#the project you pick up last minute because you need a present asap

[chthonicathenean]

I was originally going to say 6-8 for yarn specifically and then realized that I have 6 active yarn projects on the shelf next to my desk (with more on my "sewing" table upstairs as well as a plastic tub with many "hibernating" projects). When considering sewing, I have two huge plastic tubs full of clothing and housegoods to mend, so easily 20+.

[neblina-magico]

Chapter 1

Sleeping In The Sun

You were desperate for a job so you applied to be the daycare Attendants handler! you have no clue what you're signing yourself into but at least you don't have to pay rent now!

Moon hates you, Sun doesn't know how to feel about you and you're just trying to survive.

----

I haven't written fanfiction in years so bear with me on this. Any support is accepted. It's gonna be hella angsty before yall get the comfort.

——————————————————————————

“Thank you for your time, we'll call you back if you get the job -beep-”

I sigh and slump down into my chair. Only a week ago I lost my last job and so the desperation to get a job was crazy high. Luckily in my desperation and searching the web I found a job at this major big-shot Pizza Plex that's a good 20-minute drive from my house. On the job description, it said that they needed someone who would monitor and aid the daycare attendant 24/7 or something like that. Hell! I half-assed that interview, I mean I didn't lie about having experience with taking care of children and having a bachelor’s in mechanical engineering but the whole “I can do well under pressure" and "I'm a very organized and calm person!” is all bullshit.

Either way, I guess I'll have to wait to get this goddamn call back for the job, I just wish they included more in the job description. I would have loved to know more about what I'm possibly walking my pitiful ass into.

— — —

3 DAYS! 3 days of walking around my apartment and lodging around eating bowls of popcorn and being an iPad kid on my couch. I'm being dramatic, it wasn't that long but still, it felt like an eternity. Just like how it feels like an eternity hearing this lady talk about the job.

“-and unlike most jobs at the pizza plex you'll be required to move into the building itself. Now don't worry, you will be provided with all your essentials and all expenses are going to be covered by the company. You'll be personally in charge of any repairs and upgrades for the daycare attendants but also in charge of helping them at the daycare. In that case, you'll be given a specific uniform for when you're at the daycare. Now the reason why you are instructed to move into the building is because the daycare attendants also work as a nightguard and due to that fact the higher-ups thought it'll be appropriate for you to be present and ready to work at all hours of the day. Personally, that sounds like one hell of a job, especially with the past incidents at the pizza plex but whatever the higher-ups want I have to follow suit. We will be sending over some moving cars later tonight so please pack up everything you wish to be transferred with you. They built this pretty neat housing area under the daycare, it's soundproof and shit and has really great security so you'll be safe at night, but I've been inside and it's really spaces. So yeah you start your job two days from now, I suggest moving in tomorrow morning, your security key and such should already be in your mail so you should go check that after this call. Welcome back to Fazbear Entertainment I guess. Oh and before this call I'd like to inform you that the other animatronics tend to get pretty quirky at times. Have a good day!”

What. The. Actual. Fuck. was that. That was an info dump for sure and what the hell does she mean “the other animatronics tend to get pretty quirky at times.” the hell? I need some coffee asap, this is not how I thought I'd be woken up with. Lemme make a quick mental note of all the shit I have to do today; Make myself a cup of liquid gold, pick up my fucking security card from my mailbox, and pack all my shit. Exciting.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading!! Chapter 2 should be out soon. I’ll only be updating once ever three week.

[lightacademic]

Study tips for people who’ve never had to study before

It recently came to my attention that there are a whole load of ~highly achieving~ students out there who’ve never had to learn to study, but suddenly being naturally gifted just doesn't work anymore. I’ve been in this exact position & came out of it ok, so here are some important things I picked up along the way/wish I knew back then.

Habits. If you build good study habits early, before things start getting intense, you’ll be well set for when the stress comes. Maybe always finish your homework before tea, or come home and study for an hour before you change into sweats. Association is helpful - if you have an established routine for something else, like getting a coffee or sports training or practicing an instrument, say you’ll always study directly  before or after that. Make it work for you.

Little and often. People say this about languages but it’s the same for anything. Half an hour every day is so much more effective than 3 hours in a day, once a week, and you won't feel wiped out afterwards either. This works for long term projects as well - breaking things down into manageable chunks and doing one little bit per day is much less overwhelming than sitting down and telling yourself you’re writing your whole essay today.

Time management. Parkinson’s law is real. Set yourself a limit, say you’re going to write this essay before tea, or you’re going to do this maths for no more than 2 hours. Things will drag on and fill as much time as you allow them to, especially bigger projects, so stick to a schedule. If at all possible, aim to have bigger assignments complete at least a week before they’re due, so you have time for printer problems, formatting disasters, etc etc. This ties in with organisation, which is equally important. I don’t mean perfectly drawn schedules and bullet journals (even if thats what studyblr wants us to believe) but get a diary, I use a page per day diary but you can use a notebook, wall planner, whatever. Put deadlines and classes and exams and everything in there asap, and then day to day you can make a to-do list of smaller tasks. These should be flexible, so if something comes up or a task is unexpectedly complicated, you can adapt and just add it to the next day. Don’t set your expectations too high - its better to set out to work for 4 hours and achieve that than to say you’ll do 8, only manage 4 and feel like a failure.

Your environment is important! Your desk does not have to be all white minimalism and pastel highlighters to be a good study space, but try make it as clear as possible, well lit, and free from distractions. The bigger the better. Make sure you have everything you need within reach, including a plug for a charger, if you use a laptop. Quiet is ideal but not always possible, so make yourself a playlist of background music (or try one of mine, here.) Libraries are great, because they’re literally designed for reading in and having people working around you can be really motivating. Avoid procrastination at all costs. Leave your phone somewhere far away, turn it off, or use the forest app. And try not to work where you sleep, because that won't help with your work or your sleep (bedroom is fine, in bed is not.)

Test yourself. Repeated retrieval is the best form of learning, so if you have past papers or quizzes thats great, use them! If not, writing your own questions or getting some study buddies and writing questions for each other is a good way of studying, because it forces you to think about the material in a different way.

Teach others. It’s great if you have a friend or two to revise with, but if not, try writing presentations, talking to yourself, a pet, a plant... anyone who’ll listen. Break down concepts into simpler language, as if you were explaining it to someone younger. Use flow charts and clear diagrams, and be concise. This will not only consolidate your understanding, but you'll get some great notes out of it (and presentation practice.)

Your notes do not have to be beautiful! I love looking at these aesthetic studyblr notes as much as the next person but realistically that takes hours and calligraphy is not an efficient use of your precious time. Try to keep them as concise as possible - bullet points are good - and use no more than 3 colours per page or they’ll lose meaning. Don’t go too hard with the highlighters. Arrows and annotations and post it note additions are all excellent - don’t rewrite what you’ve already got! That is not good revision. I’m sorry. Try using a whiteboard.  For short answer questions, calculations, quick diagrams - anything you’d use scrap paper for - a mini white board is great. I mean something like this which is cheap and also better for the rainforests than using a whole bunch of paper that you’re just going to throw out. I *borrowed* mine from school which I do not condone but may be an option.

Take regular breaks. A good rule of thumb is that your break should be around 25% of your study time, so if you study for an hour - 15 minutes off. Study for 8 hours - 2 hours off. And take your breaks properly - get up, leave the room if you can. Get some fresh air, even if thats just opening a window, drink some coffee water, have a snack if you need it. Try not to fuel yourself on junk food - biscuits are essential but have some fruit or nuts or something as well - they actually help your brain work and you’ll feel better for it.

Don’t compare. I know this is easier said than done, but study for yourself. Find your own method, whether that’s what everyone around you does or not. Try not to compare grades, either. A little bit of competition can be healthy, but (especially around exams) don’t listen to the people who “only did 12 hours last night.” Equally, ignore the people who say they haven't studied at all and don’t let either of them get to you. You know how hard you’re working, and who know how efficient they are?

It’s never too late. This is maybe the most important thing to take away from this. You may have weeks, even days until your final/assessment/essay, but it is not too late to start studying. I’ll make a post about how to cram later, but even though its not ideal, it can definitely be the difference between a pass and a fail or an A and an A*. So if you think you’ve left it too late - you haven’t.

Good luck, and feel free to message me if you want more tips/details/a sympathetic shoulder to cry on about how hard all this is <3

[flow-green]

19-08-2021

 “I think I’ve never had more chaotic year than this one,” I confessed one evening when we drove in a car somewhere. My SO gave me a warm look and I checked to the back seat where my Charlie-baby was sleeping. If somone would have told me year and a half ago that 2021 will be a true turnaround in my life, when I will throw away all the life chains and take full control, I would have rolled mye eyes and gotten back to my endless vicious circle of career. I think ever since 17-years old I have followed the norms the society has set up: graduate high school, sprint through university, meanwhile make sure you work so you won’t get drowned in depts, get a job for your field of interest, in the meantime take some loan for some random house and if you have a moment, please, make some babies. Ever since I was a child, I knew right away: that’s not me. I don’t know what it is that makes me want to break these frames. But, oh well, there is no point to raise my voice for my own good as all the other people around me are nicely stable in the system. Some of my exes are on the same line: if you are not a parent by age 31 and do not own a gorgeous house in the suburbs while paying a sickly huge loan, meanwhile ignoring your family, friends and hobbies to make ends meet just so you could work yourself to deah by age 40, then you are a loser.

Few weeks ago in Saaremaa, while tipping my toes and feet into the warm and comforting waters of Estonian sea, I realized where I have drifted with my life. Only now I have started to realized that, f**k me sideways, I am actually a living human being. A LIVING person. I LIVE.

About 2 months ago, near summer solstice, I finally felt the finalizing ticking in my brain that pushed me gently to the edge of unknown. “Will you?” the life asked and motioned me to jump. “Or will you stay here forever, wondering what’s down there?” And so, with shivering hands, I clicked ‘send’ button on the mail that delivered my resignation letter to my boss. Done. Over half a year full of mental terror and a slow suicide will come to an end. At this point I had insane regrets. How am I supposed to throw away an opportunity and 6-year long career just because I do not want to live anymore? Now you’re probably thinking I am being a drama queen and overexaggerating. Oh, dear god, no. There were days, where everything started to tumble down in one go: my love life, my family relations, friends and work relations. On these days I switched myself and my phone off, listened to some serious melancholic tunes, sat alone for hours or drove around with a car and now, admitting for the first time: I hoped that something will happen and I do not need to live here anymore. I admitted this once also in my therapy, that I have frozen up while driving, not really giving a damn about my leg on gas pedal and about the speed.

I am once again a fat, useless, lazy, clumsy, slow and unorganized. Blessed with sore black eyes, a girl with unstable nervs and flaked nails. And all this just to give myself to a work which does not appreciate any sacrifices I make.

And I did it. This is MY life. My path and my decision, I ain’t going anywhere and even if I do, I’ll go with a smile on my face and as a queen for a day.

Few days ago I realized with full heart that this was one of the most important decisions in my life. I went for a run, as I have started to pick it up again. I went and set a goal to run approx 20 minutes. I had time. No rush. Only responsibility waiting for me was one project to improve a home page of our fresh company, but there was no strict deadline nor a passive aggressive boss-lady stalking my every move and making sure I am around even off-hours. So, my 20 minute run became to a 1 hour run, which was successful, nicely progressive and easy. I enjoyed every minute, because I was present. I had nowhere to hurry. I did not worry about the future or the past. I was just excisted. And I breathed.

I think I have cried more this year than in total for all past years. In my 9 to 5 appartment cubical lifestyle I always pushed away everything that demanded at least some movement out of comfort zone. For exaxmple I always closed in when my ex partner had an idea to do some changes. Well, true, his changes did not comply with my dreams. I did not want to get a huge loan to buy a house and sprint out 2 babies just because ,,Martin and Marge had their second kid in their gorgeous house and Martin is only 1 year older than me.” OK, is nice for them I guess? Every time these silly arguments started to come up, I switched myself off into my safety bubble, all alone. I let no emotions, chaotic situatons to influence myself and I just slowly flew on my laid down path, with eyepatches on. I always knew I want something different. I wanted to fight and be heard. Every time there was a conflict at work, with a friend or family member or with a partner, I eliminated it in the early stages and just ignored the rest.

And when these eyepatches were finally removed, everything else followed. I had no pink glasses or filters for emotons. Real life was there for me, but not always in a bad way. Real life offered everything, you only had to have guts to reach out and take it, with all its plusses and minuses. Take it, dominate, take responsibility, but don’t just float by. Get yourself togeter, notice, do, learn and experience. If not now then... when?

This half of a year has thrown so many obstacles and opportunities on my way and I have caught most of them. I guess one of the most difficult period was spending some insane time at a house in the middle of nowhere, without any water or normal comforts. This has made me appreciate small benefts of our everyday life.

I think I have mentioned this earlier as well, that February and March were probaby the hardest months this year. I was given a challenge to overcome and boy, it was tough. Namely, I got pregnant. As a woman who has never wanted to become a mom due to several and long reasons which I will not discuss today, I was in a cocmplete shock. I felt happy, scared, angry. Why now? Universe has its twisted sense of humour and it turned out that the pregnancy is not carriable for medical reasons and abortion is a must. I did not have a single day to stay home and mourn and endure grief. Oh, no, they needed me back to work ASAP. So I ignored the pain of loss and carried on with even more enormous work tempo to keep up. This period started a chain reaction which pulled me cruelsomely to the edge of the cliff. Work does not sleep, it waits impatiently. Even on these two horrible days I had to go through with the process, I did some work since I had become irreplacable.

All the emotions sealed up just blasted out as soon as some smaller bebble hit my bicycle. I cried hysterically, screamed. There were no days where my eyes weren’t bloodshot and with dark underlines.

In some sort of a sick twisted way I felt good, since I was needed, everything depends on me and I am sure it will get paid off nicely in the end when I have worked until my nose bleeds. In this tunnel vision I did not realize that skipped recovery and unresolved grief had made me this maniacal, delusional self-centered zombie, who lived for her workdays. All my free time I spent worrying about next work day. I did not notice anymore how my mom is doing, how are my friends and what is my partner up to. Every time we went off to one of our van trips I just existed somewhere in my thoughts about how much there is still to do. And it’s even more sadder, that I did not even notice myself anymore in the free world.

“Yea, but how would you go on?” was the main question I was asked when with a shaky voice I admitted that I need to quit my job right now and don’t want to take such responsibilities for a while now, only for myself. Everyone can do it. If there is a will, there is a way.

I am happy that I have at least won almost the entire battle with eating disorder, although I have to admint I am not proud over the inner criticizm about my body, which has grown 8 kg heavier since last summer. This means I still have days I hide under baggy clothes and just wait until these dark thoughts pass. There are days where I absolutely veto going to the beach because ‘it’s cold’. Actually I am reminding myself of that year where I had a killer six-pack, hip bones and tiny bikinies fit me so well, but now I look more like a curvy, slightly soft female not nearly showing signs of being physically active. Although, I am now in that golden zone where my weight is not going up nor down almost at all, no matter how much or little or what kind of foods I eat (plant based always of course). I guess it is positive, my body has found it’s perfect zone, but I--- don’t really like it. This mentality here is something now that I have to work with, with all my spare and peaceful time.

Since 25 July I am (f)unemloyed. And happy. I have made sure that I will be secured, will not be homeless and have food and I have a first step of a plan prepared. Priority for now is to help myself out of this destructive black hole that influences not only me but other close ones as well.

I don’t have black shadows under my eyes anymore. I sleep deep, without any random wake ups, I finally have time and motivation to cook, bake and test out recipes that have been collecting dust since forever. From day to day I get back to introduce myself to my long lost hobbies like kite surf, reading, writing, drawing and yoga.

I have finally startrd to realize that next to me there are people that I love unconditionally and to whom I have shown insanely rude attitude. Have you ever felt that re-falling in love again? I am currently feeling it with tripple multiplications, because I have once again fallen in so much love with my dog, my boyfriend and my hero on this topsy-turvy road, my family, friends and life itself.

I will not even take a glance anymore to that 100 promises I made earlier this year. Life is just so much different with completely new challenges. If anything, then I can mark this time period here as my new and fresh chapter for my life.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

The Two Fingers of Death || Morgan & Gabriel

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @bugbearnecessities & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Gabriel needs a snack and tries out a new scare in the English department offices, to unexpected results.

CONTAINS: slight zombie body horror

“I can't believe that bitch flunked me!”

Gabriel was not supposed to be in the ladies room, and he honestly felt bad about it. Normally he did his best to respect people's boundaries, especially those involving very intimate ceremonies like make-up fixing, gossip sharing and any other mysterious ritual that normally went on in the ladies' bathroom. But he had no choice, really: it'd been far too long since his last feeding, and between that and his natural instinct to just nap the winter away, his energy level was dangerously low, so he needed a little pick me up, ASAP.

And the ladies' room, he'd found, was the best place to get a quick fix: Gabriel only needed to hide in one of the stalls, conjure up the illusion of a giant spider and BAM. Instant snack, with high-pitched shrills on the side. But not this time, apparently. No, this time the two girls washing their faces were too focused on their angry rant against Professor Beck to pay his fake Charlotte any mind, not even when he made the spider dance. The girls sounded so genuinely pissed that for a moment Gabe forgot all about his hunger and just listened intently. Apparently Professor Beck hadn't been particularly impressed with Jessica's essay about The Tell-tale Heart, and frankly Gabriel hated the idea that Jessica could be turned off that masterpiece forever just because of a misunderstanding with her teacher. And truth be told, he was looking for a decent meal... Professor Beck was no murderer, but ruining Poe for young minds all over campus was two steps away from a federal offense, as far as he was concerned.

With that thought in mind, Gabriel waited for the two girls to go away and then he left the bathroom. A quick internet search later, he made his way to the professor's office, knowing that she'd probably be inside. He stood in the hallway in front of her door for a few minutes, waiting for the perfect moment and then, when no one else was in sight, he bent down to spy from the keyhole and focused intently, projecting his magic inside the professor's office.

Morgan cherished her office hours no matter what: if any of her students got over their anxiety enough to come visit, she had a chance to get to know them and put in enough help and suggestions to make whatever homework they turned in after more interesting; if they didn’t, she had some time alone to get her work done,  have fewer things to take home, and listen to some her playlists that didn’t get as much airtime around the house. Today was the latter, and Morgan’s only concern was making sure she didn’t write down the lyrics to “Ivy” while she was trying to respond to her students’ questionnaires. There’s no shame in liking Twilight, she wrote, Looking forward to seeing what your thoughts will be when we get to Carmilla! She got through a few more like this, singing along under her breath since the Medievalist Bros were out doing stars only knew what. Her timer went off. Morgan jolted from the switch between Taylor Swift to the X-Files theme, hard enough that one of her earbuds fell out and rattled to the far side of her desk. Morgan chased it with her hand, only then noticing the bright, bleeding heart on her desk.

She yelped with surprise and scanned the room. “Hello? Is this, uh...for me?” Morgan hadn’t seen anyone come in with a special delivery. But then again, whoever had been tasked with it might’ve been too grossed out to ask questions or stick around. Deirdre was usually more discreet than this when she sent presents over, but sometimes she used her promise binding powers to be a little dramatic. Morgan laughed fondly, remembering a small candy box of eyeballs. “Babe, you shouldn’t have…” she sighed, and reached for the snack, which called to her the same way chocolate cake had when she was alive. Morgan reached and--nothing.

Morgan couldn’t stifle her whine of disappointment, but now there were more pressing problems. “Okay,” she called, louder this time and mildly irritated. “Now I know you’re hiding. Come on out!”

Gabriel had to stifle a villainous chuckle (or, well, the closest thing to a villainous chuckle he could muster) as he waited impatiently for the screaming and the flood of energy that'd follow. Alright, maybe a still beating heart was a bit much, but hey, she was a Lit professor, she had to appreciate the poetic justice in that, right? In any case he'd make it up to her somehow, anyone who listened to the X-Files theme couldn't be so bad after all, and...

Gabriel frowned. There was no screaming, no delicious fear. Why was there no fear, the woman had a freaking human heart on her desk! Granted, hearts were fascinating, Gabriel couldn't wait for the embalming classes to start just so he could maybe see one up close, but most people were at least a little squeamish about them. Was Professor Beck actually... Something else? Blood-thirsty murderer? No, it couldn't be: she'd also been listening to TSwift, and most comments he'd read about her on ratemyprofessors.com actually depicted her as a sweet, caring person. Then again, wasn't that what neighbors always said about serial killers? I never thought he'd be capable of something like that, he was always so nice...

The theory was starting to look more promising as Gabriel watched through the keyhole. She was trying to grab the heart, holy crap! And when her hand just passed through the illusion she looked... Disappointed? Gabriel was so confused that it took him a few moments to realize she'd called out to someone, to him. He hesitated. Should he just go away? That would be the wisest course of action, for sure. But then again, if Professor Beck was a serial killer wasn't it his duty to expose her? He, unlike most people, had the means to defend himself against a crazy murderer, after all. And also he was still so hungry. His mind made up, Gabriel took a deep breath and opened her door, his steps far more boisterous than he actually felt.

“I wasn't hiding!” Gabriel mentally slapped himself. Of all the things he could have said, that was going to be his first line to the very first potential serial killer he'd ever met? Lame. And then he added “Dude, you do realize that's a human organ, right? Like, from an actual person. With a hole in their chest. And it's bleeding all over your papers. Doesn't that... Scare you? Please be a little scared, please.” Even just slightly grossed out. And then he realized what he'd just said. “Uh, I mean... That's a human heart, professor.” Hunger was no excuse to ignore someone's academic accomplishments, not even those of a serial killer.

The door opened and Morgan reached for her bag. Salt, knife, iron, they were all still in there, even if she didn’t want to use them. A dozen different possibilities flickered past her head. Was this a trap? A hunter trap? Some magic critter she’d never heard of? Morgan was alone, and if it hadn’t been for her earbud falling out, she might not have heard anyone come in. This world was cruel and bloody and maybe she was an idiot after all for setting aside her combat training---But then the door opened a little wider and there was just a kid. A college kid, twenty-one at most. Not one of hers, although he did have that awkward intellectual vibe that her more enthusiastic boys held. But he didn’t flaunt that archetype like them, he hadn’t finished growing into himself yet. He wore his presence like a suit that hadn’t been tailored yet, a little oversized in some places and a little too tight in others. But maybe he was just flustered, and she was reading too much to give her mind something to do while she came down from the surprise. Morgan looked from him to the phony heart and back again. Scared?

“Uhhh…”

Granted, most people probably would. The Medievalist Bros absolutely would, even though they loved to posture about how ‘sick’ some of their favorite comic books were when it came to gore. But this was White Crest, people were weird, everything was weird. Please be a little scared, please. And it was only then that Morgan remembered the last time she had been startled by illusion magic: in her family’s old haunted house, the day she’d met Nora.

“It’s...so gross. Nasty, ooey, gooey, gross...thing! Aaaah!” Morgan eyed the boy as she tried to scream. But her heart wasn’t in the charade, she was too focused on the idea of there being another Nora in White Crest and what it was about her that made her seem so yummy to them. Sighing, Morgan deflated. “I’m sorry. I actually kind of…like this stuff.” Especially for dessert. “And it’s actually pretty good looking! More true to life than most movies. Actually, I was too caught up in the visual to know it was pulsing, but that is a really great touch. And um….” Oh, stars, he didn’t think she was being patronizing, did he? He was so young, and she didn’t want to crush his confidence. “Look, it’s not you. Really. Anyone more a...well, anyone different from me in this office and you would’ve really had something. And I’m not just saying that! But, if we’re going to be coming clean about our respective supernatural secrets, you should probably come inside and close the door.”

Gabriel appreciated the effort, truly, but Professor Beck's fake groans were doing nothing to quench his thirst for some genuine shivers. And in truth her act could even get him in trouble: someone might pass by, hear a teacher scream (albeit unconvincingly) and think he was attacking her or something. Which he was, technically, but not in a 'this might get you expelled' sort of way. So even though he was still more than a little disappointed his illusion hadn't sorted the desired effect, Gabe let out a sigh of relief when she apologized. And then, listening to her following words, he actually perked up, a tiny smile tentatively making its way on his face. “You really thought it was realistic? It's kinda tricky to really shape them from behind the door, and I focused really hard to get the rhythm right, but I figured it'd be like, uh... Shakespeare! Mess up the beat and the Bard is just not the same, right? Rhythm's important, so...” Gabriel's voice waned as he looked past the warm fuzzy feeling only a straight-A student could get from a teacher's praise and he finally realized exactly what she had said.

Slowly Gabriel took a couple of steps into the office and closed the door behind him, one hand awkwardly flying to rub his neck. “Wait. Respective supernatural secrets?” Wait, not the right word to stress. “Err, I mean- Supernatural secrets? I don't know what you're...” He didn't finish the sentence, he realized no one, lest of all Professor Beck, would ever buy it. Note to self: learn to come up with a decent lie when put on the spot. “Nevermind.” Gabriel blinked, once twice, three times as he felt the awkwardness of that pause weight on him like a heavy blanket. He drew little circles on the floor with the tip of his foot, unable to meet Professor Beck's gaze as he quickly added “Sorry. About the heart. I know you said you liked it -which we're totally gonna go back to eventually by the way... But, uh... Sorry about the intention behind the heart, I guess. I just...” His stomach chose right that moment to rumble loudly. “I'm really hungry.”

Morgan waited until the boy had closed the door and they were well and truly alone. She ached for her magic and good old fashioned silencing charms. Whatever confusion and discomfort she’d had around his trick was gone. He was too clumsy and good-natured for his own hunt. If she had been a hunter or some kind of heartless caster, he might be in a lot more trouble, and he put so much thought into his magic, he was so...eager. Morgan couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a young supernatural so positively engaged with their power and identity. She struggled not to smile as she said, “First of all, you really need to have your cover story in place before you do anything that might make a normie ask questions. You never know who’s going to turn out to be a hunter or an alarmist. You and I are fine, and I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but that may not always be the case.” She gestured for him to sit and reached into her bag for her pyrex, which had her brain stash, and her knife.

“Secondly, yes. The animal hearts I’ve seen are a little more purple-y, than that but not by much, and your average normie is definitely not going to notice any difference. And the texture of the blood? Amazing. We can and will circle back and it probably won’t take long because thirdly…” She eyed him warily. If anyone was going to not be terrified of what she was, it would be this kid, right? Nora hadn’t minded any, and whoever this boy was, he had her kind of fear magic. He thought bleeding hearts were cool, so maybe a whole zombie body might be something to feel excited about. Or at least...not something to flee in panic over. “Thirdly, first rule of supernatural club is you don’t talk about other people’s powers or species or whatever else without asking them. So I’m keeping this snack attack between you and me--well, I’ll tell my girlfriend, but I’ll leave anything specific to you out of it--and you’ll do the same for me. I uh, can’t help your food front, yet, but I can show you something about me that you might find….” Cool? “...Interesting.”

Morgan couldn’t help it; she smiled, she hoped. “How are you with real-life body horror? And how much would you like to see a real zombie…?”

Gabriel's fingers had a little spasm, desperate for a pen and a notepad. It was an automatic response, atavistic almost: when a teacher spoke, you took notes, and you listened and you learned. And man, was class fascinating today! Gabriel nodded, although part of him was so desperate to tell Professor Beck she didn't need to worry: he could become a 10 feet bundle of muscles and claws, he could defend himself. Then he remembered all those times his roommate had managed to draw penises on his face while he was snoring, and he realized that even an 800 lbs monster, when asleep, could easily be poisoned, suffocated, paralyzed... “Cover story is important, got it.”

As Professor Beck described the ideal heart, Gabriel tried to summon up a good image of it, but the result was somehow worse than the first one: less tangible, the heart illusion floated behind the professor, ghastly and practically see-through, such a pathetic attempt that he made it disappear without even showing the Professor. Gabriel frowned: why couldn't he do it anymore? Was it because he was running out of energy and needed a good scare? Or maybe it was because now he knew the Professor wasn't afraid of hearts, so his illusions would no longer be able to summon a heart for her? He would ask mami later, Gabe promised to himself: she was no bugbear, but with his father still doing his disappearing act she was the only one that had been able to give him any sort of info about those things. Until now.

“So basically supernatural powers or species is sort of like...” Gabriel paused, looked for the right metaphor, and then he perked up again. “S&M! Nothing inherently wrong with it, but some people don't really get or understand it so you gotta respect someone's choice to keep it on the DL.” Immediately he paled. Had he really just said that? To a professor? “Not that I know anything about S&M! I mean, that's not the point, the point is... Respect people's privacy, got it. I won't tell anyone about you, I swear.” Once again, Gabriel nodded solemnly, hoping that his awkwardness wouldn't make her doubt his sincerity as he raised his right hand up and made that promise, an oath he fully intended to keep.

Luckily for Gabriel, Professor Beck's next question brought the conversation back to a topic that was far more comfortable to him. “Body horror? Puh-lease! I'm majoring in Mortuary Science and yesterday I fell asleep watching The Hills Have Eyes... think I can handle some gor- Woah, wait, back up...” While during the rest of the conversation Gabriel's eyes had darted around the room, dancing between captive attention and awkward embarrassment , now they landed solely on the Professor, rudely staring. Normally Gabriel would have apologized about that, but all he could focus on right then was...“Did you just say... Zombie?” If the giant grin and wide-eyed excitement on his face didn't answer her doubts, the excited twitching probably would.

Morgan snorted with laughter at the boy’s comparison. More people knew about her species than the particulars of how she and her girlfriend frequently enjoyed sex together, and she didn’t know of anyone who was maimed for having a ball gag in their purse, but he was on the right track. “Oh, of course you don’t, totally just stuff you’ve heard around the dorms, strictly abstract, intellectual curiosity.” Her smile was knowing as she waved away the subject. There were a lot of things she was willing to speak to that other professors weren’t, but this wasn’t one of them.

The boy had put her so much at ease with his enthusiasm, she almost forgot to warn him. “What’s your name, by the way? This feels like a weird thing to demonstrate to just some kid in my office. But, anyway, brace yourself.” Morgan’s words were for herself too. It had been a while since she’d shown anyone this particular part of herself on purpose. She reached for the knife on her desk and raised it over her hand. She closed her eyes and imagined she was chopping carrots as she brought it down swiftly over her fingers.

There was a bite of pain, enough to make her whimper, but there were no tears, and by the time she opened her eyes and scooped up the two severed fingers to give to the boy, fresh white bone had sprouted from the sockets and red muscle and purple sinew were braiding themselves over it. The severed fingers did not bleed, per se, but dripped a few globs of black blood where they had been cut, but only when squeezed, like tube of toothpaste. “These’ll keep for about a day or two, if you want to stick them somewhere for somebody to find,” she said. “After that, they turn to goo.”

“Gabriel Rivera. Swear on mami's snake, I usually introduce myself before sharing secrets, but in my defense... Zombie.” There was still a hint of amazed incredulity in that last word, but any lingering doubt he may still have was quickly cut down with that swing of the Professor's knife. No matter how comfortable as Gabriel was watching gory movies or even studying the theory of preserving corpses, he still flinched out of concern for Professor Beck more than squeamishness. It was just a moment, and then he was back to enthusiastic curiosity. Without hesitation he grabbed the fingers and held them close to his face, squeezing a little and even sniffing them. He stopped short of tasting the dark blood and, after a few moments of enraptured studying, he looked up at the Professor again. “Did it hurt? Are you okay? Will they grow back?” She seemed pretty unfazed by the fact someone else was holding bits and pieces of her, though, so the questions continued rapidly, before she could answer. “Have you ever tried preserving them? I could stea- Borrow some embalming fluid from the lab and... Wait, is that offensive? Asking if I can keep your finger in a jar must be rude, I'm sorry. But just... Look at 'em!”

Gabriel traced the tip of her fingers with morbid fascination before closing his whole hand around them, like protecting some precious treasure. The Professor's words registered a second later. “Stick them somewhere for somebody? Wait, so you're saying you're not going to tell me I shouldn't scare people?” Not that he wanted to scare anyone, really, he just had to, as the waves of exhaustion made themselves known again. “Because I get it, it's not exactly nice. And, uh, I'd totally understand if you were upset about the heart or if, at the very least, you wanted me to just... Not scare people on campus. And I can totally do that, no feeding on school grounds is a reasonable rule! But since we're being so open I'll be honest.” Gabriel paused, a hint of guilt tinging his next words. “If you let me keep these I definitely will hide them somewhere. Pretty soon, too. And then I'll feed from whoever finds them. Kinda hoping it'll be Baker, since he's kind of an assh- A jerk. And then, after he runs away terrified and I'm no longer hungry I'll swoop in and retrieve them because I don't want the cops to close down the school to investigate your fingers. No need for a cover story if no one is the wisest, right?” Truth be told, Gabriel was proud of himself: between the pangs of hunger and the excitement of the Professor's revelations he thought it quite impressive that he'd managed to think ahead like that. Apparently moms with babies under cars had adrenaline bursts, teacher's pets trying to impress their new favorite Professor had bright ideas. “So, uh, if you want Baker to not see a severed finger maybe just...” It visibly pained him to finish that sentence and offer the fingers back, but he still did. “...Take 'em.”

“Yes, Gabriel, it hurt,” Morgan admitted, “But not to the same degree it would hurt you. And--” She waggled her hand in front of him. All the muscle had regrown on her once severed fingers and fresh skin was slowly growing from the knuckles upwards. “I’m fine. No need or interest in preservation. I can regrow anything but my head, which is great, because I can’t begin to tell you how many times my feet have been eaten by hungry critters here.” She determinedly kept up her blasé attitude, because at least this time she was in charge of what happened to her body. She didn’t need to feel like food or remember that to some creatures, even some people, she was only a thing. This was different. At least she and Gabriel were the same, and he understood the distinction between who she was and what she could do.

Satisfied, Morgan opened her pyrex and popped a brain meatball into her mouth, swirling it in some eyeball puree first. It would speed the re-growing process along and get the taste of fresh heart out of her head. “I should probably mention, the reason I wasn’t scared was because I kind of eat dead organs for dessert. Not really nutritious, but neither are candy bars, and that’s never stopped humans before. It’s like that.” She waved away Gabriel’s hand as he ate, insisting he keep the rather unconventional gift she’d handed him. “Oh, stars, what do you think I am? You’re, what, nineteen, maybe twenty? You’re a college kid, you need to eat! Granted, on campus is a big risk. But I understand that you need this.” And this gave her an idea. She scarfed down the rest of her food and ducked her head out of the office door. No one around, but there were some murmurs from the lower floors. Another class period had ended, and the Medievalist Bros’ lunch break was probably ending soon.

Morgan turned back to Gabriel, brow arched with a friendly challenge. “How do you feel about sticking a zombie finger inside a candy bar wrapper and telling a TA who still needs to respect women more that it came from a secret admirer?” She asked. “This will be easier if you have cash, but I don’t think my snack was so big that I can’t bust through some glass for a good cause. You can still save the other one for Baker. Also, side note, I really respect how fast you learn. But whatever you’re comfortable with, you should decide quickly, because my guess is we’ve got about five minutes to pull this off.”

Zombies were fascinating. Gabriel briefly wondered if there were any zombies working on movie sets, donating their limbs to get that perfect decomposing tint on the thousands of severed hands flying around during movies with a chainsaw-wielding maniac as the main character. Gabriel tried to listen to all the cool facts Professor Beck was spouting, but honestly it was hard for him not to get sidetracked by the gross, slopping noise of brains and smushed eyeballs being chewed. Not that it grossed Gabe out: he was actually memorizing it for his Scare Bank. “I'm 20,” He answered almost distractedly, with a small chuckle. “I only look younger thanks to my healthy diet.” Part of him was dying to ask about her diet: if organ snacks didn't cut it then what? Was the brain myth accurate? How come she was so present, so alert and aware? She moved like a living person, talked like one as well... Had she not claimed the title for herself Gabriel would have never guessed she was a zombie, not even after seeing her gulp down raw mashed livers. But something told him that was not a first meeting question, and the last thing he wanted was to upset the professor, so he kept those questions to himself. For now.

Gabriel's grin grew into a mischievous smirk as he listened to the Professor's plan. “Say no more, misogynistic dic- douchebags are my favorite meal! And it'll be the best two bucks I ever spent!” Acquiring the snack was easy, just a quick trip to the closest vending machine and back to her office, bless consumerism. Unwrapping the snack without tearing the plastic apart was a little bit trickier, but Gabriel was not going to ask the Professor to help, not after what she'd already done for him. Gabriel had finally managed to put one of the fingers inside the colorful wrapping. Not perfect, but hopefully the TA wouldn't notice. “Ready to go, just point me in that guy's direction and watch the magic happen.” He sounded more confident than he actually felt, but this time Gabriel's usual self-doubting and insecurities weren't enough to sully his excitement. “Also, do you want the candy? I'm not sure if you even can eat it. For all I know it's poisonous for you, like chocolate for dogs, and I definitely don't want to poison you.” The wrapped fingers almost fell as Gabe flailed and rushedly added “Not that I'm comparing you to a dog!!! And even if I did, hello, bear here! But, uh, what I mean is... You've been great, and I kinda feel like I owe you, so if you want candy it's all yours.” Another long pause. “Speaking of how great you've been, is this... Common for you? The whole reveal thing? Because it's a skill that might come in handy one day, really so I was wondering if I could maybe... Ask for your advice every now and then. Office hours only, of course!”

Morgan grinned, ducked her head out of the office door to listen. “Even better than that,” she whispered. She grabbed one of the spare chairs and tucked it near her own. “Have a seat here, and uh…” She grabbed one of the books stacked around her work and put it in front of Gabriel. “Look busy, or borrow it to read, if you want, I’ve got way more copies than I should really have.” She huddled near him. “The guy in question might be one of the people I share this office space with, so you can probably watch your handiwork play out if you really want. But, this is your scare, so you can do all the talking. Also, you can keep the candy. It’s not toxic, but it also doesn’t taste like much of anything to me.” She shrugged.

The TAs had made it to the hallway, making plans on how they were going to humiliate the competition on their next co-op game and how they were going to bribe the Anthro Babe into going out with Jeryn.

Morgan rushed herself, whispering rapid-fire, “And uh, about the reveals, I’ve only been dead nine months and I was a little depressed and graceless when I talked to my friends about it. I’ve been trying to work on it more recently, but you’re the first person I’ve told this month who didn’t feel the need to immediately run away. And I only made them check for my non-existent pulse.” She shrugged haplessly. “But, hey! Being dead is really different than eating fear. Maybe--”

Jeryn and his tweed wearing bros burst through the door.

“Maybe you should spend a little more time developing this post-colonial theory you’ve got!” Morgan turned to the TA’s, smiling sweetly. “Gentlemen. Nice to see you back.”

The shyest of the bunch flinched back, still traumatized from the time Morgan had threatened him with bloody murder. But Jeryn, the newest recruit to the program, was unphased. “Good day to you too, my lady. No girlfriend today? I came back early just to see you two.”

Morgan bit back her retort. Whatever she had to say wasn’t going to be nearly as satisfying as what Gabriel was going to do.

Gabriel sat down with his eyes glued to the book, but his mind was busy wrapping around Professor Beck's words. I've only been dead nine months. What do you say to something like that? The Grief Counseling classes included in his major often discussed how to talk to the family members of the deceased, the proper way to offer your condolences while keeping the professional detachment needed to help them through the trying process of accepting a loss, and yet Gabe had no clue regarding the proper etiquette to adress someone who had died. Luckily the door opened and spared him the awkwardness of replying.

When the TAs entered Gabriel was reminded of his high school's football team, only with tweed instead of letter jackets. Any hint of guilt he might have had at the fact he was about to scare, maybe even traumatize a young man was dissipated the moment Jeryn opened his mouth. Gabriel didn't need to look at the professor to recognize the target.

“Wait, it's you!” Gabriel did his best to sound surprised and annoyed at the same time as he stood up and approached Jaryn. “I thought Linda was making stuff up, but man you are something! Linda Blair, you know her?” Jaryn blinked. “The name sounds familiar, but I can't quite pla-” Gabe interrupted him. “She's been auditing your classes and just won't shut up about you, says her fingers literally fell off from refreshing your Facebook page.” As he spoke, Gabriel pretended to dig through his pocket for something, and after a few moments he produced the fake snack. “When I told her I had an appointment with Professor Beck she basically begged me to give you this. Think she wrote her number on it or something. Apparently the way you treated her made her feel things she just can't ignore, and she just has to meet you... Women, am I right?” The wink he offered Jaryn made him feel dirty inside, but it was for a good cause.

Everything on Jaryn's face seemed to scream 'Is she hot?' and sensing his reluctance Gabriel retreated his hand and started to tear the wrapper, raising it to his mouth as if to take a bite. It took all his effort not to gag as putrescine and cadaverine (They were decomposing already? So cool) assaulted his nose, but somehow Gabriel managed to keep his poker face on as he said “Hey, don't worry, you don't have to accept! I mean, honestly I was thinking about asking her out myself, so I was kinda hoping you wouldn't be here, I can tell her I-” Jaryn basically ripped the 'candybar' away from Gabe. “No need, kid. It'd be rude to refuse a thoughtful gift from... What was her name again?”

“Look inside...”

The female voice echoed through the office, repeating the name over and over, punctuating it with the occasional forlorn sigh. Gabriel's eyes were closed as he channeled his energy into the magic. “What the...?!” Jaryn and the other TAs looked around, tense. The more their panic grew, the easier it was for him to add whistles and bells to the trick. “Look what you did to me...” Jaryn turned to stare at the Professor, confusion and nervousness painted all over his pale face. “What's the meaning of this, Profe-” The door slammed shut. Or rather, the door sounded like it had been slammed shut, though it was all part of the illusion.

“LOOK!”

When a ghastly, disembodied voice barks an order at you, you obey. Or at least that seemed to be Jaryn's thought process. He went above and beyond the call of duty and clumsily tore the wrapper, revealing the two fingers inside. Gabriel had to hide a smirk. The smell of decomposition assaulted everyone in the room, magically enhanced by Gabe's illusions, and the sticky dark ooze coming out from the fingers added a layer of realism to the image of copious amounts of blood running down from the severed extremity. Gabe's magic couldn't give it weight or make Jaryn's hands actually wet, but Professor Beck's impeccable prop did the work for him. Jaryn's face paled and his terror... Man, his terror was prime. Gabe even let out a satisfied hum, almost a cat-like purr as he absorbed their fear, sharp and vibrant and oh-so-filling. After a few long moments Jaryn dropped the fingers inside a sizable pool of fake, intangible blood that had collected at his feet. Almost as if that were the signal they were all waiting for, the TAs snapped out of their petrified terror and trampled each other in a clumsy race to the door, their screams echoing across the hallways as they ran from the office.

With a satisfied sigh, Gabriel picked up the fingers, rubbed his belly and turned to the Professor, finally breaking down into a laughter that took a while to die down. Normally he would never be so informal around a teacher, but man he always felt ready to take on the world after an all-you-can-eat buffet like that. “So... Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Morgan did her best to keep her face straight, even disinterested, as Gabriel summoned the disembodied voice of a young woman into the room. She opened her laptop, watching Jeryn’s reflection through the screen. When he called out to her she looked at him confused. “What?”

The voice cried for everyone in the room to look, and Morgan, her face still bland and innocent as before, did. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself steady. His scream, shrill, throaty, and desperate, must have echoed through the entire hall.

“Aw, guys! What happened?” She called. “Come back, are you okay?”

When she could only hear their footsteps thundering to the bathroom, Morgan finally let out all the laughter she’d been holding in, tipping in her seat and covering her mouth to stop from getting any louder. “Are you kidding me? Gabe! That was amazing! I mean, the way his eyes looked like they wanted to melt! He sounded like a little kid when he screamed too! I’d be surprised if one of them didn’t piss themselves! Oh, stars, I can’t wait to tell him he screamed over a plastic toy when he comes back. This is way better than anything I could’ve done on my own. Seriously, you were--” She shook her head, speechless, and offered her hand up for a high five.

“Hang onto those so you can grab dinner tonight, or dessert,” she said, pointing to the fingers. “They won’t be any good after tomorrow, and I’d rather them go to a good cause than Besides, I can trust a fellow supernatural to look after them, right?” She smiled fondly at Gabriel, already certain that she could. “And, in case it wasn’t clear, I’m really glad you showed up to my office. I think you’d also like my lit seminar, but I hope this isn’t the last time I see you either way.”

Gabriel shook his head vehemently. He wasn't going to take all the credit, he was raised better than that. “Listen, you're the only reason it worked so well, it had weight! Lots of people can take the sight of horrible stuff because, well... TV, I think. But the feel of holding a severed piece of a human bo--teacher?! CSI can't prepare you for that.” Gabe nodded solemnly at his own words, as if he was the teacher and she the student. And then he finally realized her position. Was that a... Holy crap, it was. An actual high five! From a professor! It was almost surreal, but he'd promised to himself long ago he'd never leave anyone hanging. The high-five echoed through the office, to his ears even louder than his own illusions, and his huge grin threatened to split his face in half.

“I'm glad I showed up, too! Though now I better go, I kinda don't want them to come back and find me still here...” Truth be told, part of Gabriel was dying to just stay and ask her all sort of questions about herself, but he still wasn't sure he could trust himself not to put his foot in his mouth and ruin what felt like the luckiest meal of his life. “Oh, and by all means, mail me the deets on the seminar because I am so there...” It was only then that he realized, once more, that this was not one of his peers, this was a teacher, he shouldn't be so casual with her. Yet something about her demeanor had managed to put him at ease from the first moment, to the point where it was hard not to file the Professor under the Potential Friends category in his mind. Maybe, just maybe, that's exactly where she belonged.

[sundaywonder]

the lost song : yoonmin

Getting ready to start fresh in life, physical education professor Park Jimin is just waiting to migrate to Australia with his daughter and girlfriend. Everything gets topsy-turvy when world-class music producer Min Yoongi—and also his secret ex-boyfriend—comes back home to South Korea to marry his it-girl fiancé. If that wasn’t bad enough for Jimin, Yoongi invites him to the wedding. It gets worse; it leaves him no choice but accept it to avoid spilling the beans.

Although the worst happened back then, it’s not enough for their forsaken what-ifs and unsaid feelings from making itself clear. The situation makes Jimin realize how jaded he was without Yoongi all the years they were apart—and vice versa. As they slowly pick up the broken pieces of the past, reality hits hard back at them again. There are two choices: to give up on love and live in the present or to run away and never look back.

Genre: Romance, Adult Fiction, Melodrama, Erotica

Fandom: BTS, BLACKPINK, Red Velvet, IU

Pairing: Suga & Jimin, Jimin & Rosé, Suga & Jennie, IU & Jungkook, Wendy & j-hope

Rating: M or R-18 — contains sensitive themes, strong language and graphic depiction of sexual activity

Status: Ongoing — 6/12

Link: Wattpad, ao3

Excerpt: The Flower Bloomed — 10 Years Ago

Yoongi, 20

I hurriedly go down the stairs while vigorously drying my head with a towel. I knew I would oversleep. Aside from being a deep sleeper, I’m also not used to waking up as early as 7 a.m. Nine is still pretty early if you’d ask me. The cool air last night made everything even worse. I shouldn’t have opened the windows.

Good thing my grandma heard Aunt Hyeja yelling outside our house. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t have even noticed that her and our other neighbors’ missed calls and text messages.

“Make sure none of the kids get injured, okay? We don’t have money for their hospital bills if ever,” reminds grandma as she followed me down. I don’t hear and comprehend what she said until five seconds later.

“Got it. Bye.” When I get out of our gate, I immediately see Aunt Hyeja who was waiting for me outside.

“We’ll get going, Auntie Dooshim!” exclaims Aunt Hyeja.

“Alright, have a safe trip!”

“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I really am.” She walks so briskly that I have a hard time catching up with her. Regardless, I feel like that’s how should it be; I must walk maybe two or three steps behind her after what I’ve done.

“Don’t think about it anymore. The kids are already in there. You know our numbers so contact us immediately if anything goes wrong. There’s a ton of food on the table so feed yourselves when you get hungry. Don’t leave at least one of them unattended. Never attend to the gate if it’s a stranger and refrain from telling them that an adult is not present—oh, how old are you again?”

“Twenty.”

“My bad. It slipped my mind that you’re already an adult. Anyway, did you understand everything clearly?” I just nod. Aunt Hyeja doesn’t seem to be mad but it’s fairly obvious that she’s already dying to leave. I discreetly peek at her watch which says 7:15 a.m. I can’t help but shake my head. I reminded myself endless times to do well in this babysitting gig but I still ended up ruining the first thing about it. There must be something really wrong with me.

After arriving in front of the home of my best friends, brothers Seokjin and Taehyung, she tells me, “Also, your Aunt Misun told me that Jimin won’t be able to attend the excursion because he’s sick. He’s going to be home alone today so I told him that he can contact you if he needs anything.”

I gulped as soon as I heard Jimin’s name and forced myself to act nonchalant. “W-what happened to him?” It was definitely hard to do so.

“He has fever,” she replied. “Don’t you guys get more written projects in lieu of not attending out-of-the-classroom activities?”

“Yes.”

“So, does it mean you like completing paperworks instead of attending trips and such?” I just let out a fake chuckle and nodded. I’m sure it wouldn’t sit with her when I say that I don’t like socializing and going to places with a lot of people. Aunt Hyeja is a social butterfly and—I don’t want to sound like I’m judging her (but maybe I am)—she’s not exactly the type of person to bother understand things deeper if it doesn’t concern her. Besides, it’s lengthy and we’re not that close for me to open up to her. An awkward giggle is probably better than an explanation.

The Kims already left when I entered and all the four kids were sleeping on the sofa in the living room, not even noticing my entrance. I decide to just sit on the floor and watch TV in low volume. My body is asking for me to sleep so badly that pinching myself isn’t working anymore. A faint regret is starting to form in my chest but I cut it out immediately.

After getting bored of the morning makjang drama that I forced myself to watch, I turn around to check on them. Jingoo—a cousin of Seokjin and Taehyung, as well as Namjoon who is also a cousin of the two—is already up but still lying on his stomach while silently watching the drama with me. Our eyes meet but he doesn’t say a word and just shifts his eyes back at the screen.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” I ask. Jingoo just nods. “What did you eat?”

“Seaweed rice balls and jeon.”

“Tell me when you’re hungry.” He just nods once again.

Our conversation awakens Taejoon, Chanbin and Yeongyu. Unlike Jingoo, they wanted to eat so I prepared the food that was left for us. Being alone with these kids who I barely know suddenly makes me feel weird for some reason. It’s probably because I don’t have any experience in babysitting. So far, it’s an alright deal. The money is good and you practically get paid to stay at home.

I leave them and go back to the living room, sitting beside Jingoo’s feet who hasn’t moved an inch ever since he woke up. “Where did they go?” He asks, not moving his eyes from the screen.

“A trip.”

“Event aunt and uncle? I thought it was a school trip.”

I let out a sigh and close my eyes. Some sort of hot energy constantly forms in my head the longer I talk to this kid.  “I don’t know why. Ask them when they come back later.”

It got rowdy when they started to play. This is way worse than I imagined. Toy cars and guns are all over the place and I need to remind them every two to three minutes that they shouldn’t be shooting bullets on the TV screen, as well as the vases and figurines. None of my words seem to get to their tiny heads.

I take back what I said. I don’t want to this ever again. I wasn’t like this when I was a kid. Even my friends. We weren’t anything like this. Not even close. We were well-liked by the neighborhood in general because of that.

Out of the blue, my phone suddenly vibrated. My heart almost dropped on the floor when I read Jimin’s name on the screen.

[JIMIN :)

1 NEW MESSAGE]

All of a sudden, my heart started to pound like it wanted to get out of my chest. I took a deep breath before flipping my phone and pressing View.

[JIMIN :)

Hey, can I go there? It’s getting a little boring here.]

[ME (draft)

Of course! Bring what you need!]

I delete it before I could even think twice. I cringed at what I just typed.

[ME (draft)

Okay, but it’s a little loud here]

Maybe not. He might end up not going if I say that.

[ME

Sure]

[JIMIN :)

I’ll bring ramen]

[ME (draft)

Okay]

I press the end call button and just fold my phone instead. I immediately go to the bathroom and wash my face with soap and water. I run my wet hands through my hair as well. Just as I got out, someone knocked on the door.

“Don’t shoot on anything!” I yell before walking out the door.

“Hey,” greets Jimin as soon as I open the gate. Unlike his usual self, the gloomy aura surrounding him can be clearly felt. His face and shoulders seem wretched as well.

“Are you alright? You look so pale.”

“Trying to be.”

“Stay in Seokjin’s or Taehyung’s room if you want to get some rest. It’s a little rowdy in the living room.”

“Thanks. I’ll go text him.”

As soon as I hear Seokjin’s bedroom door close, I make an announcement to the kids. “Jimin’s sick. Don’t make any loud noises from now on.” It did subside but only for a short while. “You kids, anyone who makes loud noises will not get to eat lunch.” They stop playing tok look at me with a weird expression on their faces, as if they’ve never heard someone say such a thing to them before. A hint of fear can also be seen. I fucked up again, didn’t I?

Unlike what I said, I started to prepare lunch when the clock hit noon. The kids gathered at the table and chowed down as soon as the food was ready. Meanwhile, I got my own food and ate in the living room.

[ME (draft)

Hey, lunch is ready. Can you go down here?]

[ME

Lunch is ready, feel free to eat here.]

[JIMIN :)

What’s for lunch?]

[ME

Pork belly, barbecue, dumplings, rice and kimchi]

[JIMIN :)

Damn, will go there ASAP]

I wipe the droplets of sweat on my forehead. My breath keeps on running as if they are trying to get away from something… or someone. I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about this. It only makes me go crazier and crazier. Even my well-trained emotional suppression skills are barely working. Helpless, hopeless—that’s what I am.

“Hey!”

“Shit!” I hold to my chest in shock and turn around. “I-it’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me. You okay? You’re deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice me pass in front of you,” asks Jimin.

I shake my head. “I just zoned out.”

“Shit!” Taejoon mimicks while the other three laugh.

“Shit!” Chanbin and Yeongyu repeat in unison which makes them laugh even harder.

“Are you kids an adult to say that?” I ask.

“Shit!” The three exclaim, not even bothering to answer me.

Suddenly, I hear Jimin giggle softly—making me look back at him. “So, you can already laugh. Feeling better now?”

He just nods with a faint smile and takes a spoonful of kimchi stew. “Mmm, delicious. Did you cook?”

“Nope, one their parents probably.”

Neither of us talked after that; I just pretended the focus on my food while his eyes wandered around the place. Even though it feels like I need to say something, not a single word’s coming to my mind. My mouth is left agape from the urge to speak but not knowing what to say. For some reason, it seems to me that he’s feeling the same way. But how can I know for sure?

The kids come back to the living room not long after they have finished eating. I couldn’t thank the heavens enough; this is the only time today that I’ve actually become happy about their presence. Before they can even settle on their seats, I stand up to play the first Disney DVD my hand landed on: The Incredibles.

Jimin passes behind me so I look at him. He’s bringing my dirty plate with him to the kitchen. “Hey, s-sorry. You didn’t have to.”

He looks back and says, “Huh?”

“The plate.”

“Psh. It’s nothing.”

I follow him to the sink where he’s silently washing the dishes. He almost looks like he’s zoned out and submerged in his deep thoughts.

“Hey!” I jokingly yell from his back.

“Sh—!” He accidentally loses his grip on the plate he’s holding. It falls back to the sink, causing a small chip on the edge. “Oh, no…”

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I try to catch my breath. The plate looks expensive with all those blue Chinese prints. It most definitely came from an expensive dinnerware collection and Mrs. Kim would kill me if she sees this. I might have to babysit for nine or ten more times just to pay for the damage.

“Don’t worry about it. It was an accident.”

“But it looks expensive!”

“I was the one who lost grip on it, what are you being so worried about?” Jimin says with a faint giggle. I’m not buying it; he doesn’t sound amused at all. “Also, wanna watch?” He nonchalantly asks.

“This?” I ask back, pointing at the TV.

He just shakes his head. “Seokjin has a big collection up there.” I just looked blankly at him, deliberately making it obvious that I need more details to get what he’s saying. “Sola Aoi, Asami Yuma, Haruna Hana and so much more. We have everything we need up there!” I feel my whole body suddenly heat up upon hearing what he just said and my legs seem like they want to give up on me. “Hey, you okay?”

“Th-the kids…”

He takes a peek at them. “They’re already asleep.”

I look back at the kids and close my eyes in panic. Images of him being half-naked while beating off instantly flash in my mind. I vigorously shake my head along those thoughts. I can’t count how many times I saw him naked in the past. We even used to take a bath together along with the other guys when were younger. But this time everything’s different, especially to me, and it sucks big time. “Okay, then…”

He opens the dish dryer and puts all the now-squeaky clean plates, glasses, spoons and forks. “Don’t be so nervous. They’ll probably stay asleep until twilight or something.”

“Maybe,” I replied to him even if his words just seemed to bounce against my head. Naked. Naked. Naked. My mind just doesn’t seem to get tired about this goddamn word and keeps asking for more. Now, even the way he looks and smiles at me is starting to mean something else.

Jimin grabs my arm and pulls me until we reach Seokjin’s room. Before I could even react, the door was already locked and his pants and underwear were on the floor. My manhood starts to throb and harden as soon as my eyes lands on his half-naked body. He’s grown much bigger and thicker ever since I last saw him. That was a few years ago—same situation as now but with Hoseok and Taehyung, minus the feelings. To stop myself from completely breaking down out of panic and ruining everything for good, including our friendship, I just turn my head at a random teddy bear on Seokjin’s bed.

I sit beside him on the carpet and before also taking off my short pants and underwear. A strange kind of electricity seemed to charge on my body when I saw him look at my manhood. His mouth slightly gaped but he immediately closed it and focused on operating the DVD player. Since the tapes weren’t labeled, we don’t know what those contained. Jimin chooses just whatever. The video begins, and we see Sola Aoi who was wearing a provocative nurse uniform enter the hospital room where the middle-aged male patient was in.

I lean on the bed to relax and force myself to focus on the film. Jimin’s already starting to touch himself. He looks back at me with an unexplainable expression in his eyes. It’s been a while since I did this with them but I’m sure we didn’t look at each other while beating off, or maybe I’m just forcing weird meanings. At this point, I can’t even trust myself anymore.

I couldn’t help but start to actually beat off as soon as Sola started to moan. All of us in our group likes her the most for how irresistible she sounds when she’s getting fucked. It makes the film feel like 5D.

The film already ended but neither of us reached climax yet. When I was almost there, I stopped. I don’t know why but I felt like I needed to do so. As I try to catch my breath, I watch him while he did his business.

To my surprise, Jimin also stops and joins me in leaning on the bed, panting hard. He looked at me straight in the eyes, then his gaze dropped on my lips. “They look dry…”

Before I even knew it, our lips were all over each other and his tongue has successfully penetrated my mouth. Jimin’s hands start to explore inside my shirt before pulling it off of me. He removes his own next. My hands are frozen on his groin in disbelief. Everything seems like a dream but all of these are a hundred percent real.

“Jimin…” I mindlessly say.

“Do whatever you want to do to me.” He grabs my hand and places it on top of his manhood. “Don’t hold back.”

I pull his head and kiss him hard before pushing him down. Only God and I know how much he looks good with nothing on but his golden rolo chain necklace. “As long as you let me, I won’t.”

—

If you’re reading until here, thank you so much! The Wattpad and ao3 links where you can read the whole story are available above.

[a-fist-full-of-sparks]

The Copy-Cat Gang

((My first TF Fic in...well...ever. it’s mostly for my friends on discord but if you do find this i hope you enjoy!!!! also i have to point out i used the animated continuity’s terms for times because they just...sound better. thx plz no bulli))

There was something about this world - Cirrus 7 - that seemed so...deceptive to Colvus. Perfect for a faction called Decepticons, she figured. In her travels she gathered information about the whereabouts of old tech from the war from Cybertron...The Camien origin world that Colvus figured she'd never see. She didn't care which side this planet had belonged to, nor was she interested in figuring it out. From what she knew, the war was over, both sides figured out that maybe endlessly slaughtering each other wasn't the best way to come to an agreement and all of these outposts and bases were left to rot. After thinking about it for a while, Colvus began to explore these places, searching for technology that would lead to the betterment of life for Camiens and Cybertronians alike! And so here she was, looking into a deep, dark cave on the side of a mountain. The mountain itself stood out, as for about a mile all around it the forest surrounding it receded. It was as if the area surrounding it had been intentionally cleared. It seemed pretty obvious to Colvus that it was. 

"Welp...let's have ourselves a look." The Camien explorer sighed before taking her first steps inside of the cavern. 

At first, it was smooth going. There wasn't much of a descent to speak of, and openings in the cave ceiling provided enough light for Colvus to observe her surroundings. Various ores sticking out of the walls, scattered about in chunks, pools of liquid - some of it water, some of it not - and eventually...a large cable that led even deeper into the caves. From here, things only got darker. Colvus began to squint as the light in the room faded further and further. She tapped the side of her helm and a visor slid into position over her eyes. The room turned a faint, but clearly visible green as her visor granted her night vision. Along the wall, more technology was bolted on. Wires, tubes, panels, and dead light sources were all along the main path going downward. Along the way, she came across some corridors that led to empty rooms and dead end, the most interesting thing she found being several old hab suites, one of which looked like it had been abandoned before the base itself was. She moved deeper and deeper still into the cave system before finally reaching a large metal door. Bingo.

Stretching her digits and wings aflutter in anticipation, Colvus investigated the door itself, and the dormant panel that was beside it. "Ok...now, how to open sesame this thing?" She fiddled around with the panel for a minute or two before prying open the side and crossing a few wires. After a bit of jury rigging, Colvus managed to hotwire the door open. It'd clearly been a long while since anyone - or anything - had visited this facility, as the rusty and decrepit door opened with the horrible screech of rusting metal echoing along the walls of the cave. Colvus proceeded with caution, a small blaster pistol in her hands and her senses sharp. Though the rumors said that this planet was long since abandoned by any Autobot or Decepticon forces, she still didn't know what to expect from an old military facility. For all she knew there could be some kind of booby-traps still laying about! Or worse! Old holdouts from the war who didn't get the memo! The risk of it all sent a shiver of thrill up Colvus's frame...to her, the thrill of the unknown was pretty much what it was all about! Especially if it meant helping out the people in the end.

After about 15 or so minutes of sweeping, Colvus found no trace of traps, stragglers, or even anything interesting within the base...bummer. There were a few crates of supplies left over:. An outdated rifle, ammo and energy packs, a motion tracker, plus a ton of energon that she couldn’t take herself...there was too much for her to carry on her own. Alas, nothing TOO out of the ordinary. Beyond that, it was just a burned out, beat-to-high-hell facility. Trying not to let the bitter taste of disappointment get to her, Colvus rigged the door to the final room open, and peeked inside with a small ember of hope that there might be something of note inside.. Larger in size and much darker than the other rooms, this chamber looked like it had seen the most activity when the facility was active...and there was stuff inside. Lots of stuff. Operating tables, energon infusers, vitality monitors all over the room, and a stasis pod! Colvus checked her own vitals...she'd been exploring for over a week with no down time...maybe it was time to take a breather. The Camien Explorer surveyed the room thoroughly before attending to the stasis pod's console in the very back of the room...neat, she thought. Oddly enough, this console didn't just appear to control the pod, but the entire facility. 

"I guess the doctors around here liked to be in charge..." Colvus mused to no one.

A small, holographic screen appeared on the panel, and Colvus deactivated her visor to read the text that had appeared on it. It was purple...and though it was in Cybertronian rather than Camien, Colvus could make out that it read "Start-Up?" with options "Yes" and "OF COURSE" as options...She picked "OF COURSE", feeling adventurous. The entire facility lit up, as it's generators roared to life for the first time in what must have been centuries. Light illuminated every chamber in the base, revealing the nature of the previous owners as the entire base was a deep, midnight purple and on the main terminal, a Decepticon insignia presented itself on-screen. The symbol faded and a new menu was brought up: A series of options that included "Stasis Pod Control'', “Mining Site Status”, "Field Reports", "Roster", "Projects", "Base Directory" and "Personal Logs". This terminal in particular belongs to one "Calculite." Colvus cupped her chin and pursed her lips as her curiosity compelled her to dig into the files. Whoever this Calulite guy was, he left EVERYTHING behind. Odd...It's as if he and everyone else in the base dropped whatever they were doing and left in a hurry. Whatever the reason for their disappearance, Colvus was more concerned with what data they'd left behind.

For a solid 5 hours, Colvus was engrossed in the wealth of Data left in Calculite's lab. The various mission reports left behind shined light on the nature of this facility. It was indeed a medical facility, but also a hot-spot for Decepticon experimentation. Calculite was merely the latest in a line of decepticon inventors and experimenters, all of whom had their own wild ideas as to what the key to The Decepticons' ultimate victory was. Calculite himself had two philosophies, one vague...the other blunt as all hell. The first was what Colvus found most intriguing - Dubbed "Project: COPY-CAT". The experiment sought to answer the question: what if The Decepticons had their own Optimus Prime? Or their own Ultra Magnus? Perhaps their Thunderclash? Colvus wasn't big on names for the war, but assumed that those were some of the biggest and baddest bots that the Autobots had amongst their roster...perhaps this was a Super-Soldier Program to replicate the abilities of those bots? The other Project was called "Picnic" and was - simply put - the plan to incite Antriods to attack the Autobots, consume their supplies and steal their food for the Decepticons. According to his logs, every single member of the facility - Scientific and not - shot the idea down. Colvus stifled her laughter reading it. 

On that note, Colvus sifted through the Roster of the base; 15 "Active" members, 50 MIA/KIA/POW. A Majority of the list had been corrupted, but a few names stood out to her in both lists. Calculite himself, along with a bot named "Archeo-Tech", and another named "Stratosfear" and amongst the dead a bot named "Stratovarious" who was "terminated prior to recommendation." Spooky, Colvus thought. The Intrepid Triple Changer quickly skimmed through the base's directory only to find that, while there had been about 30 more floors, all but this one and 4 more had been destroyed in some kind of cataclysm. As she was about to dive into Calculite's personal logs...Colvus nearly tipped over...she'd been running on fumes for the last hour or so, and needed a recharge ASAP. Luckily, Calculite's recharge pod was still in working condition. She selected the Stasis Pod Control section of the menu, and activated it's recharge cycle.

> Please Enter Pod.

"Works for me..." Colvus almost yawned.

The Camien stumbled into the pod, folding her wings and relaxing as the pod did it's work, dropping her into stasis as it revitalized it's new occupant. She was long overdue for a power down, and had forgotten just how nice it was to be able to take a nap in relative safety. Unbeknownst to her, however, The pod was doing more than just revitalizing her. Colvus had completely misunderstood the nature of the project it seemed, and was blissfully unaware of the pod's true nature. It had taken note of her...her every feature and to some extent her thoughts as well. Down to even some of the most minute details, the stasis pod documented all of the information it could on the unsuspecting visitor. Though it’s intent was non-malicious, The Pod’s function was most certainly sinister looking...despite this, Colvus awoke from her power nap feeling better than she had in months of travel, and was set to leave the facility. Stretching her joints and wings, Colvus made ready to depart for the next locale. Although she’d gotten through a lot of the files, Colvus hadn’t been able to finish her in-depth reading before she nearly conked out. Eager to move on with her journeys, she used her data pad to copy everything in Calculite's terminal for her to show to someone else later. Maybe something in his logs would come in handy someday? From what she heard, a lot of The War’s scientists and inventors were geniuses in their craft. She just wished that enough of them were around to help fix the mess they made...With her patience for the decrepit cave expended, Colvus took her leave of the Facility and headed off for the next destination on her list...Not aware of what she had just awoken deep within the base’s hidden bowls...

--- Some Time Later ---

Utilizing the data that had been acquired from Colvus unknowingly volunteering for Project: COPYCAT, Calculite's Facility computer automatically began the process of construction. 7 Frozen Sparks - All Calculite could get his hand for a test batch - were taken from storage, all awaiting their new bodies...their prepared forms were created not by hand, but by manipulation of pure Sentio Metallico preserved from Cybertron itself. The Metallico was poured over 3 days into ever-changing molds, one for each new spark, in the likeness of Colvus. Alternate modes were pre-selected from the pod's scans of Colvus' mind and memories, and were distributed amongst these clones...

Calculite had come up with the scheme eons ago on Cybertron, initially as a means of bringing back Transformers who he believed had been taken before their time. Perfect recreations - or even improvements - on already existing Transformers, as a means of preserving and extending life. As time went on and the war began and escalated, the objective of his project had changed as a means of securing his continued usefulness to Megatron. Though he supported the Decepticon cause from afar, He initially wanted no part of the war. It took being persecuted by the remnants of Sentinel Prime's forces for him to go all in, believing that an Autobot Victory would simply cause history to repeat. In the later days of the war he came up with other schemes to buy time for COPYCAT to get off the ground. He figured that if Megatron was pleased with his idea, he could coast off of it, and let his new creations do the work while he faded into the background, maybe even disappearing. And disappear he did, as when the war was over, Calculite and his team all went to ground.

The Molded Metallico had done it's work, sparks neatly installed and inserted into pods for activation. Essentially, these initial subjects were to be treated as MTOs, only harder to produce and more...real. The next tests would have involved implanting the memories of a fallen Decepticon Soldier, but the testing never reached that phase. With the Facility running on reserve power, the Educational Program was interrupted...getting only far enough that they could read, write, fight and speak. However, this batch was not taught any of the values of Decepticonism, as Calculite assumed his first subject would ALREADY BE a decepticon...thus, this batch would be factionless, and left to wonder...and wander...

--- 3 hours after programming ---

A hiss came from the first of the 7 pods, and out of it fell a male "Camien'', fresh to life. Mid-fall, he yelped and stuck his knees out, hitting the ground on all fours in a total haze. His thoughts raced...What is this? Who am I? Where am I? What's happening? Is this real? He composed himself, and braced himself against a wall as he stood up. For a moment, the bot shivered in place, before managing to gain equilibrium and balance himself properly. He felt like he was made of a jelly for a second there, not able to muster enough strength to keep himself right before finally feeling solid enough to move on his own. He waited for a minute in place, making sure that he was really alright...this was all so new, having a body and what not...

He began to survey the room, not really knowing what else to do. It wasn't too big or too small...there was one closed door, 7 other pods...and what looked like a mirror. Though he looked over the pods as he made his way across the room, the mirror was his focus. It gave him a view of his shoulders, chest, head and...wings? His eyes were an emerald green and his body shade of blue that he quite admired...Navy? Yeah, he liked the sound of that. Having caught all his bearings, the bot turned his attention to the other pods...

Looking inside of each one as he made his way down the row, the faces of the bots - all the rest of them femmes - were identical...but their other features - wings, wheels, helms and the like - they were all different. The bot stared at the occupant of the pod that was right beside his...and on a whim decided to wake her up. What else could he do, really? He fiddled with the controls of her pod, and the sequence came to him naturally.

> Stasis Pod #0002 / Subject: "null"

> Activate Release Sequence 

> Authorization: [...]

The bot paused for a minute. He knew the authorization code - it was one of his first thoughts - but now the stasis pod wanted something else. His name. His optics darted about. 

His name.

> Authorization: [****] Subject 0001 "Cody"

> Authorization D[ERROR] 

> Activation in Progress... Standby...

A familiar hiss came from the second pod, filling the room yet again until the hatch was all the way open. The subject didn't fall out like Cody did. He felt...Jealous. The fall kinda hurt. The occupant of the pod had a more gentle awakening, her optics fluttering awake and her armor flushed with a Dark Evergreen color. The femme rolled her joints as she stepped out of the pod slowly but steadily holding onto the side to ensure she didn't fall over. Cody watched intently, not really sure what to make of his sibling...the two made rather awkward eye contact and held it in silence for a second or two.

"Um...h-hey." Cody stammered first.

The femme gave a sheepish wave. "Hey...?" She stepped out of her pod completely and took in her surroundings like Cody did. "Where is everybody?"

Cody shrugged and looked to the door... "I don't think there IS an everybody." 

"There's you, though." The femme rolled her right arm. "Got a name?"

"...Cody." Cody felt more sure about the name when he said it out loud. "You?"

The femme took a few seconds of contemplation before giving an answer. It helped that someone was there to ask her what she thought, as opposed to fumbling for an answer. 

She looked up from the floor and gave her answer: "Cielo."

Cody gave a nod and a faint half smile. One down, he thought. Pointing to the next pod, he made his way past Cielo to release the next clone. "I'm gonna...start waking these folks up one at a time. Alright?"

"Folks? What are- hey, look at that!" The surprise in Cielo's voice got a small chuckle out of Cody. "How long have they been there??"

Cody didn't look up as he authorized the release of the 3rd pod's occupant. "As long as i can remember...that ain't very far back though, so don't take my word on it."

Stepping back, Cody and Cielo watched as the next pod opened...the occupant inside already appeared to be awake by the time the vapor cleared, stretching her arms out and stepping out of the pod with an energy that could only be described as jubilant. Her body didn't really change color, rather it started to shine as it went from a matte gray to a shining Roman Silver. Her eyes were Ocean Blue and full of life...even though she'd just begun to experience it. 

The Silver Duplicate stretched her arms up high and tilted from side to side, grunting as her joints popped and servos rolled. She...didn't really seem to notice Cody or Cielo at all. The other two bots watched...waiting for her to notice their presence.

Jumping in place then stretching her arms out behind her, She finally took note of her siblings. "Hmm? Oh, hey! What's up?"

"You tell us, Sister..." Cielo crossed her arms and cocked a hip.

The new-formed tilted her head. "Me? Well...I'm Chiyo. Nice to meet ya!" She looked between Cody and Cielo, then turned to the other pods. "You guys got me out of there?"

"Yeah..." Cody trailed off, inching closer to the next pod. "Say...how'd you know your name so quick? Me and Cielo... I'm, uh, Cody, and that's Cielo... we needed a minute for our names..."

"Oh! I guess I just knew." To Chiyo, all of this was like water off a duck's back...not a worry to be had. 

As Cody started to move for the next pod, Cielo had instead opted to head for the door...and promptly knock it down. Cody flinched hard at the sound of metal slamming on metal and the subsequent crash of the door falling onto the ground. He ran to Cielo's side and grabbed her shoulder.

"What the hell was that?!" Cody squeaked. The sudden noise spooked him quite a bit. "I'm trying to focus here!"

Without turning to face her brother Cielo walked out of the room and into the next. "I want answers for why we're in here to begin with, and i don't think anyone in that room is gonna have them." 

The next room had a single pod and an assortment of medical equipment...and a lone terminal. The Pod looked as though it had been used recently...though Cielo could tell whoever had done so was long gone. Chiyo eagerly followed her sister, followed by a less enthusiastic Cody. While the Femmes observed the medical equipment, Cody took the time to fiddle with the console...noting that it had a data entry still open from it's last use.

"Project: COPYCAT."

Cody didn't turn his attention from the screen, but called out. "Hey, uh...ladies? You might wanna come see this?"

--- Solus-12, Abandoned Decepticon Outpost ---

Calculite was not a bot of superstition, but was more than willing to use said superstition to keep himself safe. At war's end, The Decepticon Scientist feared prosecution for involvement in Decepticon Experimentation, even if most of his work turned out benign in the grand scheme of the cause. He'd recently encouraged all of his staff to go their separate ways, hoping they could live their lives in relative peace now that the war was over. However, Calculite chose not to return home, rather he dedicated himself to realizing his original goal. Starting over from scratch would be a daunting task, he knew, but it would be well worth it if he could grant a second chance to some of the unfortunate sparks lost during the war...even if it wasn't all of them he still had to try. 

As he began to scan the planet for mining sites, Calculite conversed with himself constantly...about what-ifs, if-onlys and what-could-have-beens...

"That's bad for your mental health you know..." He quipped.

"Of course I know...It's just..." He sighed, looking down at his feet. "...A bit hard to break the habit."

For about 2 minutes, Calculite's gaze was fixed to his feet. The floor. He missed his team. He missed Cybertron. He missed being sure in himself and his work. He missed feeling alive. It was hard for him to get out of his rut, but inspiration usually followed when he did. He could work for days at a time before spending another 2 mulling over the past. The Scientist had trapped himself in a vicious cycle in the weeks since his arrival, and even if he were aware of it, it was unlikely that he could free himself from it.

But there was someone on Solus-12 who could. 

As The Ex-Decepticon proceeded with his sweep for potential mining sites, he happened upon what appeared to be what was left of a previous Cybertronian mining detail. A surprisingly intact one, he observed. Calculite hovered above the site for a moment before landing, scanning for activity amongst the equipment there...it looked as though the gear has seen frequent usage AND repair for the better part of a millenia. Checking around, Calculite found traces of Treads in the grass and mud nearby...BIG treads. They led off towards a rocky valley...

He perked up... "Cybertronian settlers?? HERE??" He transformed and immediately set off, following the tracks. "Please...PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!"

Ever since he disbanded his team, Calculite had been CLAMORING for contact, or any kind. He'd been so alone and so absorbed in his work that he had all but forgotten what it was like to hold a conversation with someone other than himself. Work, mine, rest, repeat... but now there was a chance that there was another cybertronian here! Maybe even more than one! Calculite could barely contain himself, nearly crashing several times as he weaved through the valley, following the treads until they stopped beneath a stone arch, nestled deep within a canyon. From there, they turned into footsteps. Large ones. About the size of a Cybertronian in fact!

"YES!!!" Calculite ran in, uncharacteristically gung-ho and eager to meet a new face... "Hello?! Hello, is anyone there?! I found your tracks and your mining equipment! I'm Cybertronian like you!"

As he ran deeper and deeper in, he heard what sounded like footsteps!

"My name is Calculite! I'd like to-" When he turned the next corner, he was immediately greeted with a large mass. It knocked him off balance and onto his aft... he must've looked a sight to his fellow Cybertronian. "I sincerely apologize...I didn't mean...to..."

Calculite trailed off as he was met with the sight of a hulking Heavy-Frame, towering over him and looking rather...upset...The figure was Gun-Metal Black, armored to hell and back, and looked so dinged up and scarred that if they told him they'd fought in every single battle of The Great War, Calculite might have believed them. Their eyes were a fierce yellow...glowing like fire. The larger bot kneeled down toward Calculite, with a scowl that caused the comparatively small scientist to shrink further. Their eyes narrowed as they spoke.

"...LEAVE."

For a moment, Calculite was still, but as he regained his bearings he registered what the bot had said and responded weakly. "What?" He felt his spark begin to quiver.

"...Go. Away." The larger bot said, and they turned away to return to their apparently prefered solitude..

"I...I...wait...you...!" Calculite stammered and shook, not knowing how to react...

This was the worst way it could have possibly gone...the only other cybertronian on all of Solus-12 and they didn't want anything to do with him?! Why?? What had he done to deserve this, he wondered? What could he do to solve this...? He was so bereft with grief that he nearly collapsed.

"...alright...I'm...sorry to have bothered you..." The tone of Calculite's voice was...different from all the others that The Heavy Frame had encountered...he was genuinely sorry.

"...S-sorry? ...you're sorry?" The heavy frame turned around. "You...didn't do anything..."

Now dejected, Calculite protested. "Yes, I did...I disturbed your peace, thinking you needed a friend and I-"

The heavy frame cut the smaller bot off by picking him and and hoisting him under their arm. This one was different. This one could stay around. As he was lifted, Calculite was startled for certain, but knew that this bot meant him no harm. Though he wasn't thrilled about being carried like luggage...

"H-hey!" Calculite half-heartedly struggled, flailing slightly. "What are you doing??? I don't need you to...Oh, forget it..." The Scientist went limp, and simply let his bulky new friend take him into the canyon. 

--- Cirrus-7, Decepticon Experimentation Facility ---

There was a lot to unpack here. Having read through all of the contents of Calculite's terminal, Cody, Cielo and Chiyo now had to come to terms with the fact that they were clones, that their template had left without even knowing she had been cloned and that there had apparently been a whole war they were just a few years short to. Cody and Cielo leaned back against the wall of the Pod Chamber, still mulling over the revelation in their heads. It wasn't the answer they were expecting for certain. Chiyo, meanwhile, was still as chipper as she was when she woke up. 

Her exact wording when she found out was: "Cool!"

In the meantime, she ran off speeding through the facility to explore more of it's floors. Disappointed to discover that most had been destroyed, Chiyo reported back to her siblings to give them the bad news...though they didn't really seem all that interested.

"MAN! This place is totally wrecked...I guess that means some of us will have to share a room." The silver femme shrugged. It really was no big deal to her. She turned around and noticed that the other pods were still sealed...and no one else was in the room but Cielo and Cody. 

"...Hey...you haven't woken up the others yet? What gives?" Chiyo tugged on Cody's wing.

Cody sighed. "Look, sis...you wanna tell the others here that they're clones, that's fine by me. Be my guest. I ain't lookin' to drop bombs on anyone here, so..." 

Chiyo was already at the 4th pod's controls when Cody finished his sentence.

"...Ok,sure...you do you..." He muttered.

With a hiss of decompression, the next pod was unsealed. The occupant was still in her pod for a moment as color came to her chassis and light to her eyes. A dark violet, complimented by eyes glowing amber, the femme came to. 

Chiyo greeted her. "Howdy! I'm Chiyo! Welcome to the world! We're clones." She said bluntly, much to the shock and protest of her siblings. "Those are Cody and Cielo. They're clones too! What's your name?"

The femme pushed herself off of Chiyo and on to her own feet. She rubbed her chin, scanning her siblings and then the rest of the room. "My name, I think, is Cerrie...thank you for waking me..." She seemed to be deep in thought. Like something was bothering her...

Cody picked himself up and took a step towards her. "You good?"

With a nod, Cerrie half-smiled. "I'm fine, thank you. Sorry for making you worry...It's nothing."

The other 3 took her at her word, not seeing a reason any of them would have secrets to keep...they had all literally been brought online, so why worry?

On a whim, Cody gestured to Cielo and Chiyo. "Alright...last 3...Pick a Pod and open 'er up. Let's get this done quick..." 

Cielo scoffed. "You changed your mind quick..."

"Hey..." The lone mech raised his hands. "I said I didn't wanna drop the whole clone thing on them. I'll still let 'em loose...but, eh...Chiyo's the one who gets to do the reveal."

"I call dibs on the last one!" Chiyo raced to the end of the row and stood ready to open the pod. "Let's go in order! You go first, Cody!" 

Taking his place at the 5th pod - and Cielo at the 6th - Cielo hit the release for her pod and watched as the next clone slowly woke up and became aware of herself. 

The femme's chassis filled in from the top down, her body the colors of a sunset - A dark, midnight purple to fading orange. Her eyes were shining, a brilliant Neon Green, brighter than Cody's own. She looked around for just a moment...before tackling Cody to the ground on sight. Everyone watched the scene unfold as the Sunset Clone held Cody on the ground in a hug.

"THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU FOR WAKING ME UP!" She beamed. "That was so kind of you to do! Can I be your friend??" 

Cody struggled to pry her off, but gently responded. "We're...pretty much all already friends...All of us here are in the same boat. We're all new to...being online and stuff. That and...well..." He trailed off.

Looking around, the femme's wings began to flutter excitedly...she was a gleeful as a puppy almost. The other femmes holding back their laughter, Cerrie helped Cody and the new femme back onto their feet. Cerrie was immediately embraced in a softer, but still firm hug. 

"I'm Culeen! It's so nice to meet you all!" The wonder in her optics disarmed Cerrie completely, as well as everyone else. Looking around, everyone in the room came to a silent agreement: If anyone dared to try to bring harm to Culeen, They die.

Cielo opened her pod next, and it's occupant came alive as their body flushed a dull gold and her eyes lit up red as they seemed to gaze right at - and through - Cielo and the others...she stepped out of the pod and looked around, more lost than any of the others, but was still calm. She was observing herself more than anyone else. She too was subject to a hug from Culeen, much to her surprise.

"Welcome!!" Culeen, almost radiating happiness at this point, smiled at The Gold Femme.

Cielo came to their side. "Welcome to the clown show. Over there's your ringmaster, Cody." She gestured to the rest of the group. "I'm Cielo, over there's Chiyo, that one's Cerrie and the cuddle bug here is Culeen." 

Culeen unwrapped herself from her sibling and took her hands. "What's your name?"

The golden femme was silent for a moment, taking in the sudden wave of affection from her sibling and the oddity of her situation. Looking down at her grasped hands, she blinked.

"...Cinclair..." She said softly.

Culeen smiled bright and swung her hands gleefully, pulling Cinclair along with her to the other side of the room where she began to become acquainted with her fellow clones. In the meantime, Chiyo began to unseal the last pod. She noted that it had gotten a lot livelier with the addition of Cerrie, Culeen and Cinclair...the others were talking with each other, and they already seemed like they were comfortable with their newfound company. She'd only known Cody and Cielo for about an hour and the others for even less, and yet she loved them all more than life itself already. She hoped that their lastest sibling would feel the same...The pod holding the last femme opened, and the newcomer woke up with a sudden gasp. Her frame filled in a familiar red and her optics glowing with an amber hue that Chiyou had sworn she'd seen before. As they pulled themselves out of the pod, the others all turned to greet her. Culeen, of course, was first.

"ANOTHER FRIEND!!! This day is just...THE BEST!!" The Sunset Femme threw her arms up, fists balled. Every passing minute was like another birthday...

The newly activated clone caught her bearings rather quickly...taking a few more deep breaths before stepping out of her pod. "This is...new...what's the deal?"

Cody moved to the front of the small group and answered. "We're all clones. So are you. And now that we're all here..." He turned around to face his siblings. "...we need to figure out where to go from here...

--- Solus-12, Neuya's Home. ---

Still wrapping their head around the concept of having a guest within the walls of their makeshift domicile, Neuya actually found themselves rather glad that they'd taken a chance on Calculite. The Heavy frame had awkwardly introduced themselves, and brought the Scientist to their full time home: A patch work hab-suite in a cave made with parts from various destroyed Autobot and Decepticon bases. It wasn’t much, but it was what Neuya had, although Calculite didn’t seem to mind at all. Despite being one of those Decepticons - The ones who tended to hurt the planet and steal the resources that Neuya had mined to survive - the visiting mech was nothing but a humble, polite, and all around pleasant guest. Calculite was alone, and had been for quite some time… 2 millenia he’d said. The way he simply heeded Neuya’s warning with little to no resistance also made the Heavy Frame reconsider their stance towards him. Though considering that they remembered next to nothing about how to start a conversation naturally, simply scooping him up off the floor was...odd, to say the least.  They hadn't met someone like him in...well...it had been a VERY long time. Something Calculite was now uncomfortably familiar with. And didn't the bot just ramble on...talking about his scientific findings about local flora, fauna, previous projects and other things that seemed to be his passion. Neuya didn't understand a whole lot of it, never having been the scientific type, but they did their best to listen regardless. At that moment, Calculite was explaining some of his last experiments before the end of the war that he'd gotten a kick out of.

"...I don't think i've ever been audibly BOO'ED for any of my work in my entire life! I knew they weren't going to go for it, but they played into it like I was a bad stand-up comic at Maccadam's!" Calculite gently chuckled as he went on. "Someone even threw a container of Energon Goodies at my head! I didn't even know we HAD those at the base! I started requesting them for my work-station after that. And everyone was in good spirits after that..." 

Neuya smiled as Calculite spun his oddly merry tale. For a Scientist aligned with such brutal characters...he seemed...nice. "Sounds fun." They said, brief and gentle. 

Some of the words that Calculite was saying were familiar to the larger bot...Energon Goodies. Neuya recalled enjoying those somewhat. And Maccadam’s. They used to go there before their empurata...He really was from Cybertron. To Neuya, the planet was almost nothing more than a memory, like a dream that they’d forgotten and could now only briefly and inconsistently. They hated that. Having the chance to continue helping people robbed from them, then turned into a war machine and sent off planet for who knows what purpose. Everything Calculite was saying only reminded Neuya more and more of the life they had stolen from them, and while it was no paradise it was certainly better than living in a dump like this in isolation. Calculite’s voice pulled The Heavy Frame from their internal brooding, not realizing that Neuya was in their own headspace for a time.

“Y’know...sometimes I wish that I could just go back. Not to my work with The Decepticons, but to my work in The Golden Age…” The smaller bot let out a long sigh. “Back when all that was asked me was to create and help others. Not make bioweapons or doomsday devices. I’m not built for that sort of thing!” Calculite’s demeanor shifted rapidly as he talked. “I know it’s...well, I was just telling myself earlier it’s not healthy to...dwell on the past. But now more than ever...even though the war is over...I just keep asking myself-”

“What if…” Neuya finished their thought. If there was a moment of connection between them, this was it. “Same here.”

Calculite nodded. “...You do know, don’t you…?” The more Calculite thought about it, the more he became curious about Neuya, where’d they’d come from, and how they’d ended up in the ruins of a Decepticon base… “Y-you don’t mind if i-”

A loud, obnoxious “WEE-WOO!” belted from Calculite’s arm, startling both him and Neuya as the scientist fell out of his seat, and the Heavy Frame hopped back a good couple of feet. As the duo caught their barrings, Calculite stared at his arm in what Neuya could only interpret as a mixture of disbelief, joy and mortification. They knew the signs of that last one a bit too well...Calculite stood up and - out of habit - showed Neuya the display that had appeared on his arm as if Neuya were one of his lab partners. Confused but engaged, Neuya looked on attentively. 

“Th-This...How is that possible?” Calculite’s wrist display projected a series of pods and the mechanical read-outs of a young Triple-Changer. “Someone found...But...HOW?? I deactivated Project: COPY-CAT millennia ago! How did-?!” The Bot’s optics narrowed in horror. “...oh no.”

--- 1,337 years ago, Calculite’s Lab ---

“C’mon, Modem, I promise that it won’t kill you!” Calculite begged the communications officer for his cooperation.

Modem nodded firmly, arms crossed and back turned. “For the last time, Doc. I am NOT climbing into that thing. How do I know i’m not gonna end up Antroid chow???”

“Because that was a JOKE!” Calculite threw his arms up.

“That’s what they all say.” Modem lied. Nobody said that.

In a borderline tantrum, Calculite’s rotors spun-up slightly. “Oh, FINE! Be that way!” Mumbling all the way to his control console, The Huffy Scientist punched up a new string of commands.

> Activate Template Scan Upon Stasis usage.

> Warning! Scan will commence regardless of subject origin.

> Confirm

> Are You Sure?

> CONFIRM

> ...Just saying, this sounds like a bad idea…

> C O N F I R M

> ...Ok...Don’t say I didn’t warn you...Command Recognized.

--- The Skies Above Solus 12, A Very Fast Helicopter flying at Very High Speeds. ---

“I’M SUCH AN IDIOT!!!”

Calculite made a beeline for his ship at breakneck speeds, prompting Neuya to give chase. Right...Neuya. Calculite had no right to ask them for help but...this was so incredibly urgent! Some unwitting wanderer had accidentally cloned herself, and according to the alert, her doppelgangers were ONLINE! They could get hurt! Or hurt someone else! Or both! ...or neither??? Too much risk! Too many factors! There were 7 of them, and either any one of them could be EVIL! What if that one was the leader? What if any of them were outliers? Point One Percenters?! ...ok, that one was a little less likely, but even so! With all of the risk factors that were included in even one clone being out there by itself, Calculite was thrown into a full blown panic! So much could go wrong in such a little amount of time...and what about the template? What if SHE was EVIL?! Calculite was flying so fast his engines were sputtering with flames.

Neuya was just confused. To them, Calculite had barged out of his front door and took off yelling a bunch of synonyms for “Not Good.” Thankfully, their gunship mode could easily keep up with Calculite’s Helicopter form...They recognized the model. An earthling helicopter. Mil Mi-24D. Hailing from the “country” they took their ground alt. from. They could see how hard Calculite was pushing himself...just how badly did he screw up???

The scientist dove hard, piercing a large hole in the clouds below as Neuya plunged behind him. In his haste, Calculite pulled up too late and failed to stop himself from skidding on the ground. Catching his belly on something and causing him to shift back to robot mode, Calculite harshly tumbled and rolled before finally coming to a stop just in front of his ship. Neuya’s landing, just beside their companion, was far more graceful. Making sure Calculite was alright, the heavy frame hoisted up the smaller bot and looked over the ship they’d been led to...the thing was a sorry sight. Decepticon logos on the sides and tail were faded and scratched beyond nearly all recognition, and it’s once-dark purple coloring was now a mere violet-gray.

Steadying himself and getting back on track, Calculite’s hands worked like lightning, slapping in combinations and commands on his wrist’s remote controls for his slumbering ship. “Get in, Quick! I’ll have the repair drones fix it while we’re airborne!”

Neyua watched confused as the skittish bot started pulling and tugging at them in a panic. “Wh-wait...wha..?”

“Please! We have to hurry! There’s no telling what damage the clones could do unsupervised!” The aforementioned repair drones swirled around Calculite as he stumbled into the ship, manic and off balance.

The ship was in tatters both inside and out, but was in good enough condition to fly without blowing up...for the most part. The Repair Drones were working quickly enough that they could achieve take-off within 5 minutes or less, albeit with the ship still under repair. Time was of the essence however, as for all Calculite knew, The clones were on a rampage at that very second!

--- Cirrus-7, Calculite’s Lab. ---

Culeen traced the shape of a heart into the small holographic screen she was playing with, as the others bickered over what to do now. With the clones all online, Cody didn’t see any reason they should stick around, nor did Cielo. Chiyo protested, saying that the facility was home and that they could figure out what to do after settling in. Cerrie agreed to the sentiment, and suggested that they begin figuring out what to do after they’d found a steady supply of resources...Cinclair was already distracted, having become fixated on a chair she’d found and spinning in constant circles. The others knew she would go with the flow, however, and allowed her to maintain rotation. And then there was Calrim, who immediately shouted “FOLLOW ME!” and then charged out the door in vehicle mode. The roar of her engine as she came back halted the conversation among the other clones.

She skidded to a halt and assumed robot mode in front of the conversing group. “What the hell?! Where were you guys? Didn’t you hear me???” She whined.

Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, sis...we’re not going anywhere until we figure out what we’re going to be doing out there. Heading out and coming up with a plan on the fly isn’t really a good idea when we don’t know what’s out there…”

“Or even where we are.” Cerrie added. “To top it all off, No matter what we end up doing, we’re not going to last long unless we can find or scavenge a steady source of engeron for ourselves...maybe some of us can go outside in shifts while the rest stay inside and come up with a plan?”

As Cody prepared his thoughts, his optics shifted around the room. “If we leave now, maybe we can find another site that’s a bit like this one...maybe one in…” He gestured his hand in a circle. “...better shape?”

“But...we came from here...so it’s pretty much home, right?” Chiyo’s face curled into a slight frown. “We can’t just leave without a second thought. I mean...I know we just got made and all but…” 

Even Chiyo herself didn’t know why she was so attached to the facility. In her mind, there was sentiment in it that just couldn’t really be explained. Like...she’d been here for eons and wasn’t willing to just leave on a whim. She couldn’t, for the life of her, explain why though. The others seemed totally ambivalent to the whole ordeal, especially Cinclair, who didn’t really seem interested in anything. Chiyo began to wonder; though she didn’t wish to simply let go of the facility, she did want to know why she was so attached to it in the first place...she had only just been forged here...so...why? Cody, Cielo and Cerrie continued to debate over a plan of action among themselves, as Chiyo moved to the facility’s stairwell to grab some of the supplies on the lower floor she’d found earlier. As she did, Cinclair silently followed, having grown bored of her rotation and seeking new stimuli. Calrim gave chase as well, seeing as she couldn’t get a word in with the others. Culeen was content to continue messing with the terminal as everyone else was busy and happily pressed every random prompt that showed up on screen. In her browsing, she absent mindedly blew passed the entries about Project: COPYCAT, Calculite’s notes and the personnel records, and stumbled across what appeared to be a new entry in the database, not that she would have recognized that. The prompt read “COPYCAT Template” and on screen, an image of a strikingly familiar femme appeared on screen, so familiar that Culeen was taken aback!

With an audible gasp, she shouted! “We have another sister?!” She let out a joyous squeal that prompted the others to come to her side.

Cody, Cerrie and Cielo rushed over, to find Culeen fluttering and rocking with utter joy. A quick observation of the terminal informed them that this wasn’t a new clone...this was their template. The one who they were based off of...Colvus.

With a nod, Cody looked to his 3 present sisters and gave a relieved, maybe shocked, huff. “Well...I guess that answers that question. What we do with this info, though...well...i’ve got nothing.”

“Weird how she just bolted…” Cielo crossed her arms, squinting at her template’s image. “Maybe she had trouble after her, couldn’t stay?” Trying to piece a reason why she left, Cielo looked to Cerrie. “Got any ideas, Sis?”

Gently scooting Culeen aside, Cerrie thoroughly observed the file down to every detail. After about 2 minutes of scanning, Cerrie scrolled back up to the top of the file, and blinked. “That...that can’t be right. There must be some kind of system error.” 

Before anyone could ask what was the issue, Cerrie refreshed the file, checked for corrupted data and double checked for any bugs and security breaches within the system...but the result came up the same regardless. Cerrie leaned back, looking as if she’d just been given the keys to Iacon...Cody, Cielo and Culeen leaned close to see what she’d been so blown away by: Colvus had only left 3 Solar Cycles Ago. The group all sat dumbfounded for a moment, reconsidering just what the nature of their creation had been, the intention of their template, and...pretty much everything that had occurred since their activation. 

“LET’S GO FIND HER!” Culeen jumped up so quick, her after-burners sputtered. “Please??? Can we go find her, PLEASE????” She clung to Cody and shook him needily. 

The Mech looked to his other siblings, who both shrugged. What else could they do? “Might as well. Beats sitting here on our hands…”

Culeen was so overjoyed that she transformed into her Sports Car mode involuntarily and nearly knocked Cielo off her feet and peeled out into the hallway. She zoomed past Chiyo, Cinclair and Calrim, all of whom had been present for her...exclamation. Chiyo and Calrim were lugging large crates, whilst Cinclair stood beside them.

“Her?” Cinclair asked, flat and monotone. “Who’s...her?”

“Our template.” Cerrie explained, “According to this data file, Colvus, as she’s called, came to this facility on a whim...She’s been hitting several abandoned sites across various planets all relating to an...apparent Civil War that we missed. What she was doing here, we can’t discern…”

Cody shrugged. “...and now, Culeen’s itching to follow her and ask her.” Moving to Cerrie’s side at the terminal, Cody began mulling in his head over the concept of a straight forward meeting, perhaps confrontational, meeting with their template. There were a lot of questions that needed answering, both before and after contact was made with Colvus. Did she have some sort of entourage? Did she have any idea that they were even online? ...and could she even be followed reliably?

As he began to confer with Cerrie and the others, Culeen remained in the doorway of the facility’s entrance looking as though she was retracing her steps, though she’d only just been created. It felt as though she could see...feel where another had been. She could see every step on their path, literally glowing from the cave’s entrance, to the medbay and back again. Like holograms, the ghost of a figure traced those same steps, mirroring every minute action of Culeen’s Template.This was the path. This was Colvus’ path, and now it was that of the clones too. 

“I know the way.” Culeen spoke softly.

---- Aboard Calculite’s Research Vessel ----

Over the few hours they’d been in flight, Calculite had spilled the beans to Neuya about Project: COPYCAT. Literally EVERYTHING. Past iterations, failed features, a list of some of the bots that he had hoped to bring back, his blunder of having the Template Record pod copy anyone who used it out of spite, and most importantly...how he thought that the facility had been destroyed. When the War was looking like it was headed the way of Cirrus-7, Calculite ordered all projects within the facility be ceased, and the base itself be torched and burned...to the point where he sought to do it himself. Of course, more worried about the prospect of being captured and prosecuted than his work being discovered, Calculite detonated the failsafe explosives from orbit as his ship made it’s escape from the supposedly encroaching Autobot forces. Not only was this force non-existent, but so were the charges that were supposed to destroy the first 5 levels of the base. Now, here he sat with the constant reminder of his errors hanging over him...and soon, he feared, there would be many more reminders in the form of innocents slain. 

Neuya, on the other hand, was rather confused by this fear. From what Calculite had shown them, the template of these clones wasn’t much to look at...a scrawny looking thing that could be easily broken, regardless of its number of alternate modes. In their head, the odds looked good to Neuya...they thought this to themselves to draw attention away from the fact that they were utterly terrified of the vacuum. It’s massive expanse and utter lack of ground shook them hard enough to have them prod Calculite with more questions about his project. Even in the Golden Age of Cybertron, Neuya had never put thought into the idea of going to space...let alone having ever been there. Now they struggled to keep their composure as this stranger - could Neuya really call him a friend yet? - pulled them from the only place they had remembered as home, and into the great, vast assault of color and light. Though there was beauty in it, Neuya was only reminded of their haze from when they’d first awoken on Solus-12...maybe they would adjust? If that was the case, the heavy frame hoped dearly that the adjustment would come sooner than later…

“We’re on course to be in orbit of Cirrus-7 in about 3 cycles…” Calculite sounded as if he were about to start hyperventilating. “Although...um...that might be a little hard, all things considered…”

Calculite wasn’t oblivious to just how foriegn Space Travel must have been for his larger friend. Eons alone on a remote planet without a mode of off-world transport must have been...difficult. Even with their drop-ship mode, The Scientist hazarded a guess that Neuya didn’t even realize that their alternate mode was capable of space flight...and from that began to wonder just what had made him this way? There was no way that such a Cybertronian of such strength would be left alone by the likes of the warring factions of their home world. 

Before he prodded any further, Calculite held out his hand to Neuya, a gesture that confused the Heavy Frame. “I know you’re...uncomfortable because of me...and I know that I’m throwing a lot at you so fast...so if there’s anything you need from me in return, no matter what it is, I’ll do my best to help you. Ok?” 

The smaller bot kept his hand out...and Neuya slowly held out their own to meet it. It didn’t completely alleviate Neuya’s fear, but it was better than nothing. They could see that Calculite was a mess, trying his hardest to keep his own composure while juggling keeping their new-found companion assured that they were alright, and planning how best to deal with his blunder. Though they’d not been around others in a very long time, Neuya still knew all too well what self-doubt and loathing looked like. If Calculite didn’t have both, they feared he soon would. 

The Ship’s dashboard pulled the duo’s attention to a small blip on the radar. The sensor array had picked up a ship - ghostly in it’s sudden appearance - approaching them from the starboard side...rapidly. Their own ship wasn’t defenseless, but it would take time for them to activate it’s weapon’s suite, and by the time Calculite had begun the process, it was too late. Looming before their ship was a comparatively massive vessel, one that eclipsed their view of the stars completely. Calculite tried to maneuver out of the cruiser’s way, but found that the controls were unresponsive...not only had the ship completely gotten the jump on them, but it had managed to short out the ship’s navigation and controls as well.

Neuya growled, his instincts flaring up, but not letting themselves get carried away, while Calculite scrambled for his radio, his composure now entirely shattered. “Approaching vessel! This is Calculite of The-” He caught himself before saying Decepticon Army, Scientific division. “-Of Cirrus-7. We are on an urgent mission and mean no harm to your vessel! Why are you boarding us?!” His voice cracked in panic.

Their radio crackled alive in response as the vessel began to pull the smaller craft into one of it’s hangar bays. “We know that you are a Decepticon craft. You are being brought aboard for questioning by order of our captains. Comply, and you will be released safely.” 

The voice that of a femme, and Calculite recognized the craft’s design. Camien. What a vessel of this size from Caminus - fuel starved, Calculite learned from hearsay - was doing out here was beyond him, but he’d hoped to avoid conflict at all costs. Neuya was still fierce faced and tense, knowing all too well how these kinds of encounters ended for them; Laser fire and an enegon-bath. They too were wishing for a peaceful resolution, but considered their history and prepared for the worst. Their ship made a gentle landing inside one of the cruiser’s hangar bays, wide enough to be nestled in between a complimented fighter and a dropship of equal size to their vessel. A group of 5 Camien Security officers, armed both conventionally and with their own on-board weaponry, approached briskly and with purpose. Calculite was the first to rise from his seat, but Neuya was the first one out the airlock as they positioned themselves in front of the smaller Cybertronian. Though they’d only known the scientist for a brief time, Neuya was fiercely determined to keep him out of harm’s way. 

The all-femme group came to a halt just as the ship’s boarding ramp came down, 4 on each side of their slightly larger leader, Breakthrough. “All occupants, disembark immediately!” She shouted, sternly, but not harshly. 

Calculite slunk down the ramp with hands raised, followed by Neuya, who stood firmly behind their smaller friend. They could see the shock from the other 4 members of the squadron. One of them, a shifty looking jet, kept a sword fully raised and pointed at the heavy frame. All of them but their commander were in awe of Neuya, standing taller than them by half their heights. The squadron lead returned Neuya’s cold stare with a stare equally frigid. In spite of Neuya’s presence overwhelming her comrades, Breakthrough remained unmoved. 

She shifted her sight down to Calculite, deeming him more willing to talk than his comrade. “We thank you for your cooperation thus far, sir…” Breakthrough’s hands held firmly behind her back as she began her questioning. “We’ve been tracking your movement through this sector and have suspicion that you’re in possession of some information that we would find quite valuable.” 

Confused, Calculite straightened himself. “What…? I don’t really follow. We’re looking to get to Cirrus-7 to retrieve some…” He paused. “...sensitive materials. They could end up harming others, and we’re seeking to minimize any potential damage.”

“Odd for a decepticon…” Breakthrough noted. “...We were enroute to Cirrus-7 as the last known location of an individual of High Value to our captains, and were led to believe that you were in possession of information of said individual.” The Commander held out a small hologram disk in her hand and presented it to the duo. The likeness of a young Camien appeared before them. “This is our target. She was last reported to be enroute to Cirrus-7 a few cycles ago.”

“Hey…” Neuya rumbled. “Isn’t that...the one? The...template?”

Calculite was in awe. “Indeed it is!” Pulling up his wrist projector’s image of the recently scanned “template”, Calculite crossed referenced the image with that of the commander’s, to find that their subjects were one and the same. “This is PERFECT!” He exclaimed! “Our mutual friend has stumbled across something that I don't think she fully understands!”

Breakthrough breathed a sigh of mixed relief and exasperation at the progression of her task. “That much was to be assumed when we took this job.” She muttered under her breath. “Come with us...You need to speak with our captains.”

Not waiting another moment, The Squadron followed their leader down the hangar bay and towards the bridge. Neuya and Calculite looked at one another with gentle, uneasy smiles, then followed suit. This trip had already gotten more eventful.

---- Captains’ Quarters of The Arrow of Prima ----

Serving as joint captains of The Arrow of Prima, Radius and Colvala told the Forgefire Parliament that they had set off to find more sources of energon on uninhabited planets. They fully intended to do so, but only along the way as they carried out their primary mission. About a Stellar-Cycle ago, their daughter Colvus had left Caminus without Radius or Colvala knowing to sate her wanderlust and thirst for adrenaline. Helping Caminus was not enough for their daughter...no, she had to help the whole galaxy to feel some sense of satisfaction. While her mothers were proud of her compassion, her impulsive and reckless behavior worried them so sick that they were willing to tell the Parliament half-truths in order to find her and bring her home.

Did they feel bad for roping their old friends - Carbon Team - into a galaxy spanning expedition to find more energon? Kind of. Were they thankful for their service? Most certainly! Did they feel bad for the mission being a front for finding their daughter and bringing her home safely? Not particularly, as they still did intend to fulfil that objective, but their daughter was priority. Did they feel bad for not telling Carbon Team about the mission’s true nature in the first place? Yes, but they feared that their companions would have told The Parliament of their true primary objective, which thankfully, Carbon Team swore against doing. Did they expect the team to find two total strangers with info about Colvus’ latest misadventure just floating about in space in an old clunky ship? To put it simply, No.

As Calculite spun the tale of his experiment of Cirrus-7, Radius and Colvala were filled with a whirlwind of emotion over their wayward daughter and over the bot who spoke to them now. For all intents and purposes, this could be considered his fault for not making doubly sure that his work had been buried. But they withheld their judgement for the moment, knowing that their daughter’s life mattered more than wasting their focus on a petty blame game. Calculite wrapped up his summary and had a seat on one of the chairs the duo had been offered.

“This...this was all a huge mistake, one that i intend to justify.” The scientist closed. “Will you help...No, will you allow me to help me find your daughter and rectify these mistakes of mine? I owe it to you, and to everyone that my creations might bring harm to.”

Standing up from her chair, Radius had to restrain herself from scolding their guest, knowing he was already taking responsibility and asking for aid...aid that would likely prove invaluable when searching for their child. Or rather, their children now...though she wasn’t certain of how Colvala felt, Radius was almost immediately for the opinion that if these clones were anything like their daughter, then they could be considered her siblings, and by extension...their children. This meant her kin were at risk, and this more than upset her. But this wasn’t the time to be too emotional.

Radius looked Calculite in the optics and spoke firmly. “While we do accept your help with open arms, know that your...previous affiliations leave you suspect. You will be granted access to our ship’s resources and supplies only to aid in our search.” When Radius looked to Colvala for confirmation, her Conjunx nodded in silent affirmation. Radius continued. “Carbon Team shall assign you a handler and they will accompany you through most proceedings across the ship until we reach Cirrus-7. From there, you will accompany Carbon Team to this facility of yours, and search for any trace of our Daughter and report your findings.”

Though the prospect of being shadowed was unnerving, Calculite realized that being a Decepticon - current or former - led many to be wary of him. “I understand. Thank you, Ma’am.” 

Calculite stood up and was led away to be shown his new hab suite and workstation. Neuya watched as he left, and received a solemn smile from his smaller companion. That smile was an apology, Neuya had seen it somewhere on Pre-War Cybertron...but the memory was hazy at best. Without Calculite, they felt awkward sitting in the ornate room surrounded by strangers. This was the first time they’d been around this many other bots that weren’t shooting at them, and it certainly showed to the others in the room. Colvala watched as the heavy frame twiddled their digits nervously, optics darting around the room and avoiding contact with others. 

She slowly tried to get their attention. “...Are you alright?” She asked. “Do you need anything, dear?” 

Neuya perked up and looked at Colvala, startled. “Uhh...I...Ngh…” They winced hard and began to shake… “Sp-space...space alone…please...” There was only so much they could take in one solar cycle.

“It’s alright, you’re ok…!” Colvala reassured them. “Come, come with me...I’ll show you to your suite and give you all the space you need, dear.” 

The heavy frame rocked slightly, but nodded to Colvala as she led them to a safer space, somewhere they could have the quiet they desired. As she did, Radius sent out a general communique to all members of Carbon Team: Do not aggravate or antagonize our larger guest. Signs of unidentified trauma are present, recommending all hands to provide space unless engaged by the guest. As for the Decepticon, but on Guard. We can only trust his word so far…

Breakthrough privately messaged Radius.

[BT: I’ll make sure our guest is properly settled before bringing him on the deployment. Don’t want something going wrong.]

[R: That’s for the best...Thank you, Breakthrough. Your help has been invaluable.]

[BT: Of course. We’ll find your kid yet.]

[R: By the Primes, I hope so…]

---- Cirrus-7, Just outside of Calculite’s Lab ----

Though it had taken sometime to convince them what she was seeing was real, Culeen eventually proved her visions weren’t just a fantasy. She was able to accurately retrace Colvus’ steps through the facility and even predicted where she was going next by going down the list that the database had copied from her memory during the template scan. Now the clones had a solid idea of where their template was headed, a steady stockpile of supplies to come back to, and a whole lot of time on their hands…

Culeen, traced the trail she was seeing across the sky...eventually laying eyes upon another planetoid in the distance. Cirrus-5 “There...she’s headed there…” She turned to face the rest of the group, slightly bouncing up and down with fluttering wings as she began thinking about meeting Colvus. “AAH! I’m so excited! This is gonna be such a fun trip!”

Cody crossed his arms and looked up at their destination, before looking back at their motley crew… “Alright folks...everyone got what they need? Energon? Goodies? A good read?” He joked.

Cielo rolled her neck and shook out her arms. She’d been aching to do SOMETHING since they had awoken, and was more than eager to head out and find more answers. “Ready to roll.”

Chiyo looked back at the base solemnly...it really was a shame that they were leaving in her mind. But if it meant meeting the template, then it was worth it. Adventure didn’t come calling everyday, and she wasn’t about to let that call go unanswered. “I’m ready. Let’s go for it! No day like Today!”

“We’ll likely be out for a couple of Solar-Cycles.” Cerrie’s gaze flipped between her own feet and the planetoid above for a bit. “We have about a Deca-Cycles worth of energon in all of us. If we run low, we double back here for a refuel and head back out.” She looked around at her siblings with a small grin. “As an aside, I’ll take pictures!”

Cinclair was focused on a datapad she’d nicked from the facility just before their exit. She collapsed it and clipped it to her thigh, giving a thumbs up that she was all ready. She wasn’t particularly excited for the whole jaunt, nor was she dreading it. She was just following the leader...whichever one of them it was at the moment.

And then there was Calrim, still pouting and muttering that no one wanted to follow her...she would’ve thought about finding Colvus eventually! And probably would’ve found her relatively quick. At least they were doing something though. “Ok, fine...Let’s go. But I get to think about a name for our group, ok guys?!” 

Cody cocked his head slightly. “Do we...need one of those??”

“YES.” That the question was even posed set Calrim off slightly. “We do. If we’re going to be traveling in a group, making a name for ourselves...we need a cool name…”

“Ok! Let me know when you come up with one! I’d love to hear it!” Culeen’s innocent response threw Calrim off, earning her a huff from her younger sibling. “Now…” Culeen’s wings fluttered before she launched into the air and transformed. “RACE YA!”

Cielo and Chiyo were quick to take up Culeen on her challenge, not knowing just how fast their little sibling was. Calrim was quick to chase after them, with Cerrie scrambling behind them and Cinclair taking her sweet time, knowing well she wouldn’t be left behind. She looked to her siblings trailing off in the sky, and then to the planetoid they streaked off to...and then to the strange, silhouette of a ship that was approaching them from a distance away.

She blinked once. “Huh. That’s weird.” Then she took off, not worried about it THAT much. Maybe she would if it got too close. Not too much to worry about if it didn’t, she figured. 

As she rejoined the group, staggered formation shifted constantly: Calrim and Cielo’s alt modes were nowhere near as fast as that of their siblings, though as Cybertronians, even outdated alts could be pushed past their limits. Even then, Culeen led the pack as her jet mode screamed across this sky, seemingly propelled by her enthusiasm. Her sheer excitement turned into a power source. Cody had to push himself to keep up and get her to slow down while the others did their best to keep pace. 

As they were the furthest behind and not within ear-shot of their sibling, Cielo inched toward Calrim. “You’re awful quiet...you thinkin’ about that name?”

Calrim was silent for a moment, still brooding somewhat after her rejection as Leader by her siblings...though she was at least happy that she got to choose the name of their little posse… “Yeah...but I dunno if the others will like it…”

“Run it by me…” Cielo chuckled. “I’ll be the test audience.”

“You sure? ...It might be kinda lame…” The younger jet waivered slightly.

Undeterred, Cielo prodded. “Totally. Let’s hear it.”

With a sigh, Calrim gave way. “Ok…here goes...”

An hour later, The Copy-Cat Gang passed through a small asteroid field in-between Cirrus-7 and Cirrus-5.

[thoughts-n-paper]

Ranidaphobia

She was unable to move, terror-struck, as she stared at its eyes and at the same time, tried so terribly to avoid it. She could feel the raindrops sliding down its smooth skin as if they were crawling down her neck. She stood still as its throat expanded and in response, her lungs contracted as it produced that awful loud sound. Horrified in anticipation, she closed her eyes shut. When she opened them after a while, she was back in her purple walled bedroom, away from the dense forest she was standing in a few seconds ago, safe from any devil that might have been about to jump her. Ever since she started working on the new project, she had been having this nightmare every night, but right now was not the time to get to the bottom of this development. A glance at the clock and she jumped out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom. She always kept at least half an hour aside for her pre-shower rituals and another hour for after. It wasn't a lot of steps, rather more about spending enough time for each step. She had twenty types of cleansers and scrubbers and at least thirty different lip scrubbers, a part of her face she was the most conscious about. From a young age, she had been very careful about her skin, she did not just want good skin, she wanted a clean skin, even if it meant being late for work. As soon as she sat on her desk, Simon jumped on her, "You're late. Missed the morning meeting. And Alex wants to see you. ASAP. "He said smugly.

"Thank you, Simon." He never liked her, probably because he wanted the membership she was awarded. Alex was not a great mentor or even the best person to work under, but he knew how to woo the clients and sell the bare minimum for the maximum cost. The recent project bagged by him, incidentally by chatting up with the marketing head at a bar, was a children's toy brand trying to venture into children's snacks.

"Hi Alex. Sorry about this morning. I was just not feeling well."

"Oh, don't bother about it. The package design is finalized, this is the mascot they want."

He said passing her a sheet of paper without looking, it always looked like he had rehearsed it, placed the paper at precise steps, a file in his hands that is just a prop and then as soon as she took the sheet to examine, he walked up to stand behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I am counting on you. You do a good job on this and your position might not be so temporary. ”She looked up to him and smiled.

This was his M.O. Being in his team, your only job is to refine the lines around his vague ideas and designs so he can later present it as his own and collect all the praise from the clients. It is demeaning, you do not grow intellectually, but it is a great way to make contacts in the high places and if the apprentice is quick enough, might catch some skills of the trade. She only looked at Alex’s sample after coming back to her table and the blood stopped flowing in her veins. She was petrified. She could suddenly feel her breakfast wanting to escape her body and she rushed to the bathroom.

She had been staring at the blank white paper for the past two hours. The sheet with the prototype was turned around, but the eyes on that hideous creature still haunted her. She has had a particular hatred towards frogs since her childhood, so much that she could not even bear to look at the rough caricature of one that Alex drew.

It sort of started when she was ten, this hatred and disgust. It had rained heavily the day before and while walking home she was cornered by a few of the older girls that were just hanging around in a nearby park. It started as basic entertainment for them, pointing out faults in her face, ridiculing her hair and clothes, she was used to that. But then one of the girls noticed a big croaking frog and decided it would be fun to play a fairy tale. She remembers running home that day, all the way trying to rub out the slime from her lips and face, struggling to hold her bag because her hands were too dirty to hold anything. She did not even dare to wipe the tears off her face. And the girls were running behind her shouting that she was so ugly, the prince would rather stay as a frog.

She pushed the memory deep down, took a long breath and then the sheet of paper in her hand. It was a simple cartoon of a frog in a top hat and dinner jacket, a very generic idea of an animal caricature and now it was her job to make it remarkable. That night she scrubbed her lips for an extra fifteen minutes to remove the smell of the puke, still, it kept waking her up every two hours.

The next day was just an extension to her ongoing nightmare, she threw up thrice that day and spent most of her day washing up. On the way home, at her wit's end, she decided to buy an extra-strong chemical peel mask for her lips.

It was the third day since this horrendous task had entered her life, she was tired from not sleeping, circles around her eyes and extremely chapped lips. It was also the day of submission of the first draft. She sat on her desk, took a look at her drawings and rushed to the toilet. The new peel did help this time, for she finally sat down with satisfaction. She had tried to back down from this project, although it would have been career suicide, she just couldn't go through with this one.

"No." That's all Alex said before returning to his lunch.

She asked again.

"No." And that was it.

After lunch, she stepped into Alex's office and handed him the designs. He took it from her and then strangely started staring at her. "You have got a bit of your lunch on your face, better clean it up next time you face someone. It's very off-putting. "She immediately turned around mortified and rushed out of the cabin. She took it and smelt it, and suddenly that wretched smell was back. She made a mental note to buy some more masks. And then she made another note to buy some anti-nausea tablets when she saw the review mail from Alex.

Two weeks in and she was still struggling. The scrubbing and peeling which started from her lips had now extended to her hands and face. The constant rubbing of sanitizer didn't help either. Her skin was dry and peeling off, she hadn't slept at all because every time she closed her eyes, there would be a frog in top hat smiling at her. And then there was all the puking, the color of which had now turned from yellow to red. There would be instances where frogs would start jumping up on her table or would sometimes emerge from the papers scattered and start dancing in front of her, but blinking strongly and rapidly would make them disappear one by one.

She was playing a game every day, get spooked and you lose, and she wasn't going to lose, not after she fought so hard to be in Alex's good books.

She stared at her falling face in the mirror and reached for the moisturizer, she took a little bit and placed little droplets randomly on her face and was immediately disgusted by it. It had become a ritual of sorts, wake up form a superficial sleep, struggling to face her reflection and barely able to touch her skin, she would still be driven to peel off every hanging skin scrape. Well hopefully it would all end soon, it was the day they present the final draft to the client and if all goes well, she will never be forced to look at a frog again.

“You look awful. Jesus, at least put some lipstick on.” She could see the repulsion in Alex’s eyes as soon as she walked in. Which was not too different from what she saw in the mirror herself. But, two hours of sitting in a room filled with pictures of different cartoon frogs, shutting her teeth so that the vomit doesn’t feel invited to burst out and tying her hands with an invisible metal wire so she doesn’t start to scratch the itch she had been feeling on her lips, she made it through the ordeal. They shook hands, smiled and headed off to a celebratory dinner. It was a group of five from the client’s side and then three people from their team excluding Alex. She may have had the worst months of her life but she had a feeling it was going to be worth it.

They all sat around a round table and were just waiting for dinner when one of the brand representatives stood up to make a toast.

“We would like to thank all of you. We had tried a lot of different agencies, even rolled in a few bad ones into production, but we think that our friend here has got what we need. So, we would like to offer you your next endeavor, our new drink.” And he pulled out a plastic bottle in the shape of the ugliest frog. “Now, I know the packaging is rubbish, which is why we need you. But, I ensure you the drink itself is delicious.” She thought she couldn’t move when he pulled out the bottle but she only realized how much easier it would have been to move before than when he started pouring the drinks. Everyone was expected to take one glass in their hands and drink to the toast. And Alex’s expressions weren’t subtle when she refused to pick one up.

“Just one last time,” She thought to herself. “One last time.”

They had five different toasts, all from the same alarmingly grinning frog-shaped plastic waste, and she drank each one of them repeating to herself those three words. She was only able to excuse herself once everyone started digging in their respective dinners. She rushed to one of the sinks while clutching to her bag. Ever since she started on the drawing, she had always kept all her supplies in her handbag. She pulled out her toothbrush and immediately started cleaning her tongue, simultaneously trying to make herself throw up. It didn't help, although she did manage to throw up, when she opened her eyes to look down, all she could see was little slimy snail-like creatures but without the shell, floating in the yellow and red fluid. She quickly opened up the sink tap and started cleaning it with the liquid soap they had on the side. She took a little bit in her palms and drank it to rinse her mouth, when she spat, two of those creatures fell from her mouth. She did it again with just water and this time more fell out. She repeated this for a while, each time hoping for a different result, so the next time she took a pump of the soap and rinsed her mouth with it, this time one came out. She rinsed her mouth with water the next time and a few spat out, so she used soap again. Now she started feeling something in her stomach, something which was moving around, shifting her organs, collecting them in a basket, so she decided to lie down on the floor and close her eyes.

She was looking up at one of those big tanks that they have in factories, then she was climbing the staircase beside it, trying to peek what was inside and once she reached on the top, she could see a thousand frogs shrieking and drowning in an orange liquid. She bent down and took a deep sip from it. As soon as she opened her eyes, she had to throw up again. This time they were alive, moving around, trying to reach back to her. As if her insides were their well, their home and her blood was the only thing that nurtured them. She stared at the bottle of the liquid soap, in the sink and back at the bottle. She finally reached for it.

Her body was found by a waitress who was sent in for check-in by one of her colleagues. There was white foam around her mouth and yellow puke in every basin. The waitress quit her job the next day.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Avengers, Disassemble!

I’m going to tell you a story to make a point, a true story, but in the words of the late Jack Enyart, I will change the names “to protect the innocent and confound the guilty.’

. . .

Once upon a time, w-a-a-a-y back before we had word processors or the Internet or even bulletin board systems, Producer Pete got the rights to do an Avengers TV show.

All of us who worked for Producer Pete Productions kvelled at this idea:  The Avengers!  Marvel’s mightiest heroes!  We couldn’t wait to jump on it.

…and we didn’t have to wait.  Producer Pete got the rights on a Monday, called the network on Tuesday to pitch the idea to them, the network said send us an outline for the pilot and some sample art and we’ll let you know.

Send it by Thursday.

This Thursday.

In the morning.

First thing.

(Oh, did I mention Producer Pete was in Los Angeles and the network suits were in New York?  I didn’t?  Well, keep that in mind -- along with the fact we had no such thing as the Internet or emails back in the day.)

Producer Pete appraised us of this late Tuesday.  A complete detailed outline and production art in 36 hours.  A tough challenge…

…but it could be done.

First we hammered out a format for the show: An hour in length, not a mere half hour, and thus with six segments instead of three.  Each episode would tell a big overarching story, but segments 1 through 5 would be standalone adventures focusing on just one of the Avengers while segment 6 would wrap everything up in a big bright bow.

We quickly came up with a story idea and even called in a couple of freelance writers and artists to get everything done by 6pm on Wednesday, which was the latest we could drop the material off at FedEx and hope to get it to NYC first thing Thursday.

The Avengers team assembled.  Producer Pete put me in charge of shepherding the project.  I gathered the writers and art crew around noon on Wednesday and ran them through the broad strokes quickly:

“Al, you write the Captain America segment,  That’s our opening.  Make sure Cappy does A by the end of the segment so it can tie in with Bob’s segment.

“Bob, you write Namor’s segment.  Take A and add B to it so Carol can pick up where you leave off with the Vision.

“Carol, you take A and B, add C so Dave can add D; Dave, pass A, B, C, and D to Ed; Ed, you make sure to add E and when you’re all done I’ll go over the entire thing and write the last segment where all the Avengers assemble and do A through E together.”

I then gave out similar assignments to the artists.  They didn’t have to reflect exactly what any of the writers wrote, but they needed to make sure Cappy did A, Namor did B, etc.

Six writers, six artists, six hours.  It could be done.  We were off and running…

…except for Bob.

Bob was a talented writer, wrote very funny stuff, but he was as deaf as a post and vain about his condition.

I went over the beats at least twice with everybody in the room, each time asking the assembled crew:  “Have you got that?”

And they all nodded and said they did.

Even Bob.

And I also told them that if they had any problems, come straight to me, I’d help work ‘em out ASAP.

Six writers.

Six artists.

Six short written segments.

Six pieces of art.

Six hours.

Piece o’ cake, right?

Bob did not hear me telling the crew to come straight to me if they ran into any problems.

Instead he went to Producer Pete and said, “I can’t figure out what this thing is regarding Namor and B.  Howzabout if instead of B I did 2?”

“Sure,” said Producer Pete, sealing our fates.

Four o’clock rolls around.  The preliminary art looks great, the artists are inking and coloring.  Al and Carol and Dave and Ed turn in their segments, and everything fits together perfectly.

Bob drops off his Namor segment.

The segment with 2 instead of B.

“Whoa!  Whoa!  Whoa!” says I.  “What’s this?  Bob, we need Namor to do B not 2.  Go back and fix it.”

Bob goes back, but he doesn’t fix it.  He looks up Producer Pete instead.  “Buzz doesn’t like your idea about 2, he wants to do B.”

“Tell him to do 2,” says Producer Pete.  Once he put his mark on a story, it was going to stay that way, regardless of what had been discussed and agreed upon earlier.

Bob relays this news to me.  I go see Producer Pete.  Producer Pete listens to my explanation why we need Bob to write B instead of 2, nods, and says, “Do 2 instead.”

Well, this throws a monkey wrench in the proceedings, because we can’t have the Avengers doing A, B, C, D, and E in the last segment, can we?

The writers are ready to leave but I corral them and explain the situation.  They are not happy, but they know what needs to be done and get back to work.

I intercept the artists and explain they need to redo the art to reflect 1 through 5 instead of A through E.

They are even less happy than the writers, but they start redoing the almost completed art.

I alert the office manager and tell her she needs to keep a couple of typists on duty (remember, this is before word processing; we writers handed in rough drafts, frequently corrected with red pens or literally cut and pasted together, and a secretary or typists would need to retype the material in presentable form).

They’re even less happy than the artists (who at least have the benefit of chemical enhancements).

But there’s more bad news: Because the art needs to be redone, we’re gonna miss the 6pm deadline for regular FedEx service.

Fortunately, the office manager has a replacement -- more expensive, but available.  If we can get the work done by 7pm, we can take advantage of a special courier service used by banks and big businesses.

Well, ya gotta do what ya gotta do, right?

And Bob?

I told him he’d done a great job and that he could go home.

Wasn’t gonna keep him around to screw things up again.

(Don’t think I bore any grudge against Bob; I realized the fault lay with me not making sure, not him failing to understand.  I worked with him a couple of times after that, but never on any projects with crucial deadlines.)

We plunge ahead.  Now we’re getting desperate (well, not the typists; they’re merely getting cranky).

Producer Pete needed to attend some function that evening so around 6:30pm he starts heading out the door.  The office manager and I intercept him with a vital question:  If the artists haven’t finished all six pieces of art by 7pm, can we got with what we’ve got?

“No.  I promised ‘em six pieces of art, they’re gonna get six pieces of art.”

So off he went, and back I went to do what I could to speed the artists along.

You can only lay down inks and colors so fast, and this was not merely a case of new art but old art to be retouched in order for the new to go over it.

And that didn’t include mounting said art on large boards for a professional looking presentation.

7pm starts breathing down our necks.  We’ve got four pieces done.  We contact Producer Pete at his function and ask if we can go with four instead of six.

Long pause.  “Is the final segment among the four?”

=groan= No.

“Don’t send it unless you can include the big climax.”

7pm zooms past.  We do not notice the lovely sound Douglas Adams claims it makes.

Now we’re really at wit’s end.  Contact Producer Pete at his function again.  He is not happy.  Explain the situation.

Fortunately the office manager found an even more expensive solution:   A special service that will send a personal courier across the country via red eye flight to deliver the presentation first thing in the morning.

Not only does it cost a huge hunka cash to hire this service, but said courier must fly first-class round trip.

I tell Producer Pete he can buy me an economy round trip ticket and I would personally deliver the presentation.

Producer Pete asks me to put office manager on the line.

Tells office manager if necessary, she is to shoot me to prevent my having any face-to-face encounter with the network.

Fortunately the last two artists finish their pieces just minutes shy of the super-expensive super-exclusive courier’s 8pm deadline.

He shows up at the front door, we thrust the presentation into his arms, spin him around, and shove him into the cab.

He makes it to the airport, catches the flight, delivers the presentation the next day as contracted.

The art crew and I and a couple of writers who wanted to see if we’d make it or not decide we need to blow off some steam.

Problem: Producer Pete’s studio is w-a-a-a-y out in the boonies; there are no nearby places to get a meal or a drink.

Solution: We commandeer Producer Pete’s liquor cabinet and drain it dry.

P.S.: The network rejects the show.

P.P.S.: Producer Pete buys a liquor cabinet with a lock on it.

. . .

So why tell you all this?

I get criticized a lot for being extremely specific and precise in my details.

Now let me state, this isn’t true 100% of the time.

I don’t need to micromanage everything.

But if I know what I want, then I want that, not something close to it, not something approximating it. 

If the final product doesn’t need to fit a precise need, I’m typically fine with letting people do what they feel best.

But when I give explicit instructions, I’ve got a reason.

And sometimes why I want it is so involved and complex that’s it’s just easier for me to say “Do it at 700dpi” than explain we’re anticipating the artwork being repurposed at some point in the future.

Just.

Do.

It.

…or refuse…

But please don’t say you will then ignore what I tell you I need.

. . .

Ironically, the exact opposite of this scenario also plagues me.

If you include a detail in your instructions, I assume that detail is important.

If you tell me to contact Jane in the accounting department, I’m gonna contact Jane even if there’s a half dozen other people who can help me just as easily.

Don’t distract me with superfluous details.

“Contact the accounting department” not “Contact Jane”, comprende?

(I’m not the least bit surprised I need to explain this to many of you…)

 © Buzz Dixon

[sol1056]

three anons: what the hell was all that in S7

Picking out the three that are most to the point for this answer, but I’ve got another dozen or so that overlap. Not sure I’ll have time/energy to answer the rest individually, so hopefully this meta will be sufficient. 

I mean it could be that they had different execs back then who were better at their jobs and kept Shiro around. No one disliked black paladin Shiro, even the DotU fans were ok with it, and the writing in s1-2 was mostly very good. Changing all that was a bad idea. I would have left on the spot if Shiro died or was benched, like now, I'm only around for closure. Maybe they were different execs with this decision & the EPs leaped at the chance. Well, we know who's also gonna be in trouble if that's the case.

With your theory on how storyboards were reused and characters shuffled around for cost cutting, might this not also partly explain the Adam flashback scene and how it was staged? I mean, they were originally supposed to be roommates and the scene was meant to appear in season 2 but got cut. What if they just reused the storyboard (or even animation, if it was already mostly done) the way it was and then just changed the dialogue? This could explain the lack of intimacy in the staging, too. Ezor and Zethrids interactions were more openly intimate maybe not (just) because they‘re villains who die immediately after, but because the decision to make them an item came before storyboarding was done, so the staging is more suggestive. I mean, if you think Shiro was mostly pasted in in the first half of s7, that might make sense.

If cost was the issue and they already had the black paladin Shiro version written, and got the greenlight to change it to Keith then things don't add up. Because they changed it once more! Which could have been avoided if they stuck to the Shiro one. And it goes without saying it would be better written to follow canon instead of the mess we got, like, I cant imagine this NOT discussed. So if it wouldn't be cost effective to change it again for Keith and it would be badly written, why did it happen?

Behind the cut: the most likely chronology of revisions, the clues in S7 as to its original form, and what this means for S8 and the Black Paladin position. 

This is everything I’ve been able to figure out between interviews, podcasts, tweets, plus researching the industry and a few reality-checks with friends more familiar. As always, any mistakes are my own. 

version 0: "five teenagers"

This would’ve been the first pitch after getting the green light, and probably only a loose synopsis, with just the pilot given a rough storyboard. A post-apocalyptic Earth conquered by the Galra, who are seeking Blue. The execs rejected JDS' mechanism for the discovery of Blue, in favor of simply having Keith ‘sense’ Blue. The execs also rejected the idea that Shiro would die only a few episodes in. This summary seems to be the basis of the "five teenagers" part of the teaser.

version A: "shiro kicks the bucket"

Timelines would've dictated moving onto an outline pretty quickly, detailed down to the episode level, including bits of dialogue, motifs, turning points or emotional beats. In this revision, Shiro dies/leaves at the end of S2 and does not return. This is the “originally we wanted him to kick the bucket” version, which the execs rejected.

version B: "shiro goes away for awhile"

If I'm interpreting the hints correctly, the "does Shiro die or not" question got tossed back and forth all the way into S1/S2 pre-production. Rather than rearrange everything, the easiest fix would've been to leave most of the story intact and write only a new ending where Shiro returns. The execs reject this rewrite, saying Shiro can’t be gone that long. This is the “we tried to just have him gone for awhile, but the execs said he had to come back sooner” version.

version C: "enter the clone"

Again, easiest fix is to insert Shiro/Kuron, remove Keith, and reverse that just before Shiro's return in version B. This impacts only the middle seasons (S3-S6); the clone compromise satisfies the execs. Kuron's characterization makes a lot more sense if it’s Keith, in visuals (ie Kuron leaning against the wall in Keith fashion), dialogue (fighting with Lance), and action (leaving without consulting the team). It's also why no one mentions Keith's absence. Because in the original version A, Keith was standing right there.

version D: "wtf is going on", aka Season 7

When JDS mentions having a full season written with Shiro as Black Paladin, it didn't make sense how they'd have a script and not use it. With @ptw30's visual detective work, I think I may've figured it out.

Technical notes: first scripts are all written for a season, then voices are recorded, and then the combined script+recording is used to storyboard. Production seasons are 26-episodes, independent of actual broadcast seasons; VA may be recording scenes across two 13-episode seasons completely out of order, since the recording schedule's going to be based on who's available, not chronology of the file numbers. The biggest staff changes are usually in April ('staffing season') when new shows get the greenlight and start sharking around to catch writers, designers, directors, etc.

In March of this year, S5 was released. At least some of the storyboarders were released in time for staffing season; in April, Hedrick moves to a new project. With S7/S8 being unchanged since version B, I suspect Hedrick delivered the scripts for S7 and S8 by winter of last year, at latest. Even that would be tight, since that's expecting animation to deliver 26 episodes in an 8-month timeframe. [edit: probably delivered much earlier, given the studio leaks show images we can recognize from S7/S8, so some amount of these seasons were in production by then.]

In June, S6 dropped, and a week later, Hamilton was announced as the new story editor via the Lets Voltron podcast. With the lead time required in production, there doesn't seem to be any reason to even need a story editor, at this point. All the pre-production work should be done.

In August, S7 dropped. Hedrick's editor credit is only for the first half of the season; Hamilton gets it for the second half. That means the last six episodes were written after Hedrick's departure. (May Chan's S2 script was reused in part, and she gains a belated co-writing script credit for that. Hedrick should've received the same; it's standard.)

Let's recap a few things we know (and a few we can intuit) about S7:

The season was already written with Shiro returning as Black Paladin, possibly also recorded and storyboarded. 

S6 reversed the S4-S5 trend, lending strength to exec arguments that Shiro is necessary in the story.

After S6 dropped, the EPs said the wolf's name was a spoiler. See this post from @pwt30; tl;dr is that perhaps the EPs intended the wolf to be Shiro's spirit. 

Despite Shiro's return, he's absent for the majority of the first half; when he is present, he barely speaks a half-dozen words, and none are plot-relevant. See @ptw30's post for more details. 

There's a glaring incontinuity when Allura says the paladin armor protected the team, yet Shiro is frozen with the other non-paladins despite wearing armor. 

Keith never offers for Shiro to pilot, nor mentions it, nor even seems to consider it an issue.

Not everything dovetails since I don't have the full picture, but here's my theory: S7 was originally outlined with Shiro's spirit in the wolf, rather than Black. I have no idea when/how JDS would've thought up the CA:WS parallels for his sole writing credit, but Shiro's "I died" and Lotor's psychotic breakdown are squeezed into S6E6, which was written by Josh Hamilton, Hedrick's later replacement. The only other Shiro-in-Black point is a few minutes at the end of S6's final episode. Shifting from Shiro-in-wolf to Shiro-in-Black really only affects one episode, with a bit of editing for another.

Anyway, S6 ends version C, and we segue to version B. For the first half of S7, the clone's body may have been in stasis while the team traveled through its various non-adventures. The episode we now know as S7E1 may have been the mid-point, with about six episodes of Shiro being unconcious. After watching the numbers drop from S3 to S6, the execs may've rejected another six episodes of where-is-Shiro and insisted he come back ASAP.

S7 only has two episodes that must be in order; the rest are pretty rearrangeable. All they had to do was insert Shiro into the background and record a few lines. (Several lines are pure voice-over, which also saves cost/time by not needing to animate moving mouth.) But the moved episode is only his memory/awakening, and the logical next episode would be Shiro's reconnection, and the rest of the season would roll from there. Without moving the entire second half of the season to the start, moving only his awakening episode would mean Shiro does nothing for 5-6 episodes and then abruptly reconnects.  

In a recent interview, JDS said at first the execs weren't enthused until JDS talked up the new mecha they'd give Shiro to captain. Honestly, there's no way JDS got to be EP without giving a really good pitch, but there may've been another element to his argument: nostalgia. The EPs seem certain everyone suffers from their same nostalgia dementia, which if you do, then you probably have been waiting for any glimpse of that og!Keith. If Shiro returns at the start of S7, then Keith's time in Black has been limited to a few disastrous episodes in S3, and a single big battle in S6. The beginning of S7 is the only time we'd ever see the Voltron84 formation working as a unified team, and returning Shiro too soon would defeat the whole purpose of showing how the team has grown in his absence.

The solution seems to have been to remove Shiro's reconnection completely, and keep Keith in Black. That would mean re-recording Shiro's lines from the midpoint onward, and editing in Keith over Shiro. The savings would be that only half the seaon would have to be reworked, not all. The loose end of the space wolf --- an artifact of version B --- was left in place.  

What I'm not sure of is whether the following are significant enough changes to warrant removing Hedrick's name and replacing it with Hamilton's. It could be, if supervising the revision process is enough to override the previous credits. I have no idea about that part of the industry, and it's the kind of edge case you're just not going to find a lot of blog posts about, so if you know, tell me. Otherwise, your guess is as good as mine.

Anyway, this would've meant Shiro was switched in for Allura, Allura was put back in a lion, and Keith was switched in for Shiro. This would explain why Shiro speaks as the leader of Voltron despite no longer being a paladin, and the uneasy sensations a lot of people got about the characterizations. It was most striking in the last three episodes: Shiro felt like Allura v2, while Keith felt like Shiro v2. And that further, the Altean-Earthian ship just 'lighting up' for Shiro --- and becoming that oversized white mecha --- may've meant as Allura's fourth (fifth?) deus ex machina.

I'd be willing to bet that mid-battle, Allura repeated her stunt from the end of S2, heading out to destroy Sendak's crystal by herself. She wouldn't need Sam to hack her brain, and then we'd also have a call back to when she got knocked down by the crystal-ball thing on Naxzela. If she was the one meant to go toe-to-toe with Sendak, that would explain the bizarre neutrality of Sendak's words --- he says nothing personal to Shiro, at all --- and the even more bizarre silence on Shiro's part. Allura's words wouldn't fit Shiro, so he's silent.

And lastly, it'd mean that the one leaping out of Black to cut down Sendak wouldn't have been Keith. It would've been Shiro.

Where would the story go from here?

If I look at the events of S7, the first half is terribly disjointed, really. If Shiro was supposed to wake at the midpoint, an episode (or two) is missing. One for him to reconnect with Black, and a second that would provide some minor conflict to settle him back into position. Those two episodes were likely replaced with the unexpected and frankly over-told two-parter of the Earth flashbacks.

Two problems with that, one technical, one structural.

First, the flashback two-parter has a lot of moving parts. Brand-new designs, characters, and backdrops. It's far too elaborate to be done in an ultra-compressed timeframe, not without several heart attacks and therapy bills on the part of the animation staff. (Plus, the US-based storyboarding team is already downsized, so fewer hands to do the work.)

Second, it doesn't make a lot of structural sense, especially against the big revelations in S6 of an existing Altean colony. Within the story, there's no reason to halt everything and travel across the universe to take however long to build a new castle, when the Altean colony question is far more pressing. Returning to earth also violates the structure, because it's really just a standard milieu: start on earth, head out to have adventures, and return home at the end.

But here, they're returning home and then possibly leaving again. That's just... a rather peculiar and imbalanced way to do it. It doesn't help that doing so means literally telling Romelle her people are just gonna have to rot, the paladins are certain they need the castle more. Why would you take one of the more compelling storylines you've come up with, only to background it again, and wreck the traditional bookending milieu structure at the same time? Especially if that means coming up with major set-pieces and brand-new designs in the space of several months, after a chunk of your core staff are already onto other things.

I think those two flashback episodes -- and the rewritten finale episodes --- may've been cribbed from S8. In other words, the second half of S7 was the original end of S8. That would mean repurposing already-created storyboards and animation artifacts, so there's a huge time savings there (not counting the need to re-record voices and edit the visuals to match the changed-around parts). 

[note: if there’s anywhere you want to frontload introductions for the spin-off, it’d be in the final season, not the penultimate season. Here it feels like a big honking distraction, rather than an organic segue into the next iteration.]

That change necessitated that utterly bizarro mecha that appeared out of nowhere with the most ridiculously impeccable timing. There needed to be a reason to pull the team back out to space to deal with Haggar and/or the alt-Alteans and/or Lotor or whomever else it turns out to be.

So... where we go from here depends on when S8 gets released, because that’ll tell us how much they did (or did not) edit the episodes. Another clue will be whose name gets listed as head editor for an episode; if we see Hedrick’s name reappear at the top, we’ll know we’re dealing with episodes that are enough unrevised to qualify as being Hedrick-edited, that it’s a version B episode. 

My expectation? They’ll move Shiro’s reconnection to the first part of S8, and add an episode or edit pieces of another, to blend it into what would’ve been the first half of S8 (probably with filler to mask the gap). Then add an episode to segue into the version B finale of S7, where we’d end with the original VLD lineup. With the time needed for animation, that’d be the easiest (if potentially awkward) way to repurpose as much as possible of existing artifacts. 

If we don’t get S8 in the next 1-2 months, though, all bets are off, and there’s a much greater possibility that the entire final season is being redone from scratch. I’d expect Keith to stay in Black, in that case, but I’m always willing to be pleasantly surprised.  

edited to add: see this followup for another detail that supports the reversed-seasons theory

[strictnoodle]

Sanjivani 2

Now that the show has reached the 30th Episode mark; my overall impression about the characters and everything else. (wonder how much has changed and how much has stayed the same from my first post?)

**warning: long post + spoilers ahead!**

The Seniors:

Dr. Shashank Gupta An amazing father/mentor. He's too good at heart to the point he believes a hospital can run on goodwill alone bless his heart, no wonder Sanjivani is drowning in debt The way he seems so understanding to everyone else except his own daughter baffles me. I did not like it when he slapped her. Yeah she was a tad out of line, but he could’ve just opened his mouth and cleared the misunderstanding. With the way he was trying to shut her up, I'm pretty sure that was not the first time Anjali said that to his face; why not clear the misunderstanding? I refuse to believe he actually has romantic feelings for Juhi. Honestly, ousting Juhi from Sanjivani just because Rahul asked him to is the most redicules reason they could come up with.

Dr. Juhi Singh Still the badass COS that she is, deserves the position no questions asked. I love it every time she takes charge. Whether it’s handling Vardhan, Anjali or the junior residents, she’s doing an amazing job. I was hoping she doesn’t interfere with the father-daughter relationship, but then again I understand her desperation to clear things up. And boy, did she get more than what she bargained for. Seems Rahul and her are no longer together but reasons are still unclear. I’m not a fan of the ego clashes she’s having with Dr. Shashank. I get the emotional shock she’s in, but why can’t these characters just talk to each other?

Dr. Anjali Gupta ice baby, ice. Very ambitious. Would do anything to prove her self to her father even if it meant stabbing him in the back that luxury ward meeting? yikes. For her Juhi is an obstacle that’s always been between them, which is understandable as i’ve explained here. She firmly believes her dad is in love with Dr. Juhi and he has done absolutely nothing to clear it up. She craves her dad’s recognition so much she seems to be projecting it towards Vardhan? Anjali baby, no. She holds a soft spot for Dr. Sid and I really wish they’d explore more of this. I still want to see more layers of Anjali other than “the insecure daughter”.

Mr. Vardhan Makhija Still a douche. He’s the only character that speaks sense when it comes to how to run the hospital business wise. He’s been obsessed about the Luxury ward since the first episode I expected something other than a... beauty spa? who goes to a spa in the house of death and deceases? Psychopaths that’s who  Seems like he’s using it as a cover to run some questionable/shady business Rahul is probably involved too. Can’t tell if he really has a thing for Anjali or he’s just manipulating her for his own means or both. I was honestly surprised he was worried about Sid seeing as he had no issues wishing death to Shashank? I can't with him.

The Juniors:

Dr. Siddhant Mathur A huge soft teddy bear. Very kind. Just when I started wondering why would they give him a playboy image, they shove a scene to remind me of his ways ugh, men are the worst! I love how he’s following Shashank’s footsteps with the mentoring. Very patient and understanding when dealing with people, especially with Ishani. Carries the weight of being an illegitimate over his head and he hides the pain really well. Still not a fan of his ways and can’t say I'm not glad they toned it down. I mean really punching that guy and taking his blood without consent? I’m pretty sure that falls under organ harvesting. Can't tell if he likes Ishani romantically or it’s because he’s just caring by nature, but he’s definitely attracted to her. I find it cute how bothered he is that she likes nothing about him. (Why did they change the actress who played his mom? And why was she hiding from Dr. Shashank? He better not be that idiot long lost father so help me god.)

Dr. Ishani Arora An Alien. An Alien from outer space who’s learning how to be human. jk, lol. or am I?. Socially awkward, doesn’t know proper human behavior and a diagnostic machine and thank god they toned that down. An emotional mess. Her germophobia stems from her background which she uses as a shield to keep people at a distance. Craves family and motherly love so much it honestly breaks my heart. Fiercely protective of those she calls her own slapping a guy twice her size for Asha? Absolutely fearless. An idiot, but fearless. Emotionally unstable; hence, the up and down behavior. Has been deprived of affection most of her life to the point she gets attached to anyone who shows her any form of affection. Can be self aware, as in did not hesitate to admit her mistake and apologize. A none believer and has issues with god. Life made her Cynical.

Sid/Ishani pairing I like the softness. I like how Sid respects her boundaries and tries not to touch her without permission. I liked the pace of their relationship but then the last two episodes happened and the level went from a soft 10 to a 100 in record speed, add the ‘L word’ they used for the promo and label me freaked tf out. I was very relieved when Ishani said “dost” in the episode even that was a bit of a stretch but i’ll take it. I’m hoping it’s just a developing of a crush thing and nothing else.

Dr Rishab Vaidya Such a horrible horrible person. If anyone deserves a slap from their parent, it’s this one. Watching his ass get handed to him by Ishani was the highlight of the week for me.

Dr. Asha Kanwar This girl grew on me so much. Very competitive and has a valid reason to be. She’s in a race against time and her family. Always has her friends’ back, be it Ishani or Neil or anyone. I’m hoping her competitive nature doesn’t land her in trouble one day. Desperate people almost always end up doing something foolish.

Dr. Aman Gehlot This guy is too laid back for a first year resident. Seems he went to Sanjivani to follow Asha. Very protective of her.

Dr. Rahil Shekhar My absolute favorite out of everyone! I love him so damn much. Such a sweet soft guy, would do anything for his friend. I love how he took charge being the Second Year Resident and guided the rest in the ‘rescue Sid emergency procedure’. The second son of the Mathur household. I would literally watch 20 full minutes of him just doing laundry Give me more of him!

Dr. Neil Lama Lau I still cannot wrap my head around how he managed to enter medical school when he faints at the sight of blood? Probably became a doctor for his dad.

Performance:

I didn't write anything much the first time because I wanted to give the actors a fair chance to settle into their character, and I supposed 30 episodes is more than enough time, no? I honestly have no complain from the senior cast. Rohit’s 3D glasses need to go tho, asap.

My main issue is/was with the junior cast, specifically Namit and Surbhi. Since we don’t see much of the others I'm not really bothered about them, Now:

Namit As much as he’s nailing the laidback carefree attitude, he’s really really bad in emotional/intense scenes. I swear that phone conversation with his mom on the bench gave me secondhand embarrassment and I hate secondhand embarrassment. Every time Sid cries, I'm reminded of that face babies make when they’re fed something sour you know, all crunched up and stuff?. What was that death bed scene? And what is the Director doing? Your actor does subtlety really well, use it. And writers work around your actor’s weaknesses and utilize his strength fgs.

Surbhi: Some scenes she’s a pro and the other scenes i’m watching an amateur leaving me a whiplashed. Ishqbaaaz was the first show I've seen her in never seen Qubool Hai and I’ve noticed then Surbhi is a director’s actor(?). This actor-director team need to set tf down so they can get their shit together and agree once and for all how they want to present this character. Volume wise, personally I don't fault her much because Surbhi’s voice tone is naturally loud. Having a loud family myself a best friend too, these people really don’t realize how loud they’re being unless someone points it out to them, in this case the Director. I’m just glad it toned down considerably from the first couple of weeks.

Anyways, both are getting a pass from me so far since I'm just watching the show for fun; hence i’m not that bothered. But acting wise, both really have a lot of work to do like, a lot a lot. The directors need to up their game as well, half the issues would probably be solved if there was proper guidance and a clear vision between Namit/Surbhi and the Direction team.

Editing & everything else:

Still all over the place. One minute the doctors are wearing gloves, the next it magically disappeared? There’s no consistency with the scenes most of the time. Thankfully they worked on the lighting. It is much better than the first couple of weeks where we could barely see anything.

Finally...

The overall plot started okay-ish toned down considerably from the melodrama of the first weeks but then it was Cliche City the last two episodes. I'm hoping they go back to their previous pace because I liked the overall mellowness of the show. I don’t like how they’ve cut down on the medical cases. I mean it is a medical show? Where the main set is a hospital? And all main characters are doctors? smh. I personally prefer one medical case running for the entire week. That way there will be no super speed diagnostic and no miracle one minute cure happening. 

I still catch up with the show on the weekends as i’m not yet heavily invested in the show I could sign off any minute. What I do like most is the grey shades of the characters, They’re not easy to like and makes picking them apart quite fun.

[vin-studies]

ok guys. these past two years were HELL so here are some NO BULLSHIT TIPS that i wish i could tell my 16 year old self when i first started IB

ENGLISH AND BIO ARE NOT ‘EASY' HLS.  Biology HL has an extensive syllabus and the marking criteria for English HL are very high! Properly look into your universities’ requirements - make sure to contact them and ask if they will accept the subjects you’re planning to take for the course you are applying for. (For example, some medicine courses in some universities don’t even require biology but they expect you to take chemistry, physics and maths HL). No HL is an ‘easy HL’ so make sure you choose something that you need or are interested. Note: to prospective/new students, IB requires a minimum of a total of 12 marks from your 3 HLs in order to pass the diploma program.

FINISH CAS ASAP Those CAS projects may look good on your uni applications and CVs but writing reflections and uploading evidence is a pain in the ass. I made the mistake of uploading everything at the last moment and in consequence, I had lost some of the pictures that I had collected as evidence and didn’t have time to request for certificates for some of my activities. Upload everything as soon as you get done with a particular activity - if you’re volunteering, training, coaching, competing, interning: don’t forget to collect certifications / evidence from the coordinators/coaches/parents that you have finished the said number of hours. Get CAS out of sight out of mind as soon as possible (collecting as much CAS as possible during your first year of IB is also beneficial for students who plan to apply to universities that have applications due early).

TOK IS A WASTE OF TIME I know this, you know this, even your TOK teachers know it. But it has to be done - so make things easier on yourself.

TOK PRESENTATION:  First, choose a topic that you genuinely enjoy and know a lot about - a topic that you can talk about from the top of your head. This will help you while doing the actual presentation so that you feel more comfortable relaying your ideas and so it does’t end up becoming 10 minutes of you just saying words that you memorised. Your teacher and people online might say that having a partner will make the presentation easier, but in reality this depends on your subject. If your subject is vast, take a partner so the information can be shared amongst the 20 minutes that you have. If your topic is not as vast or does not have a lot of information, don’t take a partner. It may be a little scary to do it on your own but at the end of the day, 10 minutes of quality TOK material is better than 20 minutes of added information and irrelevant points just so you can reach the time limit.

TOK ESSAY: Essay titles are released in the early months of your second year - your TOK teachers will most likely discuss each and every title in class so that you have a better understanding of what they’re talking about. Here’s the secret to the TOK Essay: PICK THE EASIEST ONE. No examiner is going to give you extra marks because you picked a harder title over an easier title - its about the way you present the answer. Choose the title that you understand the most because if you understand it, the way you’ll write your essay will be clear and chances are, the examiner will understand it too. Choosing a title that you’re not familiar with, just because it looks impressive, will send you down a spiralling staircase of pretentious word vomit. In class, when we were looking through sample high scoring TOK essays, most of them were simple and easy to understand. Most of these high scoring essays depended on examples and real-life situations to explain their claims and counterclaims. Your TOK essay does not need to be a philosophical monologue!!

EXTENDED ESSAY: The daunting 4000 words that has every new IB student quaking in their pants. The biggest tip I can give you is this: DON’T TRY TO CHALLENGE YOURSELF BY PICKING A DIFFICULT SUBJECT. IF YOU DO NOT PASS YOUR EXTENDED ESSAY, YOU DO NOT GET YOUR DIPLOMA. YOUR UNIVERSITY DOES NOT CARE ABOUT NOR DO THEY CHECK THE SUBJECT YOU DO YOUR EE ON. There are obviously easier EE subjects that you will be able to score high marks in like: LanguageB, Business Management, etc. Now, you might say that any subject is easy if you enjoy it - sure, that may be true but that doesn’t change the fact that some subjects have higher standards and harder criteria: Physics, Chemistry, Maths HL. New students, don’t freak out about writing 4000 words - in reality, once you start writing your EE, you’ll find that you’ve exceeded your limit and you’ll be stuck trying to figure out how to cut it so it doesn’t affect the quality of your work.

DON’T BE EMBARRASSED ABOUT TAKING ESS OR MATH STUDIES. Anyone who makes fun of ESS and Math Studies students, stop it, its gross. If your university does not need Maths Standard/Higher level, don’t feel like you need to take them. If you find SL difficult and you feel you could score higher in Math Studies, take it. At the end of the day 7 in MS is better than a 4 in SL. Commerce students, if your school requires you to take one science, take ESS. Its practical, less time consuming, and genuinely very interesting. The internal assessment difficulty ranges depending on your topic: some need more experiment time than others but overall its significantly less than any other science like Biology or Chemistry or Physics. Its easy scoring, in case your university is looking at your overall score out of 45 rather than your subjects separately. Taking IB is a feat in itself, so making things a little easier for yourself is nothing to be ashamed about. (plus It’ll be you who’ll be laughing once exams arrive and your pg is a 7).

IOC TIPS: annoy the hell out of your teacher - steal them away for practice IOCs whenever you can. the more practice sessions you have, the better you’ll understand what you’re doing right/wrong, the time you reach, and the questions that you might get at the end of your commentary. if your teachers don’t give you the time of day, practice with the help of a friend or even to your own reflection in the mirror - sometimes your points might make sense on paper but not out loud and you’ll never find out which points those are until you’re talking about them. if its possible to opt, try to avoid poets BECAUSE you don’t know which poem you’ll draw on the final IOC recording day and each poem have their own story, writing style, and concepts. extracts from novels and short story collections on the other hand, have the same context, characters, writing style no matter which extract you draw. During your recording, you can connect your extract to other chapters/stories that you have learnt about if it supports the concept you’re talking about - unlike poems that talk about different topics so you cannot.

BM - CUEGIS CONCEPTS & CASE STUDY (P1):

Despite these being two very big parts of the final exams, there are only a few tips I can share.

For CUEGIS, choose an MNC because it’ll be easier for you to find information. Don’t mug up, choose a company you have an interest in. If you did your IA or Extended Essay on an MNC, you probably have some extent of knowledge about the company so use it for your CUEGIS essay. In preparation, just divide what you know and learn about the company into each concept and learn how they affect each other. Write practice essays by picking two random concepts with a random business topic. 

For Paper 1, your teacher should discuss the given case study with you and helped your class analyse it. But, you should always go back and read/analyse the case by yourself, with friends, with other business students from other schools to make sure nothing is left untouched. You cannot use past papers because, obviously, their cases were different. So, if your teachers does not make sample exam questions / mock papers, make them for yourself. From simple things like definitions to evaluating decisions using business tools. 

last but not least, don’t be afraid to drop ib if you really cannot take it anymore. There will always be universities or colleges that accept your high school diploma. At the end of the day, your mental health is more important that any 45. good luck! - my ask box is always open for anyone who needs tips, guides, resources, notes, or just want to rant with me about IB in general :)

[crimethinc]

Weathering Jail and Prison: Tips from Anarchist Prisoners Dane Powell and Joseph Buddenburg

Dane Powell, the first of the J20 defendants to be sentenced, just completed his four-month sentence after taking a non-cooperating plea deal in which he pled guilty to two felony charges. During the demonstrations against Trump’s inauguration, Dane was filmed risking his freedom to save a child who was brutally attacked by riot police. Dane teamed up with Joseph Buddenburg, another political prisoner serving two years for Conspiracy to Violate the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act, to compose the following guide to surviving jail, prison, and transportation between holding facilities. Whether you are preparing for the possibility of doing time yourself, getting ready to support someone else through a sentence, or simply curious to learn more about life inside the prison-industrial complex, read on for a wide range of essential tips.

For perspective on how to weather the process leading up to the verdict, read “How to Survive a Felony Trial: Keeping Your Head up through the Worst of It.”

Joseph Buddenburg.

Dane Powell, immediately upon his release.

Dane Powell:

When you’re facing a possible prison sentence, the anxiety can be overbearing. No person who is in prison knows what lies ahead from one day to the next. It is quite literally a step into the unknown.

When I first got to jail, I kept notes on experiences that might help ease some confusion for my codefendants. I had no idea I would be transported hundreds of miles to the sunshine state over a three-week period.

Roughly a month at Coleman Federal Correctional Institution, I was introduced to Joseph Buddenburg, another political prisoner, who is serving a 24-month sentence. Joseph was originally serving time in California and was sent to the east coast, away from his support, as a form of punishment. I shared this writing project with him and we decided to combine our energy and experiences. Our goal is to give tips and tricks we had to learn the hard way. These are things we agree that we should have known before we heard the first door lock behind us.

I. Washington DC Jail

Presentencing

Prior to being sentenced, if found guilty, you will go through presentencing. This office will interview you and send a report to your sentencing judge. This report recommends a sentence. Be careful with how you word things during this interview, as everything you say can and will be used against you. I recommend your lawyers be present for this interview. For example, certain substances are legal in Washington DC, but if you’re found guilty of a felony you’ll be doing federal time / federal probation.

Once you’re in the DC jail, it can hard to reach anyone for a very long time. It took me almost three weeks to get in touch with support because I didn’t have numbers. Prior to the day of sentencing, I recommend making a list of ten people including their phone numbers and addresses. You get one free five-minute call after you’re processed in and seen medical. You can acquire a pen and paper prior to this call and call the one person with that list. You should also have someone lined up to pick up your clothes and other person belongings as they’re only kept for 14 days. Unless you want your support to be the ones making your wish list for reading material, you should already have this done as well.

DC Jail Schedule

Food comes about every eight hours to your cell. Breakfast comes at the odd hour of around three am. When you’re in intake you get about one hour of rec Monday through Friday. The rest of the time you’re locked down. This changes when you get into general population (genpop). I was in this lockdown of intake for three weeks and I only managed to get put into genpop by going on a hunger strike. Once you’re in genpop you’ll be out of your cell for about 8 hours a day. You also get two video visits a week and your support will need to sign up for this.

Random Jail Tips

If you’re having any issues on the inside, it will almost never be resolved the way you would like. The #1 thing to do is tell your support and have them put outside pressure on the jail. This works 99% of the time.

The mailroom was shit in DC. My support was calling daily as my mail wasn’t getting through. The mailroom kept telling them they were backed up by two weeks. You can get books but they need to come from a publisher and can only be softcover (this has varied at different locations but this is specific to DC). Legal mail can only be opened and looked through in front of the prisoner and shouldn’t be read.

There are no lines (in the sense of queues) in jail or prison for things like computers or phones. For a turn on the phone, you ask who the last person is and let them know you’re after them.

If you require a special diet, tell the Chaplin it’s for religious purposes. This still took me a month to get, though.

To check your canteen account and order commissary, they have touch screen computers installed in the units. Don’t order any commissary until you get to genpop [general population]. If you order it in Intake, they’ll take your money and not give you anything. You can get it back, it’s just a pain in the ass. When you first log into this computer, you’ll need to use your DCDC number (your number as a prisoner) for your username and password. You’ll be asked to set your password at this point.

The clothing exchange is the worst! You only get your clothes washed once monthly, so every day you have to wash your clothes with you in the shower.

Your toilet is in your cell and offers no privacy between you and your celly. There places in the wall that you can shove a spork into; then you can hang a blanket from the spork in order to build a temporary wall for a bit of privacy. You should save about 8 sporks for this purpose and to hang clothes-drying lines.

You should really be saving everything you can get a hold of like salt, sugar, pepper, and other things like that. You can make an air freshener with a bottle of nose spray and the green cleaner they use on the floor. Chaplains give out free holiday cards and sometimes free phone calls.

When you write a complaint, sometimes the officer you whose behavior you are addressing in the complaint will be the one to take the complaint out of the box. When this happens, there’s a good chance that that complaint will get “lost.” There is a workaround for this: you go to the law library or the chaplain’s office and put your complaint in their box.

The sole of your shoe can serve as a pencil eraser. Treat the detail crew on each block with respect and they’ll treat you right. They’re the ones who bring bathroom supplies, food to the door, and other things like this.

Tips for LGBTQ

My celly for a week of my time in Intake was an amazing person. When I told him that I was writing this, he wanted to give tips for any gay comrades who might be coming to DC jail. So these tips are coming from a gay man. He told me the gay community sticks together almost like a gang. If you have any issues, you go talk to other gay prisoners before anyone else, and they will help you faster than anyone else. You can ask to be housed with other gay men / trans women if you identify as such. Trans peeps should see the Chaplin for hormones (if needed), magic shave, and bras. If a celly is making you uncomfortable, you need to speak up ASAP.

In part two I’m teaming up with Joseph Buddenburg to talk about our experiences with being transferred all around the United Snakes. He has experience from the Cali to FL and I have been all over the east coast.”

II. In Transportation

Joseph Buddenburg:

Other than the time I’ve spent in the SHU (Solitary), being transported is the most stressful part of my experience while incarcerated. I’ve been held at six different federal prisons / holdover jails over the last seventeen months. That’s a bit of an anomaly; if you’re a “short-termer,” you should spend the majority of your time at one facility, with a short stint in transit at holdover facilities.

For folks designated to a federal prison on the East Coast, you’ll be bussed or fly ConAir to USP Atlanta’s holdover facility before transport to your designated facility. For folks designated to the West Coast, you’ll pass through Oklahoma City Federal Transfer Center, or Pahrump, NV—a privatized Corrections Corporation of America facility that functions as another Western Region Processing Center for federal prisoners.

In my experience, these holdover facilities freak out when a political prisoner arrives. I was held in max custody at Pahrump, and at Oklahoma City I was thrown in solitary for the duration of my time. If this happens to you, it’s important to keep in mind that this is only temporary; once you get to your designated prison, you’ll have more “freedom”, access to the outside, and more contact with your supporters. I was held at Pahrump for three days and Oklahoma City for two weeks.

If you’re thrown into solitary, there is very little stimulation. Use the time to work out, write, and engage with the prisoners on the housing block, who are just as bored and frustrated as you are.

During transport itself, I found it important to fast and not drink water. You’ll be cuffed and shackled, and access to the bathroom is nearly impossible. On ConAir flights, the US Marshals allow you one chance to use the bathroom on a several hour flight. They go row to row at a time chosen by them. They’ll yell and threaten you if you try to stand up or walk to the bathroom. The meals are disgusting and you’re only given an eight-ounce bottle of water anyway. You may be “black boxed” during transports, which is especially uncomfortable. Because I was convicted of a “domestic terrorism” statute, this happens to me. You’ll be cuffed and shackled, and if black boxed, a black plastic contraption will be locked to the handcuffs, creating wrist discomfort and near immobility of your hands. Make sure the handcuffs are somewhat loose. Cops are assholes, but they can be reasoned with, sometimes.

I found the bus rides are generally much longer, with no air conditioning, and less space. If you manage to get a window seat, try to sleep throughout the ride. Other things that helped were attempts at meditation, deep breathing, and just talking to other prisoners. Keep in mind that your designated facility will be nothing like these shitty county jails and holdover facilities, and that the misery of transfer is temporary. Most likely, you’ll be designated to a low security prison, with access to recreation, “programs,” college classes, and the like.

If you’re vegan or have other dietary considerations, be prepared with a number to call your support person to pressure the jail, and perhaps to go on hunger strike. At Oklahoma City, they threw me in the SHU; they don’t allow prisoners in the SHU use of the phone until 30 days have passed. They also (illegally) don’t allow prisoners to have stamps—you can send out three letters a week, only on Wednesdays. This resulted in my being unable to contact friends or supporters, so I had to refuse meals until they finally put me on a “no flesh” diet. This was not always vegan, but there’s enough vegan sustenance to survive on. Ask for a celly when you first arrive, so you’ll be able to trade food.

Dane Powell:

I was awoken around 4 am in my cell in DC. The cop told me “pack your shit, you’re heading to the Feds.” I was so new to everything, I thought I was already with the Feds. After all, I was put into the custody of the US Federal Marshals after sentencing. I was excited when my celly told me the Feds are “easy time.” On the other hand, I had just got settled in and had a nice collection of books. You can’t bring anything with you except for legal papers (put your contact list on your legal papers). So I left my books and letters as property that was to be picked up, and I stepped off again into the unknown.

From the morning I left DC, it took me three weeks to get to Coleman, FL. The process of waking you up at 4 am was repeated each time we would be transported. In my three weeks, I saw one jail and two prisons before getting to Coleman. The first morning, after leaving DC, we were brought to Warsaw, VA. We were put into a large, dormitory-style housing unit with TVs, phones, and video calling. We were at this holdover area only for a few days until we were moved once again.

This time, we were moved to Petersburg, VA. At holdover here, we were all put into solitary (SHU), and we didn’t come out from there once. We even had showers in our cells and were denied out daily recreation time due to our transportation status. We could yell to each other, but that was it. We had no books or anything to keep our minds busy.

This was the hardest week of my life, and I’ve been through a lot. I hear about people doing months or years in solitary; they have my highest respect. Only those who have been separated from human contact like this know the barbarism it takes for a human being to do this to another and the pain and suffering this torture causes. I hope I’m not affected from this time long term, but only time will tell.

After climbing out of the bolus of hell, I was brought to Atlanta Federal Institution. My experience in Atlanta was like a combination of the two previous locations, as we were mostly locked down due to two stabbings on the compound.

When you’re being transported, you should try to be first in line if you are trying to get a window seat. I think I got a window seat once; the three other times, when I didn’t, the only thing I could think of, the whole trip, was to tell others to get a window seat. I would fall asleep and with every bump I would smash my face on the seat in front of me. You’re chained up with cuffs on your hands and ankles and the cuffs are attached to a chain around your stomach. When the guards are putting on the abdomen chains, you should protrude your stomach as much as possible. That way when you’re sitting normally, it won’t be too tight.

Normally, your support will get instructions on how to setup a prepaid account when you call them the first time. Every single prison and jail I’ve been to has had a different phone system. At all the places except for Petersburg, I was told that the next place would have the same system and support could load up on their prepaid accounts, but this was never the case. Once you get into the federal system, those systems are all the same; but your support won’t need to set up anything at that point.

Some of the best advice I can give about being thrown into new environments so frequently is just to be observent. You shouldn’t really be asking too many questions unless you absolutely have to. You should ask your fellow prisoners if that situation occurs. At the same time, don’t bombard other prisoners with questions. Don’t come off as someone who’s new to the system, even if you are. You can learn everything you need to know by just sitting back and watching what others do. This takes time but it’s the safest way to approach this unknown. If you follow this, you’ll be a step ahead of most others.

III. Federal Custody

Joseph Buddenburg:

I did most of my time at medium facilities, in terms of the levels of violence, the programs, the “freedoms” afforded to me, and general demeanor, politics, and culture of prisoners.

There’s a rating system for prisoners: 0-11 points means you go to camp, 12-15 to a low security facility, 16-23 to a medium, and 24+ high security. The following factors determine federal custody levels:

detainers / pending charges

severity of current offense (mine was moderate, 3 points)

criminal history score / past convictions (0-1 past convictions is 0 points, 2-3 is 2 points)

history of escape attempts (should be 0, unless you’ve been found guilty of past failures to appear)

history of violence

voluntary surrender status (0 for no voluntary surrender, -3 for receiving a self-surrender)

age (8 points if 24 or younger at the date of sentencing, 4 points if 25-35 years old)

education level (0 points if you have a copy of your high school diploma/GED in your presentencing report, 2 points for “non-verified HSD/GED)

drug or alcohol abuse / convictions (0 for never or more than 5 years previous, 1 point for any drug use or convictions in the last 5 years).

If your charge is political, the BOP (Bureau of Prisons) will likely place a “management variable” of greater security or a “public safety factor” on you. This will make you ineligible for “Club Fed”: federal prison camps, in which there is no fence and you have more freedom of movement. Political prisoners will go to low security or higher.

A “management variable” will bump you up one level, so if you’re at camp level, you’ll go to a low; low points go to mediums; and so on. Only long-term prisoners or those with a serious criminal background will be sent to a penitentiary.

Make sure to clean up any pending charges or warrants before resolving your case—I ended up getting 7 points added for a pending misdemeanor, which bumped me from camp points to low so the BOP sent me to medium security facilities. Also, be sure to have a copy of your high school diploma or GED included in your “pre-sentence report” prior to sentencing. The pre-sentencing officer won’t track this down, it’s on you to track down a copy—this will subtract two points from your custody scoring and could mean the difference between a low and medium security facility.

Ask your attorney to request a “self surrender” from the judge. This typically allows you to turn yourself in to the US Marshals / prison to begin your sentence. That will subtract 3 points from your score and gives you around 60 days to clear your affairs before turning yourself in. My sentencing judge doesn’t give self-surrender, but my attorney convinced him to give 24 hours to self-surrender, thus lowering my points.

Low security prisons are devoid of convict politics. Snitches and sex offenders are everywhere, but you’ll find a few solid people—usually older guys who have worked their way down from penitentiaries. It will be rare to find anyone who shares your politics, but for the most part other prisoners will respect you for “being standup”: for standing up for what you believe in and not snitching.

The prison bureaucrats may fuck with you, pinpointing you for harsher treatment or fucking with your mail or outside support. If this happens, be prepared to have your support pressure the prison, BOP, and oversight bodies and seek assistance from radical attorneys.

The most difficult thing about prison for me has been the isolation and interference by the BOP, and I regret not fighting it from the beginning. Don’t fear their retaliation and petty games: the nature of being a political prisoner will get you targeted from the beginning. Having support is your best weapon to fight back, so never hesitate to call your people and the movement in general for help.

Dane Powell:

Depending on how one looks at it, I got lucky for spending my federal time in a low. There’s a lot less prison politics in a low, which is good for political prisoners who don’t want to deal with racist prisoners, but it also has drawbacks. With prison politics low, prisoners are less likely to “check in” snitches and child molesters (i.e., to force them into protective custody). With a yard full of snitches, it’s almost impossible to organize anything unless you start running with groups that check papers.

Ask your lawyer to send you your sentencing papers as soon as possible. These papers will prove you’re not a snitch or a sex offender and you’ll likely need them to prove your story.

One of my cellies told me over and over that they were in for gun charges but refused to show papers. He always had an excuse as to why he couldn’t get them. Most prisoners see right through this, as I did. Turns out, this celly is in prison for trying to have sex with a fake 9 and 11 year old. I judge good jail praxis by whether the act of retribution gets the person who administers it caught or if they can pull it off without the recipient knowing. Someone had great praxis.

During my time at Coleman, I was welcomed into the native community. Some facilities’ native groups allow white people to sweat with them and some do not. If you’ve done a sweat before, the ones done in prison will likely be different. We would have a pipe ceremony every Saturday and this is where new natives or invites would bring their papers and introduce themselves. The papers would be checked by all to ensure that no sex offenders or snitches would sweat with us. It was nice knowing those guys could be trusted.

When coming from a jail, you might be told your mail will be forwarded. It’s very unlikely that any jail will forward your mail; you should just assume it won’t be. Your funds will be forwarded. For me, it took about 20 days once I got to Coleman to receive my funds from DC.

If where you’re sentenced and where you’ll be released are different, and you’re going to have probation, you’ll need to get a transfer. If your probation isn’t transferred before you get out, you will have to report to probation in the district you were sentenced, even if you have no place to go. To get the transfer, you’ll need to see your case manager and have an address to live at which there are no felons or guns, among other things. It takes about a month to properly transfer your probation.

I had issues with the email system that was offered to us. You’ll need to add your friend’s email address as a contact on the computer system. When you add it, that email address will receive an email for them to set up an account through TRULINCS (the system the BOP uses). From what I’ve seen and heard, this process can be confusing. If they get past this and they have an account, they can email you. They need to understand that when a prisoner emails them, they will not get an email notification to their actual email address alerting them of your message. They will have to sign into TRULINCS to see your emails every time. For some reason, a lot of people didn’t understand this.

There are also private secondary services out there through which you’ll be assigned a phone number and friends can text this number. The company then sends you an email with the text message and you can respond to that email and they text your message to your correspondent. This service costs about $15 a month and you’ll likely need someone on the outside to set it up for you.

Most of the clothing you’ll need (like gym shorts, sweats, and shoes) can be bought in your housing unit. The most common forms of currency are stamp books (flats) and packages of mackerels (macks). Prisoners make a job out of fixing up shoes and clothing that was trashed and repurposing them. You can pick up items for a fraction of what the commissary sells them for; the ones available from commissary are normally made by prisoners at sweatshops in the numerous other facilities the BOP runs.

I saved the best tip for last. To bring hot sauce into the chow hall, put it in a medicine bottle and your food will be more bearable.

[localocksmithnearme]

Lincoln Ignition Repair & Key Replacement Cedar Park TX

Lincoln Ignition Repair & Key Replacement Cedar Park TX - CALL (512)900-8725

http://www.cedarparkkeyreplacement.com/lincoln.html

Cedar Park Key Replacement replenish vehicle lost key made and lockout services on site for any style of Lincoln keys, locks and ignition complications. If your vehicle key is freely turning the ignition, ignition key is hard to turn, dash-board security lights are on and ignition key can't turn in the ignition, our competent workmanship in Cedar Park TX haul no less then four years of in field experience with each and every single Lincoln year and model zealous to perfect our consumers urgencies by catering efficient resolutions to their car key and lock headaches guaranteeing flashing response time, since we understand how irritating your experience is.  

Lincoln replacement keys in Cedar Park TX

If you`lost the last key to your Lincoln in Cedar Park TX?

if you’re scouting for a outstanding swift Lincoln key replacement solution on-the-spot in Cedar Park TX, you found the right website, dial now and our keys replacement personals will be with you promptly.

At Cedar Park Key Replacement we know about the fact that any leading town in America has not less than a number of locksmith groups, nevertheless what Lincoln owners don't know is that every lock-smith in Cedar Park TX ordinarily experienced in one unique of the profession subject. Most locksmith corps will feather a mixure of automotive, residential, safe or commercial lock-smith services and even vehicle towing and other service and frequently use unqualified task force that might present a risk to your belonging or charge more for a a comfortable task due to the fact that he is usually on higher compensate rank project like alarm re-coding or high security camera institution.

About Lincoln key and lock system

Lincoln is a USA automobile manufacturer producing line of opulence cars. From 1997  Lincoln key-lock technology runs on a passive anti theft system chip structure and in 2007 adopt the Intelligent Access System as the push button start ignition and key-less entry solution for almost all of its models.

The computerized chips PAT key emits a dedicated low-level digital message to the car computer which will only be detected when the exact encoded key is in the switch, contrarily the combustible system and the vehicle will not start and conceivably blocked for five minutes.

This anti-theft infrastructures is helping the insurance companies, car owners and automakers in stopping crime and save millions of dollars globally, nonetheless substituting broken, lost and stolen keys or even copying an extraneous key is way over pricey.

Ignition repair

When the car does not turn over, there are a whole lot of troubles which could be the root  cause. Since the fuel supply instrumentation and car power supply are connected to the ignition switch, the trouble might be wearisome to diagnose by an unqualified personal, however following are the most common troubles, which driver might have to confront with.

</p> <h5>key will only turn half way in the ignition</h5> <p> If the key have problems turning in the ignition, it could be for a couple of reasons: Typically this occurs when the steering wheel stuck by the ignition switch when the vehicle front wheels turned to the side (usually when parking up a hill) or when one of a two front wheels is pushed against something (like sidewalk edge). In this situation, try switching the  steering wheel  right and left while gently wiggling the ignition holding the key - this might help in releasing the steering lock.

</p> <h5>Deplated car battery</h5> <p> One more frequent reason why your ignition cylinder might go bad is a failure of the vehicle battery. An empty battery may happens because of alternator failure or electronic wiring. If the dash-board lights will not turn on turning the key in the ignition, most likely you should call a car mechanic.

The ignition is remarkably critical element of any car and containing manifold tiny parts that might be wearisome to diagnose by an unqualified personal, so the best an owner advised to do bearing ignition switch or key malfunctions is to make sure you’re in fact trying to start up your very own car and ask a car keysmith to come out to your location to repair, replace  reprogram the key or ignition which will costs $150–$350.

Transponder chip key create

Since around 2000 and perhaps even earlier, a lot of vehicle makers has started outfitting prerequisite electric immobilised car computer system and chipped keys keylock in their cars as an added security to eradicate vehicle larceny.

The idea behind this is to achieve anti-theft platform where the vehicle encompass vehicle ECM and the key encompass a little chip concealed in it's plastic beak.

As soon as the owner insert the key into the ignition key-breach, signal is transmitted to the engine control unit. If the car computer module wont detect the code, the car won't crank. This system actually means that cutting the key to match the ignition cylinder will not be enough if you want to start up the car, as the key accommodate a transponder that should be programmed to the immobiliser.

Lincoln keyless entry device

Keyless device remotes, or (RKE or RKS) allow owners to unlock and lock their car or truck clicking the remote and furthermore alternative features like unlatching the trunk or kindling the fog lamps to boost visibility in bleak weather or at night. Also, many present-day keys incorporate remote start which is becoming standard on advanced models.

Eminently all smart-keys incorporate a proximity-detector-based structure that is turned on when the proximity key moves within a specific range of the car. This Proximity key are hands-free which means that the vehicle can be locked and unlocked or burst and decommission the car without any input.

Copy vs lost car keys

The actual process of duplicating a vehicle key differ amid individual models and year of the vehicle. On few vehicles, control board programming might be utilized for additional key programming. This process ward off the need for fancy computer equipment and codes when syncing a new chipped key to the vehicle. Models who don't provision Dash-board key duplication  interface should have a supplemental key programmed employing a suitable computer equipment that is handy solely to a commissioned locksmith or Lincoln dealership.

This coding machine costs a few thousands of dollars to procured which is why duplicating an electrical vehicle key costs way more than it does to plainly cut an old-fashioned mechanical key.

If you lost all keys to your car you will have to get your vehicle towed to the dealer or call a locksmith to come down to your location to re program the car computer to accept the new key and renounce the old one. The above process requisite ownership documents as insurance, registration or title and will costs $180–$250.

24 hrs car lockout

With contemporary immobiliser, electronic windows, power lock and transponder key structure regularly progressing, keys, locks and ignition besides car door unlocking services are turning a lot more convoluted to work with. Our pop a lock work force utilize appropriate lock-picking tools and procedures to eliminate damaging your vehicle airbag, power lock or door frames. If you locked yourself out of your car, we can come out to you in no time for all your car trunk and door locks requisites,

Car locks refitting

Cedar Park Key Replacement is proud to maintain all type of Lincoln re-key services at your side to restore a stolen, cracked or misplaced keys. Eminently all modernized vehicle are furnished with electric lock and key technology and the course required to get your lock corrected have to consist of the convenient decoder for the exact car. Instead of dragging your vehicle to the dealer, just gather the phone and call our customer care office in Cedar Park TX and one of our car adapting personnel will be with you ASAP with a versatile work van consisting latest ignition parts, key cutters, programmers and blank keys ready to resolve any sort of emergency scenes.

To conclude

Our laborers are practicable for you 24 hours a day 7 days a week with a mobile car keys, locks and ignition consistent professionals ready to response within the least possible amount of time equipped to the brim with appropriate diagnostic equipment, lock bumping tools and key programmers capable to recover a lost key, repair your ignition or duplicate a proximity key or a fobic-key at your location and get you back in your car in a flash with low prices. . If you are glancing for Car key replacement service in Cedar Park Texas call (512)900-8725 for a reliable local automotive locksmith, who duplicate and replace trunk, door and ignition keys and remote fob made on the spot.

[pleasantroaddeansludge]

The second time she woke up, Lyla knew exactly where she was. Peering upwards, she observed the face mere inches from hers. Max lay stoically, fast asleep and breathing heavily. He seemed so vulnerable, so transparent...

“Max,” she whispered.

He stirred, but didn’t awake, so she left him to sleep. Slowly removing herself from his embrace, she rolled over and read an alarm clock on the bedside table. 7:45. Fuck.

Clamouring out of the bed and to the door, she peered around inquisitively. It was Mia’s bedroom, so where was Mia? Almost as if on command the petit girl appeared and the top of the stairs.

“Hey babe.”

“Mia? Why did you let me keep your room?” she inquired, but she was met with giggles.

“You looked very comfy in there,” She said, winking suggestively.

“Haha, very funny! We’re going to be late to school!”.

Mia’s expression suddenly became one of seriousness.

“You’re not going anywhere. Hearst is closed due to mild flooding today and you’re in no state to be going anywhere. My parents are on a work trip for the next few days. You two can keep eachother company today.”

Lyla began to argue that her parents would be angry, but then it dawned upon her. Would they even care? Would they even notice?

In defeat, she just replied “Mia, I hate you.”

The cheerleader smiled chirpily and threw her a freshly baked pain au chocolat.

“I love you too.”

-

Max woke up to an empty bed. Rubbing his eyes groggily, he realised what happened. He fell asleep. With her. Shit. He only just broke up with Kara, but couldn’t help but admit he felt something.

No. No, you did not. Get over it.

He reiterated these words and she came back into the bedroom, wearing the same old clothes she had been when he found her last night. Except this time, she’s eating a croissant. He can’t help but think that despite everything, she’s still the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

Shaking his head, he silently pinched himself.

“Hi,” she stated uneasily, metres away from him.

“Hi.” He replied back coldly and detached, staring absent mindedly at the wall behind her.

Colour flushed to her cheek as she grabbed her jacket.

“This was a bad idea. I don’t know what Mia was thinking,” she muttered, trying to make herself look presentable to the outside world.

Max cursed himself for letting her go like this, but he couldn’t allow himself to give in to temptation.

“Back to loser high so soon?” he quipped, the playful hint to his voice gone.

“I’m going for a walk.” She practically spat the words at him, lacing up her shoes.

“We know how that ended for you last time.”

He said it without thinking, and immediately winced at the harshness of his own words.

No different. He’s no fucking different.

How could she allow herself to be so stupid, and believe he cared for a split second?

At that point, she’d heard more than enough. Max watched her slam the bedroom door and then heard the quieter slam of the front door, two levels underneath.

Burying his head in Mia’s floral scented bedsheets, he noticed a photo on her bedside table. It’s one of her and her girlfriend, Lola. Lola’s has her arms thrown around Mia and they laugh as if in their own unburstable bubble.

Even if he would never admit it, Max wanted nothing more that. When his little sister came out, it made him happy - happy that she could finally get her happily ever after. Or that she was at least closer to finding her version of it. He may have been a dickhead, but he sure as fuck was not a homophobe.

Why was he thinking about this shit?

Deep down, he knew why. It was because having her on him made him realise she was what he wanted.

Lyla was smart, she was determined, one of the kindest people he’d ever met, beautiful and...

she was broken.

Just like him.

———

Like that, he knew he had to find her. Getting ready took five minutes, and he was sitting in his Porsche in ten. Where could she have gone? The Lake? No, not so soon. Home? Doubtful; she was supposed to be in school. That just left one place... school. Mia would flip her shit if Max just pulled up to her school but he didn’t know what else to do.

Luckily for Max, he didn’t get that far. He spotted her just outside the parking lot of the school, shivering from the wet weather.

He shouted out to her - no response. Had she seen him? He honked his horn this time. Still no response. Okay, she’d definitely heard.

He pulled up and parked, approaching her with haste.

“Hello?”

She turned around and snapped “I do not always need saving, Max. I can be on my own. And if you’re here to make fun, I’m giving you the opportunity to leave. Now.”

He didn’t know why he was there, but he knew he wasn’t leaving.

“Please. Listen to me”

He pleaded with his eyes. Noticing she’d walked all the way, he gestured to his car. Reluctantly, probably in order to reduce attention, she clamoured in.

“So?”

“So... nothing. I just needed to see you.”

She sat there facing him in disbelief.

“Are you drunk?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The questions come out at the same time and her eyes widen.

“Max. This is not the appropriate time or place. Never is the appropriate time or place.”

“I see,” he muttered, leaning over to open her door. “Sorry for wasting your time. And sorry for what I said earlier.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. Max was... apologising? And it sounded genuine. Suddenly, she grabbed the car door and shut it close.

“What are you-”

He was cut off by her lips on his, warm and inviting. After a few seconds, he pulled away.

“What are you doing?” He exclaimed in suprise, taken aback.

“I have no one, but you came all this way just to talk to me. And really need you to kiss me right now.”

Complying, he clasped her face in his hands. He was an expert in these situations, but being with her made him feel like he was in middle school all over again.

The kiss was sweet and warm. One of her hands started tugging on his shirt, but garnering all his self control, he pushed them away lightly.

“You’re not in the right state,” he whispered between kisses.

She pulled away abruptly and paused. He was right. She was wearing two day old clothes, despite showering at the Warren’s, and was unable to think straight.

“Meet me at 5. Right here,” she murmured. He nodded in response and before she could get out the car he grabbed her arm.

“Where are you going?” He asked quietly.

“Home.”

———

As soon as Lyla arrived home, she flopped onto the bed. As she’d expected, no questions had been asked. She had tons of time until she had to meet Max, but for some reason she found herself itching to text him.

No. You and Max are not friends. You kissed once. It was a lapse in judgement. So why are you going to meet him later?

The internal conflict raged for an hour until she picked herself up and decided there was no way she could waste the rest of the day.

She peeled her clothes off and chucked them into a corner of her room. In her underwear, she peered at her back in the mirror. It was red where she had fallen, but she felt no pain. Instead, she traced the bruises with her fingertip - she remembered where Max had grabbed her. Where he had saved her.

Shaking her thoughts away quickly, she returned to her wardrobe. After carefully pulling an oversized t-shirt over her head, she felt cleaner already. Throwing on some black leggings and fuzzy socks, she went over to her desk. An assortment of unfinished projects littered it, layering until she could no longer see the varnished wood underneath. Fuck off, she thought, and with one swipe she had thrown the contents onto the floor. Sitting down swiftly, she pulled out a blank piece of paper and a pencil. She was no artist, not like Autumn, but she knew how to draw a picture or two.

Letting her pencil fill the page, she realised two hours had passed. Lyla looked down, observing what she had created. It was a couple, locked in embrace. The guy had tousled blond hair and an athletic build, and the girl was hidden, shielded by a large jumper. In exasperation, she hung her head. It was Max. She’d drawn Max.

———

Max only narrowly avoided a crash on the way home, too consumed by his own thoughts. As the rain sloshed onto his windshield, he tried to ponder his options; a task proving difficult, as he couldn’t quite work out what his options were supposed to be. Getting attached to Lyla was not in his best interests - not at all. But he couldn’t help but feel something when they kissed. Something was different when they were together - he didn’t feel like he did with Kara or any other girl before her. He knew logistically it would never work, but he couldn’t help but wish - wish that circumstances were different.

Ascending to his room, he unlocked his phone - four missed calls from Derek. Shit. He’d forgotten they were supposed to meet up today.

Quickly calling him back, Derek answered almost immediately.

“Hey, man. Where’ve you been?” Derek huffed, sounding out of breath.

“Nowhere. My bad, bro, I totally forgot.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine. Just get to Kara’s asap.”

“Kara’s?” Max responded in confusion. “Why the hell would she want me there? Why the hell would I want to go there?”

“Everyone’s here! Just a couple drinks, we’re celebrating an extended weekend.”

Knowing he had a reputation to uphold, Max huffed a general sound of agreement and turned off the phone. He didn’t need to meet Lyla till 5, and there was no need to raise suspicion.

Within the half hour, he pulled up outside a large, stately home - one which he’d spent much time in. The home of his psycho ex-girlfriend. What even was his life?

After knocking on the door, the dark-haired cheerleader let him in with an ever present scowl.

“Yooooo, Max!” exclaimed Derek, a blunt hanging halfway out his mouth and his arms around the waist of a girl Max had never seen before. He greeted him with a light punch on the shoulder.

“How’s it going?” Max asked uninterested , scanning the room. It was busy, really busy for a last minute party. It was possible that it was just a coincidence, but he couldn’t shake his uneasiness. He noticed Derek was talking to him, but he’d zoned out long ago, occasional “mmhhmm”ing to keek his friend happy. A cheerleader, Kaira, waltzed over to them and Max internally groaned. They’d made out once at a party, and yeah, she was fit, but she wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Hey Derek,” he whispered to his friend, who was mid sentence. “This ones all yours.”

With a smirk, Derek slid his free hand around the waist of the new girl, and Max walked off. However, as he was approaching the kitchen, he heard a commotion from the back room - where most of the partygoers had already convened. Following the noise, he noticed Kara, stumbling drunk, in the middle of a circle of people. She was rambling on, and her audience was laughing along with it.

“Let’s go..o..o, Let’s go to that scho..o..ol. That good for no-o-Othing school. I want to give them a piece of my-”.

She stopped short as she fell over again, provoking another fit of giggles. Derek walked over to Max, two different colour of lipstick stains coating his neck, and nudged him.

“What’s she talking about?”

Max shrugged and looked back upon her as she locked her eyes on him. Kara began laughing hysterically, pointing at him.

“You’ll go. You’ll take us. You hate everyo-o-oneee except Max Warren. Take me...e...e.”

“Kara, I don’t understand why you could possibly want to go to Oliver M. Berry.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Let’s goooo...” she trailed off as she retched in her mouth, enducing mild groans from the bystanders.

Derek began laughing. “Yeah, let’s go. Let’s go tell them exactly what we think of them and their stupid little - wait, what was I saying?”

Looking around the room in confusion, his eyes landed on Max, and then the room of people in front of him.

“LET’S ALL FUCKING GO!”

An hour later, Max found himself driving a very drunk Kara and a very stoned Derek towards Lyla’s school. He really didn’t want to, but otherwise they would drive themselves and that was bound to end in disaster. Flanked by at least three other cars filled with Hearst students, he groaned. He figured he could drop them off and drive away - he didn’t have to show face for long. If he was seen refusing to go, that would have a harmful impact on his social standing. So he gritted his teeth and stepped on it.

———

Lyla couldn’t help but smile as she looked in the mirror. Yesterday she’d looked as shattered as she’d felt, so at least tonight she’d made an effort. She combed through her freshly washed wet hair, and applied a swipe of strawberry lip gloss.

Why do you care how you look? Who are you trying to impress? This isn’t a date.

What the hell was she doing ?

Fuck it, she thought, and stepped outside the door. Her car looked like scrapyard material compared to Max’s, but she couldn’t care less. She climbed in and started the ten minute journey to school with some music and a flask of green tea.

She knew something was off as soon as she got close. She’d arrived at four thirty, earlier than agreed with Max, to greet her friends. But as she approached her school, she noticed the entrance seething with people. At least two dozen stood directly outside the sign that she’d placed next to the admissions office. Parking across the other end of the lot, she unbuckled and started towards the crowd.

Her stomach dropped. The blond was unmistakable. In the centre of the crowd was Max, his car parked not too far behind him. She could see her friends in front of the Hearst students - Mia, Lola, Wes, Ezra, Autumn, Nishan, Sakura, Koh, Katherine, Payton and Julian. It felt like a kick in the chest to see her friends look so complete without her, but the feeling didn’t last long. It was interrupted by a sudden commotion and the sound of a punch being landed in someone’s face. That someone proved to be Julian, who Lyla recognised from voice. But there was no doubt about it. Max was the one who had hit.

It felt like betrayal. She didn’t know why, but it felt like the deepest form of betrayal. So she began running, pushing through anyone in her way.

Julian was standing up now, cradling his head.

“Julian, are you okay? Do you feel concussed? Can you hear me?” she exclaimed, immediately grabbing onto his arms. When her friends were hurt, any past discrepancies had no merit.

“Lyla?”

She heard Max’s voice behind her, but she ignored it, continuing to check Julian’s head.

“I’m alright, Lyla, I’m alright,” he exclaimed, batting away her hands in mock annoyance. Mia rushed up to her and threw her arms around her, followed by Payton. Autumn awkwardly smiled from a distance, and Lyla returned the gesture.

Max repeated himself more assertively this time.

“Lyla.”

She flicked her head round, searching for any sign of regret in his eyes. Whatever had happened before had clearly irked the boy, but his behaviour was inexcusable.

“No.” she muttered, already walking away. She knew the crowd would be eyeing her, so she bade farewell to her friends and got in the car. She wasn’t going home but where was there to go? Revving the engine, she knew - The lake.

———

A million thoughts were racing through Max’s head as he watched her walk away. The boys had been exchanging their usual insults, and Max had lost his temper, as per. But it felt different this time. For the first time, he regretted it. It could be argued that he shouldn’t have needed Lyla to recognise the fault in his actions, but he had no time for thinking like that.

He pretended to storm off in anger, but really he knew he had to follow her car. Although it was obvious where she was going, he still wanted to be quick. He didn’t fear she would take her life - he feared she would condemn his.

A 10 minute journey later, he arrived. As suspected, she sat perched on a bench next to the water. She was throwing little pebbles in and watching how the surface rippled hypnotically.

“Lyla.”

She didn’t move a muscle, but he knew she knew he was there.

“Please, talk to me” he pleaded, walking closer.

“I don’t want you to change for me, Max. But this version of you - I don’t want to be around it. So enjoy your life, but leave me out of it.”

It hurt Max more than he cared to admit, but he continued to approach her.

“Lyla, listen. I’m sorry about today - I never meant for it to go down this way. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing but, I don’t want it to stop and I know you feel the same. Please.”

———

She observed him for a second. God, he’d be so much easier to hate if he didn’t look like... that. “I’m listening.”

“Give it a chance. Give us a chance.”

She rose and walked up to him til they were mere inches apart.

“There is no us.” She stated coldly.

“Say that whilst looking into my eyes.” He whispered.

“There is no-”

She couldn’t finish. She knew it was a lie.

“Ha.”

“Max.”

“Yes.”

“Where’s your car?”

“About a minute walk that way. Why?”

Lyla took off in that direction, leaving Max to follow behind her in confusion.

She opened up the back door and slid in, beckoning him to come closer.

“What are you doing, Lyla?” He uttered, not daring to raise his voice.

“Prove it. Prove that you want me.”

He smirked. “Are you sure, babe?”

“I’m not your babe. Now, kiss me. “

[abroadinthedesert]

Sadness, Happiness, Stressed, De-stressed

December 12, 2017

Last Thursday school was a half day for students, while teachers had an afternoon of  professional development. Our principal thanked us for our continuing comment to our profession as we are tired, the students are tired as we have all been at for 16 weeks without a break. That is right , 16 weeks of teaching, lesson planning, corralling students to learn, and duties without a break. WOW! I can feel all that as we come down to the last two weeks before winter break. No, not Christmas break, remember I am a Muslim country. We did get a three day holiday for Mohammad ‘s birthday last month and an unexpected school cancelation last Tuesday. Why you may ask? Kuwait is trying to mediate the disputes between Qatar and the other Arab nations, and the government was closing certain roads for all the dignitaries coming to the country. The government closed all the public schools and many private schools in the area began to announce their closure (kinda of like ice days in the States). Our school announced closure very late in the evening, and many teachers had already gone to bed because school starts at 7:15 each morning and the last bus to school leaves at 6 AM (yep, I am on that bus each morning, I am NOT a morning person). I got the message right before I went to bed, so I stayed up late to read a bit more, but forgot to turn off my THREE alarms for my morning wake up process. The bad part of this unexpected free time was the fact that I did not bring my school bag home because the night before was the Music Concert for the high school band and choir, and I stayed at school to work until the concert and knew that I would not do any school work at home that night; thus, I left my bag. So I did not get that never ending grading, planning, and organizing done. I did enjoy the reading, sleeping and cat time.

I had a doctor’s appointment today to get my prescriptions refilled. I go every three months for this process. It is a process. I sit in a waiting area, get called by the doctor’s nurse (they are called sisters here) where I wait in HIS waiting area. I then get called into his office where most times I do not spend more than five minutes.  Then I am on my way to the pharmacy where I must either wait for insurance to approve the prescriptions or come the next day to pick them up. Today I waited (one hour). 

Now on to my Sadness, Happiness, Stressed, De-Stress

The negative topics first so we end on positive notes for this blog post. I am a bit sad and stressed, but the end of the semester is always SSSTTTRREEESSSFFFUUUULLL!!!!!! 

Getting three version of finals completed along with the regular teaching duties is always stressful and I should be used to this after 26 years of doing this, but every year it stresses me out. Add on to this I had procrastinated another project for the social studies that need to be done ASAP and then I need to grade AP Psychology tests. Add to this I had run out my prescriptions, especially the one that keeps me balanced and optimistic most of the time. There have been a few moments when just thinking about what needed to be done brought me close to tears. Additionally, my birthday is very close, I am turning 53. This birthday seems to be not such a happy occasion this year. Last year my AP Psychology surprised me with a birthday cake!  When your birthday is a week before Christmas your birthday seems to be overshadowed with the holiday; although my momma does wrap my presents in birthday wrapping paper and not holiday paper (happy notes!!!)! So I do not expect any birthday presents or cake this year! Should I expect to feel special after living this long? I think my expectations are set just to high. Of course Christmas is around the corner and I am not in Texas to oohhh and ahhh over the Christmas lights, decorations, and packages under the tree. Nor to enjoy all the wonderfulness that my momma creates for this her favorite holiday. I do not put any Christmasy-ness up, I would just have to put up again after the cats had fun taking it down each day. Being a mom with grown children is a bit sad. They are busy with their lives and it seems that they just do not need mom anymore. I know that they are successful, and happy with their lives, but I do miss being apart of all that. Maybe I did my mom job to well.

Typing all that lighted my heart and soul, so thanks for letting me vent my stresses, sorrows and disappointments. On to the positives!!

I bought real Dr Pepper today!!!! You think that is funny, but here in Kuwait you can buy Dr Pepper that is made in Great Britain by Coke. I only like the real Dr Pepper made in my home state of Texas. Bought three six packs from the grocery store near the school, the same grocery store near where I live does not carry it. The strange thing about US products here in Kuwait is that the store may have it one week and not the next week. So when you see it, you better buy it. One branch of the store may have it and the others do not. In fact I am taking a can of cranberry sauce I bought in the store last month  all the way to New Zealand for Christmas dinner.  So a supper happy note is that I will be spending my Christmas not with my mom, dad, papa, and son in Texas but with my daughter in New Zealand. We plan on cooking a mini US Christmas feast for ourselves and her lovely Kiwi beau. I have been to New Zealand before and it is an AWESOME place, plus the fact that I will be with my daughter camping in the summer of the Southern Hemisphere!! My momma would be proud that I have already started to pack. I am trying very hard to pack light (only a backpack). Another positive to remember is that the teacher community I live with is a great group and very supportive. We celebrated Thanksgiving together and everyone loved my “stuffing”, I laugh at this because in the South it is dressing. I learned how to make cornbread dressing working beside my momma growing up. Thanks, Mom!!! Everyone here was excited too that I had decided to stay at the school at least one more year. It is nice to be with a good group of people, but sad that some are moving on (oops, a sad note slipped in).

One last positive note before I leave you with this lengthy post. Each day before I Ieave for school I usually turn on the radio for the Leo and Boutiquali (the cats) to listen to while I am gone. The radio is tuned to BBC news, but this morning I pushed the wrong button and changed it to an Arabic station. I could not have that, after all I am trying to Americanize their little furry brains, so I quickly turned it to iPod mode so that they could listen to my entire music collection. I started in at ten minutes to six this morning and as I finish typing this at ten minutes after nine it is still playing my music. That is AMAZING!!

Please excuse my mistakes, because most of this is typed off the cuff. I do proof read before I post, but I am history major and not an English major..

So bye for now and thanks for keeping up with....Abroad in the Desert II