#why do you need me to commute and sit at a desk for 8 hours to write some content

[becomingabeing]

Why do people still do in office jobs like what's the reason

[that-one-tired-tiefling]

Morning conversation

I sigh. Once more, I sit by the desk in my kitchen, looking at 2 big screens in front of me. 3rd time this week, which would make it Wednesday. Halfway to weekend, almost there. 8 hours of hard work... not really. Crunching it for the first few hours and then putting mouse mover on, taking care of house choirs, while writing it off as working on side projects. Nobody checks it anyway, and I get to take care of dishes, make myself a nice dinner, and then proceed to watch YouTube videos for a few hours. Work from home is a bessing.

Is it though?

I look at him. Tall, dark figure, drapped in black cloak, casually leaning over the kitchen counter. His white eyes may not have pupils, but I know he's looking directly at me. At this moment, his head looks like a weird mix of a skull and an animal mask with permanent grin. His jaw isn't even moving when speaking.

You hate that you lost your kitchen table, don't you? And you wish you didn't see anything work-related after you log off for the day.

I do – I quietly say – but at least I don't need to commute to the office. I know it's less than an hour including walking to and from tram station, but still. And I don't need to prepare food for the whole day.

He chuckles. His long, human-like hand reaches for the cup next to him. He puts it to his mouth, pretending to take a few sips and lets out a loud, satisfied sigh. I frown. He never manifests items, and that must be the first time he;s drinking anything, if we can even call it that.

What is it, Meadow? Why are you bringing it up now? I thought we agreed this is the best for us.

We did – he puts the cup away, sending it back to abyss – but it was a while ago. Maybe we should discuss it again?

I look at him for a few moments before sighing and activating mouse mover. I turn the chair towards my friend.

I'm all ears. What are the new points you want to add to the dilema?

Oh, I don't have any, really.

This takes me by surprise.

Are you kidding me right now? You said-

I know what I said – he comes closed and sits in front of me on another chair he pulled out of a thin air – and I still think we should reevaluate. We did that with a few things recently and you had a change of heart, did you not?

I don't need to think about it too hard to find fine examples. Buying and drinking actual coffee and not instant one, getting myself a cookbook just because it's Stardew Valley's one and not because I will 100% use every single recepie, chilling out with working hard and pushing my limits. Those and many more things changed in my life because I shifted my perspective.

Alright... and you want to do it now? When I'm at work?

You're not actually working, are you? We both know what is in your morning allocation and you really don't look forward to it. You're watching another instant ramen cooking recepie when we both know you-

I won't try them out, I know, I know. - I sigh again. I hate it when he calls me out like that. - So, what do we start with?

How about planning out the living room?

I stare at him for a moment. What did he just...?

I asked if we should start with the living room. You know, where the couch and armschairs will-

First of all – I interrupt him – stop reading my thoughts. Second of all, what does it have to do with working from home? I thought we will plan out the flat once I start actually looking for an apartment and for real, not just browsing like I currently do every now and then.

You've done it twice only – he corrects me – and it has everything to do with working from home. Whenever you think of those rooms, even if you don't know the actual layout, you always skip preparing homeoffice. It means you don't want to work from home in your own, not-rented place, doesn't it?

W-well... yes... - I quietly agree – but it doesn't mean that-

Which means – he rises his clawed hand hushing me – that eventually, you will return to working from office. Sooner or later. Either because you move or you change jobs. By the way, when are you planning to start that course Dave recommended? You said you'd start in May and it's almost June. Oh, right, you said you change jobs after moving, how could I forget.

Hey! - I glare at him. - Don't pile up the difficoult topics all at once!

And why not? - he tilts his head and blinks, his eyes now black with 2 tiny white dots acting as pupils. - You keep saying you'll look for a new place when you change job and you will change job when you move out. Those 2 keep mixing up, so what will you do first? Other than stalling?

I feel irritation buidling inside of me. I hate it when he calls me out like that even more. I know I have a habit of getting excited about something, making plans and telling others about it and then doing nothing. I know I backed out from many different decisions that could have been big and life-changing, just because I'm too lazy to go through with it. I know I'm scared of making those decisions because I'm scared that it won't go well. That the consequences will compromise my life that is currently not bad. Dare I say, it's nice! I can afford renting apartment on my own, I can afford my groceries, trips and meeting with friends, and I still have spare change to put into my savings accounts. There are a few major shops nearby, good bus and trams connections, less than 20 minutes to train station with direct connection to my DnD group, I like those things! And I know that's-

That's valid.

I look at him, surprised a bit.

I know your thoughts, remember? - Meadow chuckles a bit before getting serious again. The grin finally disappears as the white face finally seems to have some muscles and skin. He looks almost like a dog-like creature right now. - And I know you're scared of moving out and taking loans.

Softness in his voice calms me down a bit. Like a warm blanket, or a cup of warm coco in my favourite pot-mug.

There is nothing wrong in being scared. I know that human nature is to only make huge changes if the pain of changing is lesser than pain of staying the same.

He reaches to my face and gently touches my cheek, slightly tingly sensation covers my skin. I know he's not truly here. I know he can't touch me and it's just a trick of the mind. But the sense of comfort it gives me is real. I feel my eyes tearing up.

What if I don't find anything? Or I do find something and take the loans but then start struggling with making ends meet? What is-

Shshshsh – he strokes my lips gently – I know. You have so many doubts, so many fears. Your brother has his wife to help in case something goes wrong, and you are on your own. Or are you?

I look at him, sniffing a bit. He slowly smiles, his expression warm like summer afternoon.

If something bad happens, you have a family and friends to hep you out. And besides... a few months ago you were still going to therapy, so you know you can afford paying rent and loans that are around 2000 ziko. With small issues every now and then, but I know you can manage. And you know too, right? You've been through shit and you persevered. You are capable, you are independant. And you are loved, remember that. If you have problems, you know you have people who will help you out no matter what. And even if you don't find anything matching your minimal exectations, which by the way are really miniscule, that is not the end of the world. You will just keep looking every now and then. It's a huge decision and nobody expects you to settle with first thing you find. Take your time.

At this point, I'm already sobbing. I raise and lower my arms, I know hugging him is impossible. He is just a mirage, my imaginary friend, my biggest enemy and bestest friend. My daemon.

He gets up and hugs me, again, making my skin tingle and filling my brain with happy chemicals.

We're in this together. I will always be by your side, and I just know that once you are truly ready, everything will go smoothly for you. And if you fumble, then there is a good reason for it as well.

I wipe my face, feeling tears burning on my cheeks, before nodding.

I know... thanks, Meadow.

No problem, my dear.

We sit in silence for a moment.

Soooo... we stay at home office, right?

No, yeah, working from office sucks, we stay here. Now chop chop, those docs won't check themselves.

[greenbagjosh]

2 - 5 June 1998 - first week on the job at the Balanstraße campus

Friday 5 June 1998

Today I wanted to make the 20 year ago story a little short.  Or at least shorter than I potentially could.  Maybe to give a brief overview of what I did from 2nd June to 14 August 1998 at "Widgetmeister International", why was I there, how did I get the job, what did I do, and so on.

Please note, not all companies in Germany are set up like Widgetmeister International.  My descriptions are only from the times that I remember.

My Summer 1998 position was a Werkstudenttätigkeit, which is slightly different from a Praktikum.  Both are student-level jobs meant to be temporary.  There is also the Doktorand, where a doctoral candidate gains practical experience in the field, particularly STEM.  A Praktikum is a position that is brokered through a work agency, where the Werkstudenttätigkeit is arranged almost 95% by the candidate him or herself.  Basically you have to fill out all the paperwork yourself, where the agency takes care of it for you as a Praktikant.  What is the pay difference?  More than twice for the Werkstudent than the Praktikant, and both get the 300 Mark, in today's money about US $ 200, tax-free living allowance supplement.  Taxes and other legal deductions were calculated by the HR department, and payday was always the last Friday of the month.  You would get either a physical "Verrechnungsscheck" or a bank transfer.  The latter was preferred.

How did I get the position?  I knew of some people in a similar work division from my previous Praktikum from Summer 1997, and they needed someone to assist in writing a home-grown file transfer program to detect file size, file format and multiple file handling.  We had a good working relationship from that time, so they chose me for the seasonal position.  Back in the late 1990s, it was a time of thick brick sized cellphones that could barely even make texts aside from phone calls, and Microsoft Sharepoint was not widely used on the unix system.  So it was a matter of integrating the file transfer application into HTML.  Not a simple matter then, as it is now, by comparison.

What was my day like?  In general I would take my bus-train-bus commute from Englschalking to Giesing.  Most everyone would be in the office about 8:30 AM, would have coffee, follow up on previous days work and have meetings as appropriate.  I did not have a "dedicated" workspace, rather I would temporarily sit in an unoccupied desk, of whomever was on vacation at the time.  Since in Germany people took 4 to 5 weeks vacation, there would be at least someone absent, and the space was mine for a while.  I did some coding in Perl as it was portable on unix and Windows.  Lunch would be around 11:45 AM up to 12:35 PM, and everyone would go to the canteen.  Food was fairly cheap as it was offered on an "institutional" bulk basis.  Sometimes there would be interesting items, like the potato ball, Currywurst, dumpling soup, side salads and self-serve by the glass soft drinks.  We would eat together for half an hour and go back.  In the office, the coffee policy was everyone pitches in with paying since the company did not pay for coffee.  Either that or donate unopened bags of coffee, creamer and sugar/sweetner once in a while.  And every cup consumed, had to be tallied!!!  

Sometimes during the week, there would be staff meetings.  These were, despite being in Germany, conducted in English, as there were staff members whose German was not quite B1-standard.  Most of them were not relevant to me so I was allowed to work on the upload application.  

As for the workday, it was generally 7.7 hours including 0.7 hours for lunch.  Each day taken off whether by vacation or overtime, would be deducted by 7 hours.  Sometimes people had to go offsite on official business, so there was a category for that and that would not count against one's vacation time.  In my case, I was allowed two days paid vacation per month I worked - too bad I cannot get that in the USA!  

At the end of the day, I would log off my workstation, and think about if I wanted to go to Neuperlach Zentrum with the U-Bahn, or go northwest via Am Hart or Kieferngarten to the big box stores, for grocery shopping.  Or hang out near the Marienplatz or Münchner Freiheit?  Depended on my mood at the time.  Usually I would be home around 7 or 8 PM.  I would make a light supper for myself, mainly sandwiches and a half liter can of cheap no-name store-brand beer.  Sometimes I would have the proper Oktoberfest brands but not every day.

Did I mention the office had *no* air conditioning?  The windows could be opened and most people would use fans.  Seldom did the temperature rise above 90 degrees.  

Well, that pretty much summarizes what I was doing during the weekdays of Summer 1998 in Germany.  Tomorrow and up to Friday, would be my "birthday weekend" where I saw two different sides of Bavaria.

Gute Nacht!!!

[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get to it!

PERMANENT TAGLIST: 

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @takeyourleap-of-faith 

[i-am-infinite]

Guilt (Part 1): The Rescue

(Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Slight Chpt 12 and 13 spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: Slightly over 4K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and needles. Broken glass. Fainting. Blood loss. Canon type violence. Possible bad writing (first fic pls go easy on me). If I’m missing anything please let me know, I’ve never done one of these before. 

A/N: This is my first fanfic I’ve written so it might be really bad but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here it is. I also made up a planet/system and don’t know if star wars has alarm clocks but i wrote it in anyway. I also wrote this in Word first and then realized I couldn’t copy it over so I tried my best to type it over in here. 

Normal. That is what was used to describe your life. Nothing out of the ordinary. Life wasn’t boring per se, but it definitely wasn’t compelling enough for your tastes. Studying to be a healer help keep it somewhat interesting but not enough. 

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Crust littered eyes creak open as your face unsticks from the textbook scattered across the desk. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Your stiff neck cracks as you finally sit up. Fell asleep studying again. You loved learning about healing, you really did. But the long nights and barely sleeping was enough to make your head explode. Looking over at the clock with bright red numbers blinking at you. 8:15. 

8:15! I’m late! You think as you force yourself awake. No not again! Being a student means you need to do hands on hours down at the nearest medcenter. All the late night studying also means that you oversleep most days. Grabbing your work bag filled with a change of clothes, in preparation of these events, you run out the door.

Your feet hit the wet cobble stones as it echos through your little part of the city. Vendors lining up the street ready to start their days. Passing the shop you went to yesterday, your mind too preoccupied to notice that it’s empty today. You know that theres is a faster route to the medcenter, but is it a path you really want to take today? Dark and windy path that you can barely see five feet in front of you on mornings like this. Too foggy and muggy for your liking. You’d rather stick to the main road where there’s people, where if anything were to happen, people would see, they would know. Regardless, it shaves fifteen minutes off your commute. You loathe having to be late for another shift. Making the sharp turn in between tow booths, you pace quickens to get through as quickly as you can. While not having much visibility, you swear you can see a pair of eyes in the dark. Has to just be my imagination, you convince yourself, I just need to keep going. It’ll be fine. 

Footsteps echo behind you. Hands grab your shoulders. A scream rises in your throat, but no sound comes out. Everything goes dark when you feel something hit the side of your head. 

.

Sigh. “Grogu get back in your seat.” The little baby waddles down off the controls and into his father’s lap. “Not what I meant,” Din grumbles with a smile hidden under his helmet. He grabs Grogu by his little robe and places him in the seat to his right and tells him to buckle up as a holo comes through from Greef Karga. 

“Mando, we’ve just got word that Moff Gideon might have been seen in the Braic system. It looks like they found a substitute for the baby for the time being. I would use this time to go find a hide-out and lay low. He could still come back for the little one. Be well,”

Din goes to start the ship and find coordinates to stay out of trouble for a while when he hears the baby whine. Looking back at his adoptive child, all Din can see is Grogu, then a nameless kid, lying unconscious on a metal table, trapped underneath a contraption. Din starts breathing heavy and feeling sick that he ever gave his son up to those Imps. All he can hear is the beeping of the machine he’s hooked up to. Anger boiling back to the surface as he hears himself yell at the doctor all over again in his memories. No, he tells himself, He’s here with me. He’s fine. He’s safe. He shakes himself out of it and goes to fly the Razor Crest off planet. 

Before he even gets off the planet, all Din can think about is that innocent person in his son’s place. They were going to kill Grogu, just for his blood for their experiments. Din can’t bring the kid anywhere near those people, he can’t risk losing his family, not when both of them have formed such attachments to each other. But he can’t stop thinking of this person who is in the that position now. He should’ve made sure Gideon was dead. Because of that now more people are going to get hurt. 

Without thinking he turns on his holo already asking, “Where is he taking them?”

. 

Feeling groggy with heavy eyes, you are able to open them just a bit to a blinding light. Reluctantly closing them again, you lift your arm to rub your eyes, but only they don’t move. What? The rest of your senses start coming back and you can feel the cool metal against your back, the same metal wrapped around your wrists and your ankles attached to the table. Finally bracing the light and opening your eyes, lifting your head slightly off the table and oh no the room is spinning now. There is an IV in your arm drawing your blood out into some odd machine, explaining the dizziness. Second time in two days you’ve had to deal with your own blood. 

Walking through the shops on your one day off, you pick up a flower hair pin. The glasswork is so intricate and entrancing, you can’t help but turn it over and over in your hands. A pearl bead sitting in the center of iridescent gray and white petals. Placing it back in its place, your had scrapes against another glass design that is not yet finished, slashing open your palm. “Oh, dear let me help you with that,” the lady running the stand says. She looks you with her white hair barely covering her forehead. Tattoos liter her arms. A design peaks your interest as you swear you know but can’t quite place. 

“It’s fine, I can take care of it myself,” you state already inspecting your hand. No shards in it so thats good. 

“Oh no I insist. It happened at my booth, let me help clean it,” she declares taking your hand in her own. It feels like she squeezes the wound causing you to wince in pain slightly. Knowing she should just be cleaning it and wrapping it, you’re a little confused. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to tend to these sort of things, not wanted to embarrass her at her stand, you keep quiet. She finally gets a clean rag to help blot away at the blood on your hand. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it appears she has put it in a bag to the side. 

“I don’t have any gauze to help wrap it up,” the stand lady says. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of my own,” you mention, “It will be fine until I make it back to my place.” Smiling you walk away. Without looking, you can feel her move the piece you cut your hand on into the bag. Must just be because it’s a dangerous piece, you think, not knowing there’s still some of your blood on it too. 

Closing your eyes again, you try to wonder why that is so significant to you right now. It was a harmless thing in passing, so why is it at the forefront of your mind? You are strapped to a table and all you can think about is that little cut you got the day prior. If your head didn’t feel like it was a spinner top right now, you would have laughed. Opening your eyes again you see men all in white armor and helmets guarding the door to your room, while a man in a white coat is working on the machine where your IV is attached. I thought the empire was dead. The same symbol that keeps going through your mind is the same one sewn into the man’s white coat. Your breathing gets shallower as you feel the panic rise in your chest. I’m never getting out of here, you realize as your vision becomes black once again. 

. 

You’re losing a lot of blood. You know that. You can feel it when noise wakes you up and your eyelids feel like lead. All the noise is muffled, as if you’re underwater. Frankly it feels like you are. It would be so easy to let the waves of darkness just wash over you right now, to let the water take you under. No, you can’t give up the fight and drown into unconsciousness just yet. You force yourself to stay awake. 

Barely getting your eyes open, bright red lights flood your vision. You imagine you’re still in bed, or at least asleep at your desk, with the alarm clock blaring, not here with blaster fire. Wait, blaster fire? You attempt to turn your head to the side to look, or to dodge, you aren’t to sure in your current state. The fast action causes you to feel like you’re spinning, or it might be the room, either way your eyes can’t focus on what is going on. Closing your eyes again to make it stop, you hear voices surrounding you. They sound so far away at the moment but finally, after what feels like ages, one voice sounds clearer. 

“Please help us. Help us get out of here. Her m-counts aren’t nearly as high as the child’s. They’re demanding more blood. She’s already lost 2 liters, I don’t know how much longer she can last.”

Child? They wanted to do this to a child? You’d choke down a sob if you could just thinking of that poor baby. What did he even say about what-counts? What the hell are those? All these questions are making your head spin more and more. Taking most of your energy to open your eyes, you’re met with a chrome stormtrooper trying to unbind you. Wait no, not a stormtrooper. You’ve heard stories about him and his people. What were they called? For the life of you, you can’t remember right now. 

“You’re going to need help getting her out of here,” you realize that the man in the whit coat was the one who spoke before and is now pleading with the metal man, “Please Mandalorian take me with you and I’ll help you get her out of here.” 

That’s it. He’s a Mandalorian. He gets your wrists free as the doctor takes the IV out. Pushing off the table to sit up, the world starts spinning again. You don’t even realize you’re about to hit the table again until the Mandalorian grabs your shoulders to keep you semi-upright. You hear some sort of static come from his helmet. “Fine.” he grumbles, “help me get her out of this thing.” 

With a flip of a switch, the rest of your body is free from restraints. Eager to get out of there, you swing your legs over the edge of the table, hands finding the arms of the Mandalorian with his hands still on your shoulders. Nauseous and woozy, you try to use the cold metal of his pauldron to ground yourself, to get the room to stop spinning. He can see you start to sway and wraps his arms around your waist as he lowers you from the table. Your feet hit the floor and black dots start to cloud your vision. Blood pounding in your ears trying to tell you to stop and lie back down. Muffled voices come from beside you again as you feel another arm wrap around you from the other side. Your feet dragging against the floor as both men on either side of you go towards the door. 

You feel the heavily armored man to your left let go. Eyes that are still fuzzy and unfocused sort of see him peak out the door with his blaster drawn. He leaves the room and all that can be heard is the pew pew pew of blaster fire. Vision start to come back the tiniest bit, you can see him standing in the door way waving his hand as to say Come on. 

The three of you hurry as fast as you can down the corridor to get to an exit. Lots of twists and turns, just for you all to come up at a dead end. So much for rescuing, you think to yourself as the doctor still holding you up, leans you up against a pillar as the two of them survey the situation. More of the Mandalorian assessing the situation and the doctor just frantically pacing back and forth. 

Sitting down now that the adrenaline of being kidnapped and “rescued” die down, you feel your breathing getting shallower and harder to breath. Eyelids getting heavy again. You just want to lay down and go to sleep, hoping that will fix things. Starting your descent from your upright position to close your eyes, two hands grab your shoulders and jerk you up. It takes a second to realize this modulated voice was talking you you. “Hey, you got to stay with me now,” he pleads, one hand going to the side of your face. Pain spreads across your features due to being struck there earlier, a bruise starting to form in its place. Pulling his hand away like seeing the your face contorted burned him, he continues, “I’m going to get you out of here, you just have to stay awake.” You open your mouth to speak, but your throat feels like it’s filled with sand from Tattooine, so you just weakly nod your head yes. “Okay good,” the shiny man says after letting out a deep breath. 

Still holding your shoulders, he helps you stand up and tells the doctor to take you and go further down the hall. Taking something small and circular out of his belt and placing it on the far wall, he speed walks back toward you two. It starts blinking red as his arms come and cage both of you in. Peeking over his shoulder, you see the wall disappear. Well explode, but one second ago it was there and now it’s not. When the explosion first rings in your ears, you reflexively reach out for the Mandalorian’s arm and feel him tense under your touch. 

When he deems it safe to move again, letting go of his arm, he hops over the rubble to the outside world, blaster drawn. Looking out you think it looks like a desert, but one you’ve never seen before. You have no idea where you are, even what planet you are on. You eyes go to where the chrome man is stalking towards. It seems he found two speeder bikes that the troopers use, sans the troopers. Your feet hit the gravel and you realize you aren’t wearing shoes anymore. How long was I out? You begin to question when you see a stormtrooper take aim at your rescuer. Right when he pulls the trigger, you reach your hand out and scream, “NO!” 

You could’ve sworn it was going to hit him. It should’ve hit him. But at the last second it bent and went in another direction. You knew stormtroopers were bad shots, but nothing like that has ever happened. The Mandalorian whips around at your scream and shoots the trooper down. He goes back to what he originally planned to do, but not without turning to you. You see his chest plate heave up and down a few times before turning back around. After a beat, the only sound you can hear is the Mandalorian starting up the speeders and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The doctor helps guide you to the bikes and as you’re about to get on behind him, the Mandalorian picks you up bridal style and sits on his own respective bike. You make a noise of discontent at the sudden action and are then seated in front of him, yet again caged in by his arms with your legs draped over one of his. You can hear him breathing through the modulator as he states, “Just in case you pass out again. Can’t have you falling off the back of the bike.” You go to adjust how you are sitting when he takes off. 

Gasping in shock, you hug your arms around his neck with you head in his cowl as you take panicked breaths. His hand touches your back as you hear him shout over the noise of the engines, “Put your legs around me, you’re slipping off.” He holds your waist as you sling your right leg around and hook it with your left one behind his back. Not the position you thought you’d end up in as a blush creeps up on your face, but neither the less here you are. His hand lets go of your waist and back to the handlebars as he steers. 

Suddenly getting the feeling like you’re being followed, you say into his neck cowl, “Go left!” You don’t know why, but you just get a gut feeling to go that way. He follows your lead, not without a brief hesitation. The doctor follows on his speeder in the same direction. Finally looking up you see two stormtroopers in the distance. I wish their speeders would just stop or something, you plead with yourself and you think back to what happened with the blaster. Testing the waters, you unhook one of your hands from Mando’s neck and hold it out and... nothing. Okay focus, you close your eyes and picture their speeders stopping, or malfunctioning, or anything at this point. 

The sound of a crash comes ringing into your ears. Opening your eyes, you can see the troopers flip over their handlebars as if their engines just died. You slightly chuckle to yourself as your eyelids feel heavy again. You try to get them to stay open, but sleep just feels so much better at the moment. And with that, you’re out like a light. 

. 

Din feels you go limp against him. His arm once again going to grab you by your waist to keep you in place. He wills his speeder to go faster, to get back to the Razor Crest sooner as he’s panicking thinking he somehow made the situation worse. He exposed you on the bike by having you sit like this. Your arms, legs, and head were all exposed to possible blaster fire. Have you been hit? He heard a crash but couldn’t look back without moving you more, risking leaving you more unprotected. His blame for himself spirals as his grip on you grows tighter. He can’t explain why he’s so distraught over a stranger, but still every time he blinks, he swears he sees back on that table. The next time he swears he sees his son on that very table again. First he gave the kid up to those people, now he didn’t finish Gideon off and let you, an innocent stranger who he is now clutching onto for dear life, get in the crossfire. Too many people have gotten hurt because of this. Because of him. He needs to make it right. 

Finally Din and Dr. Pershing arrive at the Razor Crest where Din is already lowering the hatch and carrying you in. Kicking some crates together, he gently lowers you down onto this makeshift bed. He uses his thermal setting to see your body temperature, to see how you are recovering from the blood loss. He isn’t thrilled to see it still low, you were getting your energy back slowly before, along with more body heat, bit not enough to Din’s liking. Turning his helmet to Pershing, the doctor says, “She’s going to need more blood.” Din, already standing ready to run out and get some, not even knowing where or how to do  that, is stopped by Pershing telling him that he’ll go get it, that it would look less suspicious. Agreeing, Din sits by your side while using his comm-link to tell Greef that he could bring Grogu back to the ship. How Din always finds someone to babysit still surprises him. 

. 

You wake up with a start. Eyes not yet adjusted to the lights overhead. Looking down you can see an IV in your arm again. Now towards the side, you can see the same doctor from before asleep up against a wall. Please tell me it wasn’t a dream, tears well up in your eyes as you think you’ve made the whole thing up to cope. It wasn’t until you felt your hand come to wipe away your watery eyes that you realized it just might not be a dream. The IV isn’t taking blood this time, it’s giving it. 

Finally looking around, you realize you’re on a ship that feels like it’s moving. Confused by this, you try and sit up. Not nearly as dizzy as before, you slowly swing your legs off the wooden crates you’re lying on. Noticing your still barefoot as a chill gets sent up to your spine by the cold metal floor, you grab your IV bag off what appears to be just a hook poorly attached to the ceiling. You venture around the small area of the ship, noticing there isn’t a lot besides these boxes and what appears to be two storage type of units. You don’t even tempt to look in, too intrusive. You do however see a ladder going higher up on the ship. Taking the IV out and ripping a piece of your shirt off to wrap around your arm for pressure, so you can use both hands to climb, you start your ascent up. 

Once you finally reach the top, you hear cooing? Didn’t that doctor say something about a child earlier? Looking forward into the cockpit, you see your savior flying while looking to his right at one of the co-pilot chairs. Clearing your throat to get his attention, two little eyes peer at you from the seat. A bright smile appears on this little green things face and you can’t help but stifle a laugh because its ears are the size of his body. 

Distracted by this cute baby, you don’t notice the way the Mandalorian swivels his chair to face you. Finally looking at the man who saved you today, your breath hitches. You don’t know how to thank him for what he did, so you sort of just stand and stare for a second. He stands up and lightly grabs your arm with your homemade bandage on it. Tilting his helmet to the side you hear static coming from it. Did he just sigh at you? “You were supposed to keep it in your arm,” he finally states, with a tinge of annoyance. 

Eyes not wanting to meet the T of his visor, you direct your gaze to the ground. “ I jus- I-,” you stammer, not able to find the right words. “Thank you.” It comes out more hushed than you’d like, but he still hears you. He just gives you a slight nod before releasing his arm and heading back to his seat. All your muscles turn to stone as you stand there not knowing if you should leave or not, until he cocks his head towards the seat to his left. On shaky legs you find your way to the seat. Before even sitting down fully, the little green child is already trying to get into your lap. Giggling to yourself you let him up onto your lap. 

Once you do the strangest thing happens. You can feel what he’s thinking, his emotions, his past. How he was trained with the special abilities, much like the ones you just displayed before. How he was scared and in hiding until the man sitting in front of you found him. How he thinks of him as a father, his dad. Your chest tightens at that one. Still confused as to why the same people who wanted this child, Grogu, for his powers, also wanted you, you pull him to your chest to comfort you both. You finally speak up again and ask, “Did they want me because I might have the same abilities as this one?” You meant it to sound strong, but it just came out sounding weak. 

Without looking at you, the Mandalorian replies shortly after a pause, “Yes.” You swore you can see his grip tighten on the ships steering as he says that. Turning to the two of you finally, he says in the sincerest voice you’ve heard out of him, “They wont get to either of you again. I can promise you that.” Your chest swells at this statement and Grogu looks up at you with a smile as if he felt the way your heart fluttered. You wish you were the one wearing the helmet right now because you can feel your cheeks heat up. To ease the situation in the best way you can, awkwardly, you clear your throat before asking, “So where are we headed now?”

Swiveling back in his chair to hit a few buttons, you’re confused not knowing what they are supposed to do until he pulls up a map and points a place out. He tells you that he’s going to drop off Dr. Pershing at one of the squiggles you see and then try and figure it out from there. “So, I guess thats where I get off too?” You meant it to come out more as a statement than a question, but after what you just went through, you’d rather not be left to fend for youself. 

“If that’s what you want,” he finally utters after a while. “ But they’re not going to stop coming after you. Either of you. It might be safer for you to stay here with me, us.” The last part comes out so quiet, it’s almost as if he didn’t want you to hear, out of fear of your response. 

Trying to not answer too quickly, you take a deep breath and finally say, “Yes. I’d like that a lot.” With a curt nod, he turns back around. Warmth fills your chest yet again at this stranger’s kindness. It’s just because I have the same abilities as his child, you try to convince yourself. But deep down you’re hoping it’s more than that. The child in your lap grips your fingers tightly and coos, as if he’s trying to tell you your hopes might not be too far off. 

Oh, it’s going to be an interesting adventure with these two, you smile to yourself. 

[turnthepage11]

tw: medical discussion, mention of prescription drug use

Personal Post: Appreciate any words of encouragement but honestly just trying to throw my thoughts out to the universe.

I’m struggling so hard right now folks. For context: I am 25. I have a lot of medical issues, rheumatoid arthritis, IBS, ADHD, PCOS. And those are just my long term diseases. When I turned 18 I started having hip pain on my left side accompanied by numbness. I had assumed it was my newly diagnosed arthritis and dismissed it for a few years. Almost three years ago, I finally brought it up to my doctor and long story short, we learned I had a hip impingement which is when there is extra bone on the ball of my hip, making it hurt to walk.

I had surgery last summer for it and while they were in my body, they learned I had a pretty bad labrum tear (on a scale of 1-4, I had a 3) and they fixed it when they removed the extra bone because even though it was decently bad, it never showed up on any of my scans.

Now my surgery didn’t really fix any of my hip problems. My base level of pain was lower, but with any activity it gets pretty high, pretty quickly. (That was context, let’s get to the past 36 hours).

On Friday afternoon, I went to go sit down in my desk chair at school (you know, nothing wild) and as I sit, I felt and heard a loud POP in the front side of my left hip. I yelled so loud, one of the kids who had passed my room a few seconds prior ran back to check on me (one of my sophomores, aka my og crew from year 1).

I stood up immediately and it felt like a muscle had just cramped so I tried walking it off. Sitting hurt the most, followed by standing, then walking so I walked for thirty minutes with a pretty severe limp, hoping that it would slowly go away the more I used it.

It got a little better, not much and then I had to sit for two hours to tutor two students who were on quarantine. Then I had my hour drive home where I turned on my heated seats since usually the heat helps my hip.

Well. It made my lower back hurt INSANELY bad (when it hadn’t hurt previously. Or at least less than my hip had so I hadn’t noticed it). When I got home from my hour commute, I could barely walk and carry my backpack into the house, let alone get up the three steps into my parents’ house.

I took leftover Percocet from my surgery last summer to help with the pain Friday night and it took my 8 pain level down to a 5 and I finally managed to fall asleep.

This morning I woke up and my limp wasn’t as bad, but my hip still hurt and so did my lower back and I was at a 7 on the pain scale. Despite that, I went to breakfast with my family and took another Percocet just so I could see how I would feel around 3 when it wore off since my RA is usually pretty bad in the morning too but calms down by 12 or so and I didn’t want to be worn down from my RA pain and my injury. Even with the Percocet, I was still at 4/5 all morning.

I ended up falling asleep around 11:45 because I don’t sleep too much during the week combined with the med and woke up at 3 at a 7 on the pain scale. I asked my best friend who is a BSN if I needed to go to the ER taking all the above in consideration and the fact that the Percocet didn’t do too terribly much for my pain and she told me I needed to go asap ESPECIALLY because it was my surgery hip.

So I went to my rinky dink rural medicine hospital. They put me in a room for two hours and forgot about me until the doctor finally saw me on his list, came and saw me and said “I don’t know why the hell they put you in this room when I need you in a bed to test your range of motion.” (I was in an old closet with a phlebotomy chair.)

He did range of motion in my hip. Not the worse I’ve ever had but not great either. Said he felt how swollen I was in my hip and thought I might have retorn my labrum or even had one of the strings repairing my labrum last year break. The only thing he could do was a CT, not an MRI, to see if my hip or one of my vertabrae had came out of place. Luckily they hadn’t (though at this point I almost wish they had. It might have been an easier fix.)

He recommended I take three days off of work, go on crutches, and take it easy. I’m a middle/high school English teacher who is semestered by double periods. Missing three days of work is like missing six class days. I barely wanted crutches, I’ve walked like this for a day, how are crutches gonna help? But then I got a steroid shot and it made the pain a solid 8. The doctor kept checking on me and saw me crying so he gave me a shot of morphine and I told him I changed my mind, I wanted the crutches.

I’m hopeful that in the morning I’ll feel at least marginally better. I don’t think I will, but I’m gonna hope for it at least. He gave me steroids, Percocet for the week (which I’ll only be able to take at night because obviously I can’t teach kids while having Percocet in me), and anti nausea meds just in case. But I have to call my doctor who did the surgery for a follow up… which wouldn’t be bad except he’s four hours away. And he’s probably going to request the special MRI I got to confirm I needed surgery. Which I can only get done down where he practices. So that’s two sick days gone right there.

God forbid I actually need surgery to fix a tear FROM SITTING DOWN IN A FUCKING CHAIR. I’ll use all my sick time right there. (I only have 20 days and 3 personal. I take sick days for appointments often because of my specialist appointments and my work bestie is getting married on a Sunday in May so I’m taking a personal day for the following day.) I told my work bestie that the doctor wanted me to take three days off and she said to do it, I had the time and when I pointed out the potential for surgery, she cringed and agreed with what I said about sticking it out for the next three days.

And to top it all off, my parents are acting like I’m over exaggerating. I asked my mom to take my car and drop me off because my legs had started to go weak (which was the entire reason I went to the ER and not the pain. Because I assumed something had happened to my back for my legs to go weak.) She refused, so I drove myself. Was going to drive myself home until the doctor gave me a morphine shot. When I got in the car complaining about my hip, starting to cry about the recommendations, my dad just told me “that’s life kid, deal with it.”

I don’t feel comfortable unloading this on my coworker friends because I know this is a lot. But I’m just so… disappointed. I have lost thirty pounds this year, a major goal of my doctors but never really pushed. Got better at taking my medicine (thank you ADHD diagnosis and medication). But like, I am 25 and might have to have hip surgery… again. And my doctor had said if he had to go in again there was a high chance I would have to get a hip replacement because any additional repairs might be hard with how much damage I had done to my labrum already.

I’m tired, my body is exhausted, I’m already dreading the outcome and time off I’m going to be taking over the next month because of this. I’m annoyed by my parents’ reaction to the whole thing. I’m dreading work this week because I know everyone is going to say something about me being in crutches.

This just sucks folks. I was having such an okay school year until this decided to say “nah, sucks to be you.”

[ieattaperecorders]

Notes on Causality - Chapter 2: Georgie and Elias

An addendum to Something's Different About You Lately. Small scenes of Jon attempting to change the future that I didn't want to put in the larger fanfic.

The events of this chapter take place around the end of Chapter 8, Stranger.

(Incidentally, the main fic will be updated very soon. I'm mainly just holding off till the finale drops, in case whatever happens makes me want to tweak anything mood-wise in what I have planned.)

Read on Ao3

- - -

One ring. Another. Then another. Maybe she wouldn't pick up, Jon thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. Maybe it would go to voicemail . . . he could hang up, try again later. Take a little time to mentally rehearse what he would say.

A click, and her voice asked, "hello?"

"Georgie . . . it's Jon Sims, from Oxford?"

"Jon? Hey, been a while! How've you been?"

"Ah – good? I've been good," he lied. "Yourself?"

"Oh, not bad. Got a new roommate since you last saw me . . . he lays around the apartment all day and won't share the rent, but he's cute so I let it slide."

"Good to hear that your landlord is cat-friendly."

"You should hear him, he has the loudest little meow. Hang on, I'll if he'll say hello . . . ."

For a moment and he heard some vague coaxing noises, distant as if she was holding her phone away from herself. They were followed by a close-up, disinterested sniff, then Georgie's voice returned.

"Ah, never mind. Not in the mood, I guess."

"I've heard the Admiral's color commentary before," he smiled. "He's in all your mailbag episodes."

"Didn't know you were a listener."

"Well, I need something for the commute . . . it might as well be the UK's most onomatopoeic source of paranormal research."

"Ha. Knew you'd hate the sound effects."

"I don't hate them. Anyway, they're . . . distinctive," he leaned back in his office chair, the nerves he'd built up slowly dissipating as they fell into the rhythm of conversation. "They're very you."

"Classic Barker." There was movement in the background, and a few soft thuds. Likely the Admiral jumping to the floor. "Well from what I hear, we're in the same field. Aren't you working for the Magnus Institute now? You must hear plenty of ghost stories there."

"That's actually sort of why I called. I think we might have a mutual colleague . . . Melanie King?"

"Yeah, she's the one who told me you were there," she said knowingly. "Sounded like you left a hell of an impression on her."

". . . Not a good one, I imagine."

Georgie made a non-committal sound, being decent enough not to rub it in by overtly agreeing with him.

"I was trying to be helpful, but I think I just came off as dismissive. Ended up arguing with her over nothing," he sighed. ". . . Classic Sims."

"Accept no substitutes," Georgie said fondly. "So, what's the call about? If you want me to try smoothing things over with her –"

"It isn't that. Did she tell you about her experience?"

"Not really. Asked a lot about Sarah – she's a sound tech I recommended to her? Got the impression she'd been unreliable. She was nice about it, Melanie that is, but really evasive. I just assumed she's caught onto something interesting and wants to be the first to report on it. The risks of being friends with competition, I suppose."

"Ah. . . ."

"Not that she has anything to worry about. Climbing fences and squatting in abandoned churches is her thing. I'm all about doing research from my computer desk with a cup of tea, personally," she paused, and he heard a distant clink of ceramic. "Hey, are we even allowed to talk about this? Isn't there some sort of confidentially thing?"

"As it turns out, privacy isn't really something this place values," he muttered, "I don't suppose she's talked to you recently?"

"No . . . not for a couple of months."

"I'm concerned. Her experience left a powerful impact on her. Now she's chasing after anything that might bring her closer to what she encountered, and I'm afraid she doesn't care about the cost. She's going into some dangerous territory. And, well . . . it's not my place to judge her emotional state. But I am worried."

"Yeah . . . I saw the memes," he heard a frown enter Georgie's voice.

"I've tried to talk to her about it, a bit. But she and I always seem to push each other's buttons somehow. I'd be grateful if you looked in on her. I think that she could use a friend right now, and –" he smirked. "I happen to know you're good with obsessive types too stubborn for their own well-being."

"Ha. You trying to set me up or something?"

"Wh–" he started, taken aback. "I mean, well, that's really your business, not mine."

". . . Wait. I was joking, but are you really?" There was utter incredulity in her voice. "Jonathan Sims, did you call me out of the blue to set me up with someone I knew before you did?"

"Of – Georgie I don't even know if you're single, don't be ridiculous," he sputtered, feeling blood rise to his face. She laughed, and the uncomfortable heat spread.

"Okay, okay," she said. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I just . . . " he spoke slowly, trying to be precise. "I think that Melanie needs someone else around her right now. Someone grounding. If you're not looking to take that on, I understand, of course. But for whatever it might be worth, I would be grateful if you checked in."

"I'll give her a ring," something in Georgie's voice was familiar, and profoundly comforting. "See if she wants to get coffee and talk spooky-shop."

"I think that might do her a world of good," he said with relief

"Also? We should get coffee sometime too, catch up! I want to hear all the creepy stories you're apparently so free to talk about."

"Really, it's mostly drug experiences and conspiracy theories . . . ."

"Even better, I'll get to hear you complain. Then I'll be entitled gripe to you about all the weird emails I get. It'll be perfect."

Jon wanted to say yes. He really, really did. The thought of sitting down for a few hours with Georgie and talking about nothing particularly dire was a nice one. But he could only bring trouble to her door.

"I'd . . . like that," he said, "But I don't have much time to myself right now . . . maybe after everything calms down."

". . . Sure," she sounded a little disappointed. Georgie could always tell when he was brushing her off. "Some other time. Hope you can get some rest, then."

"I'll do my best."

"And thanks for the heads-up about Melanie. Really," the smile in her voice was back. "Don't be a stranger, huh?"

"Right," he smiled back, hoping she could hear it. "Ah. Goodbye, then."

"Bye."

He stared at the screen of his phone, not sure what to name the feeling in his chest. In his mind's eye, he saw her form vanishing down a long white corridor, and he knew she would have made this choice herself, eventually. He was just respecting that. Speeding things along.

"Trying to set her up . . . honestly," he muttered.

What he'd said about Melanie needing someone to talk to had been true. He was hoping Georgie's influence could nudge her away from the path she was on, one that had its natural end in blood and pain and the drumming of war. It was hardly his fault if he knew that particular matchmaking arrangement had already worked out once.

The call had barely ended for a minute before his phone vibrated with an email notification. He opened it, frowning when he saw who it was from.

Jon,

See me in my office at your earliest convenience.

Also, in the future please remember not to make personal calls during work hours.

- Elias

It was the most direct contact he'd had with Elias in months. Aside from a few institute-wide emails, there had been nothing since their conversation about the recordings. Jon hadn't even run into him in the hall. At least on the surface, he'd stuck to his promise to involve himself less directly. Not that Jon imagined Elias was truly keeping his distance, but he had begun to get comfortable with not having to see or talk to him. He dreaded the idea of going up there and actually breaking the silence.

That comment about personal calls irked him, too. He was taunting him. Going right up to the edge of admitting he'd been watching while giving himself just a little deniability.

He could ignore it, of course. Why should he do anything Elias asked him to, however small? Why should he make any part of his life easier? But that wasn't a smart attitude, he knew. Elias was keeping his distance for now, but if he saw Jon as too troublesome things would escalate. It would be foolish to bring that moment any closer by antagonizing him over nothing.

Jon still remembered the comment he'd made when they last spoke – I'm sure one of your assistants would be up to the task. If it came down to it, Elias knew exactly whose throats to hold the knife against.

With a distinct lack of pleasure, he climbed the stairs out of the archive.

Despite his mood he smiled at Rosie, tried to seem friendly as he greeted her. The words insecure and aggressive had a tendency to turn over in his mind when he saw her lately. He was earnestly hoping to be easier to talk to, but fairly sure he just came off as awkward. At least she was friendly with him. But then, she'd always been.

She said he was expected and should go right inside.

Elias was at his desk, writing on something hidden inside a folder. He glanced up and nodded as he entered.

"Ah, Jon. Sit down, I'll just be a moment."

As he took a seat and waited, Jon couldn't quite banish the idea that the folder was just a prop. A way to make whoever he'd called in wait, to make it absolutely clear how much more valuable his time was than theirs. Or perhaps to give them time to stew, to sit in anxiety and worry. Then again, maybe Elias really did have paperwork that needed doing, and the fact that it was absolutely, positively maddening to sit there in silence and watch him was only a bonus to it all. Eventually, he finished.

"It's been a while since we've checked in, hasn't it?" he paused just long enough for Jon to wonder if he was supposed to respond, then continued. "I'd like to hear your version of how the last few months have gone. What sort of progress you feel you've made, etcetera."

Oh, God. Was he actually expecting Jon to keep up the pretense of doing actual archival work? He hadn't been prepared for that at all, and felt preemptively exhausted at the thought of coming up with some nonsense progress report.

"Well. . . as you know, Gertrude left the archives in a state of serious disorganization, so progress has been hindered by that," he tried to remember what projects he'd put the others on to keep them all going with a token show of work. "I've set aside a section for discredited statements, which has been steadily growing. I imagine . . . it will make things more efficient for researchers in the future? And, uh . . . ."

"Let me stop you there," Elias said, holding up a hand.

Please do, Jon thought, relieved he wouldn't be subjecting them both to several minutes of this. Elias leaned forward and looked at him seriously.

"Have I done something to offend you, Jon?"

The question took him by surprise, to the point where he had to bite back a sarcastic laugh. What hadn't he done? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Really. Because it seems to me that I've be extremely generous to you," that familiar tone of disapproval, of bland impatience. "I've given you a unique opportunity, allowed you free reign in setting your own priorities, and you still seem determined to resent me."

Fleetingly, Jon wondered if the elaborately decorated letter opener on the desk between them was sturdy enough to sink into Elias's chest without snapping. Not worth it, either way. Not with what it would cost.

"I . . . apologize if I've created that impression," he said evenly. "I've been told that I can be standoffish in my manner."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Elias smirked. "Though ‘standoffish' is a great deal more polite than the words people actually favor. Isn't it?"

Jon tried not to look away, tried and failed to meet Elias's eyes. Perhaps his inability to maintain eye contact with a conduit of the Beholding spoke well for his remaining humanity, but it still twisted in him. Made him feel weak.

"Are we done here?" he asked, voice tight.

Elias sighed, as if all of this was such a burden to him, as if he wasn't basking in the anxiety that Jon knew must be radiating off of him like heat.

"What was it you said to Martin . . . about discarding the facade once it stopped being useful?" That startled Jon enough to look back, to see the condescending smile on Elias's face as he continued. "Maybe you ought to do the same."

He stared, suddenly voiceless, heart pounding. This was it . . . should he be relieved or terrified?

"I've been where you are now, Jon." Elias continued. His voice was stern, with only the barest concession to false sympathy. "Trapped in a world that no longer makes sense, surrounded by malevolent forces, seeing enemies everywhere. And I can tell you that the only way to survive in this world is to recognize what resources you have."

". . . Resources."

"Yes, if you could just get past this irrational distrust you seem to have of me. I can't hold your hand through everything. But if you have questions . . . I might be able to give you some answers."

Answers? That would make a change from before, Jon thought bitterly. The Elias he remembered used misdirection, contempt and sometimes flat refusal to avoid giving Jon any information he could hope to use. Unfortunately there was only one question Jon really had for him anymore, and it was one he couldn't ask: how much do you know?

. . . Did Elias have that same question for him? It would explain why he was directly inviting him to ask about his situation.

Jon paused. He had to be smart about this. If Elias had sat him down like this before, he'd have wanted to know everything. If he didn't seem curious, it might point to how much he already knew, and that would be disastrous. But he also couldn't look too naive . . . he'd made his suspicion clear, already warned the others, he couldn't pretend to know nothing about the Institute's nature.

He tried to think back to when he was only just getting a sense of the way things truly were. What would he have most wanted to understand then?

". . . What happens to me," he asked quietly. "When I read statements? The real ones. You know what I mean. I can feel something happening, I know it's not just reading."

"The answer to that is rather complicated . . . ."

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"It would help if I understood what you already knew. How much did Gertrude tell you about the nature of this place? The Institute?"

"Enough to know I can't trust it," he glared across the desk. "And maybe the reason I don't trust you is because you're constantly peering over my shoulder."

"You must have some sense by now of the dangers the Institute attracts," Elias raised his eyebrows. "Can you really blame me for wanting to keep tabs on everything?"

"Because you ‘keeping tabs' was so helpful when I was pulled into those hallways for weeks."

"You opened the door of your own free will. I do what I can but I can hardly be expected to protect you from yourself."

"You're the reason I'm here in the first place! You've been--"

Jon cut himself off, he could feel himself beginning to shout, losing control of himself and it was stupid, so stupid. What was the point in arguing with him? Jonah Magnus knew exactly what he was doing, he wasn't going to be shamed about it.

"It doesn't matter," he said, trying to gather himself back to a neutral tone. "Can't change the past."

". . . For what it's worth, Jon, I do sympathize," Elias said, folding his hands. "Someone has to be the Archivist. You were just the best option available."

Why had he thought he could play along with this? As if he'd really be able to sit there, feign ignorance and draw information out of a man who'd been doing that exact thing to others for centuries. He wasn't going to beat him at his own game . . . far more likely he'd let something slip out of anger that would get somebody killed.

He pushed his chair back and stood, turning towards the door.

"I'll find my own answers," he said.

* * *

The door slammed shut, loud enough to echo. Jonah supposed he was going to have to get used to outbursts like these.

"I expect that you will," he muttered to the closed door.

Blind spots. He didn't like blind spots. Sometimes they were unavoidable, but having one so near to him was profoundly irritating. It was like knowing he'd forgotten something important, but being unable to dredge up any details.

He could watch Jon as easily as anyone else. Though there were moments his gaze would unfocus, and he suspected Gertrude might have taught him a few of her tricks, overall it wasn't hard to keep an eye on him. But lately, that was all he could do. No matter how he tried, he couldn't Know anything deeper than what appeared on the surface. He might as well have been following the Archivist around with a camera crew rather than channeling the overwhelming power of an Eternal and Unblinking Gaze From Which No Secrets Can Be Kept, for all the good it was doing him.

It was as if the knowledge was all there, but had been shifted somehow. Nudged just outside his field of vision.

A part of him was tempted to start over with another Archivist, one he could See more clearly. But the Web mark was hard to find, and he couldn't even be sure this anomaly was unique to Jon – that it would go away with his death instead of attaching itself to his successor. Despite its frustrating obscurity, something about it that felt like an aspect of the Beholding, though he couldn't say why.

So he'd tolerate the blind spot for now. At least Jon was easy enough to read without the Eye's assistance – the man wore his heart on his sleeve, was helpless in that way. Jonah liked that about him.

What he needed was encouragement. Something to get him out of his comfort zone – four marks was progress, but not fast enough, not with the Unknowing looming closer every day. Jonah wrote a quick note on a post-it and stuck it to the folder in front of him, then pressed a button on his intercom.

"Rosie?" he said, "I need you to run something down to the archive for me. Just drop it on Tim's desk, he'll know what it's for."

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Two - Victor, not Sir

After the meeting with the CEO, I got a call from Goldman to inform me of the department I would be assigned to: the financial department. As a part of my internship, and as investigation for my thesis, I was assigned three French companies to assist with the investment. Besides that, I would help in any way I could, taking someone’s work if they were absent or just assist my supervisor.

They assigned Ted Kasey as my supervisor, one of the top people in LFG investment team. He and the CEO were usually on good terms, having regular lunches and meetings, and it was obvious he had Victor’s consideration. Ted Kasey was a charismatic red headed guy, with a hearty laugh and a slightly prominent beer belly under his suit, hinting at how he enjoyed drinking socially. Probably in his forties, he was a genius in investments, only matched by the CEO himself. And because of that, and also because everybody loved him, he was deeply respected.

Victor Lee’s reputation in the company was very different. He was also respected, but the kind of respect you conquer from fear. He was known to have very little patience to those that didn’t meet his standards, and for being incredibly standoffish, not letting anyone come close to him, at risk of being insulted.

Every morning he arrived to the office he would mutter a quick “Good morning” and head immediately to his office, unless he had to scold anyone in the room. In that case, he would drop an angry “In my office immediately”, and whoever he summoned would come out red as tomato and barely speaking. Fortunately, the CEO had yet to speak to me since I started working in LFG. My first day started with introductions over coffee and a welcome cake, and I found on my desk a personalized mug with my name and LFG logo and some company stationary. That day, the CEO spent all day in his office, not bothering to come say hi. Goldman made excuses for him, but I couldn’t care less. If what people were saying was true, if he was that ruthless and overbearing, I’d rather keep him as far as possible from me.

For that same reason, I was more than happy when Ted offered to present my first report on my behalf. And it sort of became a habit, Ted going to talk to Victor every time I was summoned, claiming it was his responsibility as my supervisor. I couldn’t be happier with the arrangement. I didn’t have to deal with the vicious CEO and I didn’t have to interrupt my work, so that suited me just fine.

Two months had already passed, and I seemed to think of Daniel less and less, the memories fading along with the pain. It still hurt sometimes if I focused too much on the subject, but the fact that no one there knew what I had been through made things incredibly easier, since I didn’t have to deal with the shame. I could be just me, without the stigma of a fate I did not chose for myself.

To be honest, the moment I decided to move to Loveland for the internship was the moment I decided I would leave Portugal for good. My savings were enough to make a deposit to rent a beautiful one room apartment in the most traditional part of town and to get myself a used car to commute. I immediately made friends with my front door neighbor Levi, and I learned he was a Krav Maga instructor, so I started taking his classes. I also had Diane as a friend, a co-worker in the same department that was a domestic account manager. One day, in the coffee room, I made a joke about Goldman being the bravest person in the world for working that closely to the CEO, and Diane overheard me and just poured her heart out. It turns out she had a major crush on Goldman, and judging by the number times Goldman would drop by her desk, always with a feeble excuse, he was crushing on her too. We became good friends right there and then, united as girls often become when they start talking about their crushes.

I had friends, hobbies and a good job. I was well settled, and life seemed pretty good. I was on my way to happiness. I could feel it.

But, of course, no good deed goes unpunished, and no rose is without its thorns, and all the things people say when they have a good thing going but it starts to go sour, so it wasn’t really surprising when my car decided to break down in the middle of Loveland’s main avenue, on my way back home, at 8 pm, under pouring rain. I managed to pull it to the curb, and opened the hood from inside, talking myself into getting out and get heavily rained on to take the usual precautions.

The umbrella I took with me outside didn’t help a bit, the wind blowing on it and turning it inside out. It took me less than two minutes to get drenched, while I tried to signal that my car was parked there and needed assistance. Distracted by the conversation I was having with my insurance company, trying to have my car taken to a mechanic, I didn’t even notice the black sedan that stopped right in front of my car.

When I turned to face the road, I was startled by a tall man in an expensive suit, standing right beside me, holding an umbrella. I jumped back with the scare.

“Do you need help?” The arrogant cold voice gave away his identity even before I had a chance to look at his face. It was LFG’s CEO, Victor Lee. I sighed loudly in relief.

“No, Sir, I just need to call a mechanic. I got it, don’t worry.” I said, trying to be polite while I wished for him to go away fast. I didn’t need to cuddle the CEO on top of my predicament.

“You shouldn’t be alone this late, especially with this weather. And in any case, it will be very hard to find an open shop at this hour.” He spoke like I was stupid to want to fend for myself. “Get in my car and warm yourself, while I make some calls.”

I nodded sheepishly and went inside my car to get my purse, cursing the Gods for putting me in such a situation. Seeing he had a bad temper, I avoided the CEO like the plague, wanting my work to speak for me more than myself. I sat on the passenger front seat of his car and fidgeted awkwardly, while he turned up the heater.

“Take your blouse off.” He asked. I blinked at him, horrified. He looked at me, offended. “This is not a seduction tactic, I just don’t want you to call in sick tomorrow because of a pneumonia. You have a top underneath, you’ll remain decent.”

I nodded, dawning on me that now that my shirt was wet, he could see through it. And with the heater, my top and skin would dry faster without a wet shirt of top of it. I removed my shirt awkwardly trying to move the least possible, not wanting to bother him. But to my dismay, he was getting more aggravated by the minute.

“Why are you moving like that? Did you leave your motor skills at LFG?”

I took a deep breath and finally removed my shirt, unable to avoid a wet sleeve to slap his nose.

“That’s what I was trying to avoid.” I said, my voice flat. He turned to retort, but his eyes fell on my hands and widened, and he quickly turned his face the other way. I immediately looked down to see what made him turn away so fast. And I could dig a whole, crawl there and die. My nipples were hard from the moist and the cold, and were perfectly noticeable under my wet top. I immediately crossed my arms in front of my chest, the sudden movement seemingly noticed by him and making his cheeks blush slightly, by the little I could see from his face.

As I prayed to God to send a lightning to strike me, or a hurricane, or perhaps a nuclear bomb, he removed his jacket and put it over my crossed arms.

“Here. You look cold.” He said, his poker face back on. And the embarrassment was such I almost whimpered in agony. “Let me make that call.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to forget where I was and what just happened, while he spoke with what seemed to be his insurance company, basically ordering them to come get a car that they didn’t insure and take it to their mechanic. He finished the call abruptly, and remained silent, staring at the rain hitting furiously on the windshield. After a minute, or maybe less, his phone vibrated. He picked it up immediately.

“Yes? (pause) Yes. First thing in the morning. (pause) Then make it happen. (another pause) Good.” He hung up and turned to me. “Give me your car keys.”

I handed him the keys as quickly as possible. He took his umbrella from the back seat and went outside. In a matter of seconds, the headlight of a motorcycle was visible in the night, stopping near my car. Victor handed him the keys and quickly returned. He turned to me again.

“Your car is being taken by the mechanic shortly. You will have it fixed tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I’m taking you home.” And with that, the CEO started the car and we drove away. I was dumbfounded at how quickly he solved my problem, but what confused me the most was the fact he was doing it in the first place. If he just kept driving, instead of stopping to help me, he would be having a fine meal at his luxurious home, dry and pristine as he always was, possibly surrounded by concubines that looked like supermodels. But here he was, looking like a drowned rat, his coat wet and starting to wrinkle due to my wet top, taking me home.

We drove without a word, until he broke the silence.

“Are you… enjoying your work at LFG?” He asked, like he didn’t care much about the answer, just making small talk to stave off the awkwardness.

“Very well, Sir, I’m learning a lot.” I answered, happy to think about something other than my hard nipples.

“Enjoying your life in Loveland? I see you made friends already.” His voice was still stern, but a bit softer. As if he was glad I was making friends.

“People are very friendly here. It wasn’t hard.” I answered shortly.

“Just pay attention to the people you interact with. You’re alone, don’t have any family here… It could be dangerous.” Why did he care? I shrugged it off, probably the polite thing to say to a girl living alone, I thought. The comment didn't sit well with me though.

“You don’t need to worry, Sir. I can take care of myself.” I said, trying not to be rude.

“Good.” He swerved the car to the right, stopping at the curb. “We’re here.” I noticed we were near my building’s entrance.

“Wait, how did you know this is where I-“

“Can you please get inside so I can go home?” He interrupted me, annoyed.

“Thank you, Sir.” I said, closing the door and running to my building. I heard him from behind.

“It’s Victor. Call me Victor, not Sir.” He shouted through the open passenger window.

I turned and nodded in understanding, and went inside immediately. It was only when I was already inside my apartment that I noticed I was still holding his jacket. And how the hell did he know where I lived?

[emberfrostlovesloki]

To Be Held Chapter 2 - Running Out

Here is chapter two! 

Chapter warnings: Description of kidnapping. Mention of torture. Homophobic ideology. Description of sexual assault.

Spencer was on his side sleeping when his phone rang with a piercing shrill. He rolled onto his back, and he extended his long arm out to reach the phone on the bedside table. He didn’t even look at the name when he answered, “Reid here.” When he heard the voice of Garcia he sat up, suddenly awake. “Hey genius. Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep, but I got your girl. “Give me a second.” Spencer said while turning on the lamp above his bed. The light hurt his eyes. He grabbed his notepad and a pen and sat down cross legged on the mattress. “I’m ready.” “Well, Venus Rising’s other name is Levi Hill. She’s an English lecturer at...” Before Penelope could get the rest of her sentence out Spencer filled in the last few words with, “Washington State University.” The computer whiz laughed and responded with, “Bingo. She teaches Queer theory, a class on Milton, and early British literature.” Spencer jotted down the information, and asked, “How long has she been teaching in Washington?” “Three years. It looks like she moved here from Ohio after getting her masters degree at Notre Dame. She’s twenty three, and before you ask, she doesn’t have a big social media presence, so I can’t find that much more about her.” Spencer replied to this tide of information with, “You did a great job Garcia. With this information we have a connection between Mr. Pyne at the university and Ms. Grost at Fantasy Girls.” Spencer was always impressed by Penelope, and sometimes he was scared of her too. “Anything for a fellow friend with a superior intellect.” Garcia said, then continued by saying, “I’ve sent Ms. Hill’s profile from Washington State over to you, along with her LinkedIn, and just for a bonus, her dissertation. One last thing you might want to know, pretty boy, she’s got office hours at 1:00 tomorrow, office number 212.” Spencer checked his email and found the attachments. “Thanks again.” Spencer said. Garcia replied happily, “No problem, now it’s my time for my beauty sleep.” The line dropped, and Spencer ran his hand through his hair. The clock read 5:00 A.M. ‘At least I have a few hours to read over this material’ Spencer mused. He grabbed his glasses off the table. Got up and started making some of the lousy instant coffee. It was going to be a long day. 

The team entered the East precinct of the Seattle Police Department at 8:00 A.M. No one had really slept, which was usual in an active case. J.J. kindly handed Hotch, Gideon and Spencer a cup of coffee before pouring her own. As the coffee crew assembled around the milk and sugar. Gideon was adding a packet of sugar and stated, “This unsub feels very unstable to me, yet he’s methodical and calculated. It doesn’t make sense.” Hotch looked up from stirring the milk into his coffee and replied, “The unsub must be mission-oriented. We’re looking for someone that has a problem with religion or politics. He probably holds extreme beliefs.” The four members of the BAU moved into the room they had set up in and jumped into their assignments. Hotchner started by saying “I’m meeting Mr. and Mrs. Pyne at 10:00 A.M. today. Elle, will you come with me?” Elle nodded and said, “Of course.” Gideon then said, “I’m going down to the coroner's office to look at the death certificates of the victims, then I’ll go over to the forensic labs that ran the test on the orange fibers found at the scene. Spencer will join me. I might need your expertise at the lab.” “Actually I’m meeting a potential target that the unsub might have had contact with. Her name is Levi Hill. She’s a professor at Washington State, and an employee of Fantasy Girls.” The team looked  at him, surprised that he had found a connection between the two victims. Spencer continued, “I was hoping J.J. would go with me. I’ll go to the coroner’s office with you, but Ms. Hill’s office hours are at 1:00 P.M. and I plan on being on time.” Gideon chuckled that Spencer hadn’t just said he couldn’t go with him to the lab. But Jason also knew that Spencer didn’t like conflict and avoided it when possible. He smiled at the genius while saying, “Sounds like a plan.” J.J. finished the conversation by saying, “I’ve set up a press conference at 5:00 P.M. today. The media is getting restless and it would be best if we give them, and the police a profile by then.” The team grouped up and into their assignments and headed out to the cars. 

Mr. and Mrs. Pyne lived in a modest house on the edge of town. Hotchner and Elle were seated on a couch which faced another couch facing them, where the Pyne’s sat. Pictures were spread across the coffee table that showed Jefferson Pyne; the photos ranged from the smiling blond haired boy as a child to an adult version of the child standing outside of a dorm on the Washington State campus. “So, Mrs. Pyne, you said that Jefferson was doing well in school? Did you notice any changes in him in his sophomore year? Were there people who disliked your son?” Mrs. Pyne swallowed and wiped at a tear that fell down her face. Before she responded Mr. Pyne squeezed her hand reassuringly. She started by saying, “Jefferson excelled in school. He loved living in the dorms and meeting new people. During his freshman year he came out as gay.” Before Mrs. Pyne could continue, Hotchner interjected, “And how did you react to your son’s coming out?”  Mr. Pyne smiled a little and said, “We try to be very open in this household. We told our son when he was younger that he could love anyone he wanted when he grew up.” After Mr. Pyne finished answering the question his wife continued by saying, “I was so proud of him the day he told me that he was gay, so, so proud.” Mrs. Pyne then bent over with a sob. She tried to hold back her tears, but they flowed down her cheeks. Mr. Pyne held her close to him and continued answering the questions with, “In Jefferson’s sophomore year he moved back home and commuted to school everyday. He wanted to live in an apartment, but we were having some financial troubles and it would be much cheaper. Mr. Pyne stood, allowing his wife to sit and gather her emotions. He gestured for Elle and Hotch to follow him. The trio walked up the stairs to the second story of the house. Mr. Pyne opened the second door on the left and said, “This room was Jefferson’s. We haven’t moved much in here except for some of the photos you saw downstairs. We’ll be downstairs, take all the time you need.” Mr. Pyne stepped out of the room and walked down the stairs, and went back in the direction of Mrs. Pyne. 

The bedroom had a bed, desk and lamp. A pride flag adorned the wall next to a BYX banner. Hotch looked around the room and noticed the banner. “What fraternity is BYX? I haven’t heard of it before?” He looked to Elle. She was examining the book shelf that held a lot of college textbooks. She replied, “BYX stands for Brothers Under Christ. It’s a Christian fraternity that is known for their service to the community.” Elle didn’t know how much she believed in Christian fraternities or sororities, but she had a feeling about Jefferson. She told Hotch, “I don’t see anything suspicious about this kid. I suppose that he could be getting some backlash for coming out, but other than that, I don’t think he had enemies.” Hotch replied, “I agree. The parents don’t seem like likely suspects. Let’s go down and look at Jefferson’s laptop. If he was getting hate for being gay we might see it online.” The pair of agents stepped out of the room. Elle gingerly closed the door to Jefferson’s room and followed Aaron down the stairs into the living room. 

The coroner’s office was very cold inside. Spencer folded his arms over his chest. Conserving the heat between his arms, shirt and maroon vest, and his body. After a minute an older man walked toward them. The man extended a hand toward Jason and said, “I’m doctor Stanley. I examined the bodies and wrote the cause of death” Gideon retracted his hand and said, “My name is Agent Gideon, and this is Dr. Reid.” Dr. Stanley took the time to look at Reid with unbelief. Stanley even rolled his eyes until Jason asked, “Do you have the files on Mr. Pyne and Ms. Grost ready for us?” The older doctor said, “Follow me.” He turned on his heel and walked quickly down a white tiled hallway. Spencer and Gideon followed behind him. Stanley unlocked a room that held a metal table and chairs. On the table lay two files. Stanley said, “Here are the files, if you have any questions you can page me.” With that being said the coroner walked away. Reid couldn’t help but sarcastically say, “What a professional man.” Gideon replied, “Agreed.” In the same tone as Spencer. The two men sat down, each grabbing a file off the table. After fifteen minutes of silently reading Spencer found something odd in the report on Ms. Grost. “Gideon, it says in the report that we got at headquarters that she had been raped. In Dr. Stanley’s report he only states that “‘the body was bruised in the primary sexual organs. If she was raped, why wouldn’t he have written that?” Gideon looked at the page that Spencer had handed him and replied, “Let’s find out,” while punching the button to Dr. Stanley’s pager. 

Stanley walked reluctantly into the room with Spencer and Gideon. “Did you have a question?” the older man asked with condescension, looking at Spencer as he asked. Spencer looked back at the doctor unfazed and said, “I was wondering why in one report rape was explicitly stated, but in your analysis of the body you don’t?” Stanley cleared his throat and responded by saying, “The body hadn’t been penetrated by male genitalia. It was clear that an object was used. Under certain definitions that would not be considered rape.” Spencer looked a little sick at this information, and Gideon was angry. Jason stood, holding the page in his hand pushing it in front of the coroner. “You didn’t think it was important to tell us that the victim had been raped with an object instead of a dick.” Gideon breathed out harshly and turned to Spencer saying, “We have the information we need. Let’s go.” Jason’s tone calmed when he looked at Reid. Reid made him feel like a father again, and he couldn't let himself be mad around the younger agent. Spencer stood and neatly placed the folders on top of eachother on the table. As He and Gideon walked toward the door. Before Reid left the room he turned to Dr. Stanley and stated cooly, “I’ll be talking to your superior when this is over, about your apparent lack of empathy and understanding of medical terms dealing with trauma.” With that Spencer turned on his heel and left the cold room behind. As he and Gideon walked to the car Reid took a moment to close his eyes and feel the sun on his skin. The long night was getting to him. 

In an unknown location a cabin surrounded by trees came to life with a shrill cry. Inside a man was tied to a wooden table. His legs and arms were bound in the shape of the cross. A figure dangled a cross above the body of the man who was tied down. “God told me that I should give you the chance to repent. You claim to be a man of God, preaching his word to those people who will burn in hell. It’s heretical!” The tormented man breathed laboredly, and coughed up some blood. The man stammered out shakely, “God states that he loves all people. Therefore I practice giving love to all people .” The man standing over the preacher laughed grimily and responded to his captive comment by saying, “God said that there would be false teachers in the end times, what a blessing I’ve found one. Now repent, or I’ll send you to the pit.” The preacher couldn’t say anymore, he was in so much pain that his mind couldn’t put words together anymore. Before the pastor passed out from the exhaustion of his position, he thought, ‘Lord save me. Lord.” 

Gideon dropped Spencer off outside the main campus of Washington State University. Just as Spencer got to the student union he spotted J.J. standing outside the campus bookstore. When J.J. noticed him, she walked to him, and he asked, “How was it today in the station?” J.J. sighed at the memory and said, “The press had so many questions that are going to be answered in four hours if they were just patient. Instead I was forced to copy and paste the same response to fifteen different outlets.” Spencer had spotted the coffee shop above the bookstore and checked his watch, which read 12:25 P.M. “That does sound very boring. How would you feel about grabbing a coffee before going to office hours?” J.J. smiled at the idea and agreed. The two of them climbed the stairs. The date to the football game had made it clear that she and Spencer weren’t meant for eachother. But that didn’t invalidate their friendship. With coffees in hand the duo from the BAU found the English building and waited outside office 212. Spencer was leaning against the doorframe reading a basic philosophy book when he heard footsteps coming their way. He closed the book and stashed in his shoulder bag. The young women who walked toward her office didn’t look like what J.J. or Spencer had expected. “May I help you?” Professor Hill asked as she attempted to grab the keys to her office while holding a large box of blue exam books. Spencer pulled out his badge and said, “I’m Dr. Reid and this is agent Jareau. We’re from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. We have a few questions for you profesor Hill.” Ms. Hill looked surprised for a second, but she quickly replied with, “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Reid, and you agent Jareau. If you give me a second, we can go into my office. I’m happy to answer any questions you have.” Spencer quickly put his badge away and offered to hold the blue books. With the package out of her hands, Ms. Hill was able to grab her keys from her backpack and quickly unlocked the door to her office. She flipped on an office light and plugged in two lamps on each side of the desk, lastly she pulled a chair from one wall and placed it next to another chair at the desk. After she had finished all this she said, “Come in.” J.J. went in and took a seat, Spencer followed. He shut the door to the office with his foot, still holding the box of empty exam books. “I can take those now, thank you.” She took the box out of Spencer’s hands and placed it on an empty shelf of an overflowing bookcase. She sighed at the sight of the exams and then sat in the chair across from the agents, just as Spencer took his seat. 

With notepad and pen at the ready Spencer began the interview with, “How long have you been living in Seattle Professor Hill?” Ms. Hill replied, “I’ve been living here for three years now. I was offered an adjunct position at the university during my final semester at Notre Dame.” Next, J.J. asked, “When did you start working at Fantasy Girls?” At this question Hill’s eyes briefly glanced over to her Master’s degree hanging on the wall before she looked at J.J. and said, “My second semester of teaching at this university made me realize that I wasn’t going to pay off my student loans as a professor. Even with financial aid and scholarships my debt after school was more than I could pay off in twenty years with my current position. In December I got an advancement in the University and I signed up to work at Fantasy Girls.” Spencer nodded his head at hearing about needing to pay off debt. Although he was fortunate that his parents had paid for his education, he knew people that were consumed with debt for the rest of their lives, it destroyed them. Spencer continued the conversation by inquiring, “Were you friends with Sydney Grost, or was she just a colleague?” Hill smiled at the question and said, “I remember my first night hosting; I had a client that was very insistent that I go back to his apartment with him. Well Sydney walked over to him and said, “‘If you keep harassing her, I’ll go over to your apartment and break every window I see with a brick.’” Sydney was very protective of all the girls. She and I worked a lot of jobs together and we’d always get coffee at the end of the night. Sit and talk about what we were doing tomorrow. She was great.” As Hill finished the answer she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. It was clearly an attempt to stop herself from crying. Spencer looked away from the professor for a second too, not wanting to make her feel awkward. J.J. then asked kindly, “I know this is a sensitive question, but have you, Sydney, or any other women you work with gone back to a client’s apartment or house?” Ms. Hill ran her hand through her short hair. She took another breath and looked at J.J, and said, “The people I work with, they're like a family. We see each other at least three times a week. We see each other nude, or almost nude, and we complain about our lives. Whether or not some of the escorts have worked in that way I can’t say with certainty. We have to have some boundaries and that’s one of them.” She looked to J.J. to see if that was enough, “I’m sorry I have to ask this, but have you solicited sex after work?” J.J. did feel horrible having to ask a question like that. The blond agent knew that the work paid and therefore had to ask. Hill shook her head before answering, “No. I’ve never wanted to risk my position, not even for that much money.” J.J. nodded and jotted down the answer. Spencer placed his head on the side of his hand and tried to think of something he was forgetting. He thought for a moment, and then he it hit him, “‘social media.’” After realizing there was something strange about the professor’s media he quickly asked, “You don’t really have any social media. Is there someone you’re trying to avoid, or get away from?” Ms. Hill replied, “Being an escort isn’t really seen as a moral profession. If anyone found out what I do I’d lose my job, my friends in church and the opportunities I might have once I can move forward from here. The only person I’m trying to actively avoid is my father, but he lives in Florida, so I doubt he’s trying to find out where I am.” J.J. then said, “I think you’ve given us a lot of good information Professor Hill. I know you have class in twenty minutes. We’ll get out of your hair and let you get ready for that. Thank you so much for your time.” Ms. Hill smiled and wrote something down on a sticky note. As she handed the note to J.J. she said, “Here’s my cell number, email, and schedule for my other job. I hope you find the person who’s doing this, and stay safe.” When she finished saying this she stood and extended her hand to J.J. and Spencer. The FBI agents stood and Spencer opened the door for J.J. As the blond agent stepped out Spence pulled out his card and handed it to Hill and said, “If you see anything weird, or you feel unsafe, feel free to call me.” Ms. Hill smiled and said, “Thank you Dr. Reid.” 

Gideon had picked up the results from the orange fibers. They had from a basic rope and could be bought at any hardware store in town. Although that lead had been disappointing Jason hoped that once Reid had a loot at the retort he would have more input on the evidence. As he was leaving the lab he got a call from Chief Best. “Gideon here.” The leader of the BAU listened for a moment before quickly picking up the forensic evidence and ran out of the lab. As he slid the seat of his car Jason replied to the police chief by saying, “I’ll let the team know, and I’m headed to the house right now. 

The latest crime scene had new features that the others had not. Firstly, it was fresher than the other scenes. Secondly the victim had enemies in the community. James Reeve was a pastor and had been scrutinized by some of the other churches for teaching a doctrine of tolerance for some communities often marginalized by denominations of the Christian faith. As Morgan walked around the room he commented, “Reeve’s church is close to the Washington State Campus. It’s the central point to all of these cases.” Reid was confused by the new victim and said, “Why would the unsub take a college pastor? It doesn’t fit the profile. It’s likely the unsub is around the same age as Mr. Reeve. There seem to be a thousand directions this case could go.” Hotchern replied, “If the unsub is changing his targets every time he finds a new victim he could be trying to throw us off the trail. Or maybe he’s becoming more unstable. Afterall, this is the first time that he’s shown a sign of forced entry.” Gideon looked up from the door that had been forced open and said, “I’m certain that all of these victims are related in some way. The unsub is just getting bolder, braver with his abductions. I think that he’s making his final preparations for an important kill. We have to go back to the station and give a profile. Once the officers have it we need everyone looking for a person that meets the profile. We’re running out of time.” 

[junghelioseok]

change. | 08

↳ a kind, handsome stranger makes you question your deteriorating relationship.

◇ taehyung x reader | jungkook x reader ◇ angst | smut | fluff ◇ 4.4k [8/10]

warnings: angst. almost smut. a teeny bit of rough treatment.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | epilogue ✓

You can’t concentrate.

For the past two hours, you’re fairly certain that the only thing you’ve accomplished is opening your email inbox and rereading the same seventeen unread subject lines. The apple you’d grabbed on your way out the door sits on a napkin, untouched, and your coffee—freshly brewed this morning—has long since gone cold.

Today is Friday, which would normally be cause for celebration. The first four days of the workweek had passed in a haze of monotony, and when you’d glanced at the calendar this morning, you’d nearly dropped your mug. But instead of looking forward to the weekend—and the holidays—like the rest of the world, you are dreading tomorrow’s arrival.

Tomorrow, you are supposed to get on a train back to your hometown. Tomorrow, Jungkook is supposed to meet your family.

And yet, Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

Your phone sits at your elbow, the screen black and silent. You’d finally worked up the nerve to call your boyfriend last night after downing two glasses of wine, but to your dismay, there had been no answer. You wonder if he’s even listened to the voicemail you’d left, but a cynical little voice in your head tells you that you already know the answer. He hasn’t even responded to your last eight texts, it says mockingly. Why would he listen to your voicemail now?

Sighing, you tell the voice to kindly shut the fuck up and return to the task at hand. Clicking open the first email, you read through it, fingers tapping on the edge of the keyboard as you formulate your answer. Going through your inbox is routine and familiar, and you finally manage to get Jungkook off your mind as you respond to all the emails that need your attention and forward along the ones that do not.

Just as you open up the last one, your phone buzzes atop your desk. The vibration is startlingly loud against the wooden surface, and for one brief, shining moment you think that perhaps Jungkook has finally come around. But when you glance down at the lit screen, your boyfriend’s name isn’t the one that’s displayed there. Instead, Taehyung’s name flashes up at you in bold black letters, your phone buzzing again as a second message comes in immediately after the first.

[11:01am] Taehyung: IMG_0027.jpg

[11:01am] Taehyung: tan made a new friend today!

Curiosity piqued, you click on the attachment, smiling when a familiar little Pomeranian pops up onto the screen. Next to Yeontan is another dog—a brown and white creature with liquid eyes and soft, floppy ears. Another message pops up below the photo, and you scroll down to read it.

[11:02am] Taehyung: his name is mickey! he’s cute, right?

Very, you write back. What are you and Tan up to today?

Three dots appear at the bottom of your screen, indicating his incoming response. Taehyung has been texting you all week, sending anything from new jokes he’s heard to pictures of art that he’s considering for his gallery. You’d readily welcomed the distraction from your troubles, and any and all thoughts of Jungkook are shoved to the very back of your mind when your phone vibrates again.

[11:04am] Taehyung: hoseok’s visiting studio v. mickey’s his dog!

Imagining the cheery red-haired artist with the fluffy puppy makes you smile. So the new exhibit is going well? you query.

[11:06am] Taehyung: amazingly well! remember this?

[11:06am] Taehyung: IMG_0028.jpg

Your breath catches in your throat when you click open the photograph, taking in the familiar lines and colors. You recognize the painting, of course—the two hands with their interlaced fingers, delicate green vines with red blossoms wound around their arms. Beneath the canvas sits a little brass placard, the words “Love in Bloom” carved in delicate strokes. Hoseok must have finished it at last, and you can’t help the way your cheeks warm when you remember the way he’d misinterpreted your relationship with Taehyung. It looks like your girlfriend likes it too. Hoseok’s voice echoes in your mind, reverberating like a tolling bell. Something shifts in the pit of your belly, warm and effervescent.

Shaking your head, you dismiss the odd sensation and open up your phone’s keyboard to respond. How could I forget? you type. Tell him it looks wonderful!

[11:08am] Taehyung: you should drop by and tell him yourself! he’ll be around for the rest of the day, helping set up the new exhibit with some of his other work

[11:09am] You: How about a raincheck? I’ll come see it after the holidays, I promise

[11:10am] Taehyung: i’m holding you to that :)

Time flies by as you continue chatting with Taehyung, and before you know it, the sun is beginning to sink toward the horizon. Saying your goodbyes, you shut down your computer and shrug on your coat, offering your colleagues well wishes and waves goodbye as you step outside into the cool wintry air.

Your commute home is short. The sight of your apartment building is a welcome relief, and you want nothing more than to collapse in bed as soon as you cross the threshold. But when you exit the elevator onto your floor, you are met with an unexpected surprise. A familiar figure is leaning against the wall, his dark wool coat a stark contrast to the beige walls of the hallway. His head is lowered as he scrolls purposefully through his phone, black hair flopping over his forehead, but you know his partially obscured face almost better than you know your own. “J-Jungkook?” you ask, your voice coming out in a shaky warble as you take in the sight of your boyfriend. “What… what are you doing here?”

Jungkook straightens up, tucking his phone back into his pocket and raising the white plastic bag in his free hand, the distinctive logo of your favorite takeout place outlined in bright colors. “I brought dinner,” he begins, brown eyes tentatively flickering up to meet yours. “I thought you might be hungry. Can I… can I come in?”

Slowly, you take a step closer to the dark-haired man. “How long have you been here?”

“Not too long.” He checks his watch. “Ten minutes, maybe? I came straight from work.”

“Mm. I figured as much. I’m surprised you left the office earlier than I did.”

Jungkook huffs out a noise that’s caught somewhere between a dry chuckle and a sigh. “Yeah.” Then he pauses, fiddling with the handles of the bag still dangling from his wrist. “So, uh. Can I come in?”

You hesitate. Jungkook fidgets with the edge of his sleeve, and immediately, your eyes are drawn to the movement. Your gaze rakes across him, taking in the ruffled state of his hair, no doubt from all the times he’s raked his hand through it. You notice just how wrinkled his suit lapels are, and the crooked knot of his tie.

And then you step past him and pull out your keys. “Yeah. Sure.”

It only takes a few seconds to unlock the front door of your apartment, stepping inside with Jungkook on your heels. He follows your lead as you hang up your coat and trudges after you into the kitchen, grabbing some plates from the cabinet while you fetch two glasses of water and hand him one. He takes a long sip before beginning to unbox the takeout, and, silently, you join him at the counter to help spoon some orange chicken onto a plate. The two of you work in silence for several minutes, broken only by the rattle of silverware.

“I feel like I’m losing you,” Jungkook suddenly blurts, dropping the box he’s holding with a thump and turning to face you. He hesitates for a few seconds, gnawing on his bottom lip before his eyes flicker up to meet yours again. “I just… I’ve really missed you, {Name}. This past week has been hard—and I know a lot of that’s my fault. But I don’t want to lose you. I don’t think I could bear losing you.” Gently, he reaches out, grabbing your hand and twining your fingers together.

There’s something glimmering in his expression, something soft and affectionate that sets your heart aflutter. Jungkook’s hand is warm and solid around yours, and the pressure is so familiar and comforting that it takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts enough to respond. “I—I’ve missed you too,” you confess after a moment’s hesitation. “But I texted you. I called you. And you didn’t answer.”

“I know,” he says, whisper-soft. “I’m sorry.”

His thumb is stroking along the ridges of your knuckles now, the motion tender and soothing in its repetition. Swallowing, you tamp down the urge to step closer and let his hands circle your waist. Instead, you ask a question—one that has been on your mind for days now.

“Why?”

There are a multitude of questions hiding behind that singular word, of course. Why didn’t you reply to my texts or return my calls? Why wouldn’t you listen to me that night when I told you about Taehyung? Why are you here now? And Jungkook must sense the hidden depths in your question, because he doesn’t respond straight away. Rather, he tugs you toward your living room, settling onto the couch and pulling you down beside him. Once you’ve both gotten comfortable—or at least as comfortable as you can get while waiting for his answer—he finally speaks, sucking in a deep breath first and exhaling the words in a rush.

“I’m sorry” he repeats, his eyes darting between your twined hands and your face, as if gauging your expression. “I should’ve called you sooner. I—I shouldn’t have hung up on you that night. I just—” Jungkook heaves a sigh, his shoulders slumping forward. “I overreacted. I’ve been a real asshole, and I’m sorry. But... I think we can make this work, {Name}. I want to make this work.”

The earnestness shimmering in his gaze makes your heart clench, and when you give his hand a soft squeeze, the smile that blooms across his face is positively radiant.

“Can you forgive me?” he asks hopefully.

You let your gaze rake over his face again—taking in his strong brows and prominent nose and the soft curl of his lips. A lock of dark hair flops over his forehead lazily, and you resist the urge to brush it away for all of three seconds before giving in. “You owe me a weeks’ worth of dates,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice stern as you sweep his hair out of his eyes.

“Two,” he breathes back, leaning into your touch. “Or three. However many you want.”

You smile. “And you have to be extra nice to my parents tomorrow.”

That draws a soft chuckle from him. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of being anything but.”

“Then that’s a good start.” Delicately, you let your fingers smooth across the sharp line of his jaw. He nestles his cheek into your palm, and when he turns to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist, a delighted shiver runs down the length of your spine.

You’ve missed him—there’s no doubt in your mind about that. Jungkook has been a constant presence in your life for the past year, and his company—when you have it—is solid and reassuring. After countless dates and quiet, intimate evenings, you know him almost as well as you know yourself. And whenever doubts about your relationship rise up in your chest, he always manages to sweep them away with a few words or a sweet embrace.

Jungkook is in the process of laying three more kisses along the inside of your arm, soft lips moving up to the crook of your elbow before he pulls back and glances up at you. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice dipping in pitch.

Your fingers are still twined with his, so instead of answering, you simply give his hand another squeeze. Jungkook’s face melts into a toothy grin, and he doesn’t waste any more time as he cups your cheek and brings you in for a long, lingering kiss.

You’re breathless by the time you pull apart again, lungs fighting for lost air. But Jungkook is still grinning, prominent teeth on full display, and you can’t help but smile back at the sight. His fingers smooth from your cheek down to the line of your jaw, caressing the skin there before sliding around to the back of your neck and bringing you in for another kiss. His mouth slants across yours, and when his tongue darts out to swipe at the seam of your lips, you let out a breathy sigh and let him in.

It isn’t long before you find yourself pressed into the cushions of your couch, a smirking Jungkook hovering above you with one hand on either side of your head. Leaning down, he nips at the sensitive spot on your neck, teeth digging a bruise into the skin just above your clavicle before soothing it with his hot tongue. Nimble fingers find their way to the buttons of your blouse, sliding them free and running across the newly exposed skin in slow, ardent caresses. His thumbs hook beneath the cups of your bra to find the sensitive peaks of your breasts, squeezing at the soft flesh.

When you arch up into him—seeking more contact—Jungkook lets out a hoarse chuckle. “So pretty,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss just above your bellybutton. You sigh at the feeling of his lips against your skin, and when he straightens up again, you take the opportunity to push his suit jacket off his shoulders. He shrugs it off the rest of the way, tossing it over the back of the couch carelessly, and you set to work on his tie. The silky material slips easily between your fingers, and when you loosen it enough, he grabs your wrist to help wrench it over his head.

Just as you are about to undo the first button of his white shirt, there is a knock on the door. Jungkook raises a questioning brow, and you shrug, equally taken aback.

“I’ll get it,” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth and running a quick hand through his hair as he stands. “Be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You hum in assent, sitting up from the couch and straightening out your rumpled blouse. Jungkook disappears down the hallway, and you listen as he opens up the front door and greets whoever is standing there.

The voice that responds is deep and resonant and devastatingly familiar, and the sound of it sends you flying up and off the couch. Hurriedly, you fix your clothes as you tiptoe toward the hall, peering carefully around the corner. You can just barely make out a head of coppery hair behind Jungkook’s frame silhouetted in the open doorway, and when your visitor speaks again, your suspicions are all but confirmed.

“Sorry if I have the wrong apartment. Do you happen to know where a Miss {Full Name} lives?”

“If you’re looking for {Name}, you’ve got the right place,” Jungkook replies, shifting slightly so that you finally get a glimpse of the man standing on your welcome mat. Taehyung—because of course it’s Taehyung—looks incredibly out of place in the rather drab hallway of your building. He’s wearing an undoubtedly expensive tailored coat and a silky floral shirt tucked neatly into loose black slacks, and the sight of him is enough to knock all the air out of your lungs and send you reeling. Quickly, you take several steps back into the safety of your living room, ensuring that you can still listen to the conversation. “Are you a friend of hers?” you hear Jungkook ask.

“Oh! Yes, I am—I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Taehyung. And you are...?”

“Jungkook,” Jungkook says tersely. A beat of silence follows, and you can’t even begin to imagine what is going through both men’s minds as they digest this new information.

After what seems like an eternity, Taehyung clears his throat. “I just wanted to stop by,” he explains, and you hear the rustle of a paper bag as he shifts uncomfortably. “{Name} mentioned that she had a bit of a rough day, so I brought over some pastries from the bakery down the street.”

“I’ll see that she gets th—” Jungkook begins to say, but you choose that moment to walk over, slipping easily around Jungkook and making your presence known.

“Taehyung?” you ask, as if you haven’t been listening in on the conversation the whole time. “I thought I heard your voice. What are you doing here?”

Said man smiles at your appearance, raising the paper bag in his hand. “Hey, {Name}. I wanted to… uh...” He trails off as he takes in your appearance for the first time—the mussed hair and rumpled clothing no doubt giving away your activities prior to his arrival. When you glance down, self-conscious, you notice that your buttons aren’t even correctly aligned. And when you chance a look at Jungkook, you immediately notice his lopsided collar as well. Nevertheless, Taehyung takes a deep breath and bravely forges on. “When you mentioned that you had a bad day earlier, I thought I’d bring over some of those custard tarts you like. Sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in on you like this.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure, subtly trying to fix your hair though you suspect your efforts are in vain. “Thank you for thinking of me; you really didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

Taehyung shrugs halfheartedly, gaze flickering briefly over to Jungkook, who is still hovering behind you. “It’s no trouble at all,” he says with a weak smile, handing the paper bag over. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Have... have a good night. And happy holidays—to both of you.”

“Happy holidays,” you echo. And something inside your chest constricts painfully when Taehyung offers you one last tiny smile before turning on his heel and heading for the elevators. Almost reluctantly, you shut the door behind him, paper bag swinging from one hand as you turn to look at Jungkook. There’s some emotion that you can’t quite place simmering in his dark eyes, his throat bobbing harshly as he swallows. You wait, patiently, for him to speak.

“So that’s Taehyung,” he manages at last, his voice tight. “The guy you were with at the market.”

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. “Yeah.”

Jungkook fiddles with the hem of his white button-up, which has long since freed itself from his waistband. “You didn’t mention that he’s good-looking.”

“Jungkook,” you begin in a placating tone, dropping the bag and taking a step closer to him. “Stop, please, we’re just friends—”

“Maybe so,” Jungkook snaps, forehead wrinkling as his brows furrow. “But I’m not an idiot, {Name}, I saw the way he looked at you. He wants more than your friendship—are you fucking blind?”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t speak to me like that, Jungkook.”

“Or maybe you do see it,” the dark-haired man continues, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. “Maybe you see it, and you want him too. Hell, I’m at the office all the time anyway, so you may as well live it up with this Taehyung guy, right? Christ.” He rakes a hand through his hair, a humorless smile twitching his lips upward. “Maybe I should’ve seen this coming.”

He’s really getting angry now. You can see the hard set of his jaw and the way his hands are balled up into fists, and when you look at his face, you almost flinch back at the intensity of his gaze. “This… this is insane,” you say weakly, discomfort squirming in the pit of your stomach. “He’s just a friend, and we’ve only met up a few times—”

“A few times,” Jungkook echoes, barking out a wry laugh. “Like I’m going to believe that.”

“I don’t care what you believe!” you cry, surprising both yourself and Jungkook. He jerks back at your outburst, eyes widening, but you are too far gone to stop. It’s as if an invisible barrier has crumbled down, releasing all the irritation that’s been building, potent and heavy, in your chest.

“{Name},” Jungkook tries to say, but you interrupt, your index finger jabbing him none too gently in the chest.

“No, you listen!” you demand. Your voice is too loud, even to your ears, but you press on nonetheless. “I’ve only seen Taehyung four times, you know that? And that includes the first time we met! Not to mention that we never would’ve actually met if you hadn’t stood me up that night at Luxe. Do you even know how long it’s been since we’ve gone on a date?”

“{Name},” Jungkook tries again, a bit louder this time. His fingers close around your wrist, tugging your hand away from his chest, but you wrench away and continue your rant.

“Almost a month and a half! It’s been five weeks, Jungkook, and you almost never call or text me back! Do you know how frustrating that is? I mean, god, it’s like I don’t even have a boyfriend sometimes. Am I just supposed to just wait around for you and mope at home—”

Your tirade is abruptly cut off by two strong hands clamping down on your shoulders, the force enough to send you stumbling back against the closed front door. All the breath is knocked out of your lungs as Jungkook stands before you, face contorted, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as his wild eyes rove across your face. “Stop,” he pants, dark hair falling across his forehead as he presses against you a little harder. “Just… stop.” Your head hits the hard wooden surface behind you, tearing a startled gasp from your throat.

“Jungkook,” you warble, your voice weakening as you try to wriggle free from his ironclad grip. Your shoulders are beginning to ache underneath his fingertips, and, you wonder vaguely if the skin will bruise. “Jungkook, you’re hurting me.”

There is a beat of silence. Then, Jungkook seems to deflate, his arms falling uselessly to his sides as he takes a long step back. “Shit,” he mumbles, distress crumpling his face. “Shit, {Name}. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I-I’m sorry too,” you whisper, straightening up and rubbing at your tender shoulders. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”

“You shouldn’t have lost your temper?” Jungkook lets out a disbelieving huff. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. And I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that—Christ, I can’t believe—” Trailing off, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Damn it. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Do you want me to get the first-aid kit from under the sink?”

You stop him with a hand on his forearm. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine, really.”

Jungkook doesn’t look convinced, but stops nonetheless. He glances down at the spot where your fingers are still wrapped around his arm, and for a few moments, everything is perfectly still and silent. You can feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his wrist—strong and steady. A constant, just like he’s been for so long in your life. But maybe it’s time for that to change.

Slowly, you let go—uncurling your fingers one at a time until both of your arms are at your sides once more. “This isn’t working, is it.” It isn’t a question, and, after a few long seconds, Jungkook lets out another sigh. 

“No, I guess it’s not,” he says, and it’s as if an implicit understanding passes between the two of you in that moment.  It’s over. The thought is terrifying, and for a moment you almost want to take it back and throw yourself into the safety of his arms again.

But you don’t move a muscle, and Jungkook does. Silently, you follow him as he turns on his heel and heads back for your living room. You watch as he gathers up his discarded tie and jacket, shoving the first into his pocket and donning the latter. “I wish things could be different,” you murmur, so soft that you almost think he doesn’t hear you. You’re not sure you even wanted him to, but Jungkook’s ears have always been sharp.

“Me too,” he says. He doesn’t turn around from where he’s stopped to stare out the window, gaze riveted on the artificially lit cityscape blanketed by night sky. “I really didn’t… I didn’t think we’d end like this.”

“Bad timing,” you remark, drawing a sardonic chuckle from him.

“The worst.”

You nod. Quietly, you join him at the window, admiring the warm glow of the streetlamps far below. Off in the distance, you can see the train station, lit up like a beacon. Tomorrow, you’ll be heading there to catch a train back home, but you didn’t think you’d be going alone. The thought brings a fresh wave of sadness, one that’s only worsened when Jungkook speaks again.

“I still love you, you know,” he murmurs. “Not enough, maybe. But I do.”

Tears prick your eyes at the raw honesty in his voice. “I know. I love you too. But... we aren’t happy together, Jungkook. We haven’t been happy in a long time.”

He hums, and when you cast a look his way, you see that his eyes have fluttered shut. “I’m sorry,” he says simply, and you pretend not to notice the glistening wetness on his lashes. Instead, you slip your hand into his, the warmth of it as familiar and comforting as ever.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” you tell him gently, and Jungkook nods, opening his eyes and letting you lead him back to the entryway.

“Guess this means we won’t be moving in together anytime soon.” The joke is feeble and halfhearted, but you smile nonetheless as he opens up the front door, pausing on the threshold. You wonder if he’s remembering all the memories you’ve made together over the past year—both the good and the bad times that have made up the course of your relationship.

“I’m going to miss you,” you tell him, and it’s the truth. Some endings, no matter how inevitable, are never easy. Your heart already aches, and when he pulls his hand out of yours, it splinters even more.

“Me too,” Jungkook murmurs. His gaze rakes over your face one last time, as if committing it to memory. “Goodbye, {Name}.”

And for the second time that evening, you find yourself standing in the doorway, watching someone important to you walk away.

Now, you are truly all alone.

[previous][next]

[riderdrauggrim]

Day Unknown. Sat, Sep 26, 2020.

Nervous about randomly hiding in 4G Motorsports parking lot, I'm awake a few short hours later around 6:30. I have the tent packed by 8:30, and huddle beside the bike, waiting for staff.

9:00 rolls around and I approach the doors, making my way back to the Parts/Service desk. A young woman who's family shifts her between Alberta and Toronto seems thrilled to meet someone else from Ontario. We check if they have a replacement battery in stock. They do not. And their mechanics are not in on the weekends.

But!

There's a MAGNACHARGE Battery megaemporium RIGHT across the street!

Heartened my luck might be improving, I trot over.

Nope.

They're closed on weekends.

I trot back to 4G, on the way calling Riverside Honda in St. Albert, the blokes who'd changed my tires. They sold their last YTZ14S on Friday. BUT they'd ordered more and they should arrive at the start of this coming week.

I run over my problems with their parts guy. He suggests I remove the battery and try starting the bike with another random battery attached; That might be able to isolate if it is my battery or my starter system/charging stator/rectifier/words.

Sounds good.

Back at 4G I ask if they have a charger or a booster. The parts girl knows where a tender is, but not how to use it. It's okay, I do. They graciously let me push the bike inside their service bay so I can tinker on it, good thing too as it starts to drizzle outside.

So! My battery: Out and Charging.

My bike: New battery hooked up to test the ignition.

My key: In the ignition, turning to activate the bike-*Crack*.

One of the few flaws I've found with the NC750 design is the key is needed in a secondary lock. Turn one way to unlock the frunk (front trunk) where the gas tank USUALLY sits on a motorcycle. Turn the other way to unlock the latch securing the passenger seat, this allowing you to lift it up to reveal the gas cap to fill the tank, which sits under the rider. The problem with this lock is the key does not fully insert. It's about 3/4 depth to the ignition proper.

Over time, this has created something of a weak point on the key itself, occasionally twisting ever so slightly if too much pressure is applied, if the latches are sticky, or the frunk is overfull and a bit jammed. This was usually corrected by sticking the key in and turning it the other way, straightening the blade out again. For this trip, due to the tail luggage making lifting the passenger seat incredibly difficult at best, I had opted to outright remove the pillion cover, leaving the gas cap exposed for easy access. All I needed the secondary lock for was to get in and out of the frunk, which I was doing several times a day to fetch out Goose and Hat, or store drinks, or change power banks.

Perhaps it was this excess of one direction twisting that finally did the blade in.

Perhaps it was just six years of use and wear.

Perhaps life just wanted to take the difficulty level up a notch.

In any event.

I was left holding the top quarter of my key. The remainder still inside the ignition. Even if I can get a new battery, I can now no longer turn on the bike.

My coworker who helped fund this adventure texts me to see how things are going. I tell him my key just snapped in half. He says if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. We discuss options. I'm 3,505 km from home. I'm 427 km from the nearest Honda dealership. I just want to Abandon Quest and Hearthstone out of here, but that's not an option. So I work through various plans.

I call Riverside back and get the Service department. Nick remembers me. I fill him in on the last twelve hours. "Wow." Indeed. He puts me on hold and consults his coworkers. If I can get it there, they'll try and squeeze me in and get this sorted. Some people have good luck using super glue to get broken keys out and then jury rigged back together. With my luck, I'll make a mess and fuse the tumblers and need an entirely new ignition system. The key is also a newer blade style, not a normal tooth house lock key. It's supposed to be stronger, amusingly enough. But it's not the sort of thing local locksmiths should be able to replicate, it needs a Dealership. So even if I got a Fort McMurray locksmith to fish the main part out, if he can't make a new one, I still can't Go.

AND there's the pressing matter of the battery.

During all this my battery on the tender has completed charging. I restore it into the bike, or try to, as the damn nut in the contact for the red lead slips out of the holder and falls precisely through the ONE (1) hole at the bottom of the compartment and somewhere onto the engine block. I don't hear it hit the belly pan, and wedging my fingers into every nook, curve and cranny yields nothing but grimy hands.

I call CAA anew. I get the same woman as the night before, so that helped since she already knew the first part of this story. I now have Multiple Problems that can not be fixed locally. St. Albert is outside the Alberta tow range of 350km. But my membership is from Niagara, and I'm covered for 500km. She calls them to approve it. They say 'of course'. One hurdle down.

She contacts the tow company. New hurdle.

Due to the nine hour round-trip commute, they don't run every single broken vehicle south to Edmonton every time someone breaks down. They wait for multiple items, load them all on a long truck, and do a couple runs a week. So. Yes, they can get my bike to St. Albert. Eventuallllyyyyy.

I get it; from a logistics and efficiency and financial perspective it makes perfect sense.

From a "but... my bike..." and waiting for a nebulous amount of time in a hotel somewhere just for it to get TO the mechanics, nevermind the unknown timeframe of the shop having time to look at it, figure out what's wrong, order new parts if needed, and install them.... Hrrrggggnnnnn.

So EMI came with the short bed and picked up the bike from 4G. The logic being, now it's in their secure compound, ready to go, and when they have a load ready, they'll shove it on and take it south for me. Solid.

How do -I- get back to Edmonton.

Well, there's several buses that run the corridor, presumably for the mine workers to get up and back around their shift days. Awesome!

Oh but they don't run again until Monday. Less awesome!

But what can you do.

My bike won't leave until monday at the /earliest/ anyway, so me being there any sooner really makes no difference.

I book a ticket - cheap at 65$! For a nearly five hour trip? I paid 85$ plus tip for the 20 minute taxi ride from Supertest Hill to Fort McMurray the night prior.

Leaving Monday at 8:30am, arrive near downtown Edmonton. Found a hotel for 80$ within a block of Riverside Honda, not as cheap as my beloved Whitemud, but Whitemud Inn being at the south center of the Edmonton bubble, I'd be paying more than the 15$ a night difference in a cab to get up to St. Albert region. So I'll be right nearby the bike if we can get it going, or I need something from my bags.

In the meantime.

I found an RV campsite literally next door to the bus stop. I called the owner and explained my experiances, and my need for somewhere to simply hide in a tent until Monday morning. Sure, I could try and hide -anywhere-, but for my own safety, and nerves, if I can do this cheap and legal, the better for it. She says she can help me out. She offers a site for a price considerably cheaper than the nearby hotels, which I of course agree to. It's a twenty minute walk from 4G, made longer by hauling two drybags of tent/sleeping bag and essentials, and a third partial of food. Plus wearing my gear. And being somewhat small and scrawny. I take several rests. I drink my Gatorades. I make it. She has the sweetest tabby cat with white socks, no tail, and the SOFTEST fur. Name 'Trouble'. Awwww.

Transaction complete, I set up my tent, kindly serenaded by a curious magpie.

I hear a nearby RV owner pull up, truck doors closing, and then I see a giant white monster making a beeline straight for me. My best guess would be Lab/Samoyed. The head was very much the rectangle block and jowls of a lab, but the pelt was definitely a living cloud. It gives an very quick sniff at my tent, and promptly accepts me petting it. I realize I've been pet-starved during my journey. All my stress is put on pause as I scruffle the heck out of this random dog's sides. In fact, twice I tried to move one hand to teach for my phone for a photo, and he turned in annoyance to see why I'd partially stopped. I hear a woman calling, and ask if he needs to go. He makes no move. In fact he tries to push backwards closer. On a whim, I drop to my rear and make a bowl with my legs. He promptly fills said bowl with his rump. Me on my butt and him on his haunches, I came up to his shoulders.

Good dog.

A woman shouts again, more insistent. I give him a bump with my leg. He resigns himself to getting up and heading home. I realize the owner can't see us, so I pop up and apologize for stealing her dog. She realizes he hadn't just ran off for no reason, and laughs, saying he loves people. Yes, I had learned this.

I needed that.

There's a valley beside the camp ground.

The trees are spent matchsticks, grey and charred and empty against the sky. New growth slowly fills in around the dead wood. I don't know if this is a remainder of the BIG fire of 2016, or another more recent event. It's a staggering amount of devastation, and only a small fragment of the damage done.

The clouds out here... I love skyscapes.

Beautiful.

[wheresanne]

Common Teaching in Korea Questions

Exactly a year ago, an old friend told me about the opportunity to go live overseas, travel often, and make money at the same time. 🌍 I asked, “How long will you be gone? What do you do if you don’t like it there? What will you do with your car?”

After a hundred more questions, tons of research, financial planning, organizing the right qualifications, and knowing myself enough to know if I was truly ready for this experience, here I am.

Here are some of the most common teaching English in South Korea questions that I had and most people may have.

If you have any questions about EPIK program or life in Korea, feel free to comment or message me. 

1. What would be your list of pros and cons?

Cons would be the language barrier and culture work environment is different compared to the US. Preparing to return back home sounds difficult so make sure you continue working on your future career so you don't have a gap on your resume.

2. Tips for the application process?

For the application process, use the Internet and search for possible lesson plans and read others’ experiences of teaching and living abroad. I wasn’t originally a teacher, but I often reflect and remember some of my influential teachers, then apply that to my style of teaching. 

3. Tips for the interview process?

For the interview process, since it will most likely be a video chat interview through Skype, remember that the video chat might be a few seconds of the audio delay, so try not to cut off the interviewer’s talking. You should dress nicely and smile a lot since you’ll be seen as a role model and working with children. Keep your answers to one or two full sentences. Talk confidently. Again, do some research online for example questions and answers.

4. Do I have to take the TEFL if I’m going to major in early childhood education with a concentration in English as a second language? (Very important question)

To teach in Korea, you have to be a native English speaker. To teach early childhood education in Korea, you must have a TEFL certificate and you are supposed to have a real education degree.

5. How can you send money back home for cheap? Is the transfer costs very expensive?

Depending on your home country, for example, if your home country is the US, you could send money back home through an American Citi Bank account for a small transaction fee. Your home country bank might charge extra fees. My personal American bank, USAA, charged me $70 when it received $1,000 home.  

6. What are each of your teaching schedules like? (I know they differ) Do you have free time?

I teach 22 hours or classes per week, I talk more about this in my "What is my job in Korea?" YouTube video. I have to be at work 8:30-4:30 M-F. Besides those 22 hours, I'm sitting at my desk preparing for future classes or whatever I want to do.   

Since I teach about 550 students in my middle school, I only visit the 1st and 2nd graders every-other-week and then I teach the 3rd graders every week. 

7. Where was/are you placed? Do you like it there?

Through EPIK Program, I was placed in an Innocity in Naju in Jeollanam province in the south. I love it. Great food and good location.

8. What are your classes like? Elementary, Middle, High? Big? Small?

I teach middle school in a new city. I have about 550 students in total and about 15 to 25 students in each class. 

I also teach an after-school club class, where we video chat Australian students about Korean culture, landmarks, etc.

9. What is your EPIK apartment like? Is it as small as I’ve seen online? (Not that is matters much about size!) And is your bills pretty cheap?

Before coming to Korea, I was expecting to be placed in an older apartment, possibly with mold or cockroaches. 

Through EPIK, I was thankfully placed in the new Innocity in Naju county in Jeollanam province. I love it here because there are tons of fitness centers, tons of cafes, restaurants, a library, Lake Park, and it's a new city with lots of transportation and modern buildings.

My EPIK apartment is a studio office-tel style, so it's in a massive building where I pay $50 a month for the building utilities and then about $20 for my utilities.

10. How long have you been living in Korea?

I've been living in Korea since June 2018 and I was in the August 2018 EPIK intake.

11. If you can speak Korean, will more employers want to hire you?

answer

12. Do any of you have a permanent residency visa? If so, what’s it like? Is it less stressful?

I don’t. I’m on the yearly F2 visa. 

After watching Megan Bowen and World of Dave on YouTube, who have been in South Korea for nearly 10 years now, it seems that sometimes people or Koreans still think they're a foreigner.

13. How many vacation days do you get? Are they flexible or not very flexible?

Vacation days are only allowed around the winter and summer camp schedules, Your contract will say you have 25 paid-leave days total (contracts are slightly different depending on the province you're in) in the contract year.

14. What advice would you give to anyone moving to Korea for the first time?

For anyone moving to Korea for the first time, do lots of research online, come with an open mind, don't forget you're representing your country, and remember why you're coming here. You're not coming here to party, coming here to teach and grow.

15. What are your co-teachers like? Are they helpful?

I have 7 co-teachers since I teach at a bigger sized school. They are so kind and helpful. I’m a fairly independent person and haven’t had many issues, so I don’t often “bug” them, but I know they would help me if needed. At work, they don't ask to see my lesson plans or games. After classes, we often talk for a moment as a way to quickly review how the lesson or class reacted to the lesson. We work together when a speaking test is coming up.

16. Do you make enough to live comfortably? And to save?

I live very comfortably. I barely go shopping for clothing or home decorations, since I’m a very minimal person. I just have the essentials. Also, I don't have to stress about repairing my apartment or my car maintenance. 

17. Do you make your own lesson plans or do you have to teach by a book?

My middle school has a textbook where I teach the Listen and Speak sections with my own extra "real life" examples and then we play a review game. 

18. Do you teach at more than 1 school? If so how many? And is it really stressful?

I only teach at one school. 

19. Can you remember all your students' names? What are some fun ways to memorize all their names?

Since I have many students, my first semester was about memorizing their faces, behaviors, and levels of English in class. By the second semester, I asked for a student-list and tried to take attendance before each class. Since I see most of the students every-other-week, it has taken me almost two semesters to learn their names.

If I ever see them outside of the school in my neighborhood, I ask them “How are you, what’s your name again?” as a good way to practice their English too. 

Some students have English names, perhaps from their English hagwon academies. If they don’t have an English name, at the beginning of the semester, I offer them a list of popular English names from their 2006-8 birth years.

I remember their names by remembering somethings similar in English. 유빈 Yoo-bin sounds like "You Bin"

20. Is your commute to work long?

I bought a bicycle from an online Facebook flea market group and then I every day I ride my bike for about 10-15 minutes. I could walk for 30 minutes, or I could take a bus but that'll cost me about 2,000 won every day.

21. What is the most rewarding part of teaching in Korea?

I really like the comfortable life here.

22. What are some culture do’s and don’ts that are important to know?

Culture do's would be to remember it's not your country. Make friends with almost everyone, but remember your boundaries.

23. How do you deal with homesickness and stress?

For homesickness or stress, I often go for a walk or bike ride in nature, which reminds me of my hometown or eat pizza or a hamburger. And catch up with family and old friends via Facebook.

24. How have you changed since living in Korea?

Living completely alone can be difficult and different for some people. I have so much free time here. I think my sense of fashion style has changed too.

25. Do you have a Korean phone plan? How much is it a month?

I pay $70 a month for my 100GB phone data plan for my iPhone bc I often travel around Korea so data is important to me.

You can get the Korean phone plan after you get your ARC number, almost a month after living here. You can easily get a SIM card from the convenience stores or from the airport. 

26. Last but not least, what are some encouraging words you would give to those who want to teach in Korea!? 

Only teach if you actually like kids and are a patient person. If you don't get accepted through EPIK, or JLP, or TaLK, don't forget to apply through hagwons!  

[missdaviswrites]

8. Music

John opened the door to the flat to the sound of music. Not unusual: Sherlock had been playing the violin for Rosie since she was a newborn, and sometimes John caught them dancing around the sitting room together, Rosie laughing as he swooped her about, safe in his arms. But today was different—today Sherlock was singing along with the music. And it was Christmas music. Not traditional carols, either, but popular Christmas songs, the kind they played in every shop all season long. The kind Sherlock professed to hate, when he admitted knowing them at all.

"Are you singing Wham! to my daughter?"

Sherlock froze, his back to John, then turned quickly to face him, lowering Rosie to the floor so she could crawl across the room to him. "It wasn't my choice. Rosie likes George Michael."

"Rosie likes George Michael?"

"Ye-yes. His voice. Is very pleasing to her. She really likes this song. Mrs. Hudson first exposed her to it, of course."

"Of course." John set his work satchel down so he could pick up Rosie, who was trying to climb his leg. "Why do you know who George Michael is but not Madonna?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John before stalking across the room to turn off the music. "Madonna doesn't have any Christmas songs."

"Mm, I think she did a cover of Santa Baby." John bounced Rosie once on his hip and decided not to try to sing a snippet of that song.

"Are you quite done?" Sherlock flopped onto the sofa and Rosie immediately began squirming in John's arms, reaching toward him.

"I guess I am." He carried Rosie over to the sofa and plopped her down on Sherlock's chest, then turned around and walked to the desk so he could sort through the growing pile of post. "It's okay if you like that song, you know. I like it, too. Yeah, it's overplayed, but I always did like George Michael's voice. Not to mention how cute he was." He chose his words carefully, and wanted nothing more than to see Sherlock's reaction to them, but didn't dare turn to look. "You've got quite a few bills piling up here. Want me to stick around for a while and pay them for you?" That gave him a reason to turn, but when he did, Sherlock's attention seemed to be wholly focused on Rosie, who was giggling as she pulled at the buttons on his shirt.

John swallowed back a sigh. It had been days since Sherlock had been abducted and held chained up for hours, days since John had found him and taken care of him afterward. Days since they'd touched each other. He was sure that Sherlock had welcomed his touch, that night, but maybe that was only a byproduct of his kidnapping ordeal: a lingering effect of the drugs, or simply the fact that he'd needed comforting. Maybe he didn't want John to touch him under normal circumstances. He wished he knew. He wished he could just ask. But he couldn't—it had taken all his courage just to casually mention that he'd once thought George Michael attractive. And Sherlock hadn't replied, hadn't agreed or disagreed or pursued a conversation about how exactly John defined his sexuality. Maybe he really wasn't interested in knowing.

John grimaced and picked up a pile of envelopes. "You keep her entertained for a while. I'll make dinner and take care of these bills while it's cooking."

"Sounds good," Sherlock said.

Right. It sounded good. John would take care of all the little daily details that Sherlock neglected while Sherlock looked after Rosie, one of the few mundane tasks that he did willingly and even seemed to enjoy. John should just move back in; then they could act like they were married in every way but one. Maybe that would be better than nothing. At least his commute would be shorter. He sighed again, not caring if it was audible this time, and headed into the kitchen to start dinner.

Read all the ficlets here: Welcome Christmas

[michellialeeids]

Week 5

Research Data Synthesis 

Questions

Quan-Lin shim 30 yrs / Designer at Catch / Zoom for day to day basis / collaboration / talking w/ clients / Business set up / company account / board room app / tv connection / part of zoom is interesting connects everyone / automatically share screen, zoom picks up / 

Two days WFH / I have set up / during week days / desk / large screen / laptop on side / duo screen / 

Macbook Pro 13 inch / Keyboard extension / 

Yes, lockdown last year / google hangouts / limiting / skype / 

Positive / Audio was super clear / upgrade / hear multiple people

Interface was confusing / 1 week / more around learning how to schedule meetings + google calendar 

Grid layout / filters & background / -> fun / engaging / 

Waiting Room (feature positive)/ Downside : notification counter not great / not noticeable / space bar mute /  Platform all in once place / for softwares

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph Jeong / 19yrs / Student at Techtorium

Mornings : School - Attend classes physically or online / Get back home - get ready for work / Go to Work until late at night / shower / eat if have to / play games 

Desktop computer / Laptop (Asus Tough Gaming)

Yeah, through online articles/youtube videos in regards security breach 

Yeah, around Feb 2021 

My main purpose is to attend classes 

Discord / Microsoft Teams 

It was okay, quality (zoom classes / video camera and feedback / compared to skype - video feedback is bad when there are many people in one session) is pretty fair / very organizational use but not private use

When hosting a video calls on zooms - break out zooms - make people go in them and personal talks is pretty welldone / can create our own channels for whatever projects 

Neutral

No 

Function - satisfies purpose 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ryan Campbell / Designer Lead at Catch Design / 36 

Work FH / 2 days a week / tuesdays and fridays / work in the office rest of those days / at home work from small desk / at work : better situations / work off screen at both places / fuzzy internet at home / office: zoom calls in board rooms/ meeting rooms  

Macbook Pro / Android Huawei P20 :uses zoom on both devices

Yes, I use zoom at work / make decision between Micro Team and Zoom/ Zoom won/ Director made decision/ I got to know about Zoom at Catch Design : May 2020 

Lockdown Zoom with friends quiz night - social purpose / 

Main purposes : internal meetings / external client / some use team which is awkward / social purposes to catch up / corporate updates done via zoom 

The 40 minute time limit is really annoying (bad experience pissed me off)

Average - middle of the road - nothing amazing - found it hard to start a meeting / not intuitive / scheduling a new meeting & new meeting is confusing / sharing links is confusing (text forms ) / should really be one piece of text not a novel or words / copy and paste is confusing because there are 

Closing a zoom call (leave a meeting - and then quick leave (do you really want to leave?) / makes it awkward when in front of other (pause ) : worst user experience u cld possibly create - two step leaving journey = awkward pause / less possible to accidentally close the meeting . Security(should be chooseable) / Waiting room is auto ticked (WHY?) / Creating video conference call / casual meet ups 50%(majority) / client meetings 50% - so don’t want hardcore security like waiting rooms 

Basic functionality works for video  / video background filters / (beautifier mode) / video filters is great (only thing i like about zoom) / does its job

A lot of frustration / punishing!!! /  very painful / double close is painful / positive 

Single click close / intuitive point of view / just does video conferencing = a lot of annoyances / Zoom works well with external parties / Teams can only be within Teams / Audio is an issue : trying to connect bluetooth headphones is difficult (if could be done well solving issues for bluetooth connected devices - easy connect and disconnect ) shareability - sharing a zoom link it hard = feels like 30 different time zones / 3 different hyper links / not all of them are meeting links / easy to share screen / 

Social events : really hard to have everyone to have everyone visible on screen / layout is restricted / more than 8 ppl - can only see 5 at a time / on mobile is worse - need to change layout / connectivity / chats algd / doesn’t stand out that much / google meets : microsoft teams / facebook calling 1:1 communication / 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quentin, Front-End Wed developer - 41 / Catch Design / Father of two 

Sitting behind laptop most of the time / office / at home trying to take care of kids not coming in to home office 

Macbook Pro 

Yes, got to know about Zoom day I started with Catch, 1st April 2020 

Yes, it was a Wellington/ Auckland Catch Design conference meeting / first time using - was very simple/ was using google hangout before Zoom/ initial layout was different / hangout’s interface was different / nice and simple 

Virtual backgrounds / had worked for a company in UK - thought about masking my background 

Apprehensive / First day of work kind of nerves 

I never know when people add comments / chats - doesn;t know until someone says something about it / 

I bought shares in Zoom / it peaked / but it dropped so lost a bit of money / 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lie-An / 34/ IOS Developer 

Train Commute / Office 8:30 / 3-4 hrs / go back home / watch netflix series / go back to bed around 9 / not that tiring 

Macbook Pro / iphone 12 pro

& 5. Yes, previous employment started using Zoom for experimentation / as back up for google hang out / at Catch Design mostly used a lot / use it for online conferences 

March / April Last year (lockdown)

Meetings / conferences 

It was very quick, but interface isn;t that appealing. Has improved npw, the view itself is PC/ easy to start meetings / easy to invite / can be attached to google calendar

The speed of the software / interface: not that much : using Zoom - more focused on functionality 

Got used to it, understood how app works / frustration with iPad because it is hard to start meetings with the iPad Zoom 

The amount of time setting for the meeting / in hang out you can set a meeting for an hour/ for zoom there is a maximum limit if not pro user / background filters / notification reminder / (great!!) 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam / 28 / Tech LEad / Architecting application / Developing Application 

Half of the week in office by team / half of the week work from home 

Macbook Pro 13 inch 

Yes, Forced to use it for work. 

Yes, Just Before lockdown, iPad /

Meetings - team aligned on project guidelines / social zoom calls over lock down - team cohesive, gather requirements / find out and gather information / show product etc. 

First impression : wasn’t a big fan at start, before installed - big security breach (no good first impression), as I got used to using it, good video streaming expereince - interface : didn’t find it user-friendly (clunky), I would prefer Google Meet (sharing links / less extra step) 

Video streaming itself is very good / good quality / core feature is great 

Frustration / installation amongst people 

To get used to zoom - couple weeks - 

Google Meets - runs in the browser - click the link - straight into the feature. (extra step / user journey)

Used zoom for presentation / after research / professional development / kinda education / knowledge sharing with the team / collaborative environment / pretty easy / screen share - 

iPad Zoom interface  / trying to join from ipad (look into it) 

Remote Control Panel for Zoom (connected TV). Consistency amongst interfaces with different devices. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Interview 1: Grace Chey,  21, Product Design Student

1. I am a 20 year old full time student in my last year of studying industrial product design. 

2. I am either at home studying by myself or is at school (going to lectures, workshops and labs) surrounded by school peers. 

3. iPad, Macbook

4/ 5. Yes, I was first introduced to zoom by my school (University of Canterbury) last year for online learning during lockdown

6. For lectures and meetings for group projects

7. At first I found it very complicated as it was a new software for me and I found the downloading and logging in process was very long

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Interview 2: Saem, 35, Work and Income CSR, Studylink Officer 

1. Work and Income customer service representative/ StudyLink Officer

2. Call centre office environment  or working from home office 

3. iPhone, P.C.

4. Yes, during NZ’s nationwide lockdown - through online media and family 

5. Yes, for a job interview 

6. Work purposes 

7. Easy to use, simple intuitive interface

8. Zoom meeting calls - being able to easily have group zoom meetings

9. Being able to easily see who is in the meeting from a small device like a smartphone 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Interview 3: Ashley Jeong, 23, UX Intermediate Designer at Flight Digital

1. I’m a UXUI designer at a marketing agency. Have been working at the agency for 2 and a half years. I am 23 years old.

2. Physical environment at work is very spacious and well equipped with everything I need. Workwise, I have client meetings and workshops in our meeting rooms or at my desk doing work on the computer.

3. I use a 27inch imac as my primary screen and a smaller secondary LG screen at work. 13inch macbook at home.

4. Yes I know Zoom. I came to know Zoom when I visited Korea last year when covid first hit and church had to be done on Zoom.

5. Yes, beginning of Feb 2020.

6. Only use it for church. Have used it once for work because the client insisted we use Zoom. Usually use google hangouts at work.

7. Kinda confusing at first. Mostly because video meetings weren’t the norm before covid.

8. Fast access to the zoom room once I had the room code and password.

9. The thumbs up or hand wave emoji is nice to use when everyone is on mute.

10. To be honest, I’m not a huge fan of Zoom. It used to be way faster but it’s very slow these days and laggy compared with google meet. I find the interface for google meets is easier and straight forward.

11. Nope. Currently doing masters and if we have class online we use gomeeting.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Interview 4: Becky Jeong, 21, English Literature & Media Student

1. I am a 21 year old university student with a part time job. Studying a Bachelor of Arts degree, in my last year.

2. I go to my part time job every day, a Japanese restaurant on Upper Queen Street. I also attend my university classes. I go to the City Fitness gym in Albany a few times a week, and also attend church meetings or services. 

3. My Macbook air 

4. Yes I do. When we went into our first lockdown, we had to use it for uni classes and church.

5. Yes I have used it before. My first experience was when we had to have online classes for university.

6. We don’t use it for uni anymore, but we still use it at church for our daily 9pm prayer meetings.

7. It felt very unfamiliar because I hadn’t used some kind of video calling service in such a long time, especially in large groups.

8. Screen share was super helpful. I also like gallery view where we can see everyone rather than just the speaker.

9. At times I felt more connected to people because we could meet more frequently on Zoom more than we would meet in real life.

10. I don’t know about similar software. I only ever used video calling on my phone for brief calls and Zoom is already much more advanced than that.

11. Yes, we used it at uni. The features that were really useful were obviously the screen sharing so that we could see what the lecturer was referring to as they were talking, as well as the breakout rooms. We were in a class of 200, and then used the breakout room feature to split into groups of 4 or 5 to have discussions before coming back together. These features made online classes a lot easier and manageable. The chat feature was also useful because if a student had a question, we did not have to turn on our mic in the middle of class, but instead just ask on the chat.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Interview 5: Sarah Lee, 20, Engineering Student

1. Student, 20 years 

3. Laptop

4. Through others 

5. Mid 2020

6. Attending online conference and meetings

7. awkward and uncomfortable lol

9. group meetings across the country and having new encounters from different cities

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Updated interview questions (student + lecturer) 

1. Tell me about yourself, your occupation and your age

2. What is your study/work environment like?

3. What device do you mostly use on a daily basis for educational purposes?

4. Do you know what Zoom is? Have you used Zoom before? If so, how did you come to know about Zoom? When was your first Zoom experience?

5. Have you encountered using Zoom the 2020 lockdown? Could you please tell us about your experience? 

6. What is your main purpose of using Zoom?

7. What was your first impression of using Zoom?

8. What was the feature you were most satisfied with during your experience?

9. What are some memorable feelings / situations you have experienced while using Zoom?

10. Would you bring a feature from any software into Zoom? What would it be and why?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harper

1. Harper, born in 1997. Currently studying at AUT

2. Study desk set up at home, university library because its newly designed and fancy

3. Laptop (macbook pro), imac in level 4 WE

4. Yes, I have used it before. During the lockdown my tutor introduced Zoom to us for virtual classes since we couldn’t come in physically. 

5. Nothing really special but being able to switch between gallery/speak view, chat, break out rooms is good. At first I felt comfortable because personally physical meetings are uncomfortable. But when I had to present my work on Zoom, I was stressed because sometimes the audio didn't work. 

7. Very simple and straightforward. I learned to use all of it in 1 class

8. Reactions and emojis. Also the pop out screen that minimises when you are in a different window, 

10. In blackboard there is a whiteboard feature where everyone can write something down. 

Describe Zoom in 1 word - ‘futuristic’. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. Soumya, studying interaction design, 33 years old

2. Have own study space/desk at home

3. Laptop and phone: macbook pro and iphone

4. Yes I have. Started using it first last year due to uni through covid lockdown march 2020. 

5. My online experience was ok for the first time. It was engaging because of the break out rooms. It felt like in class where the lecturer jumped from each table. Peer to peer communication was good. It was quite awkward at times because only 2-3 people turned their cameras on, so very little social interaction. 

6. I use it for collab projects with my uni partner

7. Simple, functions are easy, but it would be better if it straight away shared the screen if you clicked on the button (right now there are too many steps) 

8. I was quite happy because I could finish and continue with my papers, way better than blackboard because you can't see who is speaking and all of the members. Zoom you can see everyone in the meeting

9. Share screen, reaction emojis are good as it lets people engage just like they are in a classroom

10. The break out rooms were great as I was able to have the 1:1 discussions and have engagement with the lecturer just as in real life. It was nice to have the time to catch up with classmates before class started.

11. For the chat, it would be nice to follow the facebook messenger system where there are separate chat boxes for different people. The current zoom chat system is confusing and can accidentally send to wrong people. 

1 word to describe: Reliable

For next week 

You should have completed your research 

You should have synthesized your findings into theme, then insights 

You should have several draft HMW statements to review. You will have some data! 

Be thinking about how you can present your research visually for your formative poster.

[pisati]

I hate feeling so annoyed by it but my head receptionist has been treating me like the girls in high school did and I can’t quite put a finger on what that means but it’s just. ugh

we got a new girl who does tech and reception back in like January or something and of course when someone is new everyone’s a little wary but welcoming. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her but I didn’t work directly with her enough, and then COVID hit and she ended up on the other team with Alexa. and I’d see Alexa tagging her in things on facebook but when you’re stuck with the same people 12 hours a day you do end up closer to them. whatever, you know?

but since we’ve been back together it feels like the girls on the other team are acting cliquey. at least, Alexa, the tech/receptionist girl, and another newer tech (though she’s honestly really nice and is cool with everyone). I get it, you all were on the same team for months. you got close. but even when we have staff meetings they’ll sit together and talk amongst themselves and won’t include the rest of us, so we’re just awkwardly sitting around while they talk and make their little inside jokes. we weren’t NOT good together as a team on our side, but we didn’t get like that.

Alexa has known I’ve been doing crafting since well before this all started. she knew I’d been tossing around the idea of an etsy shop. I finally made one. I’ve been sewing and crocheting and starting resin and I sewed a TON of masks for the clinic. she’s seen things I’ve posted on facebook and instagram. she’ll say stuff like “oh that’s cool” when I’ve told her about the things I’ve made. which, cool, I don’t need everyone to be enthusiastically supportive. we’re not close friends, I don’t expect her to do anything.

but the tech/reception girl recently started learning how to make resin things and she’s now making custom pet tags; which, cool! that’s awesome! but I’ve seen Alexa share her posts twice now to her own instagram. like “hey go support my coworker and her cute pet tags!”

I just made a facebook page for my shop too and maybe she just hasn’t been on facebook, which, okay, whatever. I literally just made the page so maybe it’s too soon to be bitter about it. but she’s liked the other girl’s facebook page.

and it just stings, you know? I don’t know what I did that she’s suddenly changed in how she sees me. she used to tag me in story posts when we’d share hot chocolate, she called me her work bestie once, we relate on the chronic illness struggles, and I was like, oh, cool, a work friend! that’s always nice to have. but now she rarely talks to me unless there’s something wrong and it feels like she just acts different towards me. it’s so hard to describe. it’s just like fucking high school, and my lab in college. people (women especially for some reason) get all toned-down around me. they aren’t unkind, but they can be somewhat brisk. I can read it on their faces— it’s like they don’t want to be talking to me and are patiently waiting for me to say what I need to say. it makes me so nervous. it’s like they’re just tolerating my presence. they’re being polite because they have to, but I can tell they don’t want me around. Alexa will talk down to me sometimes too and that’s annoying. but there’s something just straight up different about how she treats me now and I’m not a fan.

and the tech/receptionist girl.. I honestly don’t like her much. I gave her a chance. I try to be understanding with new people because I know that I don’t know them. but she literally always seems annoyed. at everyone and everything. all the time. she mumbles and sometimes when I go into treatment to get the techs’ attention for an appointment that’s just arrived, I’ll hear her say something and I can’t tell if she’s acknowledging the appointment or in her own space. she’s gotten annoyed with me and told me to put the check in clipboard on the shelf we put those on when I hesitate because I’m not sure if I got my message across. she couldn’t sound more disinterested when she answers the phone and talks to clients. and I’ve heard her on multiple occasions saying nasty things about clients based on what they look like. I get that some people are rude or weird or whatever but saying shit about them just based on their looks? fuck off with that. she was ranting to me a few weeks ago about how their team felt like they were cleaning up my team’s mistakes during split shifts and they were acting like we were so incompetent. a few times she mentioned split shifts and mentioned our team in a negative way. and I told her, “...well, we felt the same way about you guys”.

and everyone that was on her team adores her. they think her attitude is endearing. I get that things are frustrating and now you have a baby with your boyfriend at 23 and you’re making a tech salary which isn’t a lot and you have to commute from another state, but don’t make your annoyance everyone else’s problem. but she makes funny quips sometimes so they like her.

last night I was closing with the other head receptionist. it wasn’t terribly busy last night even though it was crazy in the morning, and we were feeling kind of bored. I was trying to stay on top of scans and emails all day and I finally caught up by close. she let me go home not long after because our last few appointments were still there and she took today off anyway. this morning I woke up to a text to the reception group asking if surgery paperwork got done. the receptionist I was working with was like “oh shit, sorry, and I even stayed late!” no response. I sent an “oh no I forgot too, I’m sorry”. and Alexa texted a whole paragraph like “Lou said it wasn’t busy last night and this morning has been crazy and there was a whole pile of scans this morning too”

you know what? you’re right. it wasn’t busy last night. we both should have remembered to check for drop off paperwork but we didn’t. that was my mistake before I left, and that was also Tricia’s mistake because she closed up shop and should have taken stock. but when I left there were no scans to be done. maybe two, but I had already clocked out and Tricia could have easily scanned and attached them. the techs bring up papers to scan after we close, it’s not like I’m just leaving them there intentionally for morning staff just to fuck everyone over with more stupid busy work. and I know for a FACT that the new girl told Alexa it wasn’t busy last night because she was there and she’s been taking every opportunity she can to say shit about us because of all these assumptions she’s made since we were on split teams. acting like we’re just partying it up and being lazy on purpose. she’s ranted to me about how she thinks Tricia stays late intentionally to get more hours because there’s nothing to do after close. I wouldn’t know if that’s true but it’s annoying as hell that she just makes shit up in her head and gets herself all worked up about it.

surgery paperwork is a morning thing too. nobody told us it hadn’t been done. yes, we should have checked, and that’s our mistake. but Alexa has dropped the ball in the morning and I’ve texted her after close like “did the paperwork get done?” and she’s been like “oh shit sorry no” and I fucking take care of it without complaining because that’s my job. I get it. people forget things. lord knows I do. there was one day the doctors got really annoyed at me because sending out negative fecal test results is a reception job and none of the result emails got sent. I wasn’t there that morning and labs are a morning thing, so I didn’t know why they hadn’t gotten sent. I looked into it, none of the fecal labs had downloaded to the computer system, so it looked like they hadn’t come in yet. but the doctors showed me the actual lab website, which had the results. that had in fact come in. Alexa should know to check that, she has the login information printed out and on the front desk and she’s also been a vet receptionist for 8 years and should know about the lab site, but it didn’t happen. so I had to stay late and go through all the fecal results that had come back and send out the emails. I didn’t even know that that had happened because, again, morning thing, not my job as a closer, but I took care of it anyway because my job IS to pick up where my coworkers drop the ball. I didn’t get annoyed (at least not THAT annoyed) and I didn’t point fingers or act like anyone was being lazy. because that’s my fucking job.

so I didn’t much appreciate this morning being made to feel like we were just being lazy and like we didn’t just genuinely forget to do the drop off paperwork. we know how stressful the head vet’s surgery days are (which, of course that would be today). she always has 3-5 procedures and today there were 4 and two drop offs for ultrasounds. we didn’t just not do the paperwork to spite the morning staff. I wouldn’t do that to anyone intentionally. but they sure are fucking acting like it.

the head vet told me something back in April when she and Tricia pulled me in for that meeting that really stuck with me: assume best intentions. assume competence. she told me that the other reception team had gotten really annoyed with us one thursday when they came in after we’d had our last day and there was a whole pile of faxes that needed to be sent, and they were mad that we just left it for them. we hadn’t. the doctors just didn’t put those up there until after we left. and that changed my attitude considerably. I had been getting annoyed at the other team for doing similar things. but I tried to remind myself that they were probably doing their best too and everyone drops the ball sometimes. the head vet brought that up at our last staff meeting too and I wish those two had thought about it more. they just prefer to point fingers I guess.

I’m just annoyed. I hate feeling like this. I hate feeling shunned by people when I don’t even know what I did. literally all the girls in high school acted like that towards me. they wouldn’t give me the time of day if they didn’t have to. I don’t know what Alexa has in her head about me now but I’m sure whatever it is is wrong. and I’m sick of thinking about it. I shouldn’t even give her the real estate in my brain. I should focus on the people that do like me instead of searching for reasons why others don’t. I don’t know what she likes so much about that new girl but I don’t really care either. they can go off and be cliquey and I’ll just keep actually trying to be nice and understanding towards everyone.

it’s funny too because I have a feeling Alexa is annoyed about me posting about my fatigue on instagram stories, thinking I don’t have it as bad as she does because she has MS. I didn’t lose sight in one eye temporarily and I don’t have brain lesions and I don’t have a ton of meds I have to be on and I don’t get the MS hug or painsomnia or whatever else, so obviously I shouldn’t complain. but she complains all the fucking time. half her instagram stories are her complaining about being in pain and not being able to sleep, you know, the same thing I also have issues with. 50% of what she posts is MS related and the other 50% is about how much she misses california. maybe I just don’t have it as bad in her eyes because my illness isn’t my entire personality. I try not to complain about it and I try to push myself to my own detriment because I have a job and that job entails being a functioning cog in a whole machine.

I don’t know. I think I’m going to take a week off next month with my PTO. just catch up with myself. I haven’t had an actual break since I started this fucking job. I’ve been lucky with a few 3 day weekends but that’s it. we get one day off for holidays. the actual holiday. I’m a little nervous to ask for a whole week but fuck it. I’ve been at the clinic for 14 months now and haven’t asked for any time off for anything that wasn’t medical-related. I deserve a fucking week.

[godzillamendoza]

Film School Week 1

I’ve always toyed with the idea of keeping a journal to splay out my thoughts and keep a record of the strange and often scary things that run through my head in times of stress. I’ve also heard that it could be a good way to relieve some of that stress, and as anyone that’s been in my position can attest, the first week of college is fucking stressful. 

Now, I’ve dreaded this for a long time. Not because the concept of higher education put me off, or because I secretly didn’t want to do it, or because I thought college was a waste of time. No, it’s because of the drive. I have a crippling fear of driving, which I may do another entry about later. In short, being behind a wheel makes me panic like a Spider-Man UE4 developer trapped in a room with a Marvel Executive and a lawyer. Something about driving gives me this feeling that the whole world is out to get me and every time someone goes around me because they think I’m not going fast enough or they honk at me for waiting too long to go when the light turns green all makes me want to climb out of my skin and leave this planet and go live on Mars in a hut with good wi-fi. (this isn’t stream of consciousness is it? Oh, I guess it is now.)

Anyway, the drive to school is 45 - 50 minutes long. A 10 minute drive to pick up my friend Josh from his apartment stresses me out, and as you an imagine, the drive to school is 4.5 - 5x worse than that. The first day of driving there alone came, my mother being busy with prior engagements at work and my father being lazy. I thought I’d use my GPS to get there, but google decided that instead of a straight path down the highway, I should get onto the highway, get off of it, get onto a different highway, and then eventually merge onto the one I was already on. This all being uncharted territory for me, I went along with it and added way too many extra steps to my commute. 

The first day on Monday was rather easy, being that it lasted 2 hours. Apparently the school had assigned me a schedule to go there on Mondays and Wednesdays every week, but then mysteriously altered it to Tuesdays and Thursdays without notifying me. The teacher in the first class spent the usual 2 hours rambling about safety procedures and reading from a syllabus. Though I figured something was wrong when he did the “what the fuck is everyone’s names” thing and said I didn’t appear on his class list. Class ended and I wandered to the front office to ask about it and discovered the mix up. 

This is the point where I considered something drastic and violent, because I had driven to the school one extra time than I needed to for the week and gas was expensive. I opted to make this day at least somewhat productive by making a short jaunt across campus and getting some financial aid paperwork to fill out at the main building of the school. This meant wading through the crowd of people all staring directly up at the sky with what looked like 3-D glasses from Sharkboy and Lava Girl. As much as I wanted to sit back and gawk with them at the cosmic ballet of a solar eclipse, I had things to get done. So I spent the majority of said eclipse in a waiting room as the student help desk thing ignored my request for a form that was in a basket two feet away from where the guy was fucking sitting I could just go back there and get it why do I have to wait this is fucking stupid I hate everything. Thankfully though I walked out with the form and got to see the eclipse at its peak with some of those 80s bully glasses they were handing out. 

Tuesday was boring. All we did was look through the syllabus AGAIN, but this time with a different teacher and a different set of students and it lasted the full day instead of one class. My rampant insomnia had kept me up until 3 AM the night before, which I consider impressive for myself seeing as how I saw the sunrise every day of summer. This led me to making some tweets to mock the situation and of course people immediately couldn’t tell when I was trying to be silly. I got a mixed bag of encouraging messages from fans that wanted me to succeed and several crazy people ranting about how I should get my money back and quit college because they had a bad experience with a completely different type of college in a different state. And as we all know, if someone has a bad experience or dislikes something, EVERYONE ELSE should disregard its existence forever under their advice. 

The highlight of Tuesday was a moment where I made a genuine connection with one of my teachers. He was a young guy, maybe in his early 20s, who had been editing since 2009 and graduated from the school, only to realize that he loved Post-Production enough to teach it between professional editing jobs. At one point he tried to demonstrate to a half asleep class that they should have a watchful eye for editing choices in other people’s projects to avoid their mistakes and emulate their strengths. Thus, he showed us the short film he had edited during his time in the class. It was some short that had premiered at our state’s film festival, chronicling the plight of an overworked steel-mill employee that began an unhealthy competition with him to receive a promotion and make his family proud. Then he murders his friend by pouring lava on him and making it look like a random industrial accident. The teacher began rolling through it and pointing out his own mistakes as an editor in the film. An act of humility that I found refreshing after going to high school and answering to a faculty of self absorbed assholes that became teachers to feel like they were important. He explained how he made continuity mistakes with a character placing his hand on his face in one shot, then in the next shot removing the opposite hand. Mistakes such as this drive people in the industry fucking crazy because they’re trained to look for it, but none of the students noticed the goof. Myself included. That was when he started briefly describing the scene with the lava and I derailed the whole flow of the class. 

I asked him more questions about how he did such an impressive visual effect and I genuinely feel like it made his day that I was so fascinated. He gave up on talking about the syllabus and instead talked with me about the process. Apparently they had gone out to the back of the school and placed a black felt mat behind a mannequin and then poured green paint on it. Then he rotoscoped the footage to show only the green paint, which he then digitally altered to have the texture and glow of molten steel. He then placed this footage over the actor in the scene, who simply just fell down on the set because real lava is expensive, and lined up the way it poured over the mannequin with the way it would have theoretically landed on the actor. Having seen a lot of visual effects tutorials or watching the behind the scenes videos for Dragon Ball Z abridged, I knew almost all of the terminology he had thrown my way and I kept up in the conversation rather nicely. I don’t know how the other students felt about it considering it was just them watching two guys geek out over special effects, but frankly I didn’t (and still don’t) give a shit. It was fun. This was followed by a drive home where the GPS told me to get onto the highway, then off of it, then under it, then over it, then onto it again. Suffice to say, driving was not fun that day and I got home with my hands shaking and my legs numb and my ass sore from sitting for 56 minutes. 

Thursday started with... well today is Thursday. But today started with me wanting to procrastinate getting out of bed, so against my better judgment I set my alarm clock forward an extra 20 minutes after it rang the first time. I laid in bed with my eyes closed and my heart pumping through the back of my spine at the thought of driving. I didn’t even sleep for that 20 minutes. I just waited. Thinking. Panicking. After that I took a shower for 30 minutes like an idiot. Starving African children could have eaten all that water I wasted. Then I got into the car, turned on the GPS and it said that the drive would last 55 minutes because traffic was so heavy on the highway. Class began in one hour. It offered an alternate route where I did the same bullshit gymnastics of getting off and on the highway 6 times, but I decided that I had the path memorized a certain way and I was going to stick to it. So I disregarded the antiquated GPS and just drove there from memory with about 8 minutes to spare before class started. I had a decent amount of sleep the night before and I was on time and the drive was easy. It seemed like things were off to a good start. Then things started becoming more clear. 

The teacher in my Production 1 class seemed different from other teachers in some way that I couldn’t quite place. But today in seeing him run through a Powerpoint on the basics of shot composition, the rule of thirds, shot types, etc. I figured out what was off. He wasn’t a teacher. He had no degree for it. He as just some guy who, much like everyone else teaching here, was a student with a passion for film who started passing his knowledge to a new generation. It didn’t feel like I was being talked down to, it felt like I was being talked to. It felt like he was just some nice guy, maybe even a friend, trying his damnedest to explain how this stuff works. And then I realized something funny on top of that. I already knew everything he was explaining because I had studied this stuff in my free time since I was 9 years old. I think the only new information I received that I hadn’t picked up from documentaries, books, or YouTube movie reviews, was the technical aspects of these fancy 4k cameras and special tripods they wheeled in from the back room. Sure I was as lost as everyone else when it came to the equipment, but the mechanics of shooting a scene, the methods of writing, the terminology of camera movements-- all of it I already knew.

The rest of the day after felt like something new. I felt like I was somewhere I gave a shit about what I was being told. After 8 years of drifting through school and feeling bored out of my mind (as well as some unhealthy levels contempt for my middle and high school’s respective staffs) I felt something bizarre. Caring. It was stuff I thought was cool. I was being taught stuff I’d probably be trying to figure out at home anyway if I wasn’t at the school. At long last, there was a sense of purpose. 

The Post-Production class was filled with editing terminology I wasn’t familiar with like the L-Cut, the J-Cut, Picture Lock and a few others. But I knew how to DO all of these things. I had already done them in my free time on YouTube projects. I finally had names for these processes I had self taught in my last 2 years of pursuing this strange potential career path. Things were starting to make sense and once again, the post production teacher and I ended up just talking about random technical stuff while the class probably rolled their eyes. He was barely older than me by a few years and he clearly shared a lot of my opinions and favored techniques for these things. I never expected that the first friend I’d make would be one of the teachers, especially given my history with authority. 

After that in my script analysis class I think I surprised the professor. He asked a question and I answered in a way that caused him to stutter and rethink his next words. I think I inadvertently stole his thunder a little by teaching the class a bit of film history that he wanted to tell. We were discussing types of characters and their levels of effectiveness with an audience. He asked “Why do you think the anti-hero become so popular in the 70s?” and I told him “because we had just gotten through Vietnam. In times of war, morals become more gray. Soldiers sometimes have to make tough decisions and do bad things for a good cause, Vietnam especially. When good and bad started to fade together in people’s minds it became easy for that to bleed into the writing at the time and you have more characters reflecting society’s feelings.”

He seemed impressed and annoyed at the same time as he said “that’s exactly right, yes.” But he continued on and I kept quiet the rest of the class. I’m sure he had characters in mind like Paul Kersey or Alex in Clockwork Orange. The entire time I rambled my psuedo-intellectual answer, all I had in mind was the Punisher. I was worried I’d end up sounding like an obnoxious know-it-all-teacher’s-pet asshole like Peter Parker in that new cartoon if I had kept going. It still felt nice to be right for once. Instead of being the bored/depressed kid in the back of the class praying for either death or the bell to ring, I was the smart one that was engaged and smiling. In fact, I started becoming self conscious and hyper-aware of it, but all day I think I was the only that just couldn’t stop... smiling. 

The drive home was better. I had finally figured out the most simple path and I just went for it. I disregarded the GPS and its dumbshit advice. Sure I spent 25 minutes of the trip in grid-lock dead stopped traffic, but I felt in control. I felt like I was confident in my ability to find my way home. I didn’t mind how slow it went because I knew that everyone on the road was in the same boat as me. And the slower you drive, the less likely you are to fly at the windshield if you clip a concrete divider. So I sat and talked to myself on the way home, cracking jokes back and forth with the voice in my head whom I’ve affectionately named “Co-Pilot” and I had an okay time. I got home and realized that everything was going to be okay. I kind of wanted to cry. I also kind of wanted to laugh. 

It felt like all these years of worrying about the inevitability of college and the dangerous commute just came off my shoulders. I felt like a boulder was lifted off my chest and I could breathe again. Now I know why I wanted so badly to go to this place for all these years. Its where I belong. And while it will certainly get a little stressful in the coming months to meet deadlines and collaborate with other creatives, its all the kind of stress I have spent the last years growing accustomed to by doing over the internet. Its not the stress of feeling stupid because I struggled so hard in my math class. Its just the same kind of hassle I’ve had to deal with already by virtue of being an artist. Its the kind of hassled I want to deal with because I know when the final product came out, it was all worth it. Feeling dumb in math class all these years to learn something arbitrary wasn’t worth it. This all feels right. Like I’m Jerry at a daycare for other Jerrys while Rick and Morty go off on adventures. This place was made for me. So yes, an art school is fucking worth my money because I’d rather feel what I’m feeling right now than be some 19 year old working in McDonald’s during the day and feeling hollow inside because I can’t express myself creatively. I hate that shit. 

This isn’t going to be easy, and there might be parts of it that suck. There might be parts of it that drive me to tears and anger, but it’s worth it. I finally found a place where I belong and that I love. Love isn’t easy. Its a lot of tiny problems to solve one by one to make a thing work in the long term. That’s okay. I’m prepared for that and there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. For just once. I’m feeling okay. And that feels kind of amazing.