering how they managed to make their way into the darkest section of the court. They weren’t supposed to be there.

“We’re the new recruits who are to be trained on how to take care of the prisoner,” Matthias responded. His voice didn’t waver this time. The officer narrowed his eyes at him. “We volunteered,” Matthias added.

“Then you are twisted men,” the officer shook his head. “This prisoner is no joke.”

“We know. We were sent by the king himself,” Matthias said proudly. The officer straightened his back in posture. He gave a single nod before opting to escort them deeper into the caves.

“First thing to know is that once the door is open, you do not speak until it closes again. We cannot risk sound in case she hears us,” the officer ordered. He grabbed a nearby torch to guide them in the darkness.

“Yes sir,” Matthias responded. He quickly nudged Kaz who repeated those exact words in Fjerdan.

“Second thing to know is that we do not touch the prisoner at all. You touch her...then you might as well say your prayers because you aren’t walking out of that cell alive,” the officer added as they rounded a corner.

“Yes sir.” Matthias said once again.

All of the sudden, the three of them came to a sudden halt in front of a solid metal door. The officer turned around in his place to face the two druskelle who had been following him in the tunnels. He went to place the torch on the wall beside them.

“The third and final thing to know is that this is the most dangerous person to have ever walked the earth. There are very few people who even know of her existence. I fully trust that you will not relay the events of what happens to anybody for their safety,” the officer said one final time.

“...yes sir...” Matthias swallowed heavily.

Though Kaz did not understand either of them, Kaz ended up turning his head to look at the solid door beside them. Before he even knew what was happening and before he could put a stop to it, the officer pulled out a pair of keys to unlock the door.

It was too early. The others weren’t there yet. They had no weapons to protect themselves. They needed Nina, but it was far too late for that.

The large metal door of the cell swung open. With great hesitation, Kaz and Matthias peered around the edge of the doorway to look into the dark cell. Their eyes landed on a figure who sat on the cold stone floor.

Like Kaz had said, the emperor’s eyes were covered along with her mouth and ears. Her arms were wrapped around her body in a tight straight jacket that kept her from using her powers. And four monstrous chains were attached to each wall which kept her from moving around in her cell.

There was an unsettling eeriness to the coldness and darkness coming from the cell. The emperor didn’t seem to move. She didn’t react to light or sound, which most likely meant that she was unable to see or hear. There she was in the flesh and bone.

And Kaz had never felt more terrified in his entire life.

TAGLIST:

@d34drapunzel @adorawritesalot @vixythepixie @theghostofshadows @lonelywitchv2 @arcadialine @zeeader @cleverzonkwombatsludge @shara-ne @iloveinej @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @mystic-mara @missymisha @tremendoushearttaco @home-of-disaster @gh0stgirl333 @harrydimples

#Kaz Brekker #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker series #six of crows #nina zenik #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #inez ghafa #matthias helvar

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isiaiowin · 2 months ago

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Outtake for Sins of Knowledge - How Long Will You Deny Your Heart?

I couldn't resist the invitation to write a Shax and Furfur outtake for the incredible fic Sins of Knowledge.

So @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon this one is for you! I had a lot of fun exploring the world you have created and to add a little ShaFur of my own💚❤️😍 And thank you for beta reading together with @cheeseplants You are the best. ❤️

CW: Explicit with feelings

Word count: 6.5k

Both Shax & Furfur POV.

Summary: A heated Shax visits Furfur in his tiny flat across campus. Will she find some relief, or will she have to confront her feelings? Excerpt: Shax had set her sights on Dr. Lanchester, but hadn’t made much progress in that direction yet. So whenever she needed to let off some steam, she called Furfur. And he would welcome her every time with his hope-filled, puppy-like eyes, ready to give her some TLC. She had tried many other partners in between, man and woman, but somehow was always drawn back to the sad medical student with his texts full of spelling mistakes. They had been together so many times that he had become well acquainted with her body, and she couldn’t deny that he was getting very good at pleasuring her — very, very good. He was adequate in other departments too, and at least handsome enough for her tastes. Not like Lanchester of course, who was richer, smarter, older, and influential — someone she looked up to and respected. But Furfur would do, for now.

@goodomensafterdark

#good omens furfur #good omens shax #furfur #good omens fanfiction #shax

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

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On my tombstone they will carve, IT NEVER GOT ECONOBOX ENOUGH FOR ME. I was a slave to those small engines, those dizzying peaky horsepower numbers lower than the fuel economy sticker, those Macpherson Struts. I’m getting sweaty just thinking about it. But mopeds? That was a bridge too far, or so I thought.

My accountant Roy saunters into the office, and he tells me that he just found five hundred bucks under the couch cushions in the breakroom and we should go buy mopeds. He impresses upon me the value of my investment in what he defines as motorized art, the alloy steeds spoken of in legend. In the parking lot, I ante up on the deal by popping the clips on my Subaru’s door card and extracting a further five hundred dollars, preserved minty-fresh by the vapour barrier.

As if on cue, the college radio station’s federally-mandated afternoon cultural appreciation programming, consisting entirely of artisanal banjo music, filled the speakers and our hearts with a sense of rural adventure. Together, we departed for the countryside, barging through covered bridges in full opposite lock.

“How many cylinders has it got?” I ask the swarthy man as he sneezed into his handkerchief, and rubbed his moly-greased paws on his hay-covered overalls.

“Got maybe one, I wager. I got it off one of them college boys came out here to protest the sour gas wells. Ambulance left it behind.”

I considered the moped carefully. It was a gently dented ‘71 Kreidler Florett, and it leaked oil and fuel in such quantities I had no doubt the paramedics had performed triage at the scene and slotted it into “already gone.”

“You boys aren’t college educated, are you?”

His line of questioning was interrupted by the stuffing of money down his denim neckhole. I was a moped owner. I was a motorcyclist. I was one of the Nicest People that you would meet, if you were driving a Honda at the time.

Weeks later, Roy tentatively rapped on the front door of my house. He was concerned. I hadn’t turned up to work for weeks. Did I have an accident learning to ride a motorcycle? I opened the door, just a crack, not wanting him to see my deep shame, but he shoved it open, knocking me onto my ass.

The scene that unfolded before him was one of horror. Every available surface in the house was occupied by mopeds, or moped parts. He turned and stared at me, his face white with disbelief.

“They’re just so small,” I whimpered. “I ran out of room in the garage and I just had to keep saving them they were so lonely, I don’t know what to do.”

As always, my intrepid accountant had a good idea of how to spend my money. Weeks later, our series of vintage moped rent-a-racer events had flourished and America was rediscovering its love of the two-stroke. We were both richer than we could imagine, but the greatly soaring demand for mopeds had raised the price of our junk into the stratosphere.

I rode home on the Kreidler, wondering where it had all gone so wrong. At the lights, I looked up to witness an enormous billboard, advertising the triumphant and flashy return of the Honda CT90. You asked for it, the ad copy roared, and here it is.

Yes. I asked for it.

Note: This is the 3000th entry on this tumblr. I can't believe it's lasted this long, and I'm a little humbled that people seem to be really enjoying it. In honour of the anniversary, this is my all-time favourite post (check out the best of tag for more, or enjoy a random post from the collection) and I'm taking the night off, rather than writing a new one. New shitbox posts resume tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

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inposterumcumgaudio · 1 month ago

Note

Maybe you could talk about the department of achieves?

Oooh! Certainly!

The Department of Archives, Printing, and Recycling serves a lot of functions in the game. Because it exists in place of what would be a tutorial level in any other game, I'm going to talk about it in the way that one typically would a tutorial level, by breaking down each part you encounter and explaining its intent.

But, as I implied, it's not a tutorial at all! They just plonk your ass in front of a redactor and tell you to make choices. They don't give you time to read anything but the headlines of the articles Arthur judges on his own and your only hint as to what criteria he's judging is that "Mrs. Bower Wins Garden Prize" is acceptable while "No Swimming in the River" is not.

Been here two seconds and we're already in over our heads. But that's okay because it turns out the choice you're going to be asked to make is not so tricky.

I think it would have been fun if you taking your Joy gave you, like, five minutes of some silly shit before dumping you to the credits. You know how like every Far Cry starts with the bad guy telling you to sit tight for five minutes and if you actually do it, you get an alternate ending? Ah well. I'm asking a lot.

Anyway, you choose to Remember, obvs, and so you're presented your new primary objective: Find Your Brother. But you're Arthur Officeman, not some intrepid adventurer, so rather than leaping into action, you sit and stare at your desk in a fog of regret for several hours until your boss comes to ask what the hell you've been doing all day, remind you that bureaucracy never sleeps, and say that you have an office party to attend too.

You do get a little tutorial, I guess, in how sitting and standing work, how to pick up objects, and how to apply them to other objects all in in the part where you have to change the power cell. Then its back to the redactor.

I think the redactor... mini-game? is kind of a twofold mean trick on the player. I'm the kind of person who thinks that's fun, but I think most people are not.

On one's first playthrough, you have no idea by what parameters an article should be redacted or not. You might have guessed that articles that are negative should be rejected while articles that are positive should be accepted, but you'd be wrong! And maybe you think, "Well, this article just put my character into a tailspin for six hours so I should probably reject that one even if it is positive." And you'd still be wrong! And the funniest part is, you also have no idea that these choices you're making have no effect on your game whatsoever. So you're probably reading the articles carefully, learning about the lore, trying to find anything to give you a clue as to how to do your boring office job when you thought this game was supposed to be about finding your brother.

(And then you go to Clive's office and the "correct" way to do his articles is backwards to make him look bad. Then you can go to Prudence's office and do hers too, but hers don't even give you an achievement, just a richer understanding of the world. *eyeroll*)

The prologue was added to the game fairly early and not changed much. Originally, the game was meant to involve much more binary choice making like this, so it's hard to tell if the meaninglessness of the choices was always intended (à la the intentionally meaningless choices the Lutece twins present you with in BioShock Infinite, a game to which We Happy Few is often compared) or if it was dialed back to it when the choice making mechanics were also pulled back.

Alternative to all that, if you secretly are an intrepid adventurer or particularly goal oriented, you could just get up after you choose what to do about the scrap prize article and never bother redacting any others.

All right, we're really in the game now!

You go out the door and the first thing you see is a window into a room full of glass pneumatic tubes. And Arthur muses aloud at it, "Do you think the canister wonders what life's like outside the tube? Of course he'd have to break the tube to get out. And that would break it for everybody." It's a metaphor for the game. Arthur (you'll learn if you die) is a poet, after all.

Next is Clive's office. Boy's a mess. And based on the lore notes (if you choose to read them as you pick them up because you cannot access the menu at this point otherwise) and the environmental storytelling, he does not like you.

What's funny is, you probably already know that you are playing as one of "three moderately terrible people", but you're still the hero of this story and Clive's office is a shithole, so presenting you with the knowledge that he hates your guts sounds like a him problem. Clearly the terrible person here is Clive. His office is the office of a terrible person.

Moving on to Prudence's office.

Oh, her office is a shithole too. But she can be excused because Arthur likes her, she's been on holiday, and she isn't writing to Victoria pretending to be a "naturally shy woman". Prudence's office is also where we learn that her overdue vacation may be the result of her also being off her Joy.

Now your fellow executive coworkers' offices might have shown their respective inner turmoil, but up to now, the rest of the Department has been ship shape.

Turning the corner from Prudence's office is your first clue that it's not just she and Clive but the office itself that is struggling to cope.

It's at this point that you can watch helplessly as your coworker Hopkin Jones is forcibly injected with Joy by a Doctor, despite his protestations that he's already taken it. (This mechanic was definitely removed from the game; originally Doctors were supposed to be able to do this to you too). Tells you Doctors are not your friend, but also reinforces Victoria asking Arthur if he's off his Joy and then Arthur himself wondering if Prudence is. Any signs of disquiet will be regarded with suspicion.

A story I have been meaning to do is that Hopkin wasn't actually unhappy at all (at least not emotionally), but rather he was upset about the flooding in his office and maybe was a little too plaintive in asking Victoria to arrange a council worker to come fix it. Not liking his tone and thinking he would do well to make do and mend, she sent a Doctor to perk him up instead. Which is also a metaphor. We do not fix problems in Wellington Wells; we put on a smile and pretend it's not a problem at all.

As we move on into the editor bullpen, the chaos only intensifies.

The entire office is in disarray. You are starting to see the genuine scope of the disorder now. The whole room is a winding maze and halfway through, you are confronted with your first glimpse of Uncle Jack.

Remember how we just learned Doctors are not our friend? Very clever, Compulsion.

The room actually also gets in progressively worse condition as you move between the desks. You can't see the knocked over chairs when you walk in the door; it's only once you're around the bend. And once you turn the other corner...

The tube is broken and the canisters don't know where to go outside of it. Dohoho. Foreboding. Foreshadowing.

And then you finally attend Dierdre's birthday party and see the scene that sold this game, the second best cutscene in the entire thing. There's not much to actually say about it artistically that hasn't already been said.

I have some fun trivia stuff about it for you though.

Guy on the right is Clive. You can tell because before Victoria even starts supposing about Arthur being a Downer, he's already gearing up to run and go tell on him. He's been waiting for this day and his moment has finally arrived.

There's some weird glitching that happens with the props being held by the characters in this scene. Victoria's riding crop doubles when she sets it on the table and the one in her hand hovers and gets lodged in her torso in a way that her hands mostly hide in the scene. If you wait to hit the "pinata", the other guy on the left will have two kazoos in his hand.

Here's the scene on YouTube so you can check those out:

youtube

The cake Victoria made for Dierdre actually has her name on it even though you're never free to move in that room and the cutscene never gets close enough to show it.

The rotten fruit basket also has flies on it, but the particle effect has a very short draw distance so it's not visible in the cutscene either.

As for practical insights about the Department of Archives, now that my level design analysis is out of the way, one really must wonder at the concept of the redaction office at all.

It's terribly inefficient. Would it not be easier to burn old newspapers? Why are people reading old newspapers with such frequency as to need to have a whole office for editing them? I suppose that must be for the same reason whoever works in the Inter-Network room has four copies of Emma in there with them. But even still, why not just dispose of old newspapers if they're so troublesome?

What is the purpose of individually reading old articles (exposing editors to them in a way that reminds me a lot of those stories about what it's like to work as a Facebook content moderator) and having them make a judgement call on it? What is the point if, like the article with Percy's photo, a single news piece can cause one person to destroy the entire town when it was still deemed acceptable for everyone else to read?

I have to wonder if there wasn't initially some move to preserve these papers. As someone who uses newspapers.com for other projects, I can see the appeal even in a world that wants to forget the recent past. In this respect, I think particularly Vanessa Tinker-Bell and Clive Hamilton at the O' Courant would have made the argument for it. At the same time, I think they'd also both see the wisdom in cutting the unhappy parts out without having to be convinced of it. Vanessa was herself trying to edit Les Misérables to leave out the sad parts.

Redaction is still a very inefficient solution to this problem, but it is also a relic of wartime procedure and bureaucratically slow. It's thematically perfect, really. Exactly the kind of meaningless work Arthur Officeman should be doing in this world while also being the perfect catalyst for him to abandon it.

On a final note, I wonder then if the Government Printing Office that Arthur seeks out to replace his Letter of Transit wasn't merged into the Department of Archives, "Printing", and Recycling. That would be more efficient, while also making it more difficult to actually get anything accomplished there, since you'd then need a Letter of Transit to visit the office that prints the Letters of Transit.

#arthur hastings #victoria byng #clive birtwhistle #prudence holmes #hopkin jones #dierdre #vanessa tinker-bell #clive hamilton #we happy few #the department of archives printing and recycling

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hinami-only · 7 months ago

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Frostbitten Peonies

"Do you believed in miracles, Johan-san?" i asked

"I dont" He replied

"Why?" I asked, puzzled by his response

"Miracles, as humans perceive them, often necessitate human action or intervention. It's a term humans created to avoid grappling with the complexities of the seemingly impossible." he explained, gazing at the sky ahead, i can't seem to read his mind

I was left stunned. "Intelligent people really scares me..."

"its just that normal human lacks logic. " he respond, his words landing with a sharp sting. Ouch.

"Seems like I'm lacking in that department" i chuckled softly

Silent then surrounds us.

I glanced at him. His eyes fixed on the clear sky above. I can see his eyes, but i am still unable to read his mind. As always.

"You're right, Johan-san... Humans really do lack of logic. Humans really like to rely on someone or something. Yet, that's the essence of being human. A humans life are empty without seeking the help from the other. Human lives are made richer by relying on others. So, it's understandable on why humans seek miracles since dependence is what keeps them going."

I noticed that Johan became silent. I glanced at him, he's already staring at me, then i notice a smile slowly spreads across his face.

"Looks like you've finally put that brain of yours to good use. But I was only joking, I didn't expect you to take it so seriously, dumbo" he teased, his laughter filling the air as he clutched his stomach.

I turned red from embarrassment as i realized that he was just teasing me this whole time.

His laughter echoed throughout the garden, and his hand remained pressed against his stomach, which annoyed me.

But.

Seeing him laugh so genuinely for the first time made him seem more human, like he was dropping his usual fake act.

Despite my initial anger, I chose to let it go for now. Since there would be plenty of time to be angry with him in the future.

BANG

Plenty of time?

Enough time?

Are you fucking kidding me?

One bullet was all it took to bring me to my knees.

I, a proud and egoistic woman, was brought down by a crazy man's bullet?

Funny.

I gazed at my wounded stomach in horror, the weight of my mistake crashing down on me. Our baby.

I groaned in pain, wishing I had stayed home instead of following Johan.

Another shot rang out, sending me laying to the ground.

"Fuck" i grieved, holding my stomach

Lying there, questions flooded my mind.

What would happen to my baby? Our baby? Johan's Baby? Johan?

I cant die. He may seem not like it but Johan relies on my cooking, he won't eat anything made by others, he will starved. Who would look after him? A maid? Thats ridiculous, he wouldn't trust anyone, not even his so-called "friends".

It all seemed so absurd, and I chuckled weakly.

I really am stupid. Right, Johan-san?

My head is starting to ring, then as my eyes are starting to get blurry, a shadow towering me, with a gun in hand.

"Is two shots not enough?" I spat, my voice strained. This greedy bastard.

My eyelids grew heavy as I clutched my stomach, our baby's last protection.

As I faded into darkness, I glimpsed at the menacing grin on the crazy man's face.

A Monster?

Hah...

BANG

#johan liebert #anime and manga #fanfic #fluff #monster #monster anime #monster manga

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misfitwashere · 2 days ago

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The Musk rat

ROBERT REICH

NOV 21

Friends,

On Tuesday night, Elon Musk and Donald Trump watched SpaceX’s launching of a rocket that could someday take people to Mars. It could also make Musk even richer if Trump awards him government contracts to try.

Musk’s increasingly powerful role in the Trumposphere has led some progressives to suggest we temper our criticisms of him.

On Saturday, Ritchie Torres, a Democratic congressman representing the South Bronx and a self-described “pragmatic progressive,” asked online why Elon Musk “came to be the favored punching bag of the far left,” as Torres put it (on the Musk-owned X).

Torres continued:

“Whether you approve of him or not, whether you agree with him or not, the man is leading two of the most innovative companies on earth. But for SpaceX, the US would be losing the space race against China. But for Tesla, the EV industry in the US would be a shell of itself. The country thrives on intrepid innovators like Elon Musk. Why antagonize him so intensely that you drive him into Trump’s corner and make a permanent enemy out of him? Politics should be a game of addition, not subtraction.”

With due respect to Congressman Torres, Musk is no “intrepid innovator.” He’s an intrepid government contractor. And he’s caused extraordinary harm to America — from the dangerous lies he’s spewing on X, to his war on workers, to the $120 million he spent to get Trump elected.

Musk’s so-called “innovations” have depended on government money. Tesla and SpaceX got started with assistance from state and federal policies, government contracts, and loans.

By January 2010, Musk had sold fewer than 2,000 Teslas. He then received a $465 million low-interest loan from the Department of Energy, months before Tesla’s initial public offering. With that loan, Tesla developed its Model S car, its first major success, and repaid the loan through proceeds from an additional sale of stock in 2013.

Every Tesla purchaser also received a $7,500 tax credit for electric vehicles, a subsidy that totaled an estimated $3.4 billion for Tesla. Even if the subsidy let Musk raise prices by half that amount, that would be another $1.7 billion in federal help.

In addition, state and federal tax credits aimed at reducing greenhouse gases generated another $2 billion for the company between 2008 and 2019, accounting for nearly 25 percent of its revenue in 2008 and 10 percent of its revenue over the next five years. Overall, sales of regulatory credits have brought in nearly $11 billion to Tesla.

Not until 2021 was Tesla able to post a profit without the help of credit sales. Without regulatory credits, Musk wouldn’t be the richest person in the world.

Musk is also dependent on government funding for his SpaceX. In 2021 and 2022, SpaceX got NASA contracts worth a total of $4 billion to take humans to the moon.

In June, NASA announced that SpaceX received an additional $843 million contract to “de-orbit” the space station when it is ready for retirement in a few years. SpaceX also has contracts to launch military and spy satellites.

All told, according to USASpending.gov (the government database that tracks federal spending), SpaceX has signed contracts worth nearly $20 billion. If the Trump administration increases funding for NASA’s efforts to return to the moon and travel to Mars, SpaceX’s value could easily increase to $500 billion or more.

Since Trump’s election, Musk’s net worth has increased $64 billion, or nearly 25 percent, according to Bloomberg’s estimate, based in part on investors’ assumptions that Musk will get contracts from the Trump administration for more rocket launches, satellites, artificial intelligence, and self-driving vehicles, and avoid the regulatory constraints and legal troubles he’s faced before.

His companies, including Tesla and SpaceX, are now the subjects of over 20 investigations or regulatory reviews, according to an examination by The New York Times. Musk has given his middle finger to laws designed to protect the health and safety of workers, laws enacted to protect workers’ right to organize a union, and laws to protect consumers and small investors.

Tesla’s push for autonomous driving is a particular focus for regulators. Just last week, the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration said it was investigating several self-driving crashes involving fog and dust.

Musk has also regularly tussled with the Securities and Exchange Commission. The commission has investigated Musk’s 2022 purchase of X, then called Twitter. Musk did not show up for a deposition in September, leading to an SEC request that sanctions be imposed on him.

There is an abiding assumption in America that the rich must be smart and that the free market doesn’t play favorites. In fact, the rich have often gained their wealth due to their skill at getting government subsidies, grants, bailouts, and contracts; their cleverness at skirting government regulations; and their hubris in ignoring conflicts of interest. Wherever great wealth connects with significant power, democracy suffers.

Donald Trump is Exhibit A. Elon Musk is Exhibit B.

That Trump has tasked Musk to find some $2 trillion of cuts in the federal budget through more “efficiency” is as bonkers as putting the Justice Department in the hands of an alleged sex trafficker, or assigning an anti-vaxxing conspiracy theorist to run public health, or choosing a possible Russian mole to direct U.S. intelligence.

#robert reich

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 8 months ago

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

March 27, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

MAR 28, 2024

The news that NBC News reconsidered its invitation to former Republican National Committee chair Ronna McDaniel to become a paid contributor has buried the recent news about some of the other participants in Trump’s attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election.

Yesterday a judge in Minnesota ruled in favor of a warehouse owner who sought to evict MyPillow after it failed to pay more than $200,000 in rent. MyPillow chief executive officer Mike Lindell has complained that his company has been “decimated” by his support for Trump. His insistence—without evidence—that the 2020 presidential election was stolen has entangled him in expensive defamation lawsuits filed by voting machine companies Dominion Voting Systems and Smartmatic.

Lindell cannot pay his lawyers and claims to have “lost hundreds of millions of dollars,” but insists he is being persecuted “because you want me to shut up about [the] security of our elections.”

Also yesterday, Trump loyalist Kari Lake, who has pushed the idea that the 2020 presidential election was stolen, ran for Arizona governor in 2022, and is now running for the U.S. Senate, admitted she defamed Maricopa County recorder Stephen Richer and that she acted with actual malice when she claimed he “sabotaged” the 2022 election. The request to admit to defamation came on the day that discovery, the process of sharing information about a case with each side, was to begin, suggesting that she preferred to admit wrongdoing rather than let anyone see what might be in her emails, texts, and recordings.

Arizona journalist Howard Fischer reported in the Arizona Daily Star that in a video statement, Lake said her admission did not mean she agreed she did anything wrong, although that is expressly stipulated in the court papers. She said she conceded because Richer’s lawsuit was keeping her off the campaign trail. “It’s called lawfare: weaponizing the legal system to punish, impoverish and destroy political opponents,’’ Lake said. “We’ve all seen how they’re doing it to President Trump. And here in Arizona, they’re doing the exact same thing to me.’’

One of Lake’s senior advisors said: “Kari Lake maintains she has always been truthful.”

Also yesterday, a three-member panel of the D.C. Bar’s Board of Professional Responsibility began a disciplinary hearing for former Department of Justice environmental lawyer Jeffrey Clark, who was so key to Trump’s plan to get state legislatures to overturn the results of the 2020 election that Trump tried to make him attorney general.

Clark joins Trump lawyer Rudy Giuliani, who led the media blitz to argue—falsely—that the election had been stolen. Giuliani’s New York and Washington, D.C., law licenses were suspended in June 2021 after a court found that he made “demonstrably false and misleading statements to courts, lawmakers, and the public at large.” He is now facing disbarment.

Earlier this month, he said on his podcast that he expected to be disbarred because “[t]he Bar Association is going to crucify me no matter what. I will be disbarred in New York. I will be disbarred in Washington. It will have nothing to do with anything I did wrong.”

Today, after a long trial, attorney discipline judge Yvette Roland recommended that John Eastman, the lawyer who came up with the justification for using fake electors to overturn the 2020 presidential election, be disbarred. Eastman will immediately lose his license to practice law. The California Supreme Court will decide whether to disbar Eastman.

Eastman’s lawyer said it was unfair to take Eastman’s law license because he needs to make money to fight the criminal charges against him in Georgia, where he has been indicted for his part in the effort to overthrow the results of the 2020 presidential election there. For his part, Eastman maintains he did nothing wrong.

In her recommendation, Judge Roland compared Eastman’s case to that of Donald Segretti, the lawyer whose efforts to guarantee President Richard Nixon’s 1972 reelection included, as Roland’s recommendation noted, distributing letters that made false accusations against Nixon’s rivals (including a forged letter attributing a slur against French-Canadians to Maine senator and candidate for the Democratic presidential nomination Edmund Muskie). At the time, the court noted that Segretti was only 30, thought he was acting for Nixon, and did not act in his capacity as a lawyer. The court also emphasized that Segretti “recognized the wrongfulness of his acts, expressed regret, and cooperated with the investigating agencies.”

In contrast, Roland wrote, “[t]he scale and egregiousness of Eastman’s unethical actions far surpasses” Segretti’s misconduct. Segretti acted outside his role as an attorney, while “Eastman’s wrongdoing was committed directly in the course and scope of his representation of President Trump and the Trump campaign.” Roland also noted that while Segretti expressed remorse and recognized his wrongdoing, Eastman has shown “an apparent inability to accept responsibility. This lack of remorse and accountability presents a significant risk that Eastman may engage in further unethical conduct, compounding the threat to the public.”

One by one, those who worked with Trump to overturn the election are being held to account by our legal system. But still, they refuse to admit any wrongdoing.

In that, they are following Trump.

Despite Judge Juan Merchan’s gag order, Trump continued today to attack both Merchan and his daughter. On his social media site, Trump posted that Merchan was trying to deprive him of his “First Amendment right to speak out against the Weaponization of Law Enforcement, including the fact that Crooked Joe Biden, Merrick Garland, and their Hacks and Thugs are tracking and following me all across the Country, obsessively trying to persecute me, while everyone knows I have done nothing wrong!” Trump posted in great detail about the judge’s daughter, accusing her of making money by “working to ‘Get Trump,’” based on images shared by an old social media account of hers that had been hacked.

It was President Nixon who perfected the refusal to admit wrongdoing in the face of overwhelming evidence. Even after tapes recorded in the Oval Office revealed that he had plotted with an aide to block investigations of the break-in at the Washington, D.C., headquarters of the Democratic National Committee in the Watergate Hotel by invoking national security and Republican Party leaders told him he needed to resign, he refused to admit wrongdoing. Instead, he told the American people he was stepping down because he no longer had enough support in Congress to advance the national interest. He blamed his fall on the press, saying its “leaks and accusations and innuendo” were designed to destroy him.

Gerald R. Ford, the president who replaced Nixon, inadvertently put a rubber stamp on Nixon’s refusal to accept responsibility. Believing it was better for the country to move past the divisions of the Watergate era, Ford issued a preemptive pardon for any crimes the former president might have committed against the United States while in office. Ford maintained that the acceptance of a pardon was an admission of guilt.

But Ford’s pardon meant Nixon never faced legal accountability for his actions. That escape allowed him to argue that a president is above the law. In a 1977 interview with British journalist David Frost, Nixon told Frost that “when the president does it…that means that it is not illegal,” by definition.

As Nixon did, Trump has watched those who participated in his schemes pay dearly for their support, but he appears angry and confused at the idea that he himself could be held legally accountable for his behavior.

But without accountability, as Judge Roland noted, there is no incentive to stop dangerous behavior. Josh Dawsey reported last night in the Washington Post that since Trump has taken over the Republican National Committee and purged it of former employees, those interviewing for jobs are being asked if they believe the 2020 presidential election was stolen. Other questions, Dawsey reported, include “what applicants believe should be done on ‘election integrity’ in 2024.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #Jan 6 2021 #MAGA #lawyers #accountability #election fraud #election tampering #unethical conduct

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inkofamethyst · 1 year ago

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September 6, 2023

Actual goals for this school year:

Stay within my monthly budgets (I'll give september a pass if needed)

Take a programming course (in R or Python probably)

Go to fitness classes both to stay fit and to meet people

Maintain connections with interesting people (pretend to be the fearless extrovert)

Try at least one new recipe each month (again, september gets a pass)

Decorate my room

Go to symposia and talks in various departments; bask in the intellectual community

Read for fun or listen to audiobooks on occasion

No studying while eating (exceptions include: exam in 48 hours or less, expected reading due in 24 hours or less)

These are more like "additional" goals, I guess, since I would indeed like to become hotter, weirder, richer, more terrifying, and more unpredictable. I know I should become richer and I'm always on the trajectory to become weirder, but I may have to put work into the other three.

A wise man on tiktok once said "not every day can be a slay" and you know what? He was right. Sometimes it's totally worth having a chill day where you just don't put massive amounts of thought into your life. Yes, romanticizing the little moments feels good. But if it requires more mental energy than I can reasonably give that day, then it's not worth it. Same goes for outfits and meals and all sorts, really. It's actually something I've been putting into practice long before I'd heard it put into those words. Granted, a day of "non-slay" might look different for everyone. But it doesn't mean that I'm a failure for deciding to wear leggings or sweatpants on a day when I really just can't be arsed.

When I was talking to that random dude the day before school started, I told him that this school year felt different. He asked why and I had to say that I couldn't really put my finger on it. That was a lie. I just didn't want to make our lighthearted conversation into a therapy session. In fact, I could place not just a finger, but all of my fingers and some of my toes on it. 1. far away from home for an extended period 2. the whole thing with ~~~elite~~~ education (not imposter syndrome, more like the internal and personal discomfort of contributing to a system of hierarchies (the same way that race is a human construct that isn't really real but the effects of racism are real? academic elitism is socially constructed but has real effects (and you know ultimately this may not matter because the academic job market sucks and I may not be offered find a position (that I like bc why not be picky) in the first place lol))) 3. feeling very young 4. feeling ungrounded because, unlike the rest of my cohort, I came up here a week before school started and moved in merely days prior, so I wasn't nearly as grounded in my space as I would liked to have been. There's probably some other things that I just can't conjure up right now.

Full disclosure, most of the above comes from before school started. I'm not swamped with work, not exactly, but I certainly haven't had much time to devote to journaling (tbh this is exactly the time that I should be journaling). I don't really know where all of my hours are going (and maybe it's just the school adjustment period, it is only the second day, after all). I'll do a full recap sometime later. Ultimately: I'm doing okay.

Today I'm thankful that I'm doing okay.

Last thing: considering auditioning for/joining a choir. It's mostly undergrads, though they take grad students. It seems like a dope program. But there's a musical theatre one (also mostly undergrads lol) that also seems cool. It's been a long while since I've done MT. I do miss it, I think. But doing MT covers doesn't make me feel nearly as powerful as singing as part of a symphony :/ I could always go for the real choir some other year if I really wanted. I'll be here for six or so. I've got time.

I mean I've always wanted to do a musical theatre duet.

This could also just be pre-audition nerves ha.

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pagan-stitches · 2 years ago

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My Plan for This Year’s Traditional Nine Course Czech Štědrovečerní večeře (Christmas Eve Dinner)

The first star appears in the sky. We have been fasting all day, with maybe only a little bread or soup at lunch. We hope to get so dizzy and disoriented from hunger that we will see the golden pig--an auspicious sign for the coming year.

The house has been smoked with incense and a sheaf of grain sprinkled with holy water has been shaken in each room.

A white cloth covers the table and it is set with an even number of plates, including one for our departed ancestors. Leftovers will be left on the table overnight for the them. On Christmas Eve, Smrtka (Morana/death) goes around the tables, and wherever she counts an odd number, she will return during the next year.

No one sits with their back to a door. We will all rise from the table together or the first person to rise will be the first person to die in the coming year. Everyone must empty their plate if we are to have a year of plenty. No one may leave the table during the entirety of the dinner to ensure that the family will be together again next year.

There is no alcohol and no meat at the table as this is still a fasting period leading up to Christmas day.

A sprig of mistletoe is on the table for love, contentment and happiness. Apples are on the table as well--after dinner we will take one from the basket and cut it across (a star shaped core means health and happiness, a cross means the arrival of death, and a wormy apple means illness). A pot of honey is on the table to protect against evil. Coins are under the plates for abundance in the new year. A bowl of garlic is placed under the table for strength and protection.

At one corner of the table is bread to symbolize food throughout the year, on second a sheaf of grain representing the yield of the fields in the following year, on the third coins promising prosperity, on the fourth a bowl for leftover bits for the animals and fruit trees-- we will sprinkle some among the persimmon trees outside, our fruit tree in the backyard here in the American south where this uprooted Štědrovečerní večeře is taking place.

The legs of the table are tied with rope to hold the family together in the coming year.

After the apple divination little boats will be made out of empty walnut shells and each family member will place a little burning candle into a shell. Everyone's shells will then be floated on a bowl of water. If the shell makes it across the bowl, its owner will live a long and healthy life. A shell that sinks brings bad luck to its owner.

After dinner Baby Jesus will deliver the decorated tree and presents. Our plan this year is to attend midnight mass at Subiaco Abbey.

Though not terribly observed any more, a traditional Czech Christmas dinner was nine courses--for the nine months Mary bore Jesus and because the richer the Christmas Eve feast, the bigger and better the harvest in the fields the next year. Because Christmas Eve was a part of Advent there were fasting rules in place in this formerly Catholic country (my ancestors who immigrated to the States were still practicing Catholics)--so depending on the region the main dish was fish or lentils or mushroom kuba. A large percentage of Czechs still have fish soup, fried carp and potato salad as their traditional meal.

Inspired by @msgraveyarddirt ‘s massive Sviata Vechera (Ukrainian Christmas Eve holy supper) undertaking I am going to attempt Christmas Eve dinner from my own Slavic ancestral homeland for #hagging out this year.

The following dishes I found on Czech language pages about traditional holiday food (Thank you google translate) or on my favorite Czech cooking blog which is kindly published in English: Cook Like Czechs. I copied verbatim the recipes from the translated Czech language pages so some of the recipes are rather rough.

I will be leaving bacon and lard out of the following recipes to follow meat fasting rules, but I will be using butter for baking.

1. Wafers with Honey and Garlic

I have found the Polish version online to order and they are so pretty. I may break down and buy some.

Before dinner, it is customary to eat a piece of wafer, honey and garlic . This is so that a person can be as beautiful as bread, as healthy as garlic and as good as honey all year round.

Ingredients:

1 kg plain flour

1 liter of water

1 egg

150 g granulated sugar

500 ml of milk

3 tablespoons of melted butter

1 vanilla sugar

Preparation

Mix the milk, water and both sugars and heat them to dissolve. Sift the flour, add milk, whole eggs, melted butter and beat thoroughly. We strain and we can bake wafers on a hot machine. When it sticks, brush the surface with a little butter. We store in a dry place.

2. Pickles

Pre-boil the vegetables (per 1 liter of water):

1 spoon salt 16 ball pepper whole 3 ball allspice 1 piece Bay leaf

Infusion:

1/4 liter vinegar 8%

3/4 liter water

1 spoon salt

2 and 1/2 tbsp sugar

10 tablet Artificial sweetener

1 piece Bay leaf

1 piece clove

3 bal lallspice

15 ball pepper

1 and 1/2 tsp mustard seed

1/2 tsp coriander

PREPARATION PROCESS

Clean the vegetables and cut them into reasonably large pieces. Put water in a pot and add salt, pepper and allspice balls and a bay leaf (all in the amount according to the liters of water). Throw in the vegetables and pre-cook them for 10 to 20 minutes, depending on their hardness. During the boiling time, we collect the boiled foam and any impurities. Drain the broth and rinse the vegetables in a colander with cold water. Now we will prepare the pickle: Let all the ingredients for the pickle boil for about 5 minutes, strain and divide the spices evenly into clean (washed and dried) glasses. Let the pre-cooked vegetables drain well and fill them to about three quarters of each glass. Fill the glasses with the prepared pickle and carefully close the lid. Sterilize for 25 minutes at 100°C completely submerged

3. Split Pea Soup with Bacon

legumes were a symbol of wealth, because they change their volume after soaking. Our ancestors understood soup as the basis of life.

INGREDIENTS

1 and ½ cups (300 g) yellow split peas

5 cups (1.2 l) broth beef, chicken or vegetable

1 tsp dried marjoram

2 cloves of garlic

⅛ tsp black pepper ground

1 tsp salt

½ cup (120 ml) heavy cream fat content 30 % and more

4 oz (110 g) sliced bacon optionally, smoked meat or sausage

6 handfuls bread croutons

INSTRUCTIONS

Pour the broth into a pot and add the split peas. Bring to a boil, then turn down the heat, cover the pot and let it simmer until the peas are tender. This step usually takes 30-40 minutes.

Blend the soft peas with an immersion blender, but not until smooth. The soup should be creamy but with a coarser texture.

Add the grated garlic and dried marjoram. Rub the marjoram between your fingers before adding.

Add heavy cream to the soup—mix, salt, and pepper. Put the soup back on the stove. Bring it to a boil and then immediately set it aside, do not cook any further.

Cut the bacon slices into strips and fry them in a pan in melted lard until almost crispy.

NOTES

SERVING: Serve the split pea soup warm, add a spoonful of fried bacon to the plate and throw in a handful of bread croutons. Add these to the soup just before serving; otherwise, they will get soggy.

4. Czech Braised Red Cabbage

Cabbage used to be an integral part of the Christmas Eve table which, according to the customs of the time, protected against colds.

INGREDIENTS

1 head red cabbage

3 onions medium

2 Tbsp pork lard or sunflower / canola oil

½ cup (100 g) white sugar

½ cup (120 ml) white wine vinegar

1 tsp salt

1 tsp caraway seeds

INSTRUCTIONS

Halve the cabbage, cut the tough stem from both halves of the head. Remove the wilted top layer of cabbage leaves. Slice or grate the cabbage thus prepared.

Peel and finely chop the onion. In a large enough pot, heat the lard and fry the onions in it until light brown.

Move the onion to the side of the pot, sliding the pot if possible, so that the onion part is away from the heating source.

Put the sugar on the free surface of the pot and let it melt; if necessary, increase the heat to speed up the caramelization of the sugar.

Once the sugar starts to turn golden, add the chopped cabbage and mix everything. Don't be alarmed if the sugar forms hard lumps - it will dissolve as the cabbage stews.

Now salt the cabbage, add the caraway seeds, and pour in the vinegar. Stir, turn down the heat. Cover the pot with a lid and simmer at low heat for about 45 minutes.

Remove the lid, raise the heat to be medium and allow any liquid that the cabbage has released to drain. Stir from time to time. Once the liquid has evaporated, and the cabbage starts to fry and stick to the bottom of the pot, you're done! This takes another 30-45 minutes.

NOTES SERVING: Serve the braised red cabbage warm as a side dish with roasted meat - pork, goose, or duck. Potato dumplings or bread dumplings are suitable as an additional side dish.

Cabbage in the recipe doesn't need to be thickened. Neither with floury roux nor with grated potatoes.

One head of cabbage is enough for about six servings of braised cabbage, served as a side dish

———————

Marinated portions of carp in beer, coated in eggs and Parmesan breadcrumbs, fried until golden brown.

5. Carp marinated in black beer

Carp appeared on the kitchen table only a hundred years ago. But at first it was not fried carp as we know it today, but blue or black carp with a dark plum sauce.

Not the number one way that I’ve found that Czechs prepare their Christmas carp, but I have seen it mentioned regularly and I thought it might be a more tempting one for my husband! I’ll probably be using catfish as a substitute.

Ingredients

800 g carp

salt

ground black pepper

crushed cumin

200 ml black beer

5 cloves garlic

sunflower oil

Directions:

Clean the carp and divide it into horseshoes. Salt the portions and season with ground pepper and crushed cumin.

Mix the beer with pressed garlic and a spoonful of oil.

Put the fish horseshoes in the marinade and let them rest for at least two hours.

Remove the fish from the marinade and dry it. Then slowly fry it in oil in a pan.

6. Potato Salad

I found a version without, mayo. I’m not a huge fan of potato salad and I’m trying to find one that sounds more tempting. My mother-in law makes a warm German potato salad. I’m wondering how this one would be warmed up?

I’ll be using the pickles from the recipe above, so I guess technically I’m double dipping a little on my 9 courses?

Potato salad from potatoes cooked the day before in their skins, peeled the next day, cut into cubes and mixed with pickled vegetables. The salad is seasoned with oil, pepper and salt, or even sugar.

Ingredient:

1kg potato

1 glass pickled zleniny Kunovjanka

1 small glass pickled baby carrots with peas

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 pc larger onions

water for cooking potatoes

(sugar)

pepper

salt

Procedure:

1. Cook the potatoes in their skins the day before, peel the peel the next day, cut the potatoes into smaller cubes

2. Add finely chopped onion, preserved vegetables with part of the brine to the potatoes (cut larger pieces)

3. Finally, season the salad with oil, salt and pepper, let it rest in the fridge.

Recommendation:

If the salad is too acidic, we can flavor it with sugar.

7. Mushroom Kuba

Mushrooms were attributed divine origin and were supposed to protect people from diseases and harmful forces. Whole grains symbolized new life and were a promise of the next good harvest symbolizing prosperity . The popular black kuba was supposed to give everyone who ate it crispness and freshness for the whole next year.

Among the ancient Slavs, the forest was held in great esteem, and mushrooms , as its fruits, were considered something sacred, worthy of worship. It is therefore quite possible that the mushroom kuba as a dish has its origins already in pre-Christian times, when it could be enjoyed cultically as part of the pagan celebrations of the winter solstice.

Ingredients:

400 g of fresh or 50 g of dried mushrooms

500 g of semolina

2 spoons of lard

2-3 onions

salt

2-3 cloves of garlic

a little lard for sprinkling the dish and greasing the baking pan.

Procedure:

Cook the grits with crushed garlic, salt and lard until soft. We especially cook fresh or dry mushrooms.

Place a layer of cooked grits and a layer of cooked mushrooms in a greased baking dish.

The last layer must be boiled groats. Sprinkle the surface with melted lard and bake for about 25 minutes.

8. Music--fruit compote

As a finishing touch to the Christmas Eve feast, Christmas music was served. Dried fruit compote is hidden behind the unusual name of the dessert. The music is best left over, and therefore it is prepared a few days in advance, ideally on December 21 for the feast of St. Tomas. That's why it was also called Tomáš compote.

You need:

300 g of dried fruit (equal parts of apple, pear and prunes)

a small handful of raisins

cinnamon

star anise

three cloves

a handful of grated gingerbread

honey and lemon juice to taste

Method:

Cover the fruit and raisins in a bowl with cold water a few centimeters above the fruit. Let stand until the next day.

Move the swollen fruit to a pot and add water to keep it submerged. Add spices and let everything cook slowly for half an hour.

Remove the spices, add the gingerbread and flavor the compote with honey and lemon juice. Let it bubble for another quarter of an hour, the gingerbread will dissolve and the flavors will blend.

Serve warm with a slice of Vánočka

9. Bread/Vánočka

Yeast dough was a symbol of strength and wealth for our ancestors because it changes its volume. It was believed that a damaged bread foretells misfortune. That's why careful attention was paid to their preparation,

INGREDIENTS

2 and ½ cups (330 g) all-purpose flour

⅔ stick (75 g) unsalted butter

⅓ cup (65 g) granulated sugar

⅓ cup (35 g) blanched almonds finelly chopped

⅓ cup (35 g) raisins soaked in rum

20 g fresh yeast or 1 and ½ tsp instant yeast

½ cup 120 ml milk lukewarm

1 egg for dough

vanilla essence

lemon zest freshly grated

1 egg for egg wash

½ tsp salt

blanched almonds chopped to sprinkle the top of vánočka

INSTRUCTIONS

Sift the flour into a large mixing bowl, make a well in the center. Crumble the fresh yeast (or add dried yeast) into the well sprinkle with 1 tsp sugar. Pour over with a little lukewarm milk and carefully mix the liquid center together with a little flour until a mass similar to the semi-liquid batter is created. Dust with some flour and place the bowl with the mixture into the oven which is turned off. Put in the bottom of the oven a small pot with hot water. Close the oven door and let the yeast work for 30 minutes. The activated yeast should be bubbly and frothy after.

Pour the rest milk into a bowl, add melted butter and an egg. Whisk together. Add to the flour mixture.

Add remaining sugar, lemon zest, vanilla essence, salt. Knead everything together until the result is smooth and slightly sticky. If you use a kitchen mixer, knead the dough for 10 minutes using a paddle attachment. Kneading the dough with your hand, count on 15 minutes to finish.

In the end, incorporate drained raisins and chopped almonds into the dough.

Let the dough rise for a further 30 minutes in the warm place (ideally again in the steamy warm environment in the oven).Line a baking tray with parchment paper.

Divide the risen dough into 2 parts (60 % and 40 %). Cur each part into 3 pieces. Roll out pieces into long strands. Braid strands as if you braided someone’s hair.

Place the bigger braid as the base onto a lined baking tray. Flatten the middle a bit with the side of your hand and put there the other (smaller) braid on the top of the upper braid.

Stick 3 skewers vertically into the vánočka: one in the middle, the second, and third on the ends. Skewers will help the vánočka to hold a nice shape during the rising and baking.

Let the vánočka rise for 1 hour in a warm place (again, the best environment is in the oven with a pot with hot water inside).Make egg wash: whisk an egg with a fork, brush the surface of vánočka. Sprinkle with chopped almonds.

Pre-heat oven to 320 °F (160 °C).Bake vánočka for 40-50 minutes. Beware! The vánočka will start to get gold in the middle of baking, cover it with tin foil so it doesn’t burn.

Make a skewer test at the end of the baking: Insert a wooden skewer into the center of vánočka, it should come out clean, without any streaks of non-baked dough. This is a sign that the vánočka is finished!T

Take the vánočka out of the oven, remove the tin foil and skewers.

Dust vánočka with powdered sugar.

The special shape and braiding of the bread are said to represent the swaddled baby Jesus. Even a slice has the faintest appearance (blanket, arms, head). Though there are various methods to braid vánočka, a common one consists of a bottom 4-rope braid (said to represent earth, sun, water, and air), topped with a 3-rope middle braid (symbolizing reason, will, and emotion), and then a 2-rope top braid (for love and wisdom). These altogether are meant to bring people closer to God.

In the village baking of vanochka was also associated with a ritual, when a housekeeper smeared all the fruit trees in the garden by the dough to ensure their fertility in the next year .

The Magical Powers of Foods and Plants

Certain plants, spices and foods are said to have special qualities and have been an important part of Czech Christmas celebrations throughout history.

Garlic Garlic is an essential part of Christmas that should not be missing at any Christmas dinner. It is believed to provide strength and protection. A bowl of garlic can be placed under the dinner table.

Honey Honey is believed to guard against evil. A pot of honey can be placed on the dinner table.

Mushrooms Mushrooms give health and strength. A traditional meal called kuba, prepared from dried mushrooms, barley, garlic, onions, and spices, used to be served as the main meal in the past. Mushroom soup can be served before dinner.

Sheaf of Grain A bundle of grain dipped in holy water can be used to sprinkle the house to prevent it from burning down in the next year.

Poppyseed, peas, wheat, barley If given to the hens on Christmas Eve, lots of eggs will be laid in the coming year.

Vánočka (Christmas bread) Feeding a piece of vánočka to the cows on Christmas Eve will ensure that there will be lots of milk all year. Putting a few vánočka crumbs in front of the bee hive will make sure that the bees will produce enough honey next year. Throwing a piece of vánočka into the well will ensure good quality of the water.

Apple If the goats are given apples on Christmas Eve, their milk will be sweet.

#Štědrovečerní večeře #Czech cuisine #Czech Christmas Customs #hagging out

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hotchs-second-wife · 8 months ago

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DON'T BLAME ME || 1 || Jay Halstead / Thea Rhodes

Synopsis: Theodosia Rhodes, the youngest daughter of a big-time Chicago CEO, needs a husband of her own choice before her father makes that decision for her. Jason Halstead, newly-made Intelligence detective, needs a wife to inherit his portion of his mother's inheritance.

Warnings: Mentions of arson, kidnapping, murder, rape; allusion to childhood trauma, suicide, cancer-related death; descriptions of vehicular accidents including, but not limited to, car-on-car collision, car-on-truck, train; outright familial/parental pressure; portrayal of misogyny and misandry. Read ahead at your own risk.

THEODOSIA

My phone buzzed against the bar shelf, as I slid two Long Island ice teas. The constant vibrantions from my pocket annoyed me, so lately I kept a box under the bar for employees to leave their phones if they wanted.

"Should probably answer that," Matt chided from my right. Despite the crowd in Molly's, he could still hear my phone on vibrate. Granted, we were trained to hear the littlest things.

Kelly laughed beside him. "I can guarantee it's the old man or the sister."

"More likely my sister," I snorted, pulling out another bear for them. "Less talk about my familial pressure for marriage and more drinking, boys."

"You don't need our money, you're richer than the entire department," Kelly frowns.

"I do need to pay my employees though, and I'd rather use the money made from this place than my allowance." Considering I own Molly's and not Cornelius. "I might own a department store but Molly's isn't in cahoots with Dolan Rhodes, and I'd rather keep it that way."

Kelly raised his beer in agreement, before I set off to serve other customers. I tend to the usual, everyday regulars that I only ever see in the bar and not at my full-time job, then head over to the officers and detectives sitting at the very end of my bar.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Antonio nodded once politely, earning a light smack from me. "You might work with my sister, but I'm not getting kicked out for pissing off the bartender."

I snickered, "you have a lot more than getting kicked out to worry about, Antonio. I know all your dirty little secrets. Everyone bullshits to the bartender."

"Just the usual, Rhodes," Atwater laughed between him and Ruzek. I grabbed the men their usual drinks, moving on to cleaning the glasses in the sink.

Ruzek, amidst his friends' conversation, looked at me over his bottle. "My sister's finished med school, and I know your old man donates to Chicago Med."

"And you want me to put in a good word for her?" I nodded over his head. "Which one is she?"

"She doesn't drink, knowing the risks as a doctor and all."

I smiled. "Like her already. I'll put in a good word, as long as you bring her next time. We got a stock of non-alcoholics out back for when we have shift the next day."

Ruzek thanked me and returned to conversation with his co-workers. I heard my name called, following the voice to Gabby Dawson, one of the best paramedics I know and a damn good barkeep.

"You've met Severide's sister," Gabby waved a hand at Brooklyn Severide.

"How could I not when I babysit her niece?"

Brooklyn raised her glass to me, "my niece's mother, you mean."

"You got a kid?" One detective Jay Halstead asked me.

That particular detective that seduced one of my greatest friends, a non-blood sister, and lied to her for the sake of undercover work. He then proceed to let Molly's get set on fire, the one bar owned and worked by firefighters, and broke up with her in the end. I still wanted to kick his ass for that.

Mostly for Gabby, but also for Molly's. My poor baby.

I raised my head a little. "Best friend's kid, lost her mom. I try to be the mother she deserves." To say I'm still a little apprehensive of the detective would be an understatement.

"And you are," Brooklyn held my arm in her hand, before going back to her drink. "Best damn woman in the world, this one."

I see what's happening.

"Fire lieutenant, great with kids, animals and the elderly. Great with cops too. Did I mention she scaled a two story house to get a cat out of a tree because the truck ladder was stuck?" Brooklyn, a little tipsy already, latched onto Halstead's wrist.

He laughed. For such a dick, the laugh was cute. Really brought out a young side to him. Too bad he's a liar. "About a million times, Brooke. You tried to scout her off to Atwater this morning."

"You did?" I deadpanned. In the near decade I'd known her, Brooklyn had been trying to set me up with men—and women when I came out to her—left and right. I was too good for her brother, apparently. I doubted she realised her brother was also like a brother to me.

It just so happened that his daughter looks more like me with her gorgeous brown hair and brown eyes, and likes to call me Mommy whenever her dad brings her over.

"He's a handsome man, Rho, and he'd take good care of you." Brooklyn excused, turning back to Halstead. "Did I mention benefits? Also she's rich, so that's its own benefit."

She's trying to set me up with this dickwad.

"I'm not that urgent for a wife," Halstead shook his head at Brooklyn, keeping his arm out under his partner's hand.

Kelly called across the room to me, "Mom, baby's calling for you!" That got me there in two seconds. Elizabeth Severide was the cutest little girl in existence, and she would be gorgeous as she got older. The Italian in her would bring that out in her.

She was in every way her dad's daughter, from the smile down to the attitude. The Severide siblings were already a lot to deal with, and to pile on a mini-version of Kelly? I couldn't say no to Elli's little face though.

Elizabeth lost her mother when she was born, and the moment Kelly met his baby girl, I had been with him and encouraged him to at least see her before deciding to let her maternal grandparents take her. He'd asked me an important name to me, in which I said his name or Matt's. They were the closest to brothers I had since Connor went overseas.

When it came down to girls names, it had to be my mother's. I lost her when I was ten, to depression, but she was still my mother, down to the looks and personality. So he'd named her Elizabeth Leslie, after my mother and his best friend, Shay.

Shay was ecstatic her best friend's kid was named after her, and it happened that her middle name was Elizabeth. More often times than not, she'd call Elli by her middle name because she liked it so much.

"Hi, Mommy!" Elli waved at me over FaceTime through Kelly's phone. She was at the Herrmanns', while I worked and Kelly hung out until it was time for him to head home. "What are you doing?"

"I'm working, Reginetta." I smiled, taking the phone from her dad. She loved the little nickname I called her, since I'd promised her mother's parents I'd teach her Italian. Being privately tutored in a language of my choice helped them agree to let Kelly keep her. "Are you in bed?"

"Cindy said I can stay up until Daddy comes pick up!"

She was the cutest little 4-year-old ever.

"Well Daddy will be home with Christopher soon. Christopher is almost finished working." I took the beer from his hands.

Elli took her eyes off me for a second, looking over the phone. "Lee Henry said you have to marry soon. Do I get a new daddy?"

"No, your daddy will still be your daddy. I can't replace him."

"But Cindy said you're not marrying Daddy."

I nodded. "That's right. I'm marrying a different man, because my daddy tells me to."

"Do you not love Daddy anymore?"

Oh sweet baby. "I love your Daddy as much as I love you, Reginetta. But your Daddy isn't the man for me. He'll marry a good woman who will love you just as much as we do."

"But I don't want another Mommy, or another Daddy!" She cried, tears falling over her chubby cheeks. "Only you and Daddy!"

"It's okay, baby, you won't see my husband unless your Daddy is okay with it, and only if you want to. He'll just be Mommy's husband."

She nodded, little sniffles leaving her nose as Cindy helped her wipe her tears. "Principessa, your Daddy and I will never introduce you to a man or a woman if you don't want to meet them. Besides, you'll probably be much older when we ask about it."

"Daddy said I'll see you o-morrow at the Big House."

My house looked like a downsized version of the firehouse, so she called my house "Mommy's House" and 51 the "Big House". It worked just as well with her calling Chief Boden the "Big Man".

"That's great! Now you get ready for Daddy to come get you, and I'll see you tomorrow, little one." I hung up and gave Kelly a look to find Herrmann. He did just that, taking his phone and leaving a kiss to the side of my head beforehand.

Closing up was as easy as cleaning a pig's back. And that was an understatement, given that I know how to clean a pig while they're running around.

With everything locked up in the bar, and the front door locked, I headed out the back where I expected Brooklyn to be. We were planning to finish off Europe trip plans before we passed out, but her car was nowhere to be seen.

"Antonio said she was too drunk to stay any longer, so he took her home." Halstead's voice carried over the small parking lot reserved for Molly's employees and family. He wasn't family; not to the bar owner. "I called Severide, he said I could park here. His sister's best friend and all. You wouldn't mind, according to him."

Brooklyn was too drunk my ass. I served her all her drinks, and when I wasn't, Gabby was. I knew how much she had.

Little shit trying to set me up.

"I'm sure you know just as well as me, but I'm fully aware she's trying to set us up, and I know you're hating it just as much as you hate me."

"I don't hate you." Now you're a freaking liar, Theodosia. "Just, despise you more than the average person."

He laughed, genuinely, while he moved around his truck to open the passenger door for me. "I think there's people that would argue with that. Unlike you, I was a screwed up kid."

"And how would you know what I was like?" I asked, and he shut the door before I even got an answer. Sitting in his car in silence was peaceful, and somehow comforting. An old smell that was awfully familiar ran over my skin.

Halstead shut the driver's door after he sat down. "One, you're the most popular woman in Chicago. Two, you did everything your dad told you to, even if it was clear you didn't enjoy it. Like modelling."

That was the bane of my long existence. I hated it, and thanked whoever had been listening to my prayers that I'd found firefighting and loved it. It was the first decision I made about my career life, and the first decision I made the moment I turned 18.

Connor had wanted to leave America, start his adult life in another country while he studied medicine, but I dug my roots into the ground of the Chicago Fire Department and fought my way through the academy on my own. I made sure the brass didn't accept any money from my old man so I knew I could accomplish something in my own right.

And it wouldn't bite me in the ass later on either. I'd found myself a real family, one where Boden was a better father than my actual one.

"Brooke always talks so highly of you," Halstead mentioned, his eyes on the road.

For as long as I've known Kelly, I've known Brooklyn. Sweet girl, only a year younger than me. I was almost directly in the middle of the Severides, with Kelly three years my senior. Kelly had been my guide right out of the academy, and when Boden wasn't mentoring me, Kelly was taking me over the basics of rescue firefighting. He'd been candidate for a few months before Matt had arrived, then he was bumped up to rescue squad about a month before I appeared.

Matt and Kelly, being a couple years older, wanted me to get close to Brooklyn, since we were closer in age and women. I was 22, and Brooklyn 21, when Kelly took us out drinking for her 21st. Unbeknownst to Brooklyn—or Kelly—one of the guys over at Firehouse 38 had preyed his eyes on the fresh 21-year-old in the bar.

I'd beaten the shit out of him, and Boden had to convince the patrol sergeant in charge not to charge me. That I was a dedicated firefighter that was just shy of 3 weeks from moving up to search squad, and that I didn't need a stained record when the lieutenants were already riding my ass.

I've had Brooklyn glued to my hip at bars since then. She was always great company, and much more of a pleasure to be around than Kelly when she was drunk. A giggly, playful sort.

She looked up to like the older sister she didn't have, and admired that I put my foot down to my father. Something she wishes she could do.

"Yeah, well, Benny and my father aren't all that different. One's just rich and the other one is god knows where." It was true, for the most part. I knew where Benny was, or where he should've been. And I knew he was coming up to Chicago to see his granddaughter.

Halstead agreed. "She said he's a better grandfather than a father."

"Most shit dads tend to be better with other people's kids. Benny's been great to me, but that's just to get on Kelly's good side. Be nice to your granddaughter's mother figure and you get your son happy."

He didn't say anything to that, but I didn't expect him to. As much as I knew about him, which wasn't much since he'd only been Brooklyn's partner for less than a month, but he didn't have all that good a relationship with his dad either. That's mostly why he and Brooklyn were so close as far as I was concerned.

"About that wife thing," Halstead glanced in his rearview mirror. "I need a wife to get my inheritance from my mother. It's been 10 years, and her will lawyer said if neither my brother nor I claim any of the money, it'll just go to my father. She wanted Will and I to have anything she did, since Dad didn't see her right to the end."

Well shit. Here I was being a bitch about him earlier and bitching to Otis about Brooklyn trying to set me up to marry him, and he needs a wife to keep money from his horrid father.

"She mentioned your dad's been on you to marry men twice your age and you're hating it."

"Hating is an understatement. I could pick any one of them out in a line up against my dad and I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference."

Halstead paused, looking at me before he continued. "She suggested I marry you purely to get your dad off your ass and my inheritance from my dad."

"How long do you have?"

"A week. My mom died 10 years ago on Friday."

A husband—a detective husband at that—would get my father to back off. He could get the inheritance he's keeping from his father, and I'd get to live my life in peace from an unwanted marriage.

"Okay, you have a deal."

#chicago fire #one chicago #chicago pd #one chicago oc #jay halstead #theodosia rhodes

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ellekhen · 8 months ago

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Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 36 - The Path You Take

Chapter Summary: The scouting party departs in search of a different route to the Shadowlands. Church feels uneasy along their journey, but finds some comfort in Halsin’s conversation and company. A battle leads to a strange revelation, and an even more terrifying confrontation.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 162K+ words; Chapters 36/54

Excerpt below:

“Something burdens you, my friend,” Halsin observes solemnly.

Church huffs a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” Halsin says simply. “You have expressive eyes, especially in the darkness.”

Church averts them guiltily.

“I get… weird about the notion of families,” he admits. “Jealous — even of those who have experienced the loss of one. But also selfishly relieved that I won’t ever have to feel that flavor of grief.”

“Not yet, you haven’t,” Halsin reproves him gently. “You are so, so young. Your life may be very different next year, let alone next week. You may yet find or have a family of your own.”

“I hope not,” Church sighs. “It would be… easier, if I didn’t.”

Halsin finally seems to remember himself as he nods solemnly. “I apologize for my carelessness.

“But those decades you have left don’t have to pass by so quickly,” he continues gently. “One can still live a full, happy life during that amount of time. Humans and half-orcs certainly do…”

“Well at least they have death to look forward to at the end of it, don’t they?” Church says nastily, before closing his eyes regretfully. “…sorry, Halsin.”

“It is a difficult subject — for many, not just you,” the druid says understandingly.

Church tries to pick up his graphite again, but he can’t put his heart back into continuing the portrait.

“Have you ever been… involved… with someone with a much shorter lifespan than you?” Church asks him tentatively. “Like a human?”

Halsin’s eyes go distant and he nods, a sad smile upon his lips.

“The answer is yes,” the druid murmurs. “I’m 350 years old, after all. I have taken many lovers over the years.

“But to answer what I expect to be your next question… it would be disingenuous to say that it gets easier every time. You hardly become indifferent to it. But you learn how to… compartmentalize the regrets. You learn to cherish the time you have together. Every minute. Every moment.”

He presses his hand upon his own heart, breathing in deep. “No one is replaced by another. Your heart simply becomes… fuller. The forest of your memories becomes richer.”

The firelight flickers across his knowing smile. “Hm. I think I know why you ask. Is this a future you and Astarion have contemplated for yourselves as mates?”

Church snorts an incredulous laugh.

“What, ‘mates?’ Astarion? N-no,” he scoffs. “Our thing is a casual… distraction, and…” he shrugs. “He doesn’t think of me that way. I certainly don’t.”

He flushes at Halsin’s amused, skeptical smile.

“Karlach was right,” the elf chuckles. “You may be capable of deception in front of anyone else, but you fail miserably when it comes to your companions.”

Church scowls a little at that.

“Fine, but… even if I did ‘ponder’ anything, there’d be no point, wouldn’t it? So no, I don’t dare imagine a lifetime with anyone of any lifespan, knowing what awaits me and them.

“And Astarion…” he scoffs. “Well, after everything he’s suffered I’m sure the last thing he wants is to be trapped with someone else — and I don’t blame him, honestly.”

Church frowns down at his journal, fiddling with the corner of the page. “He’s been through enough. He’s still learning not just how to survive, but how to live for himself again.”

The tiefling sighs — and then startles as his chin tilts up with the warm, fleeting brush of a finger.

“I may not have known any of you for long,” Halsin says solemnly. “And I haven’t had nearly as many chances to speak to Astarion as I have spoken to you. But it is clear to me whether by either of your wills or not, Astarion cares for you as well.

“He is more at ease in your company, and seeks it out even if the two of you do not engage. He smiles, laughs, and talks more when you’re present. He becomes distressed at your discomfort or pain. He is always watching for your wellbeing in battle, and out of it too.”

“Of course he does,” Church says dismissively, averting his eyes and continuing to darken the contours of Halsin’s face upon his paper. “I’m an asset. I’m a ‘warm body’ and a convenient source of blood for him.”

“I do not think you truly believe that,” Halsin murmurs earnestly. “You know that he cares for you far more than that, and I can see that scares you as much as it scares him.”

Church fiddles with his stick of graphite, at risk of snapping it in his hand.

“There is no need to be scared,” Halsin says gently. “Least of all of intimacy. Companionship. After all, love is the most beautiful thing nature grants us.”

Church feels a dark cloud settle into his thoughts, and he sets down the stick of graphite before he can do any damage to it.

Read from the beginning

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mint-moon25 · 11 months ago

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ITZY "Not Shy (English Ver.)" M/V in ZEPETO @ITZY

youtube

JANUARY 2024

TOKYO - JAPAN

DEAR IMPERIAL HIGHNESS OF JAPAN,

FROM THE DESK OF KITTY WHITE

WHITE FAMILY

KNOWN - AFFECTIONATELY AS - HELLO KITTY

UNICEF - AMBASSADOR - FOR - CHILDREN

JAPAN'S - AMBASSADOR - OF - TOURIM

YOUR - HIGHNESS - LIKE - BRITISH - ROYAL

FAMILY - ARE - THEY - AND - YOU - STILL JP

IMIORTANT - 2 - THE - PEOPLE - OF CITIES

YOU - LIVE - IN - TOKYO - AND LONDON UK

I'M - BRITISH - I - WAS- TOLD - ME - AND

MY - YOUNGER - IDENTICAL - TWIN SISTER

MIMMY - WERE - BORN - IN - ENGLAND UK

I - FEEL - BLESSED - BECAUSE - EVEN

MR HARROD's - WHO - BROUGHT THE

WORLD's - LARGEST - DEPARTMENT

STORE - 2 - LONDON - COULDN'T GET

UK - CITIZENSHIP - BUT - WHY WOULD

HE - WANT - 2 - BRILLIANT - ABOUT

PROVIDING - OWN - ELECTRICITY

WHY - WOULD - HE - BE - PART OF

WHO - HAD - HER - COUSIN - QUEEN

MARY - OF - SCOTS - SCOTLAND YES

BY - MEN - BROUGHT - DOWN - 2 BE

BEHEADED - WHY - WOULD - ANYONE

WANT - 2 B - UNITED - 2 - SUCH - YES

CRUELTY - TOWER - OF - LONDON AS

KING - HENRY VIII - HAD - 2 - OF - HIS

WIVES - BEHEADED - COUNTLESS

MURDERS - ROBBERIES - AND HAI

TODAY - THEIR - BAYONET - ON TOP

OF - THEIR - MACHINE - GUNS - YES

SUCH - BARBARIC - WEAPONS THAT

EVEN - WOMEN - CARRY - EQUALITY

INDEED - WHEN - GENTLER WOMEN

ARE - MADE - OF - A - GENTLE

CONSTITUTION - LIKE - BIBLE

SAID - 2 - WORSHIP - GOD - ON

THE - SABBATH - LAST - DAY OF

THE - WEEK - SUNDAY - THE 1ST

YET - CHURCH - OF - ENGLAND - AND

CHRISTIANS - LIKE - ADOLPH HITLER

WORSHIPPED - GOD - ON - SUNDAYS

GOD - SAID - WORSHIP HIM - ON THE

SABBATH - NO - ONE - HAS - DARED

OBEY - THE - HOLY BIBLE

IMPERIAL - HIGHNESS - OF - JAPAN

GLAD - I - WAS - BORN - SOMEWHERE

BUT - AS - AMBASSADORS - HELLO

KITTY - AND - MIMMY - ARE - NOT

EVEN - SCIENTIFIC - MINDED AND

WHAT - HAVE - THEY - REALLY - YES

CONTRIBUTED - IN TERMS - OF HAI

INTELLIGENCE - AND - SPORTS

HAS - HELLO - KITTY - INVENTED

ANYTHING - 4 - KIDS

HAS - HELLO - KITTY - EVER WON

ANY - OLYMPIC - EVENT

HOLY BIBLE - LEVITICUS 19 - ALWAYS

GOING - 2 - SUNDAY - SCHOOLS - AS

SCOTLAND - YARD - UNARMED - YES

WOMEN - FR - MIDWIVES - THEY HAVE

SCANDALOUSLY - HARMED - MANY BY

TELEPHONE - READY - 2 - HIT - KIDS

AND - OLD - PEOPLE - WITH - THEIR

WOOD - BATTON - NO - ONE - HAS

STOPPED - THEM - MEN - GIVING

THEM - FREE - REIGN - WITH - CRUEL

ACTS - AS - THE - POOR - OF SOCIETY

IMPERIAL - HIGHNESS - OF - JAPAN

SCOTLAND YARD - MEN - WOMEN

ARE - MEMBERS - OF - THE CHURCH

OF - ENGLAND - BUT - THEY VOLATE

LOVE - WHAT - NEVER - FAILS

LEVITICUS 19 - SAID - 'YOU - MUST

TREAT - THE - FOREIGNER - LIVING

LIVING - AS - THE - NATIVE - THEY

DON'T - DO - THAT - IN - USA - ALSO

REVISED - LOVE - HIM AS THYSELF

JEWS - WERE - STRANGERS - IN

THE - LAND - OF - EGYPT - THEN

BECAME - THEIR - SLAVES WHO

IS - THE - SPEAKER - THE - LORD

OUR - GOD - THE - INVISIBLE GOD

OF - ISRAEL' - HEBREWS 13 - SAYS

'DO - NOT - NEGLECT - 2 - SHOW

HOSPITALITY - 2 - STRANGERS'

HOSTILE - ILLEGAL - HAITI MALE

BLK - MIAMI - POLICE - ARE YES

CRUEL - LIKE - UNARMED - POLICE

SCOTLAND YARD - FEMALES - AND

NOW - ARMED - POLICE - MALES

ONLY - THEY - HARMED - FORMER

SERENE - PRINCESS - AMERICAN

MEGAN - RICHER - THAN - HARRY

FORMER - AMERICAN - ACTRESS

HUMANITARIAN - ACTIVIST - OF

HUMANITY - NOW - HEARD - GB

GREAT - BRITAIN - HAS - BLOCKED

HER - YET - SERENE - HIGHNESS

CATHERINE - ELIZABETH - NOT

WEARING - BLUE - (DIANA - LONG

AGO - DONE - ALREADY)

LONGEST - HAT - GOING - UP - AS

2 - SAY - 'LOOK - AT - WHO - CAN

WALK - IN - FRONT' - SINCE WAS

JUST - HARRY - FORMER SERENE

HIGHNESS - MEGAN - AMERICAN

RICHER - THAN - PRINCE WILLIAM

WALKS - WAY - BEHIND

SERENE - PRINCESS - CATHARINE

ROYAL - ONLY - BY - MARRIAGE

DIVORCED - WILL - B - LIKE DIANA

FORMER - PRINCESS - ALSO - HER

FORMER - PRINCESS - OF WALES

ENGLISH - ARISTOCRACY

WHO - WOULD - HAVE - BEEN

QUEEN - ONLY - ROYAL - OF HER

SERENE - PRINCESS - CATHERINE

IS - THE - ROYAL - HOSPITAL - OF

HER - BIRTH - NOT - ROYAL - BY

BIRTH - HER - CHILDREN - ARE

MORE - IMPORTANT - 4 - HER

SERENE - PRINCESS - CATHERINE

ELIZABETH - AND - PRINCE - OF

THE - THRONE - THINKS - THEY

GREATED - PRINCE - GEORGE

THE - ROYAL - 3 - CHILDREN

WHEN - THE - MOST - HIGH

CREATED - THEM - AND WENT

INSIDE - BY - SPIRIT - AND YES

BROUGHT - 2 - LIFE - THE NEW

HOUSING - CREATED - 4 THEM

IMPERIAL - HIGHNESS - OF - JAPAN

AS - PEOPLE - WE - CAN'T - CREATE

PEOPLE - THE - MOST - HIGH - OUR

ONLY - CREATOR - OF - EACH - OF

US - THEN - WE - WAIT - UNTIL WE

GO - INSIDE - OUR - MOTHER's

WAITING - AREA - 2 - BECOME

LARGER - 4 - DELIVERY - 2 THIS

PLANET - EARTH

IMPERIAL - HIGHNESS - OF - JAPAN

I - BROUGHT - UP - THE - SUBJECT

OF - BEING - BRITISH - BY - BIRTH

THAT - I - NO - LONGER - WANT 2

REMAIN - BRITISH - MY - FAMILY

WANTS - 2 - GO - 2 - OUR ROOTS

TOKYO - JAPAN - AND - MY FRIEND

AND - HIS - FAMILY - WANTS - 2 YES

JOIN - US - FOR - OUR - WRITERS

HAS - ME - WITH - ETERNAL TRUE

PARTNER - BUT - LIKE - MICKEY

MOUSE - AFTER - 50 YEARS YES

FINALLY - MARRIED - MINNIE MOUSE

WHY - CAN'T - SHE - MARRY - DANIEL

DEAR - IMPERIAL - HIGHNESS - OF JAPAN

I - WOULD - LIKE - 2 - SEPARATE - FROM

ENGLAND - AND - UNITED KINGDOM AS

OUR - FAMILY - WANTS - 2 B - GRANTED

JAPANESE - CITIZENSHIP

JAPANESE - PASSPORTS

ME - AND - DANIEL - WANT - 2 - MARRY

AND - PRODUCE - KIDS - BORN IN - YES

TOKYO - JAPAN - CHOOSING - MANY

LANGUAGES - 2 - SPEAK - BUT - OUR

OWN - IN - PARTICULAR

KOREA - ITZY - WOULD - LIKE - 2 MAKE

PARTNERSHIP - WITH - WHITE - FAMILY

BRING - ME - AND - TWIN - MIMMY - TO

LEARN - MORE - AND - BECOME MORE

AND - START - MORE - EDUCATION

BEFITTING - ROOTS - ARE - TOKYO JP

JAPAN - WE - WOULD - LIKE - 2 B YES

JUNIOR - SCIENTISTS - RESEARCHERS

ANOTHER - THING - MISSING - IN - YES

LONDON - THE - SUN - DURING WINTER

AND - BARBIE - OF - MATTEL, INC. - YES

MY - ROLE - MODEL - IS - AMERICA's

BARBIE - BUT - WHAT - WE - HAVE IS

NOT - SUFFICIENT - IN - ENGLAND UK

I - LOVE - BARBIE - AND - I - KNOW - I

CAN - FIND - HER - MORE - IN TOKYO

THAN - LONDON - ENGLAND - I WOULD

LIKE - BIRDS - 2 - WARMER - WEATHER

WOULD - LIKE - 2 - MIGRATE - 2 - YES

WARMER - SNOW - MORE - SUNLIGHT

PINK - SAKURA - TREES - TOKYO - AND

MOUNT FUJI - THE - BEAUTIFUL

ISLAND - NATION - JAPAN

MORE - THAN - 25 MILLION - YEARS

ITZY - KOREAN - GIRLS - CAN - TAKE

HELLO - KITTY - AND - MY - TWIN JP

MIMMY - 2 - HIGHER - HEIGHTS

INTRODUCE - US - 2 - THEM AS YES

KOREAN - DOLLS - AND - LIKE - ME

WE - ALL - LOVE - BARBIE - OUR

ROLE - MODELS

BARBIE

SCIENTIST

SURFER - CHAMPION

OLYMPIC - GOLD - MEDALISTS

BALLERINA - PRIMA

SPORTS - GOLD - MEDALS

ATHLETE

HUMANITARIAN - FIGHTS FOR

MALIBU - PROTECTS ANIMALS

AND - MORE

I - FEEL - I - CAN - DO - MORE - WITH

MY - NEW - FRIENDS - ITZY - KOREA

GRANT - ME - AND - MY - FAMILY

WORK - VISAS

CITIZENSHIP - WITH - JAPAN

JAPANESE - PASSPORT

GRANT - SAME - 4 - DANIEL - AND

HIS - FAMILY

ALWAYS - 4 - BABIES - CITIZENSHIP

BUT - HOW - ABOUT - WHEN - WE R

OLDER - HOW - ABOUT - US - POOR

NOT - RICH - UNEMPLOYED - AND

NOT - QUITE - HEALTHY - I'M NOT

RICH - WITH - AMBASSADORSHP

BUT - I - WANT - 2 B - WORTHY OF

WITH - WEALTH - FROM - WORK 2

GRANT - US - CITIZENSHIP - AND

JAPAN's - PASSPORT

THIS - I - HUMBLY - REQUEST

2 - THE - JAPAN - THAT - HAS

BEEN - OUR - FAMILY's ROOTS

4 - MILLIONS - OF - YEARS - I

SAY - JESUS CHRIST IS LORD

THANK-YOU VERY MUCH

'EAST - MET - WEST'

HELLO KITTY

KITTY WHITE

LONDON UK

2:51P EST

PS HAPPY NEW YEAR - IMPERIAL - FAMILY

('MONDAY - MONDAY' - 08 JAN 2024)

#Youtube

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jonny-thoughts · 11 months ago

Text

From Cubicle to Classroom: How I Found a Meaningful Job as a Corporate Dropout

“We would like to offer you an opportunity to join our team next fall”; I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing come through my phone as I did a Tiger Woods fist pump celebration on the University District’s “Ave” sidewalk. All my hard work, the late nights studying, managing the voice in my head that filled me with self-doubt, the rigor of college classes and the rejections from companies both prestigious and unextraordinary - the culmination of these things had fortunately and miraculously led me here, to receiving a job offer I had specifically been working towards for the prior two years. On the other line was the director of a department at a Big-4 accounting and consulting firm with which hundreds of other business students in multiple universities around the region had been trying to get their foot in the door. I was ecstatic. The call had interrupted my lunch with a staff member of the business school. I was telling her how maybe I wasn’t cut out for the job, and how the position would go to a hard-working individual who perhaps got higher grades than me, or had a more impressive internship than the one I had. “I’ll continue my job search with companies around the city, and I’m sure I’ll find something. There are plenty of opportunities in this town,” I said woefully but with an ounce of hope. I then felt my pocket vibrate and I eagerly excused myself from the table.

I celebrated by enjoying the rest of our lunch, calling my parents (who were very happy and proud of me), and doing homework for other classes since this call came in November 2019 and I still had six months left of my senior year. As I was studying in the library, I ran into a fellow student who had received the offer before me and declined it since he felt it was “not a good fit.” Had he accepted the offer, I would have had to continue my job search. “Fair enough,” I said. “And thank you.”

One year later, my assignment began. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I was a yes man to everyone who worked there because that’s what the corporate culture, already hammered into me even before I graduated business school, had taught me; that’s how you climb the ladder the fastest. For the first six months I put my head down and focused intensely on my tasks and did the best that I could to produce a high-quality work product. I asked my colleagues how they had found success at the company, how they navigated challenges, and what they enjoyed about their job. I had monthly check-ins with most team members above me, and I even had a check-in with my peers who had started at the same time I had. I was really trying to shine - this is what I had been working towards for so long, and I was going to give it my all.

As I entered the latter half of my first year of employment, I began to feel that I was in the wrong place, and I looked toward the future with a sense of gloom. My knowledge, skills, personality, and all of my hard work was going towards helping large corporations get bigger, stronger, and richer oftentimes to the detriment of smaller businesses. This was especially disturbing with the backdrop of the Covid pandemic; while many large corporations successfully pivoted and experienced high revenue, I witnessed small local businesses in my community struggle. And in some unfortunate cases, those small businesses had to close their doors for good. I attended firm-wide all hands meetings in which the CEO and President would talk about how “hard of a year” it had been, being cooped up in our homes and not seeing our loved ones. While I agreed with them that being away from family and friends is not ideal, it was hard to take their words seriously when some hard-working people with families were experiencing much worse, like losing their jobs, lives, businesses, savings, and good health. Us corporate soldiers were, and always have been and probably always will be, protected by the system. Work slowed briefly for my team, but within a few months our clients were back with hundreds of thousands of dollars to give us for auditing services; you can do that when you are a corporation with a market cap of half a trillion dollars and large cash reserves. Even if I had been laid off in the midst of the chaos, there are still plenty of doors for me to knock on with my degree, skills, references, and experience. That is why I dismissed the c-suite’s attempt at self-pitying, claiming that we and our clients were the ones experiencing hardship.

I got on virtual meetings with smart and accomplished people who instead of talking about how to unite the world and solve problems that impact people, were talking about the risks posed to them by their business partners. For context, my specific team dealt with assessing and mitigating risks for our clients and investigated whether our clients were being impacted by any action their business partners took that went against our clients’ interests. I witnessed hundreds of millions of dollars being moved around in this corporate ecosystem so that we could ensure that our client’s business was operating optimally. I had never worked with that degree of resources in my life. I had, however, worked with people who needed those resources for much better reasons. After two years, I turned off my computer for the last time out of refusal to participate in a process I had come to view as unnecessary. I quit the job I had worked toward for years in hopes of finding a career in which my skills were applied for a greater purpose.

***

I began to become fascinated by the idea of teaching at a community college during my first year attending one in 2014. I was intrigued by the idea of someone passionately and intentionally delivering their knowledge from their brain to an audience by executing a well-designed curriculum. I was fortunate enough to have several good professors throughout my time in higher education who I could speak to inside and outside the classroom and to whom I grew to respect. Initially, I imagined myself teaching business classes as a second career after a long and successful tenure in the corporate field. However, during a layover in Chicago on my way to my cousin’s wedding in upstate New York in August of 2023, I tested myself with calculus problems that I had not seen in eight years. I was enjoying myself - I find math fun. From the age of 13, I was excited by the number of applications for such a powerful system. I found myself pondering the careers in which one uses math frequently. One of the first jobs that popped into my mind was a math teacher. “Which level of math would I want to do all day?” I asked myself. I then thought about what it would be like if I taught high school mathematics and began to reminisce on times where I would be in geometry or algebra and feel my brain rewiring itself to fit in new rules and logic. I look back on those times fondly which is largely thanks to my high school math teacher. I figured a good way to get into teaching would be to work as a substitute teacher; that way I could get a sense of which math level I enjoy the most and which age group with which I work well. When I got home from the beautiful wedding, I applied to a substitute teacher position posted by a local school district. At this time I had been working as a rideshare driver (and very briefly as a truck driver) for the past 10 months; I was ready to start intentionally carving a new career path.

My first class was kindergarten at a neighborhood elementary school about a 10 minute drive away from my house. I arrived and checked in with the school secretary who politely showed me to my classroom for the day. On the teacher’s desk I found detailed sub plans and a class schedule. I had about 15 minutes to review these documents before the first bell rang. The kindergarten teacher next door, whom I will refer to as Mary, was experienced; she had been teaching kindergarten for 27 years. She was incredibly kind and helpful to me, someone who was working their first day in the field of education.

Mary showed me to the doorway which led outside to the area where the students were lined up. Some looked excited with bright eyes and smiling faces. Some were upset to come to school and were letting their parents know by clutching onto their hands or waists, crying. I immediately appreciated the diversity of the class - it was a motley crue of children and I was standing there like a novice skier facing an oncoming avalanche.

I was taken aback by the energy of the children - it was inspiring. Students were running around the room, wrestling with each other, talking to one another, and moving their bodies in however way that felt natural. As I looked around the room I saw writhing around the floor, jumping, kicking, and spinning; the form of movements were diverse and plenty. I tried to get the students to sit on the carpet so that I could begin working through the sub plans that had been so clearly laid out for me. However, trying to control the students or “manage” the classroom was pointless, as all of my attempts at doing so proved ineffectual and the students continued playing with each other. I began to sense that I was doing them a disservice by interrupting their play, as play is imperative for a child’s development. Mary poked her head into my classroom a few times to check in. She immediately began commanding the room and got the students to sit on the carpet using a strong and direct voice. Most of the students did as they were told and listened for a few seconds, then returned to playing once Mary left. I finally told myself that I must accept that that’s how my first day was going to go. I simply needed to make sure no one got hurt. The day ended with only one fall and one scratched face - not bad for a first day subbing kindergarten if I say so myself. If you disagree, I look forward to hearing about your time looking after 27 five-year-olds for six and a half hours.

After more than a month of subbing every day at different schools in the district, I had honed in on elementary school, specifically. One school offered me the opportunity to come on as a long-term substitute to help with the computer lab rotations, recess duty, and the food pantry. Fortunately, the school extended my assignment by two months, so I’m currently getting the opportunity to connect with the students and staff in a meaningful way. I learn valuable lessons every day at school from both the excellent teachers and the students. From a professional point of view, the teachers provide tools I can store in my repertoire and utilize when I have my own classroom full time. From the students, I constantly see similarities between myself and them, and am able to relate to them through their curiosity, inquisitiveness, excitement, and goofiness. I am pleasantly reminded that we are all big kids at heart and that it’s okay to let our inner child or true self shine through. This creates a positive feedback loop where everyone in the school is encouraged to be themselves, which fosters an environment that is excellent for forming genuine connections, free of judgment, and a strong and healthy school community. It does not feel like work. In fact, there have been times where I am surprised I get paid to do what I do since I enjoy it so much.

I often think back to my time at the consulting firm and contrast it to what I’m doing now at the elementary school. I feel a sense of joy, fulfillment, and reward in my current work, for which I am incredibly grateful. However, it’s not just the enjoyment that makes my work meaningful - it’s that I feel that I have a responsibility to do what I do, and I believe that is a significant factor when it comes to finding a job you enjoy. The work at my consulting firm was not absolutely necessary - it was a service that companies chose to procure to help mitigate risks; they could forgo these services and continue business as usual if they wanted. Thinking about the work we do at the school, we would be doomed as a society if we chose not to educate the young minds in our communities. Because I am aware of the importance of motivating and teaching children about honesty, love, and having positive regard for one another (among many other life tools), I feel that I have a responsibility to do so. To clarify, if one is aware of a need and they have an opportunity to fulfill that need, I believe they have a responsibility to take that opportunity and make the world a better place, and they will be glad they did. That, I think, is one of the main reasons I find a sense of reward in my work. Each day is different, but every day we get an opportunity to inspire young minds to be the best version of themselves. Anyone who has been around children knows that they often engage in conflict with one another. This could be a result of someone cutting in line, calling them names - the scenarios are infinite. In a sense, this contention among the children is representative of the terror we see at a global level. As people who work with children, we have an opportunity and therefore a responsibility to teach them peace, love, and positivity (having unconditional positive regard for one another). I encourage the students to withhold judgment for other students, especially in times of contention, and teach them methods of self regulation like reflection, writing, breathing, and meditation.

I spent the several years leading up to my first job after graduation chasing money and success in the traditional sense, and a great deal of people would be satisfied with the job I had. However, I didn’t feel successful emotionally or spiritually, and I am incredibly grateful I made a career transition, even to a field in which I had no experience - only a mission to try to have a positive impact on my community. I would encourage those who are feeling lost to meditate on things they feel must be accomplished to create a better world. If you make a difference every day towards something you care about, you are going to be much more excited to get out of bed in the morning.

#education #teaching #learning #employment #job search #working #work life #job hunting #resume #school #classroom #corporate

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