#swapped in a chair to help with my posture problems but even now not doing any better about it. currently sitting on my feet

[minka-cola]

happy new year from +1 gmt! hopefully it will be a better year for everyone this time. for certain. surely

[songbirdsingingthings]

Midnight Revelations - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Fluff, Swearing (It’s Bakugou, so, that’s kinda a given)

Requested by @luluwiie​ :

Given your gift for writing, I'm honestly utterly surprised your box is not already full :o but this is my chance ! Kuhuhu * robbing hands *

May I request a Todoroki or Bakugo one shot (Just choose whether you feel more inspired with one, another or both) where they are just sharing some moments with reader, and like, they enjoy their time with Reader and when they come back to their dorms, alone in their bedroom, they just realize how much they care for Reader? Like, more than their close friend and partner in crimes ? Like, more in a pining way? I just love emotional epiphanies 😳❤

Tysm if you do this ! CANT WAIT TO READ YOU MORE ❤❤

- Luluv

A/N: YOU’RE LITERALLY THE SWEETEST ❤❤❤. I had a lot of fun writing this one since Bakugou is such an interesting character, so I hope you enjoy!! (Also, the song “True Love” by P!NK was playing nonstop in my head while writing this.)

Word Count: 1.9K

If it was within his control, Katsuki Bakugou would be fast asleep in his own bed by now. It made sense to him - the sky was completely dark making the stars clearly visible and it was already past 10:30 p.m., so why on earth was he awake? The short and simplest answer yielded the same result; you. How you had wedged yourself in between him and his strict sleep schedule, Bakugou had no idea, so here he was, sat with a grimace on his face as you tried to work out the last math problem on the long homework sheet Ectoplasm had assigned.

“Wait, so when it’s a hyperbola, it’s a²- b² = c²?” You ask, glancing in between the blonde-haired boy sat next to you and the sheet full of conic section equations. Bakugou just looked at you with a mixture of a tired and dumbfounded expression.

“No, idiot, it’s a²+ b² = c² because the standard form uses subtraction. It’s the other way around for ellipses.” He explains gruffly, taking your mechanical pencil and writing down the equation roughly. However, due to the sheer force of his hand on the poor little pencil, the led snapped off. You laughed a little at the outburst that followed shortly after.

“Bakugou, don’t press so hard, the lead is thinner.” You say, taking the pencil from his hand gingerly. He simply scoffs in return.

“Yeah, well, normal pencils don’t do that. Get better ones next time.” He hurumphs, leaning back in his chair and letting his head hang off the back. He remains like this for a few minutes while you scribble down the rest of your equations, ultimately coming to a solution.

“Okay, I think I got it! Is it… (y+5)²/9 - (x - 4)²/25?” With a hesitant voice and a hopeful expression, you push the homework sheet in front of Bakugou to hopefully gain his approval. You wince as he scans your work carefully, raising his eyebrows on certain occasions. Finally, he sets the paper down and slides it back over to you. “Well?” You ask, a little exasperated.

“Yeah, that’s the correct answer.” With a sigh of relief you slumped back into your chair with a smile on your face. However, that only lasted for a few seconds. “Wait, then what the hell were those facial expressions when you were looking at it?” You ask, taking the math sheet and putting it in a folder that was then shoved into your school bag.

“Your handwriting is shit.” Is all Bakugou had to say as he stood up and stretched his arms out. You roll your eyes and glance at the clock.

“Damn, it’s already 11:15.” You murmur, letting one of your hands card through your hair, massaging your head and releasing the tension that was built up by doing several pages of pre-calc. “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t need to stay this late to help me out, so I really appreciate it.” You say, expressing your gratitude to the blonde. Bakugou rubs his eyes before slinging his bag over his shoulder, letting his blazer stay unbuttoned and his tie loose around his neck. You had to admit, his somewhat disheveled look did look quite attractive on him, but if you told him that he would either never let you hear the end of it or get pissed off for commenting on his fashion. He already got enough of that from his parents, apparently. 

“Yeah, I didn’t, and now thanks to you I’m gonna be tired as hell in the morning.” He complains, opening the door to your dorm to exit.

“You know, a cold compress does wonders for eyebags.” You say, a mischievous grin on your face. He narrows his eyes and flips you off. “I enjoyed spending time with you too, Bakugou!” And with that, the door to your dorm was closed.

Katsuki felt like a zombie by the time he got to his own dorm. He didn’t even bother putting his school bag on his desk or arranging his shoes by the door like he usually does. Instead, he just let the brown shoulder bag slump onto the floor as he fumbled to get his shoes off. Why the hell had you made him stay for so long? He finished all of his homework hours before you did, and still, he had to remain stationed at that wooden low table as he had to keep himself busy while you plugged away at your own work. After about an hour, looking through his phone got incredibly boring so he moved on to looking around your room, taking in all of the things that made it up. Of course, he wasn’t doing this to try to get to know you more, he already knew all he needed to… right? But as his eyes raked over the photos and decor of your room, the more glimpses he got into your personal life, so he stopped immediately.

Bakugou did make an effort to change his clothes. Peeling his blazer from his arms and hanging it up haphazardly in his closet along with his white button up. He tugged on a random black shirt and swapped his uniform pants for pajama ones and finally, finally, clambered into his bed. And, although he tried hard to make his brain shut off and just let him enter a dreamless sleep, his mind began to wander. He blamed his delirious nature for letting his neurons take him from place to place, situation to situation, until they finally projected an image of you into his head. It was a simple display of you and a recent one, too. Just Y/N L/N, sat at the little wooden table with her head perched on one of her hands with a stupid mechanical pencil in her hand. Did her hair always kind of frame her face like that? He wondered, scrunching his closed eyes. It didn’t look as horrible today, he supposed. Bakugou let his eyes flutter open, only to see that his digital clock read a clear 12:04 a.m. in electric red. He sighed and let his gaze fall on the ceiling right above him. Why was he thinking of you this late in the evening? And, to his surprise, he realized that he felt much more at home in your dorm room than he did right now, in his own space.

“What the hell…” He muttered, turning on his bedside lamp. His room was shed in a soft light, illuminating only the nearest furniture and himself. If he wasn’t able to go asleep, he sure as hell wouldn’t let this time go to waste. Picking up the book on his shelf that he was most recently into, he flipped through the pages to find his place and started reading again. He would never admit it, but Pride and Prejudice was turning out to be a much better read than expected. Bakugou found the main heroine to be much more likeable than any others he had read about. Her charisma and wit satisfied him where other characters were lacking, and the way she refused to be phased by an arrogant and sometimes brash guy who pushed her buttons constantly… He let the book fall to the ground without so much of a care as realizations flooded his brain. You put up with him. Whenever he was acting rude or was teasing you without relent, you would just simply roll your eyes and fire back. He put up with you, too. All your unreasonable habits, like staying up way too late, he was still by your side. Why?

“I…” Katsuki forced himself to look into the mirror. He saw his reflection to be way out of the norm. His eyes were wide, his posture was perfect, and his cheeks were red. “I like her.” He let the words flow freely from his mouth. With one more glance to the clock by his bedside, he grabbed a hoodie and shoved his head through it while opening his door and heading straight to yours. He knew from all of the prior knowledge on you stored in his brain and the light that shown beneath your door that you were, in fact, still awake. With three soft knocks, your door swung open to reveal you. Clad in soft looking pajama shorts and a flimsy top, your hair was a mess and your eyes were drooping. Bakugou never thought you could look so beautiful.

“Bakugou, it’s way past your bedtime.” You quip, your voice mimicking a doting parent. Bakugou shoved his way past you into your room and began to lightly pace. Your once joking smile fell into a confused frown, your eyes starting to swim with concern. “Seriously, Katsuki, what’s up? You’ve never stayed up this late except for that one time I insisted you did because a once in a lifetime meteor shower was on full display. I mean, you complained about it of course, but I knew you actually liked it because your eyes-”

“Just, shut it!” The blonde finally says. You pull back slightly, surprised at his words. “You write your twos and sevens weird, some of your habits tend to be unproductive, and sometimes I just can not stand you, but I like you.” The two of you are silent for a moment before you take a step towards him.

“You have feelings for me?” You ask, your voice soft like velvet and your eyes twinkling. Despite all of his reservations, his hard exterior and the sneer he always wore melted.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” You shook your head and took another step forward.

“Don’t answer it like you're confirming that I correctly solved a math problem. Answer it like you love me.” Bakugou’s cheeks flamed at your sudden confidence, but he took a step forward so that your bodies were almost touching.

“I love you Y/N.” And with that, a wide grin spread across your face. Your arms wrapped themselves around the blonde’s neck and you leaned into him, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss. It was slow in pace but fierce in passion as he grew more comfortable, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you closer so that you were flush against his chest. Breathless and red in the face, Bakugou finally pulls back to see your ecstatic face. “Oi, what’s with the face?” He says, flustered.

“Nothing,” you say, going into your bathroom with a little towelette. He raises his eyebrows. “I told you before, a cold compress works wonders for the inevitable eye bags that you will have in the morning, and this is the perfect size.” He huffs in amusement and plucks the towelette from your hands. “Plus, you’ll have to return it to me. It gives you another excuse to hang out with me.” Bakugou finally earns a little confidence and his trademarked smirk spreads across his face.

“I don’t need an excuse to hang out with you. You’ll need my help again on the homework.”

“Always the charmer,” you quip, walking with him so that he was standing in the hallway and you in the doorway. “See ya tomorrow,” you smile, pecking him on the lips.

“See ya, Y/N.” His blush was still prevalent, but his eyebrows narrowed and a scowl replaced the smirk. “And throw out those mechanical pencils, they’re absolute shit.”

“Anything for you, Lover!” You joke, closing the door. Lover, he thinks. He can get used to a nickname like that.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 30: Waiting

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Some comic relief. Kung Lao and Liu Kang have an adult-ish conversation before it turns into a much less mature conversation. Mostly about you. About some other stuff too. Sure hope that no one overheard it or anything.

A/N: Some humor to break up those last few chapters. Saturday is the chapter with the choice at the end then my posting schedule has to swap around a bit, will probably be Monday and Friday? One for Liu one for Lao? That cool?

Part 29 Part 31 Chapter Index

Liu Kang changed his bandages while seated on the floor of his room with his door open. Kung Lao leaned against the frame of the door with his arms folded across his chest. Liu turned his attention to his brother and offered a weary smile. Kung Lao had been checking on you for them both since Chen had sent them away. Liu had suggested that they wait patiently but even he’d had a difficult time not worrying about you. When Kung Lao had told him where to shove that idea, he’d relented. Liu had been the one to care for you when you’d first arrived. He wanted to be the one to care for you now.

Raiden had said something about them both becoming too attached.

Liu hadn’t argued even if he thought that was a ridiculous reason to keep their distance.

“Have you heard anything yet?”

“That woman taking care of Y/N turned me away again and this time she was mean.” The annoyance in Kung Lao’s voice was completely unjustified. His vendetta against the people working in the infirmary was extremely silly. But Kung Lao wouldn’t talk about it and Liu Kang couldn’t make him.

“She needs taking care of, Lao.”

“Yeah, which I am perfectly capable of doing.”

“You are not qualified.” Liu chuckled as he finished wrapping up his arm. It had healed as well as could be expected over the last few days. It would take a few weeks to be back to normal, but he was prepared for the climb. “You don’t even take of yourself when you need it.

“Only because they make me go to the infirmary every time. They don’t trust me to do it alone.”

“Because you don’t do it.” Liu stood and dusted himself off. “When was the last time that you checked your bandages or your wounds? Are you even bothering with them anymore?”

“No, because they’re fine.”

“I think I just made my point. Everyone’s point.”

“You get to take care of your wounds. Why do I have to go to the infirmary to do it?”

“Because I’m qualified. And I actually do it.” He threw away the old bandages.

Kung Lao grumbled and then tilted the door closed behind him before leaning against the nearby wall. Liu sat on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh. He was listless. Doing nothing and waiting patiently was part of what they did in Raiden’s Temple, but it didn’t mean that he was content to do it. While he composed himself better than Kung Lao, he was just as worried and frustrated by the lack of control he had.

“I’m going to sneak in through her window. She can’t stop me from there. I’ll fall to my death. She doesn’t want to be responsible for that.”

“That’s a terrible idea. One of your worst.” Liu laughed in disbelief at his brother. “Sure, you’ll get in, but she’ll kick you right out after. Not to mention that you’re going to terrify the poor woman. And Y/N’s bed is right beneath the window. You could hurt her.”

“I could just use my hat.” He tapped the brim.

“Same results, Lao.” Liu rested his elbow on his knee and ran his fingers through his hair. “Chen is good at what she does. Y/N is in capable hands.”

Kung Lao took a seat next to him with a frustrated huff. They sat in tense silence.

“How is your arm doing, anyway?”

“It’s healing fine. Stitches will be coming out soon.” Liu patted the bandage on his left arm. He had a relatively high pain tolerance, and he wasn’t the type to complain. It’d hurt like a son of a bitch when the ink had sliced through his flesh, but he’d been more worried about you in the moment. “No more fever which has helped tremendously.”

“I hear that.” Kung Lao was staring wide-eyed in front of him. He had so little patience, which was something Liu usually gave him hell for, but in this situation, he was right there alongside him. They sat in silence again, a frequent occurrence over the past few days. So much had happened since they had last had a chance to speak and neither one of them seemed willing to talk about it. They’d spent plenty of time together waiting for you to wake up, but it had mostly been in frustrated silence.

“Did she tell you?” Lao didn’t turn his wide-eyed gaze away from the floor.

“Tell me what?

“That we kissed.” Kung Lao clasped his hands together in front of him and tapped his fingers nervously against his other hand. Liu Kang heaved a sigh and tried not to let it bother him, but he was sure that his silence said more than enough. He shouldn’t have been surprised.

“No, she didn’t. But I suspected as much after how she behaved in Huangshan. You had her all mixed up.” Liu tapped his foot and then let go of his frustration with a breath. He had gotten into his head that you were his Y/N. This wasn’t easy to talk about for either of them. “I think she was afraid to tell me. Afraid of how I’d react.” Rationalizing it had been enough to wipe the remaining frustration completely away. “She carries more guilt than she lets on, I think.”

“Funny that you put it that way because she didn’t seem to have a problem telling me that she’d kissed you.”

Was Kung Lao trying to get on his nerves? He did that sometimes, but Liu had gotten good at navigating his way around it. He laughed under his breath and Kung Lao seemed genuinely surprised not to have annoyed him.

“You have known her since you were nine, Kung Lao. You have a connection that is deeply rooted in your childhood. It’s nothing like the one I have with her. It is worlds apart.”

“Wow, I don’t think that I’ve heard that kind of jealousy from you since we were teenagers.” Kung Lao smirked. Liu tapped his foot and heaved another sigh. It wasn’t the connection that had caused his renewed frustration. This had gone on for too long.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore.” Liu frowned. “I can’t get it out of my head. I want out of the bet. I never felt good about it to begin with, Kung Lao. It’s making me act differently. I don’t want any part of it.”

“So, you’re chickening out, huh?”

Liu rolled his eyes.

“Why are you doing this, Lao?”

“What kind of question is that? Did I not explain the bet to you?”

“Are you sabotaging any chance you might actually have with someone you care about?” Liu watched Kung Lao instantly stiffen up and knew he’d hit the nail right on the head. “When I was brought to the temple and we became family, you spoke of Y/N so fondly. Now she’s here and you’re willing to risk any relationship that you have rebuilt with her so that you don’t have to do a few chores? It’s absurd, Lao. You don’t think she’s going to be upset? Feel gross about it? Because I feel gross about it.”

Kung Lao clenched his jaw and stopped tapping his foot and fingers and stared at the floor again instead. Liu waited patiently and rotated his left shoulder, feeling the stinging in his arm and the pain that radiated down to his fingertips. He would focus on stretching his muscles until Kung Lao was done arguing in his head. He did that sometimes, especially when he was arguing with Liu. This wasn’t the first time that he’d told Kung Lao a harsh truth and it wouldn’t be the last. Kung Lao had done the same for him, but it had been less necessary over the years. Liu Kang was the type who saw his shortcomings before others did.

“I really hate when you call me out on my bullshit.” Kung Lao finally chuckled.

“Call it what you will, Lao. If you won’t let me back out of the bet, then I forfeit. I’ll do your chores. I don’t care. I stand by what I said when you first suggested it. I don’t want to bet on someone else’s feelings. Let her feel what she feels authentically so that I can feel what I feel authentically.” He mussed up his hair in annoyance.

“It’s fine.” Kung Lao deflated next to him. It was comical. His posture had completely changed. “Honestly, I felt pretty terrible about it by the end of our trip to Japan. Like I was… manipulating her. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I thought it was a harmless and fun thing but you’re probably right. I’m purposely… screwing it up.” Kung Lao unclasped his hands and stood then dragged the chair from Liu’s desk and sat on it backwards. He couldn’t seem to sit still since you had fallen unconscious. Liu had struggled with that too, but he’d always had an easier time focusing than Kung Lao had. “The bet’s off. I’ll tell her about it, I guess. I don’t want to feel like I’m hiding anything anymore.”

“Is that so?” Liu smiled, feeling a little relief. “Not going to make me do your chores?”

“Not over this at least. I’ll weasel out of them some other way, I’m sure.” Kung Lao grinned. He seemed like himself for the first time in days. Maybe it really had been weighing on him as heavily as it had been weighing on Liu.

“Does that mean I was right? Self-sabotage?”

“Ugh, can you not rub it in? Just for once?”

“Not a chance.” Liu Kang laughed, and Kung Lao leaned his arms on the back of the chair then rested his chin on them with a heavy sigh. Whatever happened, he knew that they would be okay. They’d broken the dam when it came to talking about it, which felt nice if not a little daunting. At some point, he had gotten nervous to bring it up again. He didn’t want to hurt Kung Lao, but he couldn’t give up on you either even if he couldn’t get it out of his head that it was selfish for him not to.

“So, she kissed you again, huh?” Kung Lao diverted attention away from his emotions, something he did very frequently. Funny enough, Liu thought that you did the same thing. You were similar in many ways. “…wait, you didn’t want to end the bet because you uh…” Kung Lao sat upright, and alert suddenly then made a motion with his hands that was rather crude. Liu Kang hesitated but then shook his head no. “You didn’t win and not tell me, did you?”

“Those weren’t the terms of the bet, remember? I would have never agreed if it had been.”

“That’s evasive, Liu.”

“I’m just saying that the conditions had to do with her choice and not any physical achievement, Kung Lao. We’re not stupid kids.”

“Wow, this is so incredibly defensive.” Kung Lao whispered in wonder.

“I dislike talking about this with you.” Liu Kang frowned. “Talking about her like this with you. It’s uncomfortable.”

“I hate it too!” Kung Lao laughed and threw his arms up in frustration then let them fall back over the chair dramatically. “Just… look, tell me if I lost. Tell me if I don’t stand a chance. I just want her to be happy.” He said this all with a grumble, as if it were like pulling teeth to say it. It was funny how uncomfortable he was with his emotions.

“That’s what I want too.” Liu Kang nodded to agree. “And I’m not the one to decide who wins or loses. And this isn’t a bet anymore.”

“No more bet.”

“The bet is off.” Liu Kang sighed with a relief. He wasn’t sure that Kung Lao was going to actually let it go. He was difficult to read. “That’s a huge relief.”

“Yeah, I mean… yes and no for me. You called me out and now I have to think about that.”

“Poor, poor Kung Lao. Having to think his own thoughts.”

“It’s a burden, really.”

“We have to tell her, Lao.”

“Yeah, I know. Can’t fix the self-sabotage thing if I don’t. And if you tell her and I don’t then that makes me look bad and we… we all know you and honesty, for the most part.”

“I can lie when I need to but I’m not going to lie about this.” Liu folded his arms over his chest. They sat in awkward silence again. There were plenty of things that they should have talked about, but it still felt weird to. Usually, they would have joked about this kind of thing and had the other to confide in, but they were both worried about hurting the other’s feelings and dashing their hopes.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Hmm?” Hadn’t he? He didn’t remember not answering Kung Lao.

“I asked if you two… you know.”

“Can you not say the words, Kung Lao? Are you not an adult?”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to picture you two doing that.” Kung Lao stuck his tongue out and then shook his head as if to dismiss the mental image. “But did you?”

“No. I thought I told you no.” Liu had hesitated again. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to on your trip. No, he had wanted to, but he had thought about that stupid bet and how much it could potentially hurt you to have done that and then found out there had been stakes attached to your emotions. He’d pulled himself back because of it more than once while you were in Huangshan.

“How am I supposed to interpret that, Liu?” Kung Lao was laughing, at least. Liu Kang hung his head and Kung Lao only laughed harder.

“Look, she had a nightmare, so I let her sleep in my bed.”

“I’m sort of disappointed that you didn’t get laid at the end of this story.”

“It was your stupid bet that ruined it.” Liu chuckled but he could feel his face turning red.

“What, did you wake up with a half chub or something?” Kung Lao was teasing him, but he’d gotten to the end of the story before Liu had found a less crude way to tell it and Liu covered his face in embarrassment. Kung Lao was wheezing with laughter. “Liu! You didn’t!”

“In my defense, I was having a nice dream and she was right there in my arms and…”

“Wow, Liu. That’s more me than you.”

“I’m only human, Kung Lao.”

“Just, wow.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Liu pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. His face was still burning but it felt nice to laugh about it with Kung Lao. He hadn’t talked to you about it because that felt like opening a floodgate and he’d needed to end this stupid bet first. Plus, it was kind of a difficult conversation to start. It was easier just to make a move.

“Did she… notice… or?”

“…I hate that you guessed so accurately. I never would have told you outright.”

“It’s amazing.” Kung Lao smacked the back of the chair in glee. “So?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she noticed, Kung Lao.” Liu Kang hung his head again, hands on his knees. Kung Lao was practically choking to death with how hard he was laughing at him. “You could try to enjoy my misfortune a little less.”

“This is the funniest thing that has happened in weeks, Liu Kang.” He wiped a tear away and tried to regain his breath. “Why didn’t you just go for it? I would have gone for it. Wouldn’t have given it a second thought.”

“Well, I’m not you. All I could think about was how hurt she would be if we did that and then found out about the stupid bet. And she had been so frightened after her nightmare. I played it off the best that I could given the circumstances.” Liu was laughing now too. He couldn’t help it. It was funny. And it felt good to laugh after having done nothing but worry and stress for three days.

“You know what, Liu? You are a much better man than I am sometimes.” Kung Lao wiped his eyes and regained his composure. “I never would have let that opportunity pass.”

“I know. I had no intention of telling you the truth either.”

“I’m glad you did. I needed a good laugh.”

“At my expense, of course.”

“Of course.”

Silence fell again, but it was at least less awkward. Liu supposed if that came at his expense than he was okay with it.

“What do we do now?” Liu sighed. Kung Lao was avoiding his eyes again.

“I don’t think it’s really up to us what happens next with that.”

“Yeah.” Liu nodded to agree. “…no hard feelings no matter what happens, right?”

“Not going to be that simple, I think.”

“Of course not, Kung Lao. But above all things, you are my brother.”

“Yes. Nothing will change that. It might just be weird while we figure it out.”

“Yeah, probably.” Liu didn’t have much else to say on the matter. Silence again. While he felt relieved that they’d cleared the air and sorted things out, it still weighed heavily on them both.

“…I’m going to check on her again.” Kung Lao stood and stretched his arms before nodding toward the door. “Want to come with me? Might overwhelm her.”

“No, I don’t need to see you harassing that poor woman again. She said that she’d tell us when Y/N wakes up.”

“I don’t believe her, Liu.”

“You have made that abundantly clear.” Liu Kang smiled, and Kung Lao bowed his head to say goodbye. “If I hear any jokes at my expense throughout the rest of the temple, Kung Lao, you will be sorry.”

“My lips are sealed, Liu.” Kung Lao chuckled again under his breath and then left Liu Kang alone with his thoughts.

[darling-i-read-it]

Savoureux

1x13

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, jail, angst

Author’s Note: I am super super happy with how this whole season turned out. I might take a few days break of posting to simulate a very small season hiatus but I absolutely adored this and I’m so excited to do more. I think this stuff is some of the stuff that I was most proud of. And y’all...I love will graham (and hannibal lecter which is gonna show more hopefully in season 2!) 

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine. 

Official Episode Summary : The BAU team finds evidence linking Abigail to the Minnesota Shrike victims; Will checks Abigail out of the hospital; Hannibal convinces Jack that Will is capable of murder.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll​

(not my gif) 

You stepped into your home. You had spent the whole afternoon, much into the night trying to contact Will who hadn’t picked up his phone. You had been dragged along by Hannibal Lecter as you continued to complain about how Will had not done the things he had said. You dragged your feet and faced the wall as you kicked off your shoes. You would have no sleep tonight. You would be forced to sit at home, think about where Will had gone. 

Will hadn’t ever gone anywhere without telling you if he knew it was going to worry you. He would leave a note, a call, a text. You were forced to wonder where he had gone. Why he hadn’t told you where he had gone. You let out a shaky sigh and held back tears as you turned to the dogs who gathered at your feet. You turned around and pet them. You finally let a few tears escape your eyes as you sat down on the ground and let the dogs run you over. 

“Where’s dad?” you whispered to Winston. He licked your face and you laughed lightly nodding. “I don’t know where either.” 

You stood up and walked through the house, ready to get in bed and not go to sleep. 

You entered the bedroom and almost didn’t even notice Will in bed, fast asleep. You actually walked past him at first and then stopped, turning to the bed and staring down at him. You let out a gasp and a small sob escaped your lips.

Safe. 

He was safe.

You walked to the bed and sat on the ground beside him, not on the bed but instead the ground where you could stare at Will’s face. Peaceful. You wondered when the last time you saw him look peaceful was. 

You stared at him and had a decision to make. You could call Jack or Hannibal, tell them that he was at home and without blood stains from the looks of it. You could sit here a moment more and think. Or you could simply get in bed and go to sleep beside the man you loved. You could go pretend nothing was wrong. 

Tears were soundlessly streaming down your face. You wanted to play with his curls and laugh at him and make fun of each other as you attempt to make food carelessly. You didn’t want to make this decision. 

Will shook and you wiped your eyes quickly. He looked up at the ceiling and his eyes locked on yours. The peace was broken into panic and the moment was gone. 

You stared at each other and he stood up, running into the kitchen. You stayed on the ground for a moment, wishing you could have savored the moment a second longer. Then you got up and walked over to the kitchen where Will was leaning over the sink. Your bare feet patted over to the sink. 

In it was a bloody ear that Will had just thrown up. You let out a shaky breath and Will looked over at you, fear in his eyes. 

Will had never once seen you afraid of him. He had seen you afraid for him but never afraid of him. For a second he saw the fear in your eyes and he wasn’t sure if it was for him or of him.

“Where did you go?” you whispered. He shook his head and you met his eyes again. Terror in his eyes. You had asked the wrong question. “I was scared.”

“I am too.” 

You hugged him tightly and he held you closer than he ever had before.

“I don’t know if this is going to be okay,” you whispered. He whimpered very quietly. 

“I love you,” he promised. “I’ve always and always will love you.” You nodded and shut your eyes tightly. 

“I’ll always love you too,” you whispered. “Always.” 

You pulled away. 

“Let’s call Hannibal.” 

-

When Jack arrived at your home you didn’t recognize it. Jack was such a separate entity from your home. The comforting place, the dogs, Will, a home. That wasn’t what Jack was to you. 

You stared at the house. Crime scene tape over the porch you and Will would drink beer and swap stories on. Strangers in the bedroom you slept in. You looked over at Jack who was holding Will hostage with words.

“They’re going to take him away,” you whispered numbly. Hannibal nodded.

“Yes.”

You walked over as Will got into the back of a cop car. You smiled very weakly at him, stopping the door from being shut. One of the dogs sat at your foot and looked at him.

“I’m not going to tell you it’s going to be okay,” you whispered.

“Just be here. With the dogs.” Someone shut the door harshly and the car was gone way before you were prepared for it to be gone. Hannibal stood behind you and you turned, throwing your arms around him so that Jack wouldn’t see you sob. Hannibal held you tightly, watching Will leave his home. 

After a moment you pulled away from him and turned to Jack.

“You swore to me he wouldn’t get too close!” you yelled, so loud that people could likely hear you in the house. You pointed a finger at him and Hannibal grabbed your arms before you could fight Jack. “You swore!” 

“I told him-”

“Stop talking. You could see he was breaking!” you screamed. 

“Yes, I could,” Jack said simply. “And I kept pushing him because he was saving lives.” You broke free of Hannibal’s grasp and poked him in the chest, staring at him directly in the eyes. Your eyes were crazed and sad and heartbroken and above all, dangerous. 

“I told you he was breaking. Now Abigail Hobbs is dead,” you sneered. Your heart wasn’t able to comprehend that just yet. 

“You think he did it?” Jack asked.

“I know he didn’t,” you promised. “But for the sake of proving you wrong, as I have constantly, Abigail Hobbs is dead because someone messed up. And that someone is not Will or Freddie Lounds or Hannibal or Alana. That someone, Jack, is you.” 

Hannibal pulled you away. You turned to him. 

“You,” you whispered, weak now. “I sent Will to you for help and he seemed to simply get worse.” 

“I thought I was helping him. I don’t know yet where I went wrong,” he whispered. “This is going to be a long process if he is arrested. You have to realize, perhaps not now but eventually that Will killed people even if he didn’t mean to.” You shook your head.

“I know he didn’t.” 

“Either way,” he started and held you by your upper arms, “you’re going to need support through this. You said yourself Will was all you had before.” You stared at him, holding it together the best you could. He was right. You hated it. But he was right.

You didn’t say anything. Instead you just hugged him again.

-

The next day you walked into the headquarters of the BAU. Hannibal walked with you. You had managed to keep yourself together as you walked in. Hannibal stood closely beside you as you walked into his office.

“I’m going to talk to Will,” you stated.

“After the last time we spoke you think I’m going to allow you-”

“I am going to talk to Will,” you said again. Jack looked to Hannibal who somehow was still a valid perspective in his mind. 

“Will it help or harm?” Jack asked Hannibal as though you weren’t there. Hannibal shrugged.

“I will be seeing him. Alana, you, presumably Chilton,” Hannibal said. “It seems unreasonably cruel to not allow her to see him especially before you’ve arrested him simply because you dislike her,” he said. Jack stared at you and you stared back, adjusting your posture to not seem nervous when you in fact were. You hated that the viewing of your boyfriend was going to be held in the hands of a man who you hated vocally. 

“Five minutes,” Jack said. “No more.” You nodded stiffly and Jack led you to the room where Will was being held. You stared through the two way mirror as he stared at the wall. The wrongness of it made you shiver. Jack opened the door and Will turned around. He let out a gasp of almost relief at the sight of you. You walked over to him and hugged him tightly. 

Someone hit the two way mirror. You moved back. 

You sat down carefully at the chair across from him.

“This seems much too formal for us,” he said quietly.

“I don’t think we ever ate dinner at a table this formal,” you said quietly and you both shared a sad smile at what might have been and what had been. “I will be showing the dogs a picture of you every day for...however long,” you whispered.

“However long could be a long time from now.” You pursed your lips at the realization.

“I’ll do it until then,” you promised. Will stared at you.

“Do you...think I did it?” he asked. You shook your head quickly. There was no part of Will Graham that made you feel unsafe. 

“No. You couldn’t have. I know that.”

“Ted Bundy’s girlfriend didn’t think he was a murderer until he was,” he told you.

“Actually she suspected. I have never suspected,” you promised. 

“Has Jack tried to convince you otherwise?” he asked. You laughed dryly. 

“Jack could show me a dead body in our crawl space and I would think he was making it up. That man has never been someone I trusted,” you promised. “Plus, I might get to join you if I decide to go through my plan of killing Jack.” Will raised an eyebrow.

“What about the dogs?” 

“You’re right,” you whispered. “I’m going to try and see you as soon as I can.” He nodded.

“I don’t want you to be particular about it. I want you to live your life,” he whispered. You shook your head.

“You’re my life.” 

The door opened and you looked over, fighting tears again. 

“Be safe,” he whispered. You stood up and walked to the door, holding yourself together by only a string. “And Y/N?” You turned around and Will looked at you, up and down, taking you in.

“Yes?” 

“Don’t forget to turn off my work alarm,” he whispered. You nodded stiffly and Hannibal helped you out of the room. You were okay until you got in the car where you immediately broke down crying.

-

You didn’t go home, it was still a crime scene. You went to Hannibal’s home, sitting on his couch and staring out the window. He walked up to you and sat down beside you.

“Jack has just called me,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” Your voice held no emotion. It was odd for Hannibal to hear. He was so used to emotion to lace your voice. Sometimes excitement, fear, happiness, worry, boredom. You were such an outward emotional person. Even when he walked into the office you would tell him the day's appointments with a smile and chirp.

“They have found victims' hair and teeth in the fish hooks,” he said. You shook your head. “And Jack has just arrested him.”

Your mouth opened and for a moment no words came out. Hannibal waited patiently.

“I passed those fish hooks every single day,” you whispered. “Going to work. Coming home. Going on a date, stumbling inside drunk and happy.” You turned to face Hannibal. “And I watched him work. I would sit on one of the chairs and pretend to read when Will and I both knew I was watching his fingers move.” Hannibal watched your eyes rewatch that memory. “There was no hair or teeth in those fish hooks when Will worked on it.” 

“The evidence speaks otherwise,” he told you quietly. 

“And yet I will refuse to believe it,” you said. Your smile was almost eerie. Hannibal was so curious about this part of you. Almost a numb anger.

“Go home,” he whispered. 

“It’ll only make it worse,” you muttered. 

You hugged him and he hugged you and for a moment Hannibal was the only anchor you had to the world. You felt like without him you could fly away immediately and die somewhere. Hannibal held you like he knew that was what you were thinking.

You pulled away and for a moment, as you felt numb, you stared at Hannibal’s face differently.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He put his hand on your face and you let him. Before he could do anything further you stood up. Home. Go home.

-

The house was empty. Despite the dogs it was empty.

You sat on the bed and stared at the pillow you never touched. Do you wash it? Will used to sweat on it so you had to wash it often but now did you have to? Should you? 

The blanket that you had bought for Christmas for his nightmares seemed so useless now. 

You turned around and grabbed the pillow and held it tightly, gasping. 

The front door clicked open. You turned your head and your emotions went back to static as you stood up, putting the pillow on the bed. You walked into the main room and then there was Will, in orange, but there. You walked over to him quickly and sobbed into his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, sobbing loudly. 

“I’m going to Minnesota with Hannibal,” he whispered. “But I had to come to you first.” You pulled away and he wiped your eyes for you. He pet the dogs one by one as you continued to cry. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.” 

“Soon,” you told him. “I’ll get you back soon,” you promised. 

“How are you going to do that?” he asked. 

“I have no idea. Somehow.” He got up from petting the dogs and turned to you, tear stained face. 

“Someone is framing me. I don’t know who. I think maybe Hannibal,” he whispered. “But I want you to know that outside of that prison. The copycat killer.”

“You think Hobbs copycat is Hannibal?” 

“I don’t know yet. Minnesota will tell me,” he promised. You walked over to him, hugging him again. 

“I’ll never stop trying to get you out,” you whispered. He nodded, laughing dryly a bit.

“I know.” He kissed your forehead shakily and you grabbed his hand. 

“Stop shaking,” you whispered. “I always wanted to tell you that. You shake a lot when you’re not sure what’s going to happen and I always wanted to tell you to stop shaking.” For a moment, very brief, he was still.

“I’ll try.” 

-

You held your phone tightly to your ear as you sat on the porch, alone once again. Alana picked up after two rings.

“Hi.” Her voice seemed wrong, hesitant. You took a shaky breath in and released a laugh.

“You think he did it.” She let out a sigh herself.

“I don’t know what I think. The evidence is all there Y/N.” You shook your head.

“And you know Will,” you whispered. “And you have to know that there is no way in hell that he did this.” You were pleading now. She was silent and that was answer enough.

“I’m sorry.” 

You hung up the phone and stared at the barren land of the house that you alone were going to brave. You and the only ally you had left. Unfortunately that was Hannibal Lecter. 

-

The next time you saw Will Graham he was in an induced sleep in the hospital. Hannibal  sat at the side of his bed and you stood at the edge. Jack had yet to come and kick you out so you just sat with Hannibal and Will. Jack had also shot Will in the shoulder which he would surely get an earful about later. 

“Hannibal?” you whispered. He nodded.

“Yes?”

“The last time I talked to Abigail she told me you loved me and Will,” you said very quietly. Your voice went out for a moment while you spoke. He smiled a tad.

“Abigail was always eccentric.”

“No, she was a teenager. Although I suppose she was wrong.” Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“She wasn’t. I truly care a lot about you and Will. I wouldn't’ go as far as saying that I was in love with you two,” he told you. You looked down at Will and thought about his words.

“What happened in Minnesota?” 

“Will had a breakdown,” he said simply. You wondered what Will had found out. You wondered if he would ever be able to tell you.

“I’m not going to let him stay in there,” you said quietly. 

“No?”

“And I would like your help but if I don’t get it then that’s simply how we’re going to have to split ways,” you whispered. Hannibal smiled very subtly. That was ruthless of you. You, while caring about him, were willing to do anything to get Will back.

You and Hannibal stared at each other. He realized that you and him were not all that different. There was a piece of you that perhaps was capable of murder. You were not just his secretary who took calls and made appointments. 

Your eyes stared at Hannibal’s and his stared back. Will laid between you. That was when Hannibal Lecter noticed that you were not an obstacle to get to Will Graham or an obstacle at all. 

You were a piece of Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. 

2x01

[silvadraconis]

Choking Fears

A one shot between Silva and Dantes, and about avoiding nightmares

(Tagging @panyum )

"Accomplice" A short call as a figure rises up out of the shadows at their feet "Ah. he's looking for me. right" Dantes only ever called Silva Accomplice, they were both his master, but the name of Accomplice was given to Silva alone Just as she was the only one allowed to call him Edmond Her and Guada swap places, having retired to their room after a bout of training in the sim. She takes a bit of a breath and faces the aforementioned Count who's looking at her with an impassive gaze She gives a bit of a sheepish wave "Hello, you called for me?" she had a feeling she knew what this was about, though she hoped she was wrong

A subtle shift of his form as he fully comes out of the shadows, before taking a seat in a chair and crossing his legs "May I ask where you've been lately?" "Oh crap, this is not about the training, fuckkk" she had assumed he was here to chastise her and Guada for being reckless in the sim today, tackling enemies on their own as Silva gave Guada advice But turns out she was quite wrong on that account She gives him a confused look that's almost perfectly done "What do you mean, I'm kinda stuck to Guada I'm usually not too far away" she chuckles a bit He gives her a knowing look "You know very well that's not what I meant. You haven't been sleeping lately, and even I can't seem to track you down, where have you been going?" He'd never admit it, but it bothered him that she was harder to find than Guada when she decided to go wandering off, something about the way her soul was tied to his other masters that made things difficult. Not that he was that worried about her in the grand scheme of things(he lied to himself). He knew she was fully capable as she continued to remind him She huffs a sigh and sits on the bed, looking so very different in posture from Guada despite it being the same body. At least he never had any issues in telling them apart like that, they were both so very distinctive in the way they moved and acted. "Edmond, I don't exactly need to sleep, and I'm a ghost, I'm fine I assure you" He narrows his eyes at her a bit She's deflecting, as she often tries to do when he confronts her at first with these sorts of things, convinced she's some sort of burden still He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them and regarding her with a piercing gaze that causes her to shift slightly "Hmph, and how many times have we talked about how despite being a ghost rest is needed?" She rubs the back of her neck, a tic that gives her away despite her trying to deflect "I mean, yes, but-" He asks her bluntly "How bad have they been as of late? They must be hounding you quite severely to cause you to avoid sleep to such a degree" He's seen the horrid nightmares that plague her mind, the terrible memories that filled his blackened rage filled heart to the brim with hate for those who did this to her If it wasn't for the fact that the world was currently burnt to ash, he'd have already done something about the people responsible for such atrocities She stills, going into that unnatural silence as a reflex. He waits patiently for her to answer, knowing that pressing her is not the way to get her to talk usually After a few moment she finds her speaking voice again and answers quietly "It's not those ones that are, bad recently." she looks to the ground in embarrassment Ah. that would explain why she'd been avoiding him in particular then. He sighs a bit "Silva, it matters not the hell I drag you out of, I promised you I'd come when you called. You're my accomplice, and I won't abandon you in any hell, be they real or ones of your own making" She rubs the back of her neck again, curling in on herself a bit "Edmond I, it's not fair to you though. I'm constantly having nightmares as it is, and those one are…" "Are what? Nothing more than shadows and fabricated hells, you've made it through them before, and I would never leave you to traverse such hells alone, be they real or imagined" She looks at him now, brown eyes piercing straight back "I know you won't! That's what I mean! You deserve rest too! You're constantly saving me from my nightmares, and those ones in particular are so hard to drag me out of, it's not right!" His eyes flash back with some of that rage, not at her but at her situation "Are you saying it's right then to let you deal with them alone? We're partners Silva. No one deserves to face such hells alone" She rubs her arms and looks at the ground Finally some of her walls are starting to crack, and he can feel her through the bond again Worry, care, concern, and behind it all, the sticky cloying feeling of fear coating everything Suddenly he there instead of the chair, sitting behind her, and wrapping her in his cloak

For reasons that he initially couldn't fathom, she felt safe with him, despite who and what he was. He's seen his masters charge at wild manticors and spriggans, face down impossible odds without so much as a trickle of fear, and if there was they pushed past it just the same. But this cloying fear was stopping his Accomplice in her tracks, preventing her from resting, from relying on him like she used to She starts in surprise at him suddenly being behind her "Edmond! Hey what are you doing?! I'm fine its just-" Her voice dies in her throat as he looks at her, with eyes demanding honesty and a soft smile He chuckles a bit "Kuhaha, you know Accomplice, your stubbornness is as much a virtue as it is a detriment sometimes. But you know that I too share in the same determination. So what is it that has you so fearful? What is it that keeps you from calling out to me and resting like you should?" He suspects the answer already, but he wants to hear it from her. If she truly wanted to keep hiding it he wouldn't press her She looks to the ground again, avoiding his gaze Her will is crumbling though as he holds her steadfast, and finally after a long moment she sighs "It terrifies me, those nightmares. Moreso than the regular ones, there's something about that place that, clings to me" She shivers a bit in his grip, and he tightens his hold on her "I get, worried, that...maybe this time will be the time I wont find my way out" He tilts her head with his hand gently, getting her to look at him "My beloved Accomplice, are you saying you don't trust me to find you?" "N-no that's not! Shadow I'm not saying-" she tries to backpedal but fails to do so He smiles, his sharp teeth glinting as he looks at her "Kuhaha, then surely there is nothing to fear? There is nothing wrong with being afraid, but allowing such fear to consume you helps nothing. Nomatter what prison your soul falls into my Accomplice, I swear I will find you. Do you trust me to find you? Do you trust in me to wait for me?" She sighs and leans into him "Of course I do Edmond but, that's part of the problem. You help me so much, I want you to get some rest too" He sighs and pulls off his hat, plopping it on her head "Hmph, well, I'd certainly be getting more rest if I wasn't concerned with finding where exactly you go off too, even Robin Hood couldn't find you these past few nights." He had gone to Robin when he failed to find her, him seeming to have a knack at tracking her down, but even he had been coming up empty handed "Ah. That, I-" she flushes a bit in embarrassment, not having considered that fact at all He chuckles again, sensing that he had swiftly flattened her arguments in one fell blow "Kuhaha, so, will you stop hiding away now? Else I'll be forced to bring in reinforcements, including a certain detective, as much as I am loath to give him the satisfaction of solving this mystery" She blanches at that a bit. She knows damn well Sherlock could sus out where she went, cause of freakin course he could She tries to rally herself and offers a counter argument "What if I just tell you where I am? That'd solve both problems yeah?" He looks at her flatly "No. You need rest. Would you prefer I go and find Hektor to get him to convince you along with me?" She looks at him in protest "Hey! Now you're just trying to gang up on me!" "Kuhahaha, if it takes an army to force your stubbornness to listen than an army I shall raise my Accomplice" He tightens his hold on her, looking at her with a smile and eyes full of that determined gleam She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder "Fine, I surrender. But only cause you and everyone else in this damned Chaldea are stubborn as hell too" He chuckles "As I expected from my beloved Accomplice, you know how to pick your battles. Now then, where is it that you're going off to?" She gets a cheeky grin of her own "Nuh uh, that's my secret to keep, I'll rest don't worry. But I'm keeping my hidey hold for future use" He frowns as he looks at her, then sighs, realizing that while he may have won this battle he may have lost the war on this one She chuckles in victory and he looks at her with a wide grin, his eyes getting the slightest trickle of flames "Kuhahah! So be it then my Accomplice! Next time you decide to use such a place I'll find you even then!" She grins and laughs with him "We'll just have to see won't we my Shadow?" He grins widely and plucks his hat off of her head, putting it back on "Kuhaha, see we shall. There's not a prison or place I cannot break into. I have followed you into the depths of hell and the void itself, I will surely find you next time!"

[cancerbiophd]

Hi Julia, I’m about to do my first ever undergrad scientific research lab and I’m going to have discussion with my supervisor about the research via Microsoft teams instead of the normal meeting in his office due to the COVID-19 and I’m very awkward when it comes to communicating over the phone let alone via video calls. What should I do? I don’t want to give bad impression of me and he thinks that am damn or something.

Hey there! Congrats on starting your undergrad research journey! 

And I totally feel ya when it comes to feeling anxious and awkward about webcam or phone communications, and your feelings of discomfort are totally valid. So much of our communication may rely in part on non-verbal cues, and it’s really hard or impossible to convey that via webcam and the phone. Also, many of us are simply just not used to communicating regularly through these means, especially in professional/school settings, so there’s a learning curve. 

A quick note about your first meeting: It’ll be very introductory, and your supervisor will probably do most of the talking as it’s their chance to teach you about the research, and show you where your role will be. So all you have to do is just listen, jot down any notes and questions you may have, and take it all in! I know it may feel overwhelming at first, but know that your supervisor does not expect you to become an expert on everything the lab overnight and will understand how to take everything one step at a time. And if you’re confused about something or need help, please ask questions. Asking questions shows you care about the research and your own growth in the lab. Your voice is important and you deserve to be heard, and any questions you have are valid. Remember: there is no such thing as a stupid question when you’re asking it to genuinely learn!

Now, onto your question--I don’t think I’m a pro at this, but these are some things regarding online meetings/phone calls that have worked for me:

Test out the app and set everything up beforehand. This eliminates any anxiety I may have about technical problems when the meeting starts. I make sure to download the application at lease a few hours before my meeting to ensure ample time for any misc things, like necessary restarts, account set-up, etc. I also will take a few moments to familiarize myself with the app buttons and functions (especially where the mute and camera-off buttons are!), set up my webcam, and take into consideration the angle, lighting (it’s best to have lighting in front of us, not behind), my background (if we can’t control this, some apps have virtual backgrounds you can use or customize. I know Zoom does this, but I’ve never used Microsoft Teams), my posture*, etc. I also test my preferred mic (eg. normal computer mic or headphone-mic combo). As a cherry on top sometimes I enlist a friend or family member to do a test call with me to absolutely confirm everything is a-ok. *If you’re like me and sit in a spinny-office-chair and have a tendency to rotate from side to side when nervous, I try to swap out the chair for one that doesn’t spin during my meetings, as I know sometimes those movements can be really distracting to the other person. I did this for my PhD defense via Zoom and it worked well. 

On the day of, I maintain regular checks of my email just in case whoever I’m meeting with is running late, or needs to reschedule, etc. I’ve lost count of how many times my PI had to email me 5 min after our meeting time with “sorry! running late! be there soon”. If it’s 10 min past your meeting time and they haven’t shown, it is absolutely ok to send a quick email with: “I am currently in the online meeting room. Let me know if you can make it, or would like to reschedule. Thanks!” It happens. It’s so easy to miss online meetings because there’s no actual physical person showing up. 

There will be a lot of “Oh sorry, what were you saying?” or “Oh go on”. There may be moments when both of us will start talking at the same time (especially if it’s over the phone or the webcams are off) because we don’t have those natural body cues of initiating conversations anymore, and that’s ok, expected, and may happen a lot. There may also be moments where someone’s internet connection may cut off for a split second so a word is missed, or there’s a loud unexpected noise in the background, etc. Other phrases that are ok to say include: “Could you repeat that last part again, thank you”, “I didn’t quite catch that”, “If I understand correctly, ___”, “Ah ok, I see, so what you’re saying is ___”, etc. 

Related, it may also be very easy for one of us to just keep talking without pause for the other person to respond. When I’m speaking, I consciously try to remember to add, “Does that make sense?” or “Do you have any questions?” regularly in order to create a space for the other person to be a part of the conversation. If I’m a listener and am having trouble finding a good space to cut in, I either make note of my questions/comments and then go through them at the end (by starting with: “I have a few questions I’d like to ask”, so the other person knows I have more than one question and should probably not ramble on for too long on their answers), or I interrupt with an apology (I start by saying the speaker’s name, followed by: ”I’m sorry to interrupt but I just have a quick question/comment before we go on.”). I’ve seen the latter more and more during my work meetings, and everyone is very understanding and accepting of the situation and its necessity if you’re polite about it. 

Continue your natural body language movements as if you’re meeting in person. On top of it being hard for some of us to stop these (sometimes subconscious) movements, it does help us communicate even if the other person can’t see because it may come through in our tone, word choice, etc. Also I really like it when the person I’m talking to is nodding at the appropriate times to convey they understand (or at least are paying attention). 

Take notes during the meeting. This would still be important during in-person meetings because it’s crucial to remember what was discussed in case there’s info I need to remember, or action items for follow-up. It also shows I care and am invested in the research and what the other person has to say to me. 

Related, I may also have discussion points written down beforehand for anything I’d like to bring up during the meeting. This probably isn’t necessary for your first ever meeting (unless you do have some questions about the research, which are always good!), but may become more applicable in later meetings. 

Keep the meeting to the time slot allotted, unless otherwise specified. It’s very easy for online meetings/phone calls to run late, so unless all meeting participants are ok with the meeting running over, I try to be mindful of the clock and of the other person’s schedule. If there does need to be a time-extension, I ask first: “Do you mind if we keep going for __ more minutes? Or would you prefer we schedule another meeting later today/this week to keep discussion this?” And if the meeting is running late and I need to leave for a prior commitment, I  interject with, “I’m sorry to cut this short but I need to leave for another meeting/appointment.” Totally ok to do that too. 

It’ll take practice, and it’ll take time. Becoming comfortable with anything new will always have a learning curve attached to it, so give yourself time and patience and room to make mistakes, grow, and improve. We all have to start off as beginners before we can become experts :)

In case this also helps: How to get the most out of your undergrad lab experience (and a description of my own)

If anyone else has any tips they’ve found helpful for online meetings/phone calls, please feel free to reblog or reply! 

Good luck on your meeting and all your future research endeavors :) 

[turn-your-gaze-on-this-dumptruck]

His Past, His Present, His Future: Chapter 5 - Forgiveness

In which Germany has a talk with his brother, and he and Italy consider more forgotten memories.

Also, the last angsty chapter. From here on out, it’s fluff. XD

Ao3

Fanfiction.net

**************

Germany waited in the guest room in tense silence. His thoughts were moving far too quick for him to examine any of them as the phone rang once, twice, three times. Just as the fourth ring was about to finish, the phone was picked up.

“West! Tell me, why have you called your awesome brother?” Prusia greeted in German.

“When did you plan on telling me I was Holy Rome?” Germany was surprised by the steely sound of his own voice. The harshness.

There was a staticky silence.

“Who told you?” All senses of bravado were gone, replaced only with some emotion Germany was unable to place.

“Italy.”

“Of course he did. I thought I told him to keep it quiet.” Prussia spat.

“You what?” Germany’s voice was barely audible, dripping with malice. 

“Ludwig, you have understand. You were a child. How was I supposed to tell you then, huh? With all those wars going on… the last thing you needed was to hear that.”

“And now? Now that I’m all grown? When did you plan on telling me?”

“You’re only 148 years old, Ludwig, it’s a miracle you aren’t learning to walk right now.”

Germany splayed his hand on the surface of his bedside table. “I’m not a child!” He was surprised at his volume.

“Give me a break! It’s not like I’ve done this before!” Prussia said. “They don’t exactly make manuals for this kind of thing! What should I have done?!”

“You should have told me before I had to watch my best friend beat up France over my own death! My entire life changed in a span of a day! Do you even regret it?” Germany shouted.

“You think I don’t regret it now?!” Prussia bellowed.

Germany pulled the phone away from his ear.

“Not now that it’s my fault you’re so confused?” Prussia’s voice sounded unusually fragile. He sighed. “Ludwig, you are… the best thing that ever happened to me. At the time you came, I was alone, and… a little brother… you, my little brother. I had to raise you by myself. I’m the least qualified person to do that. But to see that you’ve grown up to be so good, so strong… better than me in every way not just as a country, but as a person? Ludwig, you are my greatest pride. I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t want you to lose that. Maybe once you had a stronger sense of self, maybe when you were stronger as a country. But I was scared. Totally un-awesome, huh?” Prussia declared in halfhearted humor.

  “Gilbert…” Germany sighed. He was taken aback by the surprising amount of honesty Gilbert was communicating. The two of them were never the kind of people who engaged in heart-to-heart conversations.  “God, I’m so tired. I’m just… confused. We can talk when I get back home.”

“Okay, West. I’ll be waiting. We’ll both clear our heads.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at home.”

“Bye. Oh, and West?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m proud of you. I don’t feel like I say that enough, but I am.”

A weak smile spread across Germany’s face. "That's unusually sappy."

Prussia gave a short chuckle. "Yeah, well I have to actually act like a big brother sometimes."

“I’m proud of you too, Gilbert.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take care of yourself, West.”

“See you at home, Gilbert.” He hung up the phone. He scrubbed a hand down his face. Touching as that moment was, he was still so confused. And outside the door of the guest room were all the answers he wanted. He paused for a moment before deciding that now was the time for comfy clothes. If there ever was time for them at… here he checked his watch… five p.m. in the evening, it was now. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open and he went into the hallway. Before he even entered the room, he heard Italy.

“How was it?”

“Why are you so nosy?” Germany asked, fully aware that he was attempting to deflect. He left the hall and got to the living room, rounding the couch and sitting down. Despite what he said, he freely gave an answer. “We’ll talk about it when I go home.”  

“Oh.” Italy nodded. “Will you be going home soon?”

Germany took a deep breath and sighed. “No. I’ll probably stay, if it’s okay with you. Home is the last place I want to be right now.”

Italy nodded again. There was a long pause in which both of their minds were reeling. “I know you probably have questions.” Italy finally admitted. “If you want, I can answer them the best that I can.”

“Okay.” There was another silence as Germany collected his thoughts. “Is this why you didn’t let me touch you yesterday? Because of what happened?”

“I… was conflicted.” Italy answered hesitantly. “On one hand I knew who you used to be. But you didn’t. For whatever reason, that scared me all over again. I usually don’t have a problem with that, of course, but figuring out that France did it… like I said, it opened an old wound for me and got those feelings back in my brain all over again.”

Germany nodded. “Does Japan know? About who I used to be?”

Italy shook his head. “I don’t think so. He was so far away from the action at the time… he was never really involved with the 30 years’ war anyhow. And he’s always been so closed off.”

Again, Germany nodded. Despite Italy’s assurances, Germany couldn’t help but remember Japan’s face when Germany had asked him about what had happened. His assurances that it wasn’t his place to tell him what happened.

“Are you going to tell him?” Italy asked.

Germany tapped his fingers on his knee. “Probably not. Maybe. I’m not sure. He wouldn’t know what to think. It may be best that I just keep it to myself.”

“You’re taking this remarkably calmly.” Italy said.

“Well I had a feeling I wasn’t like the other nations,” Germany said, leaning back in the couch. Though his exterior appeared unbothered, he was unsure. He was on uneven ground and it startled him to an alarming degree. “I was born in warfare and yet people looked at me in a certain way. Even when I was young. Like they expected something from me. I have seen the births of many countries, and none of the other nations have ever looked at them like that. I always felt like there was something they knew about me that I didn’t.”

Italy reached onto the coffee table, which Germany now noticed had two canvases. They were stacked so the images were facing each other, effectively blocking them from his view.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Paintings from when I was little.” Italy answered, pulling them into his lap. He handled them with unusual gentleness.

Germany nodded. “You want me to see them?”

“If I were in your shoes,” Italy began, his eyes not leaving the canvas. “I would want to know everything. I would be scared, and confused… I don’t want you to feel like that. So I’m going to tell you everything and help you get your memories back.” Here he handed him the first canvas.

Germany took it, unsure of how to hold it. An irrational part of him was worried that he would ruin the paint, so he just held it by the wooden framework on the back. He looked down at the painting. On the canvas was the image of what looked like a little girl, maybe seven or eight, curled up on a chair with a velvet seat cushion and taking a nap. A little handkerchief was tied over her head, protecting her short auburn locks. She wore a dress with a matching apron. “This is you.” His heart swelled with affection as he looked at it. He briefly wondered if this feeling was from the present, or from some unremembered past.

Italy nodded. “I did it for him once during the Christmas holiday and I gave it to him. He said he would treasure it forever.”

Germany nodded, his eyes raking over the painting. He looked back up at Italy. He hadn’t appeared to have changed all that much. He had grown taller, of course, and he had some lean muscle from the workouts Germany forced him into. But age had chiseled his features, giving him cheekbones and a narrow but strong jaw. His hair still lay the same, with that silly curl that was poking out of the handkerchief standing at attention. Germany’s only wish was that he could see the eyes in this painting. So he could compare them. Part of him wondered what he would see.

“This doesn’t bring back any memories.” Germany admitted.

“I thought so.” And yet Italy looked disappointed. He outstretched his hand in a silent request for the painting, and he swapped it out for the other canvas. “This is Holy Rome.”

Germany looked at the painting. It was of a boy in a dark black cloak and a black hat, standing at attention like a soldier. It was an odd posture for a young child. His blue eyes seemed to piece Germany as he gazed through the paint and up at him. Germany was struck by just how similar the two looked. He recalled how he looked during childhood and saw that they could have been the exact same two people… but then again, he supposed they were. “This is him?”

“Yes.” Italy smiled slightly. “The day I painted that, I said I wanted to paint a soldier. A warrior. I knew he would like to hear that. Especially knowing that he would leave for the war soon… I asked him to smile for me to paint it, and he said, ‘A soldier doesn’t smile’. He wanted me to paint him like that. Standing at attention.”

Had Germany been paying attention, he would have seen Italy staring at him. He would have seen him consider the man in front of him with his hand leaning against the palm that was propped up on the back of the couch. He would have noticed the loving air that surrounded him as Italy mused that while there were many differences between the two, some core aspects remained the same.

But Germany was not paying attention. Because at that moment he felt an empty longing. An excitement as something at the base of his skull fought to be noticed. Fought to be remembered. He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow.

Long green grass rippled in the wind. It was cold for summer, but only cold enough for a thin coat. But there they were, him standing in the sunlight as he faced an easel.

“Smile, Holy Rome, I want you to see how you look when you smile!” The voice was squeaky. So much lighter than his own.

“A soldier doesn’t smile.” He answered. His voice even at his age was rather low. With a smooth timbre.  

A small face poked around the easel and grinned at him. “You’re not a soldier until you leave for the war!” Italy pointed out.

Holy Rome didn’t even have the heart to fight against the smile that rose from deep within him. He had heard about this from Ms. Hungary. An affection so deep for someone where you felt you would do anything for them. He knew it was love, but he had no idea how to communicate it. He had never been good with emotions.

“You should smile more, Holy Rome, you’re so much more handsome when you do!”

Holy Rome snapped out of it, his smile dropping. “Well you wanted to paint a soldier, so paint a soldier!” He snapped. Realizing what he said, he was disappointed in his temper yet again.

Italy giggled behind the easel, putting him at ease. A couple moments later and Italy poked her head back over. “You can come see if you want!”

Holy Rome rounded the easel. He caught sight of Italy with the paintbrush, stroking at the canvas. Before he could see the painting, the memory faded.

Germany opened his eyes to the painting again. The painting of Holy Rome. Of him.

“Germany?” Italy asked quietly.

Germany blinked, trying to make sense of what he just saw.

“Germany,” Italy tried again, laying a hand on his leg.

Germany’s gaze snapped to Italy. “I… remembered. When you made this painting.”

“You did?” Italy asked, sounding like he hardly dared to believe it.

Germany nodded.

“And?”

“It was warm. And windy. And you were wearing a dress.” And I wanted to be with you. Even back then. It was a loud thought that never escaped past his pursed hips.

Italy nodded reminiscently. “That sounds about right…”

Germany leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs, once again scrubbing his hands down his face. “This is so…”

“Complicated?” Italy supplied.

He nodded, staring ahead at the surface of the table. “You could say that.”

Germany continued his thousand-yard stare, his thoughts moving too fast for his brain. “This is just so much.” He put his forehead in his hands again. After a moment of tense silence, he heard Italy’s clothes rustling on his side of the couch. He felt a weight settle next to him on the couch and he felt a gentle, timid hand splay its fingers between his shoulder blades. For whatever reason, Germany ached for the touch. Even though their lives were both so entwined, it was like there was a chasm of unremembered history stretching out between them. Like there was a separation that couldn’t be fixed. The touch of Italy’s hand was like a reminder that he was still there. Despite what had transpired, Italy wasn’t going to leave him. Not yet.

Almost as if Italy had sensed the thought, Germany felt Italy’s arms wrap around his broad shoulders. He felt Italy burrow his face into his arm. For once, Germany didn’t feel taken aback or shy at this touch. It was like it filled a new void in his heart. The void where he thought he knew what everything was and what it meant.

“I know it is. I… I’m sorry, Germany.” Italy said, his voice muffled by the fabric of Germany’s black t-shirt.

Germany at last removed his hands from his face, letting them fall between his knees. “What for?” He asked, trying to distance himself from the situation as Italy withdrew his arms. He was never one to run away, but there was so much going on in his head. He needed to escape it somehow. Even if that meant distancing himself from the situation. “I know something new about myself. Things are starting to make sense. Why I kept you around after the first world war even when you annoyed the Scheiße out of me, why my brother treated me like I was about to break… he was worried I would remember. Maybe- maybe it was repressed memory that made me keep you around.” He was unaware of how hurtful these words were, just trying to sound like he didn’t care. Just trying to sound like he was looking at this logically.

Italy faced his lap, barely registering the hurtful words. “I’m sorry Holy Rome died. I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long. I thought it was fairer to you because… you’re not Holy Rome anymore. You’re Germany. It wouldn’t have been fair to tell you who you were once. What I… what Holy Rome and I felt for each other at the time. It’s not a fair expectation for anyone.” He finally looked up at Germany, his eyes swimming in tears. “I… I didn’t want you to- I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to feel pressured, or- or like you had to be someone who you’re not. Because you’re not Holy Rome. Not anymore. You’re Germany.”

Germany straightened his back, the two considering each other. Their faces were now maybe a foot apart. Germany noticed as a ray of sunlight filtered across Italy’s eyes that they were almost honey gold in the sun. Even through tears. Germany felt such a storm of emotion. A blend of anger. Sorrow. Relief. Maybe even a little bit of happiness. But more than anything, he felt too much. And to add to that? Here Italy was apologizing for trying to protect him. He had honored the promise he made Prussia until he felt that Germany was ready. He blinked and wondered what Italy was thinking. He wondered if Italy shared the strong urge he had to lean over and close the short distance between them.

Gott, what was he thinking? He turned away. “Wipe away the tears. It’s a waste of time. You did what you did because you thought it was right, but it’s time to move on.” He stood. “We should probably think about dinner.”

Italy stood, wiping his eyes with the hem of his untucked shirt. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. What do you want?”

Germany looked back at his friend, watching him clean himself up. He watched as Italy repaired himself to help him. To heal Germany, completely and unselfishly. Gott, it was a miracle that he ran into this man. Thinking about this, Germany felt a small smile come through. “I’m thinking pasta.”

Italy gave a watery grin as he swiped away the last tear tracks.

[nikkxb]

A Chance Encounter

Inuyasha Pairing: SessKag Rating: Teen Prompt: Single Parent AU for @auyeahaugust Author’s Note:

AU notes and info at the end!

The coffee shop was a little busier than normal. People bustling in and out with more frequency, all but a small spattering of tables used, and a constant stream of orders being called at the counter. Kagome was grateful to have found her table right next to a conveniently placed outlet, a must-have for her older-than-dirt-yet-incredibly-trustworthy laptop. The thing weighed the same as a medium-sized dog and overheated at at the first sign of struggle, but it was the only way she ever got her papers finished.

Which, if she were honest, probably had to do with its inability to run more than two programs at a time — three if they were small — so she wasn’t afforded the pleasure of wasting exorbitant amounts of time browsing the internet.

Looking down at her notes, the books scattered over the table, and the blank Word document on her screen, Kagome wondered what ever possessed her to think grad school would be a good idea.

Taking a sip from her tea, iced and infused with peach with just the right amount of lemon and utterly divine, she cracked her knuckles and pulled out her outline. Handwritten with notes from her advisor, it was the only way she was going to get through this paper and still be breathing at the end of it and she would do it, dammit. She had a meeting the next afternoon at 1:45 to discuss the progress of her research so far and if she had the outline typed and formatted, it would turn the entirety of her messy notes into something actually worth writing.

Something tugged at her sleeve and she jerked, turning in surprise to see the top of a little brown head standing next to her.

Oh, the girl was absolutely adorable. Big brown eyes and a little bow clipped in her hair to keep her bangs out of her eyes, Kagome bit her lip to keep from cooing out loud. Whoever she belonged to definitely had their hands full because she knew the moment the girl turned pleading eyes on her, she’d be a goner.

And it seemed she was doing that just now.

“Can I help you?” she asked kindly, opening her posture to welcome the small interruption.

The little girl didn’t say anything, simply tugged on her sleeve once more.

“Did you lose your parents?” Kagome spared a quick glance around the coffee shop. It didn’t seem like there was a mother looking for a child anywhere. “We should probably find your mama—”

“Rin.”

Kagome froze at the deep, baritone voice that spoke over her shoulder. Turning, she looked up — and up — until she found the source of such a present tone. Tall, so incredibly tall, with long silver hair that fell in a sheet down his back, the man was absolutely stunning. Beautiful. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a perfect nose set above the most kissable lips she’d seen in a long time.

“Rin, are you bothering this young woman?” the voice came again.

The little girl, still silent, shook her head and tugged on Kagome’s sleeve again.

The mystery man apparently knew what that meant because he cast his gaze around the shop before letting it settle on Kagome.

She was glad she was sitting because she was not prepared for the full weight of that stare.

“I apologize for the interruption, but would you mind if we sat with you?” There was something soft about his voice even while it remained unwavering.

And all at one, Kagome realized what he was asking. “No, I don’t mind at all!” In a frantic move, she grabbed her mess of books, papers, folders, and pens and shoved them all in a pile in front of her ancient laptop before offering them two of the remaining chairs. “Please, help yourself.”

The man pulled out a chair for the little girl — Rin — and helped her get settled before taking his own seat.

Kagome tried desperately to look anywhere but his beautiful face.

She failed. He was so pretty. Sleek and perfect and completely mesmerizing and all of it enhanced by the obvious care he held for the little girl. Her stomach quivered and her heart stuttered and she wondered just who the lucky woman was to have this man and how on earth Kagome could somehow become her.

Probably in another life, she’d have a chance.

Looking back at the contained mess in front of her, she focused on her current problem which held absolutely none of the draw the two guests at her table did. Surely she could push the paper off a few minutes? It would be rude to continue working while they were there, especially considering how much she would be rifling through papers. Her research was as organized as her closet and considering she couldn’t remember the last time she hung up clothes after pulling them out of the dryer, that was saying something.

Blowing out a sigh, Kagome resigned herself to the impromptu break. Leaning back in her chair, reaching for her tea, it would only make sense to—

“Are we keeping you from working?”

“Of course not!” She attempted a smile, but it died under the unconvinced expression on the man’s face. Oh man, did he do unconvinced well and she ceded immediately. “Okay, kinda, but it’s honestly okay.”

He raised one perfect, elegant eyebrow and Kagome folded like a cheap deck of cards at the slightest hint of a breeze.

“Honest. It’s okay. Yeah, I have work to do, but I’ve been looking for a distraction for the last fifteen minutes and at least this time, the distraction is actually tangible instead of me making excuses for my severe lack of motivation.”

His gaze flicked down to the pile of unimagined mess in front of her and she watched as his already closed expression close even further.

Of course. The most beautiful man in the world sits at her table with his daughter and the impression Kagome makes is that of a cluttered, unorganized mess.

Which she was, but he didn’t need to know that yet!

She dropped her head onto said stack of papers and groaned. “I’m so screwed.”

A giggle reached her ears first, pulling her gaze back up to see the smiling face of the little girl and Kagome found her worries washing away under the innocent gaze.

“Are you in school?” the little girl asked in a quiet, melodic voice that oozed cheer.

“I am.”

“I’m in school! Though we don’t do anything like that. Is it fun?”

She fought her wince, wondering what level of hell she was going to visit for lying to a child. “It is.”

Rin’s eyes narrowed on the work lying on the table. “It doesn’t look fun.”

Busted. “It’s…necessary,” Kagome conceded. “Some parts aren’t fun, but the end result is worth it.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to pick out more lies. “Papa says that about chores and they’re not worth it.”

“Rin,” came the steady voice that would star in Kagome’s new dreams.

The girl’s demeanor changed instantly, softening further. “Sorry, Papa.”

Kagome looked back and forth between father and daughter, still trying to piece them together. The girl must have taken after her mother — she didn’t look a thing like the man sitting at her table.

“Papa, can I go to the restroom?”

The man’s eyes looked down the coffee shop, finally alighting on the lone restroom just beyond Kagome’s shoulder.

“Do you want help?” he asked.

“No.”

“Knock first and make sure you can see me until you get in the door.”

The girl carefully slid out of her chair and Kagome turned to watch her. She was seriously cute, always looking back to make sure she could see her Papa. She knocked once, and then twice, then pulled open the door. As soon as it shut, Kagome turned back to the father still watching the bathroom door.

“She’s seriously adorable.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Kagome,” she offered suddenly, not able to keep her voice quiet. No way could she leave here without at least attempting to know more about this man.

His eyes flicked at hers almost too quick, but still packing quite a punch.

“Sesshoumaru.”

With a deep breath, she weighed her options. She really had nothing to lose and everything to gain and the stress of her project had her opening her mouth before she even figured out what she was going to say. “Do you guys come here often?”

He turned, those golden eyes pulling away from the door his daughter was behind to look directly at her. Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity, only to release when the faintest smile touched his lips. “Do you?” he asked, his tone leading.

“Often enough,” Kagome breathed. “It’s the perfect place to study.”

“Then yes,” he said, interest flashing in his eyes, “it seems we do.”

Right after this, a barista brings over Sesshoumaru’s order and Kagome finally notices that he has a prosthetic arm -- hence why he didn’t wait at the counter to grab the drinks and pastries himself.

They don’t swap numbers, but Kagome continues showing up at the coffee shop at the same time every day and Sesshoumaru finally returns three days later, Rin in tow. It becomes a weekly thing, meeting at the shop while Kagome is working and Sesshoumaru is taking Rin out for a treat and the continue doing so. Over the course of her semester, she gets to know about Rin and how her parents died in a car accident, how the same car accident cost Sesshoumaru his arm, how he decided to adopt the girl and become her guardian, and (slowly, with a little hesitation) Sesshoumaru’s journey of gaining his prosthetic. Kagome is meeting them about five-six years after the accident.

When Kagome’s semester is over and she can manage to take a break from working on her thesis, Sesshoumaru swoops in for the kill and shows up at their coffee date without Rin.

I’ll let your mind wander on where that goes from there. ;)

Let me know what you think!!

[funsizedkola]

Embers Still Glow

A/N: So if this story is a continuation of this story ( @paradoxicalintheory ) which is a continuation of this story (yours truly :3) that was inspired by THIS imagine ( @tyranttortoise ) ... THEN WHO’S FLYING THE PLANE???!!!

But on a more serious note, I'm just a little overwhelmed at how much people liked my story and my writing. So many thanks to you guys and I hope I can still deliver with this third part!

Characters: Swap Grillby, Swap Muffet, Reader, OC (kinda, again)

Some things can be quite noticeable. For instance, when one of your cheerful customers seems to have a storm brewing over his skull with bioluminescent tear drops raining down on his cheekbones. Or when a certain spider monster asks for your liquor instead of her usual preferred tea which you certainly should not refuse when seeing how there is obviously that same storm brewing over her with the slight risk of verbal lightning striking you.

It becomes clear that something is wrong.

The flames that formed Grillby’s hands worriedly emitted some smoke when he switched the ceramic cup with a shot glass. And the tea with some of his specialty whiskey.

A dainty hand had plucked the bottle while another two work on uncorking it. The usual tidiness to Muffet’s appearance was more ruffled with how her bow tie was loosened along with the cuffs of her shirt.

“And as you can see, the only good thing about this situation is how he now has a soulmate to help keep him afloat in case he feels tempted to empty my supply of alcohol again.”

“Because Sans is feeling distraught as well, correct?”

A noise of affirmation was made before sipping the contents of the glass and setting it down. The fact that she hasn’t poured herself another one (nor allowed herself more than one shot glass) seemed to be a good sign of her restraint.

“Poor dearie still thinks that it’s his fault. When really the problem was from how his brother and previous partner decided to handle things on their own.”

Humming in agreement, Grillby raised a hand to pet at one of his fireballs that chirped anxiously from their perch on his shoulder as a few others distracted themselves in the background of the kitchen by tidying up the place.

“Not that we can really blame them. The circumstances surrounding them just weren’t... ideal.”

Muffet’s eyes narrowed at the shot glass she was now fiddling before pouring herself another drink.

“... None of it was your fault either.”

Freezing mid-pour, the whiskey nearly overflowed out of the glass before it was hastily set down. A rare show of conflicting emotions was expressed as a few of her hands tightened into fists while her eyes closed shut.

“Perhaps. But I can’t help but feel like I could of done... more.”

A sad smile emerged from his glowing face as he moved to pull away the bottle. “What’s done is done. All we can do is do better for tomorrow.”

A long pause filled the room, the only sounds being chirping fireballs wondering if they should brave washing the dishes before moving instead to grab at the broom and dustpan to sweep the floor.

“... I think I’ll have that tea now.”

“Certainly.”

Your name was called.

“But wouldn’t you rather be with your soulmate?”   

“nope. i love you.  there’s no hypothetical situation where i’m gonna leave you just because my soul 'resonates’ with some stranger.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"so don’t worry about it, ok?“

“Are you listening to me?”

Blinking, your sole hand against the laminated surface came back into focus as the memory faded away. Once again your name was repeated with concern. With a heavy heart you glanced at your roommate from across the counter.

His brow furrowed before he sighed. “I forgot to buy the bread.”

Ah. You had a feeling the grocery purchases lacked something. “... I can go get it?”

His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. “You sure?”

Shrugging, you moved to pluck your car keys from the hook it hung on the wall before taking your hat off the couch. “It won’t be a hassle for me. Besides, I can use this as an excuse to actually go out today.”

He didn’t say anything as you then took your coat from the hanger until you moved to grasp the doorknob. “You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

You paused before drawing in a breath and turned back to give a quick smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Not wanting to linger any longer, you exited your apartment and dropped the act as you pulled up your hood to go over your cap covered head.

You had known him in college but didn’t really get that close with him until you moved in as his roommate to take up his offer that he posted on his social media account when he was looking for someone to help pay the rent for the small flat. But he grew to be a good friend with how he was willing to pat your back and give you tissues to blow your nose when you felt another urge to let your sorrows flow.

He still doesn’t know the whole story despite what little you ended up blubbering out as he awkwardly comforted you, and you preferred things to stay that way.

The less you talked about what happened, the sooner you can move one.

... Right?

You figured that if you were going to have a day off of work that you might as well check out the cinema and see a movie to pass the time. Only there weren’t really any ones that you would think you’d be interested in or be good. But hey, maybe this obscure foreign film playing for just this weekend will make your day!

...

...

...

... News flash. It looks like it won’t.

Sighing, you ended up struggling to stay awake as you got comfortable on the seat that might as well be an armchair. At least the few other people on the theater were silent as they engrossed themselves in the apparent fascinating plot while you struggled to even remember if they even said the name of the protagonist. Or any of the other characters...

You can already imagine how this hour and a forty five minutes would not have ended up as a waste if they were there with you... How he would of made you nearly laugh and cover your mouth with his quips at the movie while his brother would scold him despite doing the same thing, whether intentionally or not... And they’d sneak some more snacks and drinks to pass around from the inventories of their phones... Continuing to made you glad that you were able to be close to them... and him...

... You... really missed him... so much...

He was repairing the radio that ended up as the casualty of a thrown chair from the last cook out. An incident that he seemed to still be exasperated by judging from his mutters as his phalanges used the screwdriver with expertise. Even though his back was to you, you knew that his sockets had a darker edge to them from a lack of sleep.

You wrapped your arms around her him from behind, resting your cheek against his shoulder blades as you continued pestering him.

“Pap. Pap. Pap. Pap.”

“stars, hun, what is it?”

“I love you.”

His hand stilled as you felt his posture jerk a bit in surprise. The tool was slowly put down as you felt him shake a bit which worried you until you heard the nyeh-heh-hehs that made your heart feel warmed over. His free hand closed over yours, bare bones over skin making a contrast that you have come to love even before the start of your relationship.

“love ya too honey.”

Giggling with happiness making your cheeks warm, you opened your eyes to reply...

Only to see he wasn’t there.

Seeing the broken radio in front of you instead of him froze you in place as the sound of static and music that faded in and out replaced the previous happy moments with confusion. And somehow the dial moved on it’s own before settling on a song you remembered would play once every morning at the parlor before you left for work.

The sound of footsteps approaching you echoed from the radio before coming to a stop. A cheerful giggle that somehow made shivers run down your back was heard.

“I’m always glad to hear that!”

A strangled gasp followed as you recognized that voice that stole those exact words from your mouth.

“Like you wouldn’t believe!”

You only heard her list off specials before asking for your order. Never something like this. You didn’t stick around to hear what other things her bell-like voice would say.

“Do you know why?”

That’s why you left. So you would never have to hear this.

“Because we’re soulmates! ... Aren’t we?”

You backed away from the table before feeling yourself halt by a pair of hands resting on your shoulders. That perfume she seemed to always have to complement her smile made your eyes sting as she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Well? Aren’t we?”

The answer could not make its way from your clenching teeth.

“You already know, don’t you?”

Tears were once again threatening to overwhelm you again as her voice stayed so kind, so sympathetic. She wasn’t asking for much. And you didn’t have the right to say otherwise.

“But somehow... a part of you still can’t accept it. You tell yourself you’ll move on and start anew. Only to keep remembering times that no longer matter. And while we appreciate what you’ve done, one fact still hasn’t changed. Can you guess what it is?”

Feeling you vision blur, you closed your eyes as if to block out the incoming truth before feeling a hand cup your chin and raise it in a hold so familiar, yet somehow so cold. Opening your eyes, you couldn’t hold back a sob as empty sockets pierced you with a glare of hatred.

“that you’re a terrible person.”

A scream caused you to jolt as the image of facing your sins was replaced by the protagonist of this forgetful story being shoved against the wall as his lover held a knife to his throat.

The hand you raised to feel the tears covering your cheeks was shaking.

As the furious blonde continued yelling bloody murder in French at her supposed beloved, you got up from your seat and made your way to the exit.

Absently checking if you didn’t forget your wallet, you could only focus on reaching your car to make the trip back home.

You’ve done enough for today. More than you deserved.

He wasn’t sure if it was really you by how you carrier yourself. As if you... weren’t really there. But the chirping of one of his fireballs was all the confirmation he needed when they tugged at his bow tie to urge him to reach out to you.

Petting them to calm down, he shook ‘No’ before giving a gentle push in the direction of the car that honked when you clicked your car keys at it. If you were willing to go as far as cutting yourself from a community that you radiated in the presence of, then chances are that you’ll continue running if you catch sight of him.

So instead of diving into a confrontation, he’ll have to send out one or two scouts to see where you’ve hidden yourself.

It’s best to approach this with care if they’re going to make things right.

“S-Sir, which movie did you s-s-say again?”

“Apologies, I’m afraid I’ll have to come back another day.”

Ignoring the sigh of relief from the cashier, the fiery tea maker then made his way for the nearest secluded spot where he can take out his phone.

He has a call to make.

When you got back to your apartment you just dropped the bread on the counter before warming some fast food that your roommate left in the fridge before heading off to work. You answer his text asking if you got back with a simple ‘Yeah’ before taking a shower that probably used up almost all of the hot water before sitting down on your bed with a towel draped over your eyes.

Absentmindedly drying your damp hair, you let out a airy laugh as your eyes stayed closed, repeating those words said to you in your subconscious in your head over and over again.

‘Yeah. I was terrible back then. Maybe still am.’

Falling back on your bed, you felt a slight chill from the open window and remembered how you got sick from not drying off properly. Sans always reminded you to prevent such things as he would dry your hair for you in case you forgot while you jokingly called him mom. Causing Papyrus to teasingly do the same thing which didn’t amuse Sans (at least outwardly).

Well. They aren’t here anymore. You made sure of that.

But then again, they are still ever so present in your memories and daydreams when you would still feel a void in your heart. So in a way you haven’t fully cut them out. Now that you think about it, you haven’t deleted those pictures of them from your phone. yet.

... Maybe tomorrow. You’re too tired to do much else tonight.

As you fell into an uneasy sleep, faint lights approached your opened window before peering in. Pausing for a moment, the two floating flame monsters glanced at each other before gliding into the room and hovering near the slumbering human.

One chirped as if lightly scolding them before picking up the edge of a blanket you had thrown over your desk chair and prompting the other to help gently cover you with it as you only stirred a bit before curling in on your side. Giving a light pat to wish you pleasant dreams, they then took their leave to return to their clan leader.

The only evidence of their presence is the blanket shielding you from the chill of the night and the calmer expression that melted away from your guilt and worries as you somehow felt as if someone out there still really cares about you.

[apparitionism]

Road 4

Sometimes when I’m working on a thing, I caution myself about what not to do. What’s greeted me every time I’ve opened the file that contains this chapter and next one are the words “My worst impulses: happily and uncomplicatedly ever after.” It’s not that I don’t want them to be happy; I do want that. I always want that. But in some contexts, ease is untruthful, and maybe even immoral. Anyway, not that anybody cares, but there’s some strong language in this part. Disclaimering just because. I suppose when you get down to it, I’m writing just because, too. Part 1, part 2, and part 3 preceded this.

Road 4

Ignore a problem long enough, and it eventually goes away. Or it kills you, and Myka would be fine with either of those outcomes.

She doesn’t trust herself to drive home—because she might drive somewhere else instead—so she sleeps in her office at the garage. That’s not so unusual, really, and her body knows how to position itself in her chair so that she can nod off pretty quickly. No matter what’s on her mind.

By the time Alicia and Manny get in the next morning, she’s back at work on the fuel pump. Manny says “hey.” Only under very special circumstances does Manny’s conversation get much more elaborate, or engaged, than “hey.”

Alicia, however, greets Myka with “What’s with all the fresh sealer on that old pump?”

“Long story,” Myka tells her. In terms of actual mechanics, the story isn’t long at all: she’d thought she was installing the new fuel pump, but she had in fact begun to reinstall the old one. She’d got as far as placing the gasket, with sealer all over it, onto the busted pump before her hands started telling her strange things about grit and grime and new parts don’t feel like this. So she told herself to focus, started over, and didn’t think about the long story.

She doesn’t think about it now. She pays close attention to the rest of the install, takes a little longer than she otherwise might, but once she’s done, it starts up fine and fires fine, so she parks it out back and calls Wayne, praying she won’t get his wife instead. Mrs. Darnell hates the Cutlass, begrudges the repairs, wants Wayne to trade it in for a Camry because she’s read that they are very reliable. Myka doesn’t bother bringing up anything about Wayne’s driving. Mrs. Darnell also always asks for Myka’s help in making the pro-Camry argument, because “Wayne likes you—he’ll listen to you.” Wayne doesn’t listen to me, Myka would be inclined to tell her. Nobody listens to me. Even I don’t listen to me. But she doesn’t bother bringing that up either.

She gets the answering machine. “Wayne, come get your car,” she tells it.

She works her way with great care through the next job, too: replacing a set of worn-out semi-metallic brake pads with new ceramic ones. She would’ve replaced the skinned pads with the same quality product, but she got upsold by the driver rather than the other way around. She’s not going to be an idiot about it; it’s not her job to keep people from going pricier than they need to, not if they’re bound and determined—so, ceramic it is, pal.

People want such unnecessary things. They never believe you, never listen, when you try to tell them that good enough really is good enough.

Up for her after that is a silver Infiniti sedan, only two years old. Pricey car. Powerful. All its owner said when he brought it in was that the check engine light came on, which hadn’t really surprised him because it’d been driving a little hinky.

She plugs in the scanner, reads the error codes. They suggest she should give up on the car completely, send it to auction or junk: everything is wrong. “Everything is wrong” and “driving a little hinky” don’t equate, so she announces to Alicia and Manny, “I’m going to get this out on the road to try to figure out what its problem is.”

“What’d the OBDs say?” Alicia asks.

“Nothing that made any sense. I’ll feel it out, then bring it back and reset the whole thing. See what we get then.”

Manny looks up from under the hood of the pickup truck he’s working on. Myka’s pretty sure that’s the one with the fan-belt issue—but since when is she only pretty sure about such a thing? He lifts the bill of his dark blue Sky Sox hat from his graying head, then pulls it tight back down. Manny doesn’t waste motion much more than he does words, but he picked up the cap-adjusting tic when he pitched in the minors, decades ago. The omnipresent dip lodged behind his lower lip is from baseball too, and he tongues it before he speaks. “You check the gas cap?” he asks Myka.

“Of course,” is her automatic response. A loose cap: it’s the number one cause of weirdo codes. It’s always the first thing you check.

Myka has not in fact checked the gas cap.

“Yeah, okay, no,” she mutters, and she goes to check it.

Myka ascertains that the cap is tight. Then she says to Alicia, who has followed along behind her, “I seem okay to you, right?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’? I’m fine.” A foolish response, given that she’s the one who asked the question.

Alicia snorts out a disdainful little breath that suggests she’d agree with “foolish.” She says, “One, you didn’t check the gas cap.” That, she offers with a raised finger that immediately reminds Myka of Helena’s one, two, three archaeological explanations. The memory ambushes her in its fullness, and she doesn’t know whether to congratulate herself or cry at having warded off such detail for this long. Instead of letting herself fall back into that terrifying conversation of last night, instead of letting herself open the folded piece of paper in her pocket, she focuses on how Alicia’s counting off reasons on her gloved fingers—she always wears gloves, to protect her nails, which she gets elaborately done twice a month. Myka and Manny have both been trained to express appropriate awe at the artistry involved, though Manny usually gets away with something on the order of “that looks nice.”

Alicia’s manicure, Alicia’s gloves—Alicia counting on gloved fingers is familiar. Better, Myka tells herself. It’s familiar, and it’s better. It’s familiar, so it’s better. Alicia goes on, “Two, you lied some lie about a long story, first thing this morning.” Myka tries to protest, but Alicia stops her with, “And then three, you took three hours on those pads. I’ve watched you swap out a transmission faster than that. Watched you. I mean it was a manual, but.”

“I remember that. Because I remember you were watching and not helping.”

“I was timing. You could’ve broke a record. So you gonna take that Infiniti out and be gone for three hours? Me and Manny just need to know.”

“I don’t need to know,” Manny says. He retreats into the pickup.

“Talk to a customer ever and maybe you might,” Alicia calls to him.

Myka says, “I’ll text you or something, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You just said you were gonna try it out and then reset.”

“Right. Look. Like I said, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You look.”

Myka doesn’t want to look. “Okay. A thing happened.”

Totally justified derision: “Wow, yeah. I get why you need to drive around, work that out.”

Totally justified. Myka says, “I’ll ask you, seriously, what would it do to you if somebody came in here and—I don’t know. For you, it’d be like they came in here and reminded you of your ex.”

“Reminded me like came in and said ‘Hey, remember that psycho motherfucker?’” Alicia crosses her arms. She looks very, very tough. She is a very small black woman, one who can look very, very tough—because she is very, very tough. She and Myka have each been through some things, but Alicia’s things have been personal. Somebody out to get her as her. Myka tries not to forget how different that is.

“Reminded you,” Myka says, “like made you think about things you don’t. Don’t because you shouldn’t, because it’s a better rule.”

“Only thing that’s got a prayer to start that up is that psycho motherfucker himself comes in, which is why I got a restraining order says he can’t.” Alicia pauses. “But I know you got no restraining orders. So the fuck came in here?”

Myka weighs the pros and cons of telling Alicia, of telling anybody; it rings uncomfortably of therapy, which she was bad at, so she’s made it into another thing she doesn’t think about. Then again, talking to Helena last night had had a similar ring, and there’s another full, unavoidable thought: Helena with her determination to make Myka say things. And, worse, think about things.

She waits too long. Alicia’s posture stiffens, and her jaw takes on a hurt jut. Myka half expects her to start muttering okay be like that or fine don’t tell me like a teenager would. Myka sighs. “It’s a woman. She showed up last night. I hadn’t seen her in a year, but she walked in here last night.”

“A woman who’s a psycho motherfucker like my ex?”

Myka shakes off that suggestion. “Seems to want things I can’t give her.”

“Seems to.”

“Right. She shows up here like I owe her something.”

“Do you?”

Myka can’t immediately say no—even though she doesn’t owe Helena anything, not in any sense she can name. She pushes her dirty hands through her hair. She doesn’t remember taking her hair down, but here it is, down. Jesus. “What do you owe somebody you slept with because she seemed to need it and honestly so did you?”

“If you didn’t get her pregnant, probably nothing. You get her pregnant?”

“Doubtful.” Myka can’t stop a chuckle. “You never know, but doubtful.” She tries to linger on the laugh—tries not to think about a child, and the loss of her, and how that is really the only reason any of this happened.

“She do shit to hurt you? To fuck you up?”

“No. Other than show up here, no.”

“She know that was gonna fuck you up? Twisted like this, where you don’t check a fucking gas cap?”

“No.” Because Helena had thought that Myka was in a place better than her own bereaved self—objectively better. A place more whole. Myka wants to laugh.

“So she is not a psycho motherfucker.”

“She came all the way here from Morocco. England then France then Morocco then here. She said it was to see if I was all right. What’s the call on that?”

Alicia makes a “well, well” face. “Hardcore,” she says, and it’s praise. “She a stalker?”

“Technically maybe. But really not. Hardcore, though, yeah.”

“She good in bed?”

Myka is not surprised by this question; Alicia is, in her own way, very like Driss. But Myka’s more inclined to answer when Alicia asks, so: “Yes,” she says. It would be dishonest to say anything else. Because it isn’t just nostalgia that has kept Myka from trying with much enthusiasm to look for any companionship lately—it’s the real and sometimes too inconveniently present knowledge that anybody else would likely pale in comparison. She’s spent some time not being thrilled with that knowledge. “But that happened—not here. Obviously. And she shouldn’t be here. Elsewhere is elsewhere. You know how I feel about... elsewhere.”

“Shit went down, and home is not the place you want to keep all that. I get it. I live it. My kid lives it. But this hardcore stalker who’s good in bed, does she get it?”

Myka doesn’t have an answer.

Alicia takes off her right glove, points her index finger hard at Myka. Its nail features a profusion of delicate daisies that do nothing to sweeten her words. “If she is not a psycho motherfucker then don’t blame her for any psycho motherfucking shit. Am I gonna blame my kid? I gotta bring him with me, no matter what, no matter how much he looks like that psycho motherfucker.”

Myka says, “I don’t like how that fits.” Because Alicia’s son, twelve years old now, does look like her ex, such that Myka has never really understood how Alicia can look at him. Every day. And Myka is now considering that Helena can’t bring her kid with her. And yet she always brings her kid with her. What hurt Helena didn’t happen elsewhere. She doesn’t get to leave it in the desert. Myka’s inability to see that simple fact—to get to it—shames her. “I really don’t like how it fits,” she says.

Alicia shrugs. “Sorry, Corporal.” She puts her glove back on.

“Don’t,” Myka says.

“You’re the one brought up my ex. Reminded me. Gotta give you something back.”

“Yeah,” Myka acknowledges. She rubs her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah. Nobody does. Go drive. Or whatever.”

****

The Infiniti really is acting weird. Codes aside, there’s an overall lack of smoothness to its energy, somehow frantic and sluggish at the same time. Its engine should pick up like nothing’s happening at all, the noise a thick layer of butter in the deep, deep background, but instead there’s a hungry rumble forcing Myka to listen to how much labor it’s chunking, clunking through.

She pushes the pedal, drives even faster than she usually does. Maybe there’ll be a cop around and she can get herself stopped, ticketed, something that holds her up, something she has to deal with.

Instead, she just gets to Helena’s hotel really, really fast. In a car that worked far too hard to get her there.

But Helena’s probably gone already anyway. It’s late afternoon, practically evening, and even though she said she had a late flight, she’s probably gone already anyway. That’s what to hope for.

Myka parks in a space reserved for loading and unloading—maybe somebody’ll raise a stink about it and that can be the thing to deal with. But nothing happens, even after she’s sat there for a while, so she gives up. She gets out of the car, slams its door. The sound is expensive, yet unsatisfying. She goes inside, to the desk, and asks if the person in 327 has checked out yet.

The clerk, a boy who can’t be more than eighteen, gives Myka a look like he’s afraid she’ll strangle him if he gives the wrong answer. He taps at his computer. He says, with a quaver, “No. She hasn’t checked out.”

And what is Myka supposed to do now? Go up there, bang on the door? And then what?

So she mutters a surly “thank you” and goes back to the car. She sits in this expensive, nonsensically faulty car that isn’t hers, in a parking space she has no right to occupy, and she doesn’t drive away.

Thirty-four minutes later, Helena walks out of the hotel, wheeling a suitcase. She stops and waits.

Myka drives up, parks in front of her. Stands up out of the car. “Get in,” she says.

Helena gazes at Myka. Her breathing doesn’t change, and her expression stays neutral. She sounds far more like her desert self as she asks, “Where are we going?”

“To the airport.”

“I’m taking the hotel’s shuttle.”

Don’t be difficult, Myka would tell her, but she knows that she herself is the one being difficult. “Take this instead.”

“My turn now: why are you here?”

“I had to check out why this car was driving hinky.” That’s at least the truth.

“And that made you think of me. I’m flattered.”

“Would you just get in the car.”

“Why?”

“So I can drive you to the airport.”

“In a car that’s likely to break down.”

“It isn’t hinky like that.”

“That is clearly a term of art in your business. As for breaking down, I suppose you would know better than I.” But she gets in the car. She doesn’t look at Myka.

The car doesn’t break down, despite Myka’s roaring unreasonable wish that it would. She has the wild idea that she might pretend it’s stalled, steer it regretfully to the shoulder—but no, it drives like the dream it’s supposed to, creamy sound and all, and it’s only a five-minute trip anyway, and then they’re pulling up to the terminal, and it’s too late. It’s too late for everything.

Myka stops at the curb. She gets out and hauls Helena’s suitcase from the trunk, sets it on the pavement. Pulls up the handle, so Helena won’t have to. Helena’s out now, too, and she says, “The car didn’t break down. You were right.”

“Yeah.” She’s caught between wanting to memorize Helena’s face as she stands here, every strengthened detail of it as it is now, or to cling tighter to the past vision of thin grief. Neither one is going to be a comfort. (Neither one is going to recede.)

“May I kiss you?” Helena asks, and it’s her desert voice again. So wrong for it to emerge from this rejuvenated body. “Just once, just goodbye?”

The car decided to get here. That made clear what her answer has to be. “No,” Myka says.

Helena nods. She takes the bag’s handle, and she turns to walk into the terminal. The scarf, that Essaouira scarf, is around her neck and shoulders, like an animal, there to serve her, to protect her, as a familiar should. That, Myka did right. She reaches out to reassure herself of its nubbled weave, to flip it one last time between her fingers. One little last physical reminder of all those colors, all that beauty Myka couldn’t bring herself to face. It’s in her hand for an instant, and then it’s slipping out, as Helena moves away.

Tighten your grip.

Where the directive comes from doesn’t matter; it’s an order and Myka obeys it.

Helena turns around.

And she’s launching herself at Myka as she had at the end of the race last year, as if her body is spent but she’s won something.

They embrace like it’s first and new—and the first kiss still feels like this—but then again it is first and new: it’s their first kiss goodbye.

Helena holds her eyes closed for a moment after it ends. She looks, in that instant, like she’s asleep—sleep, that beautiful time, when if there are no dreams, there are no memories either. That’s the only real peace, that and the instant of waking, that one instant when everything is forgotten and fine.

How close to forgotten and fine it all had seemed, just now, when Myka was kissing Helena; how it had become no longer so when she opened her own eyes from the kiss. And she watches as Helena, too, now, when the instant of waking passes, takes upon her face again all of that remembered weight. Kiss me again, Myka imagines saying. It helps me, and it helps you, so kiss me again.

But trying to escape into a world of dreamless sleep: that’s cheating. So instead, she says, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Helena’s voice is as soft as the kiss.

For wishing, when I knew I shouldn’t. “For all of it. Not being as right as I pretended to be. Not being the same person here as I was there. Not being someone who could give you what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“That person in Morocco. That person there.” Because that person, there, did the right things, at the right times.

“Yes, that person, there. There, then. But if I’m not the same now, here, why would I expect you to be?”

“It was so beautiful,” Myka tries to explain. Tries to explain away. “So differently beautiful. That could never happen again.”

“No, it couldn’t. I for one don’t wish to be in need like that again.” Her words bring Myka dangerously near tears, because of course Helena doesn’t want that. All Myka wants to do is crawl back to Essaouira, back inside that differently beautiful sanctum of time and place—but she would have to drag Helena back with her, and she would not drag Helena back into that exile, not for all the world. (And yet it feels like all the world, that’s what she’d be getting back, for that moment; she’d be getting all the world.) “But Myka,” Helena says, and it’s a strange side-stepped reading of Myka’s mind she performs as she goes on, “you are still in the world, and no matter where in the world that is—no matter what you tell yourself about who you are in different places—no matter what you want to leave in this place or in that one—no matter any of that—you wear the same face.”

“This isn’t your face. It isn’t the same. You look better now.”

“And you speak with the same voice.”

“Even your voice is different.”

“You are still in the world, and so I did not have to resign myself to the loss of your face. To the loss of your voice. I could come here, and I could see you and hear you. You could still tell me things. Or did you forget them all?”

All Myka can manage is a shake of her head.

“Then tell me this: Why should I mourn the loss of you when here you stand? Would you wish more such grief upon me?”

“Wish grief on you? How can you say that? Why would you say that?” Here she is near crying again, this time from frustration.

“Myka.” That voice, saying her name, low and terse. But there’s a keen tension to it now too. “If I were to continue explaining myself to you, I would miss my plane.”

Myka recognizes that carefully articulated statement for what it is: one last chance. Myka can take this one last chance to keep being who she’s been. That person would let Helena walk away, into that terminal lit up from the inside, into all that light. It’s waiting for her.

That person would stay out here, in this mountain twilight, and let Helena walk into whatever future she can find.

She’ll go away, and Myka won’t see her again, because there are things she doesn’t think about. She will put Helena fully away, with those things she doesn’t think about, as she should have done before. Another thing that Myka will put away, with those things, is the fact that Helena tried—folded with the fact, plain in Helena’s gaze now, that she will not try again.

(We all have one grand gesture in us.)

This won’t ever happen again. Something else might happen, but it wouldn’t be this. A thousand other things will happen, but they won’t be this.

“Would you?” Myka asks.

It’s the second-most selfish question she’s ever asked. The most selfish was when her first tour was almost up, and she had to decide whether to extend. Her mother was sick, and she asked her parents, “Do you need me stateside?”, knowing that they would say yes, knowing that that would be her excuse. To get out from under the pressure of being magic: yes, to escape that pressure, she selfishly asked a question. The asking diminished her, both in her own eyes and in those of her parents. They were, they are, unselfish people. They never would have thought to request that she come home.

A wince of a question, yet she asks it. “Would you?”

Helena moves closer, but in a sidle, like she must stay balanced to dart away, like this is surely the most obvious of traps. She moves closer still, and Myka raises her arms, just a little, but as much as she can.

And it seems like a miracle, but really it’s just two bodies coming soft together one more time, with cars and people all around, suitcases and goodbyes, but this kiss is like those that were a year ago—like those that were not first, a year ago; like those that were instead deep inside two differently beautiful nights, in a country not their own.

If it were just this, everything would be all right, and nobody would ever hurt anybody, because Myka is thinking of every intimate touch. How her legs would slide against Helena’s. How her cheek would rest against Helena’s hip. How her hands would rise up Helena’s back.

Myka finds herself starting the car and driving. She is driving somewhere, anywhere. Helena is beside her in a car on the road, instead of beside a stranger on an airplane in the sky, and Myka is driving somewhere.

TBC

[starboysinspace]

Klance Recs #1

Homesick at Space Camp by K0bot (PG, 54k, WIP) Summary: Lance's insistence on maintaining his rivalry with Keith is hurting his performance, and Shiro's had enough. Keith and Lance are forced to talk it out, and Lance becomes certain of one thing: He's gonna be the best friend Keith's ever had in his LIFE. Naturally, he's in for much more than he bargained for. [Fake Marriage, WIP] time out of mind by aknightley (PG, 27k) Summary: Keith and Lance wake up married. In the future. He lays there a moment, processing the faint throbbing in his head, a strange bitter taste like lemons in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the room spins wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors, so he closes them again, breathing in and out until he feels less like he might throw up. He suddenly registers a warm weight over his waist, and lifts his head to see a brown arm thrown over him. It looks startlingly familiar, but different, bigger than he remembers, more toned. Keith turns all the way around and comes face to face with Lance sleepily blinking his own eyes open. [Time Travel, Fake Marriage] Heatwaves on Autopilot by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot (NC-17, 56k) Summary: Keith and Lance unknowingly inhale an alien aphrodisiac during a simple resource retrieval mission. But unlike the common aphrodisiac, this particular one reactivates under certain unknown conditions, later leaving them craving in situations that don't necessarily present them with many options. Keith tries to work through it, concerned with the sudden lack of control of his body, until he realizes the same thing is happening to Lance. So...great. How are they supposed to deal with this, keep it a secret, AND tend to the thousands of other responsibilities that come with defending the universe? (Together, of course.) [Heat Cycles/Sex Pollen] Today, anew by MemeKonVLD (MemeKonYA) (R, 5.9k) Summary: “Lance.��� Lance’s eyebrows furrow in concern for a second before his whole face goes gentle and open. “Hey buddy, everything okay?” Keith nods. Then shakes his head, then opens his mouth to let out a noisy sob before he’s hugging the air out of Lance, grip vise tight. Lance hugs him back. That’s one of the great things about him— he doesn’t— he doesn’t need explanations for things like this. He doesn’t make Keith jump through hoops, the way other people might— he’s just— he just knows what Keith needs in times like this. No façades, no posturing. (Or: the one where Keith is trapped in a time loop. A time loop from hell.) [Time Loop, Temporary Character Death] A Commutual Contract by SKayLanphear (R, 24k, WIP) Summary: After a terrifying experience during which Lance, seemingly, dies, Keith is haunted by horrible nightmares of holding his comrade in his arms while he took his final breath. To the point where he can't sleep unless he knows for absolute certain that Lance is alive. And while the attention is surprising, Lance doesn't really have a problem with Keith checking up on him. Or the fact that Keith only seems totally comforted when he can cuddle Lance close and hear his heart beat. After all, there's nothing wrong with two bros cuddling. It doesn't MEAN anything. Or, at least, that's what Lance keeps telling himself. [Bed Sharing, WIP] How To Train Your Galra by magisterpavus (NC-17, 68k, Series) Summary: “Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith blurted, wringing his hands. Shiro paused mid-punch, shooting him a quizzical look. “What? What happened?” “I think,” Keith whispered, “I think I accidentally roofied Lance. With my dick.” [Galra!Keith, A/B/O Dynamics] Fake It Til You Make It by nikkiRA (R, 26k) Summary: “No, it’s not that –” Keith tries to backtrack. “We just – we –” he isn’t sure what he’s going to say, he just knows he has to say something before he and Lance are forced to have sex with some weird alien species, while also keeping the weird alien king happy enough to create an alliance with them. But not for the first time and not for the last, Lance pulls through. Of course, this time pulling through almost gives Keith a heart attack, because Lance slips his fingers through Keith’s so that they’re holding hands. “What Keith here means to say,” Lance says, and although his voice is steady, he is gripping Keith’s fingers so tightly it’s painful. “Is that we can’t mate with your people, although we, um, appreciate the offer, because, well. We already are. M-mated, I mean. With, you know. Each other.” [Fake Marriage] Nightmares by Trashness (PG, 14k) Summary: Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this. Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps. [Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining] Accidental Bonding by Newbiemans2015 (NR, 2.9k) Summary: Whilst trapped on an alien planet Keith and Lance accidentally get married, and now how to deal with the consequences. [Accidental Marriage] All things infinite by MemeKonVLD (MemeKonYA) (R, 7k) Summary: “I didn’t know Lance was...” “Bi?” Hunk supplied. “Ready to jump anyone sentient and willing?” Pidge offered. “Yeah, let’s go with bi,” Hunk says. (Or: the one where Lance is a Bisexual Intergalactic Flirt, and Keith discovers he has feelings about this.) [Pining!Keith] like honey by manamune (NC-17, 4.3k) Summary: Keith wants to lose control. Lance has always liked helping people. [BDSM] Fireside by molsat (NC-17, 4.9k) Summary: It’s not the compliments that make Lance’s palms sweaty, his heart thunder wildly against his ribcage, and his face swell with impossible heat: it’s the way Keith has to be such a giant dick about it. [Praise Kink] Making the Most of the Night by saezutte (NC-17, 15k) Summary:  Having sex with Keith in order to secure an alliance with an alien species wasn't how Lance expected to lose his virginity, but it wasn't the worst way for it to go. (Until afterwards, of course, when it all goes wrong and Keith won't speak to him. Not that Lance has any idea why. Or why it bothers him so much.) hot singles in your area by rire (NC-17, 15k, WIP) Summary: “So she gave you a fake number?” “Yeah.” “And it turned out to be the number of a sex line?” “Yep.” “And then you decided jerking off was the best solution for your heartbreak?” “I guess you could put it that way.” “... And now you’re in love with a phone sex operator.” [College AU, WIP] Rivals-With-Benefits by lissa_molloy (NC-17, 26k, WIP) Summary: Lance and Keith have been sneaking around for a while now, not yet to the point where they can get over their rivalry but well beyond acknowledging how attracted they are to one another. A collection of vaguely-related oneshots in a fuckbuddies AU for Klance. I'll add tags as I go. [Friends/Rivals with Benefits] Blueprints by UnderTheSilentStars (R, 39k, WIP) Summary: "While soulmarks themselves were common, it was rare for someone to have anything other than the name of their other half...and Lance had a red paw print." [Soulmate AU] so why don't we fall by aknightley (NC-17, 4k) Summary: Five times Lance used a pet name for Keith, and one time Keith used one for Lance. Keith has no basis for having a relationship with someone, so he's trying to follow Lance's lead.  Down the Rabbit Hole by TheQueen (PG, 41k, WIP) Summary: It starts when he wakes up. Breathing hard and scrambling against the soft bedding and heavy comforter until he falls flat against the wood floor hard enough to take his breath away. Time travel might not be the worst thing Lance has ever dealt with. But it sure does feel like it. [Time Travel, Canon Divergence, WIP] 30 Rules to Marriage by delictor (R, 38k, WIP) Summary: Lance was only trying to argue with Keith, not marry him. And even if the marriage only really counted on the one planet, he couldn't help but let it take over his every thought slowly. Especially with him constantly thinking of the 30 rules of marriage his parents had taught him as a kid and trying to apply them to him and Keith. His logic? The 30 rules could apply to even just a friendship... Or: Lance and Keith accidentally get married and it's not actually as bad as they thought it would be. [Accidental Marriage, WIP] Diplomatic Difficulties by TemenCMoth (PG, 10k, WIP) Summary: Allura sat with her head in her hands. Coran balked. Hunk was frozen, new goo concoction slowly leveling out on the floor. Shiro looked stricken, hand in a white-knuckle grip on the back of a chair. The only sound in the room was the little clack-clack of Pidge's keyboard. The room was filled with tension thick enough to be cut with a bayard, a silence so loud none of them noticed Rover hovering behind Keith. They sure noticed when he started playing the Wedding March. [Accidental Marriage] heat of your skin by sodappend (NC-17, 2k) Summary: Keith is in heat and Lance is the last person he wants to see. So of course it's Lance that walks through his door. [A/B/O Dynamics] Skin by MemeKonVLD (MemeKonYA) (R, 3.2k) Summary: He’s aware of Lance talking to him, but he’s still too asleep to try to decipher whatever it is he’s blabbering about. He only starts paying attention when one of Lance’s hands goes to the drawstring of his pajama pants. “Whoa, what are you doing?” He asks, slapping Lance’s hand away, cheeks warm. “You,” Lance starts, pointing at him (and Keith notices that for all he’s made fun of him for the last forever for them, he’s wearing his fingerless gloves), “are not screwing up my skin care routine, man.” (AKA: the one where Keith and Lance switch bodies.) [Body Swap] I'll be your... whatever it's called by MoonStar1220 (NC-17, 3.7k) Summary: After a particularly rough and frightening fight with enemy Galra Lance decides he's had enough of Keith's behavior and vows to fix it. [Galra!Keith, A/B/O Dynamics] Alpha-nd a way to you by opalfire (NC-17, 3k) Summary: Lance honestly had no clue what was going on anymore. He had scented Keith, as though he were his mate. Lance flushed. The other alpha must think he was insane by now. “I-I’m sorry - fuck - I mean,” Lance stuttered. Keith just stared at him, the flush on his face getting redder. “I know we’re both alphas, shit I’m so-“Lance started. “We’re both what now?” Keith’s eyes widened before narrowing as he stared at Lance. “Oh my god, you don’t know.” otherwise known as Lance gets possessive and scents Keith without knowing he's an omega till he hits heat [Omegaverse, A/B/O Dynamics] Alive With the Glory of Love by lemoninagin (NC-17, 4.8k) Summary: “Hurry,” Lance urges with a gasp, clutching harder at the stands with both hands poised on them for support now, palms slick with sweat, “They’re going to find us like this if we don’t hurry, oh my God.” A deep chuckle tickles over his ear, almost rivaling the pounding of blood in them. “Let them.” [Public Sex]

[400legends]

Wrongs righted

Quojin

The sun filters through the open windows, motes and a small beetle dance upon the sweet air. It is a beautiful spring day. There is the scent of dew and grass and earth and a rich earthy aroma of rough milled grains and gentle spices simmering on the fire waft up to you as you gather up your belongings. A bedroll… a waterskin… some torches… and hanging on the wall across from the bed, a five sided shield emblazoned with the family crest and an open eye, Trava. You’ve been hired to protect a ranch from some evil-doing. Though you don’t plan to be gone very long, if there’s one thing you know from communing with the ancestors is that you have to follow where evil leads you.

[roll Perception 5] A youngling tries rather unsuccessfully to climb the stairs stealthily and sneak up on you, Dajiv.

[wait for response]

“Mama! Did I surprise you? I can be an adventurer, too! I’ll just sneak up on the evil ones and bop them in the head and they’ll run away never to hurt anyone again! Do you think that I can be a hero like you?”

[wait for response]

“Quojin, Dajiv! Come down to breakfast!” your husband calls up. Heading down to the dim kitchen/dining area, a wave of gratitude and melancholy overcomes you as you see Dajiv’s father place a hand on his head before handing him a steaming bowl of oats. Dajiv will be well taken care of. Sitting in your chair at the head of the table is an object, very poorly wrapped in string and large leaves and oddly shaped.

“It’s for you! I made it myself!” [very quietly, a whisper] “They’re magical…”

Carefully opening the package, you find two very smooth river stones. On one, written childishly with some unknown pigment and misspelled in Draconic, is the word “Mommy” and on the other is “Dajiv.”

“They’re sending stones! That way we can talk to each other while you’re away. I prayed really hard to our ancestors, for like almost an hour, so they must be magical! Do you want to test them out?” You do not have to be a wizard to know that these stones are not magical.

[wait for response]

You finish breakfast, but not before regaling your family with a story. Though the journey was not delayed for more than an hour, the story spanned centuries and generations, but isn’t that the way of stories?

“I suspect that you’ll be gone for a while, but by the time you get back Dajiv will be ready to consider a vocation. He has the temperament for adventuring. Do you think that you’ll be ready to squire him if he decides thus?”

[wait for response]

“Either way, we’re always with you. The ancestors are with you too, but this I don’t have to tell you.”

“We love you ma-ma!”

“Go with our blessing and bring safety to others who have not been so blessed. We love you.”

As you take your leave, walking alongside your horse to save its stamina for tougher trails, tears of happiness and gratitude stream down your face. In the sun of this spring day, the ancestors truly smile upon you. You are blessed.

Threnody

The sun rarely touches the ground in the alleys and backstreets of the capital very much unlike the palatial balconied bedroom you left not long before dawn. While the heat is overbearing midday and you can often find all sorts of unsavory types here finding respite from the heat, in the early morning the hidden paths are free of observers and ne'er do wells. The door you’re seeking is almost perfectly camouflaged but your keen eye and long practiced experience seeks the hidden edge and after a quick glance to ensure you’re unobserved, the door is pried open with your dagger. You close the false door behind you and find yourself in a pitch black entryway, facing a steel door. Two quick knocks, pause, one, pause, then three. The door opens and you find yourself face-to-face with your trouble-making but golden hearted older brother, Fabian.

“Come, quick, I have news!” He says and grabs your wrist, not unkindly to draw you into the hideout.

Looking around you see that there are fewer refugees than usual, and you’re not sure if that’s good or bad news. Normally, this place is pretty packed with hungry, tired, travel-worn people. Many children would seem especially scared, not from any perceivable imminent danger (if there were danger, the children are the last to know), but from their unusual and unstable circumstances and the osmotic pressure of the worries of adults.

[roll Insight, adv 10] Fabian is in particularly good spirits, it seems like he’s been able to house or relocate some of the families after all, into better more permanent circumstances. 

“... and I couldn’t have done it without the help of the Thieves’ Guild. They’re the ones who smuggled them out of here and got them to their new homes! And that brings me to why I’ve summoned you…” a long pause, the wide jubilant grin turns into a more sheepish smirk.

“I may have promised them that you’d help them out with a little problem they’re having overseas…” He averts his gaze expecting you to lash out at him for volunteering you to cavort with this shady institution that he’s ensnared in.

[wait for response]

A small girl, dragging a tattered blanket interrupts the conversation. “Do you have any sweets, Ms. Lady?” You do.

[wait for response]

“She was separated from her family in the last skirmish, poor thing. We still haven’t been able to find her family, but the Guild has contacts. Doing a favor for them, could help her and dozens of others that we haven’t been able to house yet for one reason or another. The Guild just wants someone to discreetly deliver a package to their contact overseas, an apothecarist, and deliver a message to a rancher in the same town. No, not that kind of message, a piece of paper. Then, you’re free to head back. Favor complete. Easy peasy. Because of the embargo, they need someone who can travel freely without being searched. So, what do you say?”

[wait for response]

“I know you have to make it back before Cathilda finds you missing. No questions, no lies. I’ll stay here and await your return. When we get back, maybe the conflict will be over and we can swap stories over drinks!”

You know that with Fabian’s stubbornness, disdain for government, and his fiery desire to help those less fortunate, that some shadowy entity or another will curtail his efforts, but if he’s clever enough, not his life. He’s smart and capable, you just have to trust that he’ll be okay.

Exiting the hideaway, the purple-orange of the early morning sky has shifted to blue, signalling that you’ve been here too long. Time to hurry home and convince your parents that you need a vacation. To book passage across the foaming eastern sea and into the heart of adventure. Secure in the knowledge that the little girl and others like her will be okay. Eventually they will be as free as you feel, when you’re off on your own, carving your own path, and sowing your goodwill unto the world.

Ferris

Walking through the near pitch black of the Underdark is never easy, but with good enough vision, experience, and a familiarity of the dimly bioluminescent lichens that populate the dank caves and tunnels, one can make do. You started your sojourn to the small lagoon hours ago. A place in which you have found yourself spending more and more time communing with the very few small insects, mammals, lizards, and bleached, sightless fish that have wandered in from closer to the surface. There’s life everywhere, even in the deep, if one knows how to watch for it. Both of the times you’ve made your way to the surface with your father in order to engage in commerce with the more skittish traders, you marvelled at the diversity and abundance of life up in the sun, even as fearful, mistrustful eyes follow you through town. You long to spend more time on the surface and one day you will once you know your father is taken care of.

Up ahead you see the silhouette of a thin elf, slightly hunched, and wearing the long flowing robes of a priest. He’s hurrying towards you.

[Perception check, adv, DC 10] You would know that shape anywhere, though the pace at which he moved threw you off for a bit.

“Daughter, my most precious onyx, you must follow me back to the village. A most unusual thing is happening now. No questions, please follow.”

Elves, being nearly immortal, don’t tend to suffer the maladies of age like most, but Riklaunim is bold and passionate, unusual characteristics for a Drow, let alone the clergy. He raised you to cherish life and truth, to be practical, and not to hold the ideas of good and bad as precious. His poor posture came from an accident that stemmed from an attempt to cure your mother from Saint Vitus Dance, a debilitating and ultimately fatal neurological condition that resists magical intervention. He never expected to be a father, he’s told you multiple times, but he couldn’t leave you to be raised as an orphan after all that. While there were times, as a baby where he sometimes wished he’d made a different decision, now he would gladly trade his valuable life to ensure that yours is happy and long.

As you approach the village, you notice an unusual amount of light radiating from the center. Fire! You never see fire in town. There is no need for heat since the temperature never changes, most food is eaten raw, and the fires for forges and other creative ventures are relegated to caves closer to the surface where the gases can be vented safely to the outside world. Even light required for reading and walking about is cast by plants carefully cultivated for that purpose.

“Stay your hand, young one. All is well. Shade your eyes and come with me.”

With apprehension, closing in on the center of town, your keen eyes see what appears to be the lanterns of travellers casting some of the light, but also fire dancers flipping and swinging balls of fire around. Around them, light-skinned creatures large and small perform feats of strength and acrobatics while singing. Two carts of goods and two very nervous looking mules are being tended by yet another of this troupe.

“You see. Some brave traders and entertainers have braved the dangers of our world.” Traders can be useful but you don’t really see the point of the entertainment.

[wait for response]

“They call themselves the Brood. The dwarf you see there is the business manager, Wermek is his name. The gnome singing is in charge of the entertainment. Apparently, they travel far and wide to ply their respective trades. Apparently it’s profitable to go where others aren’t. The young ones were afraid of the light of course, many had not seen such before, but once they were assured, it brought joy to them. Just come watch for a bit and see if there’s anything we can trade for, then we can return to our pending duties.”

The music wasn’t unpleasant. The fire was interesting, sure. The vendor seems to have a decent selection.

[wait for response]

[if browsing wares] The dwarf shows you his wares. The lightness of his skin is strange to you but he seems friendly enough, which is also strange. The duergar are not friendly; they would certainly try to stab you and take your possessions if you weren’t very careful in your dealings with them.

[Investigation check, DC 10] You find some clever, well-crafted shiny items that will help you and your father survive here, trading away a few of your smaller sapphires for them. There are some remote caves and crevices that are positively lousy with “precious” stones and gems.

[if watching fire] The three dancers had ropes with flaming balls at the end of them. They danced in circles, weaving fluidly between each other, the balls of fire never stopping or slowing. Occasionally, they would draw intricate patterns that would leave mystifyingly beautiful afterimages when you closed your eyes. Sometimes the fire would switch directions seemingly defying physics, making one wonder how much of this was mundane and how much magic. Once, all three stopped to take a drink of something and spit it out facing the crowd. Massive draconic flames spewed forth above the audience’s heads. “But they’re not dragonborn?!” one kid says incredulously. They take their bow before taking a break before starting up again in a couple hours.

[if listening to music] The gnome steps forward. She is small, but with a vitality and vibrancy that is unique. Her sly, soft, sultry smile, like the keenest dagger blade, deceptively powerful and holding wild, dark secrets. The voice you heard before was tinny from the poor acoustics of the damp cave and the distance from which you heard it. Now, her voice, soft, powerful, reverberated through your chest, sucking the air from your lungs, making your head swim and your eyes water. She sang in Gnomish and though you didn’t understand a word, you felt the heartache, regret, and furious vengeful rage of her aria. Your eyes meet and the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a smile. She winks at you and turns to belt out the next verse to the other side of the semicircle in which the audience listens, some with tears, some with fierce grins. None of the onlookers are distracted or impatient. The song reminds you of the wild raw energy of life. You are invigorated.

The gnome approaches you, nimbly hopping up a boulder nearly her height to look you in the eyes, speaking in Common, “Hi there! My name is Bimpnottin. I hope you liked the show. I saw you in the audience. What did you think?”

[wait for response]

“The acoustics in this place is lousy but the moistness of the air is good for the vocal cords. You’re beautiful. What do you do here?”

[wait for response]

“What do you want to do?”

[wait for response]

“This job is all about partnerships and recognizing talent. I have a feeling about you. If you love life follow us, help out, travel, and see all sorts of things. Have you ever been to the beach? Our next stop is a lovely little village. It has a ranch, a swamp, a great sea, you’d love it. What do you say? There’s no risk really, no commitment.”

[wait for response]

[if mentions father] “Well if you can’t, I understand. We’re gonna stay for a few more hours, then head for the surface, we could use a guide (we nearly got lost on the way down). I hope you come, I rather like you!” She bends over to you and kisses your cheek.

You talk with your father about this interaction, no secrets between you, and he looks relieved. He tells you to live and not worry. “Come visit often and what you do in the meantime is your business as long as you’re happy.” After making some arrangements with some villagers to make sure he’s taken care of. You pack lightly, you don’t need much when you can forage. Bimpnottin waves to you. It’s time. You take your leave from him, catching up and then leading the troupe slowly towards the surface.

It’s time to meet the light and live your life. Barring an accident, your father will be there. The safety of the dark falls behind you and you exit the caves that you spent most of your life into a verdant forest full of life. You breathe deeply and look back at the gnome. “That’s more like it!” She says. “I love that smile on you!”

Jennora

The time spent at Temple was a necessary evil to appease your family, but frankly it feels like a waste of time. You respect what your parents are trying to do, afterall the righteous causes and opulent equipment are what the Jewelcrusher clan is known for. You, however, are more of a scholar. Sensitive to your inclinations, your family has urged you to pursue life as a Cleric, but why should you limit yourself to one particular kind of magic, why limit yourself to the workings of the divine, when there is so much power to be had from daliences with dark entities. You dedicate yourself particularly to the study of dark artifacts and weapons carved from shadows. It’s been awhile since you swore a blood pact to a hexblade and you’ve felt yourself grow stronger with its power. Growing up with warrior parents and within a collective heritage of weapon making gave you a unique insight into this arcana, but you know you lack experience.

As you head home from a tedious, you detour, heading to a dusty remote crevice in the mountainous terrain. The crack in the rock is tight, but soon you find yourself in a small clearing with an opening to the sky, spare grass, and a single sickly tree. Here you practice summoning and dispelling your spectral blade. 

[Perception or Nature check DC 10] Occasionally you stop to take note of the bones of some forsaken animals who had the misfortune of finding their way in and not making it back out. Absently, you think about all the generations of dead who must be all around us. Surely there are more people dead now than alive.

Knowing that you’ve been gone long enough and that your absence will be missed, you head back home. Upon arriving you find your parents waiting for you with a book of dark arts that you had hidden under your bed sitting on a table.

“Where did you go? What were you doing?” your father starts.

[wait for response]

Your mother: “We’re worried about you, what are you doing with a book such as this? Don’t you know that these spells and magic are evil? This goes against everything that we stand for! Please, explain yourself.”

[wait for response]

“Tell us why we should let this continue” mother again.

[wait for response]

“Please excuse yourself, young one, we need to talk amongst ourselves and contemplate what you’ve told us.”

This was ridiculous. You are not a child, granted you are lacking experience, but whose fault is that? They never let you go anywhere. Maybe it’s time to strike out on your own. It’s likely though that without their blessing, they’d come after you and hunt you down to bring you back. After the discovery of the book, you’d be lucky to escape town at all. You’re on lockdown.

The next morning, you greet both parents at breakfast. The majority of the tension seems to have left the room and through their bloodshot eyes you see nervous excitement.

Mother begins, “We talked long into the night. We trust you. You are our most…”

“...most precious gem.” You finish exhaustedly.

“But you are!” she continues, “We think that if anyone could use the dark arts for good, it would be you. This was not an easy decision to come to and the ethics of it had us going around in circles, but we came up with a way for you to continue your studies in good conscience. Ground rules…”

They were being far more understanding than you anticipated, but the idea of rules holding you back makes you a bit queasy.

“No blood magics, no evil deeds, and you must always protect the innocent. Do you understand? Lastly, always understand the price. Don’t pay the price for magic in a way that endangers your soul.”

You can’t tell them about the pact of the Hexblade.

Your father speaks up, “I happen to know someone in a sleepy seaside town that studies this sort of thing. Train with him and travel and learn about the world. That you would keep such a secret from us means that we can no longer control you, nor should we. You are your own dwarf and you should be out writing your heroic deeds upon the face of the world. Make us proud and don’t forget your way back home.”

You are speechless. Tears well up in their eyes and they smile back at you with joy and the endless enduring love of family. You will become powerful, perhaps the most powerful Jewelcrusher to ever have lived. The dwarves eons from now will know your name and though you may spend endless hours in libraries, crypts, tombs, and other dark places, your heart is light and sings out with the joy and resilience of your clan. You’ve never been to the beach before. Best to start packing. Tomorrow is a new day.

Globnar

In a shallow hillside cave, not far from the capital, four small trails of slime glisten in the sun that filter through the canopy of tall pine trees. Slugnar is clearly the fastest, but Snugnar has been known to occasionally surprise you when properly motivated with its incredibly long stride or glide or whatever it is. The other two are there just to make it interesting. Your large bulky muscular frame is delicately hunched over the event, your gaze a model of concentration and interest. Snugnar can still do it, but it has to make its move now! Dognar, helpfully, is barking at this proceeding, maybe sensing your excitement or maybe to hurry them along. Either way it’s welcome, the noise gives the whole event a sense of urgency. He knows that the two slower ones, likely the untrained newcomers, will be a treat, so there’s that too.

The solitude suits you. Lately, you’ve been feeling a bit of uncharacteristic loneliness, but when that feels strong, you redouble your efforts in training Dognar. Dognar is… challenging. Not bad, not that you’d ever characterize any dog as bad, but Dognar definitely likes to follow his own path, a sentiment that you understand intimately. Also, you trust Dognar and he trusts you. You’ve always looked after each other ever since you came across the lost mastiff puppy years ago.

But before this snail race can come to its thrilling end, Dognar suddenly falls silent, walks to the edge of the cave looking toward the west where the bulk of the forest lies and beyond that the Great Sea. At once, Dognar whines and collapses onto the cave floor. You rush over to see if he’s okay.

[Medicine check DC 10] There’s a tiny spot of red in one of his eyes as though a blood vessel burst. You snap your fingers around his face to check his reflexes and at first he doesn’t seem responsive, but then, slowly, he seems to regain his senses. Within a seemingly eternal minute or two, Dognar seems to be himself again but just very tired.

Like any willful adventuring canine, Dognar is not a stranger to injuries. You try to avoid it, but Dognar is Dognar and stuff happens. For minor injuries, you bandage him up and have him take it easy, and for more major situations, you employ a healer in town. One day it is likely that Dognar will literally bite off more than he can chew, but generally some scrapes and pulled muscles won’t stop him from protecting who he loves most.

This, however, is not like a normal injury, and not like the injury of the old either, as Dognar’s been on the road adventuring for years now. That hard life tends to age furry companions prematurely and that’s doubly so for our larger friends. What’s going on?, you think.

[Animal Handling check DC 10] Dognar looks at you. Never before have you seen a more human face on him, a face that seems to say, “I want to tell you something.” With all of the considerable force of your intention and love that you can muster, you place your forehead to his and think, Tell me, what do you know, friend?

A dizzying array of images, no it’s more than that… memories, pummel your unprepared mind into submission. Already kneeling, you keel over with the pressure of the experiences of a whole other life. 

The angel boy falling from the sky, the battle with the sahuagin, the fireside chat with the man in black and his gift of tarot cards, the grand city of New Gilead, the gunslinger training, the light battle with the baby as its victor, the wizard’s mangled memory, the tanks, and the first orb, the time jump, the mines of the dwarves, the death of Arthur, the town of Crag and the blood stones and the missing children, the mysterious jungle temple with poison and death around every corner, the next time jump, the lobstrosities and the werecamels and the great vast desert, the vast seemingly endless tomb, the inscrutable sphinx and weakened djinns, the mad mage, his eternal love, and the time dragon, the angelic intervention and a trip through the bowels of hell, the bloody fortress and a battle with a fallen angel, and yet another time jump, a time of separation and contemplation and the reunion at a hunters cabin, a frost mage and a flying castle of giants, a myriad of strange battles within levels of the tower, a world across planes bureaucratic and heavily factioned, a trial with a demigod as judge, a town in need of saviors for kidnapped children, an adventure into a strange, magicless future world, a corporation formed to protect reality, mechanical wolves, a sleepy prison town of psychics, a grand illusion of homecoming and fellowship, and at last a field of roses, the song of creation and the tower that holds it all together. 

A wet cold nose nudges you awake. You remember this past life vividly. Your head vaguely throbs and as you sit up you realize that Dognar must’ve experienced the same thing. No wonder he was acting so strangely. A question comes to you immediately, Why? Why do I, we, remember this?

[Insight DC 10] You realize that this has nothing to do with you, or the other, or even tower, at least not directly. When you stood before Gan in that other life, we had all made wishes in our secret hearts, but the wish that won out, the one most virtuous and loud that rose to the top and straight into the ears of Gan is that of Dognar.

Dognar wished simply to live a happy life with his friends, not as they were, but as he sees them at their best. Void of the strife and heartbreak so common in life, but full of the vitality and adventure and love that they had for each other throughout.

You understand what you must do and immediately start to pack up camp. It takes you a moment in the hubbub to find Snugnar and Slugnar and put them back in the box you made for them, full of their favorite foods. You toss the other two slugs up in the air and Dognar catches them nimbly. You pause as you look into the radiant sea of green and gold that is common to most forests when the light is just right and the wind is relatively still. A track appears on your grimy face as a single fat tear makes its way down your cheek.

A bark breaks the silence. Dognar looks up at you expectantly. It’s time to meet our friends again for the first time. Dognar seems to understand this and leads the way into the forest, down the hill, and towards the sea. That shadow of loneliness that’s been following you lifts as the sense of wild possibility that permeates any true adventure takes its place.

[wait for response]

Beyond the sea of green and gold lies everything that makes life worthwhile. In Lan’Repus, friends unite as though they never parted, sharing in merriment and joy, in drinks, stories, warm hospitality, and hugs. 

In your dreams and trances you hear the sweet chorus of the rose. It sings its song of creation, safe because of the greatest creative act of all. Love.

[bigyack-com]

My Long, Unending Journey to Find Perfect Office Equipment

In 2012, I started working from home full time. Within just a few months, I threw my back out from sitting all day at a home office thrown together from what I had on hand. That event kicked off a quest to find office equipment that would be a bit easier on my spine. I expected the quest to consist of a trip to the store. Instead, it’s been years of learning what good posture really entails.Before getting a new job that allowed me to work from home, I wasn’t making enough money to get by. The new job was a step up, but during those first few months I was working at a cheap metal desk from Walmart with a metal folding chair. The desk had a flimsy keyboard tray, but no space for a mouse. So my mouse and keyboard were at different elevations. My monitor sat on the desk, on a rigid, nonadjustable stand. It was an objectively terrible setup. Aside from the metal folding chair, though, it was a pretty common one.So, over the course of several years — as I was able to afford each new upgrade — I searched for the best, most ergonomic option. In some cases, I found that buying a new piece of hardware could have a dramatic impact on my posture. But I also found that no amount of “perfect” equipment could fix bad habits.

Upgrade #1: A desk chair that allows for a variety of positions

The first thing that had to go was the metal folding chair. A good office chair can be expensive, but it’s also like buying a mattress. If you’re going to spend a third of your life in it, it should be comfortable. Wirecutter, The New York Times Company that reviews products, suggests looking at a few key criteria when picking an office chair, including:Comfort: Everyone’s body is different, and finding a chair that’s comfortable is often a matter of personal preference. If possible, it’s important to sit in a chair before buying it to ensure it’s comfortable.Lumbar and back support: While a cheap office chair might offer very little lumbar support (and my awful folding chair had none), a good chair should be adjustable enough to support your spine in a variety of sitting positions.Adjustability: Not only is your body different from everyone else’s, but you’re not likely to sit in one position all day. Or at least you shouldn’t. Whatever chair you buy should have adjustable seat height, armrest height, tilt and seat depth. Some cheaper chairs might leave off certain adjustments, but the more you can customize your chair, the better.You can read more about what to look for in a good office chair (and get some specific recommendations) in the Wirecutter guide here. According to Leon Straker, a professor at Curtin University’s School of Physiotherapy and Exercise Science, when choosing a chair, you should consider more than just one sitting position.“There are three ‘good’ sitting postures,” he said. The first one, what he calls “upright” is “commonly shown in posters of good posture” and entails keeping the torso vertical and elbows relaxed by one’s side. It’s best for working on a computer.The second, a “‘forward” posture, involves sitting at the front of the chair and leaning forward with the forearms resting on the desk. “This is useful for writing,” said Dr. Straker.In the third, a “backward” posture, the body is reclined and receives support from the chair’s backrest “This is useful for talking on the phone,” said Dr. Straker. “Good desk and chair equipment allows you to vary between at least two of these, preferably three.”Once I found an office chair that worked for me, it was an immediate relief. My legs, shoulders and especially lower back felt better. It’s hard to overstate how important a good chair can be, no matter what else may be right or wrong with your setup. However, while it was an improvement, I still found myself with an aching back, sore knees and especially strained wrists at times. It turns out, buying a new chair won’t magically fix everything.

Upgrade #2: A convertible standing desk, to avoid sitting for too long

Much ado has been made about standing desks in recent years. For some, it’s a miracle. For others, the hype is overblown. In my case, I just didn’t want to make the commitment. My old crappy metal desk wasn’t working very well, but the idea of standing for eight hours a day (or more) was too much to take on all at once.So, I started with a better desk, with a wide top and a keyboard tray that had enough room for my mouse. I thought this would be an improvement, but it turned out to be a mistake. As Dr. Straker explained, “Wobbly small trays to put keyboard or mouse on are not nearly as good as a single solid surface with sufficient space.”After I began developing chronic wrist pain, I opted to upgrade again. This time, I found a desk with one, large wide black top. More important, this one had a motor in the legs to adjust its height. Buttons on the side allowed it to automatically swap between multiple preset heights — such as between standing or sitting — as well as manual adjustments for everything in between. (Wirecutter’s favorite standing desk, after months of testing, is here.)For the average person, this might be overkill, but for me it was perfect. I’m a fidgety person by nature, and sitting in one position for too long isn’t good for the spine no matter how supportive a chair is. As Dr. Straker explained, being able to both sit and stand at a desk with one “sufficiently large” work surface enables you to change your posture throughout the day.

Upgrade #3: A completely unnecessary adjustable monitor arm

For the longest time, I used two small monitors sitting on even smaller stands, which put the eye level of the monitor way too low for comfort. This can lead to hunching over and leaning forward to see text on a screen at a proper eye level. To alleviate this problem, I upgraded my workstation with an adjustable monitor arm. With my monitors on these arms, they can be moved to eye height, turned to any angle, and even rotated. I immediately noticed that I sat up straighter. Rather than contorting my body to my monitor, I was adjusting my monitor to my body. It seemed like a great upgrade.The only problem is, I could’ve done the same thing with a small box.A small box or a couple of books placed underneath a monitor stand can raise a monitor high enough to look at straight on without hunching over. Many computer monitors even come with adjustable stands to raise their height. Even that might not be necessary, according to Dr. Straker. “With screens now typically quite large, few people need blocks to raise their screens so the top of the screen is at their eye level.”If you still have a small monitor, then it might be worth adjusting its height, but otherwise, just having a separate monitor — as opposed to, say, working on a laptop — should be good enough. “Having a computer screen that is separate from the computer keyboard allows you to get the screen in a good position for your head and eyes and the keyboard in a good position for your hands and arms,” Dr. Straker said.I might enjoy my adjustable monitor arms, but as I learned later, they were hardly a miracle upgrade. They were just nice to have.

What truly matters isn’t the equipment, it’s your habits

Sometimes, I found that upgrading my office equipment provided a huge benefit to my posture. Just as often, certain upgrades were entirely useless, or at least could have been done at a less exorbitant cost. But more important, I learned that there’s no one perfect posture or set of equipment that will magically make back pain or long-term health problems go away.No matter what position you sit in, staying in it for too long can cause problems. “Variety is key,” explained Dr. Straker. “Aim for a ‘Goldilocks’ day — where you get enough physical stress to encourage your body to maintain or build muscle and bone strength and heart and lung fitness — whilst allowing enough recovery time.”And despite any diagrams or charts you may have seen to the contrary, there’s no one “correct” posture. There are many, and it’s important to change them up every so often. “The most common misconception I see is that people think there is one good sitting posture — and that if they sit like that they will be fine,” said Dr. Straker.“In fact, prolonged sitting in any posture puts people’s health at risk,” he said. “The secret to reducing health risks associated with desk-based tasks is to design your day so you get lots of variety in posture and movement as you are doing productive tasks.”In my case, the convertible standing desk helps me switch between standing and sitting — I may change positions a dozen times throughout the day — while my office chair helps ensure I have decent posture while sitting. What good posture looks like for you may be different and it requires some forethought to create the right system you need.What to Buy is a new series in collaboration with Wirecutter, the New York Times Company that reviews products. Read the full article

[tartaricing]

Doctarded: Act 4 - Gustave Kateb vs The People

With any remaining dregs of audacity gone, Doc faces Team Rainbow.  This was originally made from a larger so I split it up for dramatic effect. R&R!

"Okay, from the top…"

"SHIT!"

"ASS!"

"FUCK!"

"HAMBURGERS!"

"Fuze, hamburgers is not a curse word," Tachanka gave critique, "It is something we call the Americans, yes?"

"But doesn't most instances of this condition have only benign words?" Fuze stood his ground.

"While that may or may not be true, we need to put our backs into it. Kapkan, flail more excessively! Glaz, make that shuddering believable!" Tachanka continued, having his claps echo in his tiny room, "Okay, again, from the top-"

"Tachanka, dear what are you doing?" Finka burst into the room, jaw dropped.

"Ah, Finka!" Tachanka bellowed a greeting, "Have you heard about what happened about the Spetznaz?" He motioned to give a bear hug, but was rebuffed by the younger woman.

"No, I have not but this is not acceptable," Finka's jaw hadn't lowered, pitch increasing, "First Doc loses his mind, but now this?"

"Love, we are just trying to show that our brothers and sisters back home need the money."

"By deceit? What is going on here?" She still stood, shocked.

"Oh…" The man's voice went monotone at the realization, "Love… We have received bad news. The Spetsnaz is losing funding from the UN."

"That makes no sense…"

"We're all aware here, Finka," Kapkan spoke up, "But yes, it's happening."

"What is your plan here?" Finka asked, "Are you going to deceive the UN by by doing a charade of a poor excuse of Tourette's syndrome?"

"Well… yes." Tachanka was blunt, "But we are proving a point."

"What kind of point?"

"Well, the UN has a soft spot for the disabled. And if we make light of the fact that we have the disabled in our ranks, maybe they'll retract their decision. It's not wrong, is it?"

"Technically, you are not wrong," Finka put her fingers on her chin, and whispered in Tachanka's ear, "I am one of them."

"See?" Tachanka whispered back, "And we'll posture ourselves as such, so you don't have to."

"…Fair enough," She blushed, "It's not the most moral decision, but speaking of morals, Lion's been injured."

It was CQC practice in the boxing area and Lion and Bandit were duking it out. Bandit was incredibly ferocious today, taking more punches than usual. Lion dodged back and forth and landed a few on the other. Bandit didn't care, as he shook them off and kept punching.

"What's up your ass?" Lion chuckled, dodging in rhythm.

"You're awfully slow," Bandit tersely replied.

"Oh, come on," The atoner chuckled some more, "What is it? You can tell me."

"You already know."

"No, really I don't."

"No."

"Please?"

"I will not."

"Pleeeeease?"

"NO." Bandit gave an undercut to the atoner's shit-eating face, causing him to collapse onto the floor, giving a loud, dry, echoing smack, "You already know." He came in closer to his face, and then unceremoniously walked away.

"I don't think he's breathing," Sledge casually said, checking Lion's face, "Oh, wait, there it is."

"Well I did my part," The German walked away, wiping the sweat off his brow. He then turned to Blitz, who was on the bench, unmoving, "I'm… sorry, Elias."

"I don't need your fucking pity," Blitz droned, monotone.

"Hey, hey," Bandit gave a mild pat on the shoulder, "You'll get through this. On the bright side, at least I saw it loud and clear. God knows what schisse you'd do if you saw it."

"That doctor's gonna pay…" Blitz started with a growl.

"It's unfortunate, but he's going to be the one to heal Lion here," IQ joined in, wearing her green dance uniform.

"Good."

"Greetings, brahtan!" Tachanka burst into the room, with the rest of the Spetznaz following him.

"Ooooh Lion's fucked up," Fuze laughed. Glaz took out his sketchbook, went into the ring, and started to sketch out Lion's form.

"…Pugilism," Kapkan scoffed.

"Where is the doctor; he should be coming any time soon?" Tachanka asked.

"My question exactly," Sledge agreed.

At Mute's notification, Doc rushed out of his office. Lab coat and medical bag in hand, he went towards the boxing room. Mute then locked the door behind him. Doc then asked everyone to clear out of the way, hopping into the ring. As much as his relationship with Lion was rocky, he wouldn't neglect him. He started to check his vitals: blood pressure, pulse, breathing, heart rate, and eyes. Seeing that it was all normal, he started to drag Lion out of the ring.

Only for him to suddenly wake up and give him an uppercut. Doc landed on his back, swearing all the way down.

"Merde! Of course you'd fake it!" He looked up at Lion, who was now standing up and pounding a fist into his palm.

"I've been waiting for this day, Gustave!" Lion cackled, now picking Doc up and holding him up by the arms, "I swear the day you slip will be the best day of my life, and here it is!" He broke into an evil laugh, "Anyone care to take a swing?" There was a glint in his eye as Doc struggled to get out, but Lion's strength restrained him.

"Me first!" Blitz got up and undid his jacket, revealing a wifebeater and sweatpants. He turned to Doc, "What kind of logic do you have to sleep with Rook? The Rook I'm with? Did you think fucking him would solve your problems?"

Doc's eyes widened and he stared wordlessly at Blitz, "I needed him. I'm sorry."

"THE HELL HE DOESN'T!" Blitz snapped, letting out a barrage of punches, "HE WAS MY FUCKING BOYFRIEND AND YOU FUCKED HIM! YOU FORCED YOURSELF ON HIM! Yet you think you're hot shit because you're a rich doctor who did Doctors Without Borders. Doubly so that you're Rook's best friend. Well guess fucking what? YOU AREN'T! You fucking aren't… You act like you're the savior of Team Rainbow. WELL BULL FUCKING SHIT!" He then gave a variation of Bandit's uppercut and a swift kick in the groin, voice starting to break as he inhaled, "You're not fucking sorry, and all these mistakes, they just pile up… And worst of all, Rook was so open and so kind. He doesn't let me love him anymore. You ruined your best friend. You sir, are a shit altruist…"

Blitz turned his back and walked to a dark corner of the room, suppressing his sobs. Bandit and IQ joined him, soothing him.

"Well, who wants to go next?" Lion bellowed.

"Me," Tachanka said, getting into the now bloody and beaten Doc, "You caused Lera to almost die. That makes me angry," He gave a direct gut punch, causing the doctor's eyes to snap open and his mouth to cough blood. The Russian walked away.

"…I think you were too harsh with him," Glaz followed him, "I don't feel like drawing anymore."

"Nyet," Tachanka disagreed, "After all the shit he did, it was coming."

"Infidelity is pretty shit," Kapkan added, "Even though Blitz will be fucked for even breaking fraternization policy. I'm surprised you didn't do more."

"I think it's fitting."

Twitch emerged from the shadows, unmasked. Everyone started to whisper, shocked. She blew the stray strands of hair out of her face and walked towards Doc, head held high. Holding his chin, she looked up at him. His eyes were near death. Hers were warm with pity and contempt. She let go of his chin and knelt down to his level.

"Gus," Twitch began.

"…Emmanuelle?" Doc weakly replied. His eyes fluttered, "Are you angry?"

"Not really," Her warm smile made it sincere, however, "Mira and I fixed it."

"…I'm… sorry," Doc started to cough, "…I was being selfish. I felt neglected."

"…That's the thing. I looked up to you as a paragon of ethics. We all did. It's not that you were deprived of whatever that was. It's not how you casually let all these mistakes pile up on your person. You taught us all that all life is precious and everyone has inalienable rights. In effect, it's you. I don't know what's wrong with you and I'm afraid to guess, but… it's all you: you shooting a child, you swapping Finka's medication with said child's, and now you having sex with Rook even though he's with Blitz. I know this is a tired sentiment from your conscious, or whatever's left of it and from the rest of us at Team Rainbow, but…" Twitch put a palm up to her head, leading into a deep sigh of consequences, "You need help. Professional help. World class help. Because that's what you are to us. World class. It's still in there somewhere, you just need to find it." She stood up and walked away. Her head was buried in her hands.

Somewhere in the dark and the empty space between the operators, there was a jiggle of the lock. The jiggling went faster and faster. Until it fully stopped.

A blanket of light emerged from the door.

"What the hell is going on?"

The entirety of Rainbow Six was in the debriefing room. Six was at the main podium while Doc was at the left podium. Doc was taken immediately to the hospital, with Finka as the residing physician. After a few hours of rest and treatment, he sat up bandaged with an eyepatch. Everyone else sat in chairs facing them, with those in the gym at the front.

"Is everyone present?" Six called to order. A flurry of whispers, chair squeaks, and cell phone noises filled the room.

It all came to a hold as Vigil and Echo rushed into the back, holding hands.

"I see everyone is here," Six continued, "So we'll proceed with the hearing." She cleared her throat, shuffling documents in hand, "Today, we are all here to discuss the elephant in the room. Starting with today's events." Blitz shook in his seat, "From witnesses in the boxing area, we have a beating of our doctor, Gustave Kateb. Callsign Twitch, would you give your account please?" Twitch got up to the right podium.

She had bags under her eyes and her hair was messy. With a heavy sigh, she began her testimony, "Apparently Lion, Tachanka, Bandit, Mute, and Blitz had planned on this. Bandit and Lion were having a boxing match and Bandit knocked out Lion. Mute asked for medical help and Doc came. He then locked the door. Lion apparently faked being unconscious and hit and restrained Gustave. He then offered him to anyone who wanted to punch him. Blitz came in with a flurry of punches while Tachanka punched him once. I talked to him only about his issues. He came in my scrapbook… I don't want to talk about it any further-" She started to hyperventilate and ran back to her seat. Mira held her as she broke down.

"A clear witness account. Before we let the men plead guilty, I want to know what drove this premeditated beating," Six replied, "This month has been rough on all of us. Mute, I'll let you come first." Mute took his place on the podium.

"If you want to know my motive," Mute mumbled through the mask, "Doc shot a child. Who the fuck shoots a child?"

"For your information, that was already fixed! The child is alive and healthy," Doc defended himself.

"It doesn't matter Doc! That's unacceptable at any angle!" Mute countered, "The media would kill us quick if they learned. That's a goddamn liability-"

"Enough, Mute!" Six cut him off, "Do you plead guilty?"

"Yes!" Mute curtly answered, "It's a violation I'd take." He threw his hands up in the air and sat down.

"Lion, you're next."

"You see, mademoiselle," Lion took Mute's place, starting with a haughty air, "I do not have the best relationship with ze doctor here. So I was willing to aid in this beating of justice-"

"Lion, NO!" Rook interrupted, "Doc's actions don't excuse yours, Lion!"

"Shut it, fuck toy!" Lion hurled the insult loudly. Rook sat down heavily in a huff, arms crossed and fuming.

"Language!" Six intercepted, "Of course you're guilty, Lion. Sit down."

"At least I own my sins," Lion walked off, tagging in Tachanka on the podium.

"…And what is it this time, Tachanka?"

"…He swapped Finka's medication for the child's. He's the reason why she froze in Mosul. I'll take whatever charge," Tachanka sat down. Bandit went up next.

"What is your issue here Bandit?"

"I…" Bandit stammered, eyes on the ground, "I witnessed infidelity and felt incredibly offended on Blitz's part. I felt like I had to do something. Why are you punishing us, Six?"

"…I understand the host of issues that Doc has stirred up, but in this environment, mob justice isn't the solution," Six gave a heavy sigh, "I'm conflicted, but regulations are regulations. Blitz, you're up next."

Bandit walked off the podium, only to have it filled by Blitz. "I know Rook and I are a violation of the fraternization policy. But it's so goddamn obvious. You even see it." Blitz breathed through clenched teeth, "It's not right that Gustave here had his way with Rook. It's not fucking right."

"Elias, I'm sorry but it isn't like that," Rook interrupted again, "As Twitch said, he's not completely bad."

"You didn't have to cheat, Julien!" Blitz yelled back, "It hurt to see you and Doc in the same bed after I come back from Munich."

"There was some issues that I solved wrong, yes-"

"THEN WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU DO IT RIGHT?"

"ENOUGH!" Six moderated with an iron fist, "All of you are guilty. Lion, Tachanka, Bandit, and Mute for a count of premeditated assault. Blitz for premeditated assault and a fraternization violation. And Doc… Where do I begin with you? Sexual misdemeanor, fraternization violation, assault, and negligence!"

People burst into a gossipy whirlwind, with them whispering to each other.

Six put a swift end to it with a few pounds from her gavel. People went silent. "As I was saying, as severe as these counts are, they don't take away from your abilities as operators or your accomplishments. You are still valuable. However, the punishments need to be served. Lion, Tachanka, Bandit, and Mute have kitchen and janitorial duties for three weeks. Blitz, you have kitchen and janitorial duties for four plus house arrest for the first week. Doc, you have kitchen and janitorial duties under house arrest for six weeks. You are only allowed to practice within the halls of Herefordshire and even then, you will be monitored by a medic. You are all dismissed."

[the-fitsquad]

The Pet Trade Is Impacted By The World Trade In Animals

Residence Studios For Novices

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The Application Licensing Service reported that the certificate chain could not be constructed or failed validation. Of course, Windows ten desktop SKUs such as Pro and Enterprise will continue to exist, with all the same functionality and features you’d anticipate from a desktop OS. Microsoft will not be taking functionality away, and it won’t be de-emphasizing desktop with WCOS. In addition, students will understand blueprint reading, problem-solving strategies, techniques for customizing AutoCAD, use of analysis tools, basic organizational capabilities and applications in geometry and trigonometry. 1. A folio is raised as quickly as the guest checks in. two. Primarily based on desktop workstations memory capacity as of June 14, 2017. Nonetheless, most “pc specifications” lists have a tendency to cover the required hardware, not what hardware would truly give the ideal efficiency.

A common CAD system supplying has a geometry processor with attached database, providing a widespread design database”. But if you do not have a backup then you could be left with no other alternative than to do a clean windows 7 set up from an install USB patched with the USB drivers you need to have for a Z170 mobo. Parallels Desktop for Mac does not incorporate Microsoft Windows.,Desktop Application at Discount Rates. Guests could encounter line at front desk when checking out in the course of the peak hours (e.g., between 7.30 and 9.30 am). The HP Z620 Workstation is quoted to obtaining 4 occasions the memory capacity compared to last generation systems, a larger energy provide, and assistance for single- or dual-socket processor configurations. In laptop mode, the HP ZBook x2 is a potent mobile workstation with a keyboard leveraged from the HP ZBook Studio.

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VMWare Workstation is a virtualization software for desktop and laptop pc, it enables users to set up 1 or more operating program on a personal computer and use them simultaneously along with the actual machine. Today even low-cost PCs now have functionality in the gigaFLOPS variety. CAD computer software is employed for producing 3D models, technical drawings and documentation for manufacturing of a solution, building of a developing or civil performs. You load your PACS method onto a server, from which any authorized personnel may access it via a clinical workstations. Mobile Personal computer Desks are offered in a wide range of styles, sizes, colors and components to suit mobile workstation needs in a wide range of professional and academic environments.

The shadow copy provider timed out although flushing information to the volume becoming shadow copied. The HP Z2 Mini is based on an Intel C236 chipset and supports Intel Xeon E3-1200v5 and Intel Core processors. There’s a wide variety of Bronze, Silver, Gold and Platinum Xeon processor possibilities to pick from, up to 384 GB of DDR4 system memory more than 12 slots, and up to four TB of storage. I used the phone quantity for consumer service right now (thanks to you)and spoke to an individual live. I haven’t built a box from scratch but, but I’ve been upgrading, re-purposing and modifying hardware and operating systems for my specific workflow for lengthy time. Our Revit workstations utilise cutting edge mid-range Nvidia Quadro graphic cards so are appropriate for medium to large Revit datasets and meet most user’s requirements.

You may be pondering of spending over $1000 bucks and getting a potent laptop with quad core Intel i7 processor and latest NVidia ten series GPU for CAD functions, that would absolutely perform but CAD softwares such as Solidworks and AutoCAD do not truly recommend this CPUs and GPUs for operating their softwares. In Windows 10, Microsoft has created a brave attempt to unify some of the functions introduced in its final OS release with the familiar interface of Windows 7 and earlier in order to persuade both businesses and consumers that, this time, they can upgrade with self-confidence. The most impressive office workstations are incredibly high-tech, with screens and interactive touch pads built into partitioning walls. HP Z Workstations are developed and engineered to optimize the way the processor, memory, graphics, operating systems and ESRI applications perform together in all configurations.

I like code that uses as considerably CPU time as it can – I’ve recently been functioning on some foreign exchange trading projects and I need to run an awful lot of operations in parallel – ideally while operating some servers and watching some video. Committee chairs, who after rose to energy on the basis of seniority and exercised near-baronial powers, are now under the handle of celebration leaders. Same 4 guests at dinner tonight and the servers did a considerably visit their website greater job serving tonight such as bread and tea readily offered. For solidworks and 3dsmax general performance you need singlethread performance (rendering is diverse but modelling like singlethread functionality you can read about it on solidworks forums for instance).

Nevertheless, for World wide web browsing and common workplace applications, exactly where the laptop spends the majority of its time waiting for the subsequent user input, even netbook-class laptops are normally quickly sufficient. The Z6 also sports dual CPUs, can deal with up to 384 GB of technique memory, and functions dual M.2 slots for HP’s own Z Turbo Drive PCIe SSDs. At this point and time, we are employing all these media and mediums, and they do have an effect on us. If controlling one’s thoughts implies being robotic or zombie-like, I concede that point. Since several men and women have more than 1 computers in their houses, it comes as no surprise that executive and personal computer desks are so well-liked. As soon as a enterprise expands beyond a half-dozen staff with PCs, it will require a committed IT staffer or subcontractor, and they will want PCs with corporate IT functions to make deployment and troubleshooting easier.

Modern workplace workstations have grow to be a have to have item in the present corporate enterprise world. We comprehend that some customers are possessing problems installing Windows 7 by USB drive on their systems that have a GIGABYTE 100 series motherboard inside. The hardware configuration offers the functionality required for your DeltaV method with out more than-specifying the hardware and adding unnecessary expenses. AutoCAD is an really demanding drafting software plan, and if you are making use of the complete version, you will have to get the best computer for AutoCAD of 2017 To make confident the program will run smoothly, and to be able to finish the tasks with out any errors, lags, and other concerns, you will want a effective machine. Companies operating on budgets of practically any size are certain to uncover the computer workstations they need at rates they can afford, as we provide new, utilised, and refurbished choices.

I am still investigating a minor issue with my workstation: whilst typing on the keyboard, I sometimes hear a sort of vibration sound that I am not able to locate. In the early 1980s, with the advent of 32-bit microprocessors such as the Motorola 68000 , a quantity of new participants in this field appeared, which includes Apollo Pc and Sun Microsystems , who developed Unix -primarily based workstations primarily based on this processor. I will say, as considerably as I dislike Apple goods in basic, their new desktop workstations that appear like a cylindrical pod and price about $5-10K are amazing, purely on a hardware specs basis. These days with a lot more and more individuals are discovering the benefits of ergonomics. All employees climbing or otherwise accessing towers should be trained in the recognition and avoidance of fall hazards and in the use of the fall protection systems to be utilized, pursuant to 1926.21 or where applicable, 1926.1060.

Your Reputable, Innovative, Experienced Source for Customized HP Z Workstations. SDLT tape technology is ideally created for data centers, server environments and remote offices. Two Dimensional Personal computer Aided Style – Use personal computer aided style application to generate, edit and plot accurate, completely dimensioned 2D drawings for a wide variety of technical disciplines such as architecture, engineering and product design and style. Items consist of potent skilled desktop (WS) and laptop (WS-M) based laptop workstations, and Deskside and Rack primarily based (RS-D and RS-R) computing solutions which are developed for complicated, simulation, analysis and visual image rendering tasks. We sell name brand and custom Elite CAD Pc Desktop Workstations and Mobile Workstations for 2D and 3D Modeling and Graphic Animation, Video Editing, and Rendering, for Designers, Engineers, and Architects.

Along with that bump, they also contain eight-32GB of ECC DDR4 2133 MHz RAM, dual Gigabit Ethernet ports, and the Windows 7 Pro 64-bit operating program preinstalled on pick models, with a license for either Windows eight.1 Pro or Windows 10 Pro. The ergonomic design and style of office workstations could also exhibit incredible consideration to detail. Generally these advances are substantial, but HP’s new line of workstations, christened The HP Z-Series Workstations provide Dassault Systèmes CATIA V5 and V6 customers some actually dramatic leaps in performance correct at the outset, and guarantee even greater issues to come later this year. At times the chairs are stacked and out of the way for movement or workstations. Windows ten Pro for Workstations will be delivered as part of our Fall Creators Update, obtainable this fall.

Account info and other sensitive information is typically stored on workstation computers data thieves are effectively aware of this. The ultimate combination of power and functionality, APEXX 4 7404, featuring an overclocked, liquid-cooled, ten-core Intel® Core i7, is perfect for each single-threaded and multi-threaded applications. Below, we’ve chosen a selection of NVIDIA cards which supply GPU acceleration technologies. Intranets are a strong technique for enabling a organization to do enterprise on the web, for example, to let any person on the Internet to order products. The BCDVideo client workstations offer a reliable remedy to the security industry. Enhance productivity with the severe energy and functionality of AMD FirePro expert graphics cards for the HP Z420 Workstation.

Such desks give the impression of occupying significantly less space due to their sleek design. For video editing Pinnacle Studio is the the choice for a multimedia Pc and for iMac users Final Cut is the selection program but in contrast to Pinnacle Studio is extremely costly. The Quadro m4000 replaces the K4200 but, in terms of sheer power, delivers virtually as significantly efficiency as the old K6000 card! These include fluid dynamics, quantum mechanics, molecular dynamics, seismic processing, information analytics, rendering, visualization and pc-aided design and style, amongst a lot of other HPC applications. This section contains guidance on which scenarios this PAW guidance should be applied to. In all scenarios, administrators need to be educated to only use PAWs for performing assistance of remote systems.

The S-class was a single-node SPP2000 with up to 16 processors, whilst the X-class name was utilized for multi-node configurations with up to 512 processors. The model we configured came with the very best consumer grade laptop CPU on the marketplace, 64GB of RAM and two 500GB SSDs in RAID- mode. With only two or 4 CPU cores apiece two of these chips are unlikely to render more quickly than a single overclocked six core Intel Core i7 3930K. Adding modular workstations to your office makes it straightforward to use the most of your valuable space. Even so, in spite of meticulous efforts in generating awareness about the potential pivotal part of cloud storage facilities in foreseeable days, 96% of business workstations are nevertheless not backed up. This sort of lackadaisical attitude on the element of firms and ordinary citizens can price them dearly, and it is the high time for them to embrace the cloud.

It also supports “Turbo Enhance” which automatically boosts the processor speed based on workload – so if an application is only utilizing one particular of the 88 cores it will automatically increase the speed of the core in use and turn off the unused cores. The Indigo Magic graphical user atmosphere blends the simplicity of a familiar icon-driven interface with the energy of UNIX. Professional workstations have extended had specs that put common PCs to shame. The most common Computer Aided Style (or CAD) application in the globe is possibly AutoDesk’s AutoCAD. Appear for terms like expert laptop” or mobile workstation,” which usually indicate that the laptop is going to provide more horsepower and greater-finish possibilities. This threat environment requires an organizations to adopt an “assume breach” safety posture when designing protections for high worth assets like administrative accounts and sensitive organization assets.

Skilled post-sale hardware support for the duration of owning the workstation. Inside a restricted space region, the desk and racks of the workstation is made to match in PCs, monitors, DVDs, pc speakers and far more. The GPU now has an option for AMD expert graphics as an alternative of the NVIDIA-only preceding providing, and the CPUs have been updated to the most current Haswell revision. Based on the Haswell microarchitecture, this Intel processor family features a entire new set of performance enhancing functions more than the prior generation. If you can afford it, VMware Workstation is one of the best virtualization applications out there. Armari are a major specialist manufacturer and integrator of high functionality computer systems and options.

If a buyer with an older machine needs a dilemma fixed, HP can often go back to this vault and locate the product to research and solve the issue. What is also appalling for the African folks of the US and those all through the globe, is the ‘glee’ and callousness that attacks on Obama have grow to be the rallying cry for the most virulent racist in America. For such graphics intensive workflows you genuinely need to have a higher-end GPU like the Quadro P4000, which is only offered in a desktop tower like the HP Z240 Tower. The HP ZBook x2 also undergoes dozens of tests for certification and optimized performance with the industry’s major software providers like Adobe and Autodesk. An workplace desk gives you with the space to write, to use your pc and to use storage for all your critical papers and workplace supplies.

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The SLUB Dresden supplies a Wireless Neighborhood Region Network (LAN) for library users in all public access areas of the Central Library, at the Departmental Library DrePunct and other SLUB library areas. HP’s workstation group told DEVELOP3D that, in designing the HP Z2 Mini, it did far more simulation and evaluation cooling operate than on any other solution. Simply because of this, we created applications for Microsoft Windows 10-primarily based devices and the iPhone that allow users to engage with the Prysm digital workplace platform in the way that performs greatest for them, which will in the end make people and teams a lot more successful and effective,” added ‘Neill. HP Sure Start off Gen3 is accessible on HP EliteBook, HP ZBook, and HP Z Workstation products equipped with Intel® 7th generation or later processors.

According to John H. White, there had been just a few railroads with conductor vehicles prior to the war. Simple stats such as processor speeds up to three.20 GHz, eight MB cache, 16 GB of speedy 1333 MHz memory and up to two NVIDIA Quadro FX1800 graphics cards, or one particular NVIDIA Quadro FX4800 graphics card are impressive enough, but that is not reckoning with new Intel Quickpath Technologies and its capacity to use these resources much more efficiently than ever just before. This example gives step-by-step guidelines for setting up a VMware Workstation virtual machine and its host machine for use with Install Capture when migrating from Windows 7 to Windows 10. This example shows one possible method. Personal computer is Waking up, but after windows boot, there is no network conections and untill disable and allow network card there is NO conection.

The desktop atmosphere itself is also incredibly tiny on an 8-inch device, so much so I’d say it really is barely usable. This can help you to focus a lot more on your organization and less on the transition into a new workplace space. As such, if you want to run your Autodesk goods with no running out of Memory or running into overall performance concerns, you will want to safe your self a good amount of RAM. Compared to the typical service like Dish Network or Direct tube with the goal of compels the subscribers to recompense up to $20 a month, this software is indeed saving populate a destiny of money for every day. According to most analysts that stick to the workstation industry, HP is a leader for workstations.

This powerful Mac machine comes with a decision between a two.2GHz and 2.8GHz Intel Core i7 processor, up to 16GB of RAM, and flash storage options amongst 256GB and 1TB. The operation requested is not permitted on against a DNS server running on a read-only DC. Sauder has a massive catalog of furnishings such as an ample choice of workplace desks. Quadro is far pricier, offered they are essentially the very same hardware, but their are differences – firstly the Quadro cards (like Xeon processors) are created to be in a position to run at maximum load for long periods, they tend to be quieter, and they have 10bit colour (essential if you’re colour grading, for example). Created to go anyplace and deal with the toughest workloads, the HP ZBook x2 mobile workstation is made to pass MIL-STD 810G testing 14. The HP ZBook x2 also undergoes dozens of tests for certification and optimized overall performance with the industry’s top computer software providers like Adobe and Autodesk.

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[achristmasday]

November 6th- 8th

Monday

On Monday we started the class with a warm up that really enabled everyone involved to get in the correct and focused mind set to be able to produce quality work together as a company. For this warm up, everyone had to randomly place their chair randomly in the room and to stay seated on them. There was always one empty chair. Paul and a consistent walking pace went to sit on the chair that was closest to him- our objective was to ensure that he couldn't sit down. We were not allowed to talk, we had to signal with facial expression who was going to move chairs each time. This took some practice however, we all ended up doing really well in the end.  This warm up helped not only team work for the performance but ultimately will also help with the professionalism of students. These techniques, of communicating without speaking translate into other situations for example: in the wings and sorting out problems with props/ costume, fixing issues in the performance without making a scene. Having this skill as a company will help in so many different situations. 

The decision was made to swap Thomas’ and Jasmine’s lines in the trench scene so that Thomas now says “Please God, help me” The reason why these lines have been switched was so that it subtly links to the fact that Izzy represents Angel Gabriel, and the Angel Gabriel answers peoples prayers. 

The WW2 choir scene was quite a large part of rehearsals this week. After run troughs last week the group came to realization that everyone was not talking authentically- It was still very much modern day.To fix this general issue with the scene we changed some of the dialogue and slightly shortened it so that it would represent how people would actually speak in the 1930′s. I also made a point of making everyone stand up straight, feet together and hands held in front of their bodies to try and make it look more formal and give it the “stiff underlip” kind of vibe. After run troughs today we all agreed that it wasn’t the best of rehearsals, it was sloppy and unfocused. It was more of a walk through than an actual profaneness which is a shame as I try to tell the actors that its so important to give your all in rehearsals because yes, it is always better on the night but  it can not be the absolute best that it can be if you don’t absorb notes and make the most out of rehearsal. The show should be even better than the best rehearsal, so I hope moral picks up again very promptly.   

Tuesday

Tuesday we started off with a selection of warm ups. We had to go to our mark firstly and run on the spot in different ways. After this we then had to incorporate different emotions into the ways that we were running. We had purpose behind it with different scenarios- running in a race to win but only getting second place, running from a murderer who gets you in the end. This allows us to use everything all together in unison, movement of the running, the physicality/ posture based on what situation you were put on, the expression to show the emotion on your face, reactions. After the physical warm up we did a vocal warm up. This consisted of humming the letter M. Each time we hummed we had to focus on making a different area of our face vibrate- lips, forehead, cheeks. e then continued to hum the letter M however, Paul would count to ten and when each number got bigger so did the volume of our voice- until we got to the number 10 and we finished with a loud and clear “maaaaar” sound. 

After a thorough warm up we workshopped the final scenes in the show.The idea is that in the cafe Jimmy talks about his wife and how much he loved her and how her grave isn’t too far away. Gabriel then says that they can go get some flowers for her which they go to do. However, I wanted to  mirror the street scene at the start of the show. The idea is that everyone walks on the same order as before however not as rushed and all of their focus is on Jimmy, they are warm and friendly towards him as they each hand him a single flower and this time Thomas does not acknowledged them- this completely juxtaposes the message at the beginning. The metaphor this presents me is that people care when its too late. After this we did a full run through to work out what we have to work on tomorrow. 

Wednesday

I didn't come in due to having a panic attack in the morning followed by a migraine. 

Strengths/ weaknesses and my response:

Strengths include warm ups, I feel that this puts everyone in the correct and professional mind set. Allowing everyone to pick up on different. knew techniques and to evaluate/ add to their own performance. 

Team work is pretty solid. Myself and Jasmine worked together devising the flower scene and I feel that our ideas bounced off of one another very well.  

My personal weaknesses this week have been to do with my mental heath. I’ve been finding it hard to have one constant emotion. It seams that I’m either really happy and hyper or super down and horrible and there is no in between. However, my antidepressants have just been increased again so it could just be my body getting used to the increased medication as well as everything else going on. 

What will happen next/ Personal targets for next week:

We will continue to go over and to perfect the work that we have devised. Trying to make it the best that it can be ready for show days. Notes are becoming more detailed now. They aren’t as generalized as before which is exciting and shows progress. So we will be continuing working together across all three path ways as well as on our own as actors as we will continue to do until the show. 

A personal target for myself next week is not to be so hard on myself and to try and come across as less abrupt and more approachable by listening more and allowing others to voice their opinions before I say my view or just dismissing it.