#The Daydreamer Detective Opens A Tea Shop

[h3rmitsunited]

thinking about dirk getting a couple months into his friendships with Todd and Farah and completely losing his shit and like running away for a week

like listen, this guy is not someone that has lasting connections to people... not to like good friendly people. The Rowdy Three are probably the closest thing he's had to a constant connection over the years and we see how shit that goes for him

so like he goes on cases, he meets some folks, shit gets wacky, maybe some people get hurt, maybe he does weird shit, maybe things end up okay, but nobody ever sticks around

He is always... alone.

That's what he tells Todd. Always alone.

Which means he doesn't have to think about long term, or the impact of his decisions or how relationships go or whatever. These people aren't going to be in his life for long anyways. He's always surrounded by disaster and danger and death, so maybe they'll die before he solves the case.

It's not necessarily callousness, it's survival.

And then suddenly, the Spring case and time travel Dirk tells him, hey this guy's your best friend, and Dirk goes okay cool man

But like what does that even mean to him?

I can see why Dirk wouldn't really think about how Todd would take him keeping the time travel/maybe clone Dirk talking to him in the hall a secret, because like how often do these friendships last? Sure it hurt to hear Todd tell him he deserves to be alone, and he's trying to fix it, but by the hospital, he's sadly resigned to that being it.

"Well, here I am again."

But Todd surprises him by showing up. By saying that he's gonna stick around and then Farah wants to fund his agency and suddenly there's a long term and its exciting but also scary and there's no way this can last

and maybe it's a bit of a whatever when he feels that pull dragging him out to the sidewalk and into Blackwing's clutches because yeah this makes more sense now... he's not supposed to have friends and an agency and people that like him and stability so being rekidnapped, that's more his speed

And sure in blackwing, he's still daydreaming and night dreaming about Todd and Farah and getting out, but how shocking must it have been to actually get out and then have those two people be there waiting for him when he fell out of the trunk

That it wasn't just another restart, another case that brings him to more people with different names and faces and that don't stick around after he finishes the case

It's Todd Brotzman and Farah Black and they're here and they know him and it's crazy, but he's supposed to be the same guy that they knew from the last time he saw them and he doesn't usually have to do that and todds expecting more and he wants to give them what they want but he's never been good under pressure and it's worse now because blackwing and there's too much and people know him and they're there and now people are dying and Mr. Priest is back and everything is bad and Todd is looking at him like he's broken and this is the time that it would be better to just let them take him away again-

He shuts down. He pushes away. It's better to be alone. It's better when people don't know him enough to expect certain thing from him.

But he pushes through because he may be having a breakdown, but hell, he still has enough gumption to finish the goddamn case because he's a fucking detective.

And he does and once again, Todd and Farah are still there

And they open the agency

And its going and they stick around

But that little niggling itch is still there that this isn't going to last, that he doesn't get long term, he doesn't get to keep people

But Todd and Farah are still there and they know more and more about him all the time and knowing him means it's harder to hide the bad parts, the parts he doesn't like and tries to cover with bright colors and eccentric personality and rambling words

And one morning Todd comes in and sets a cup on Dirks desk and it's not coffee because he hates coffee, it's tea from that shop that he likes on the corner that the morning worker knows his name and Todd knows his drink exactly and it's perfect and Farah's left a note on his desk telling him exactly what questions he needs to ask this client at the meeting later because she knows that he'll forget because he always does and Todd looks at him in this way that feels too much

And he excuses himself to the bathroom but instead runs out the backdoor and just bolts because he wasn't expecting to still have this and it's terrifying because it's been this long and he's let himself want this life and now it's going to kill him to lose it and it's going to happen because it always does, so he's just gotta beat it to the punch

And then disappearance and panic and calling in the reinforcement and tracking down dirk and the long exhausting emotional talk about trauma and healing and growing and finding ways to feel safe and todd and farah convince him to come back

And its not fixed but it gets better and it takes time and love and support and fucking therapy man and dirk finds himself gazing at the two most important people in his life and it doesn't make him want to run and he can be okay with the time that he gets with them

[valyrou]

Hello lovely! I was wondering if I could get a bsd matchup? I’m 20 and use she/her pronouns. I’m bi so any gender is fine. For personality I’m creative, introverted, and individualistic. Though I’m introverted, around my friends/when I’m comfortable I can be quite talkative and humorous. However, I definitely treasure my alone time the most. Im a very big homebody and can be very hermit introvert sometimes. As for bad traits, I am sometimes the worst pessimist when it comes to myself. I’ll be fine motivating others but then when it comes to me I live by the “be ready for the worst and you wont be disappointed” As for hobbies escaping to new worlds while reading books/comics, watching movies, and playing rpg video games. My favorite genres are fantasy supernatural, detective and sci-fi, though I do love a good classic from time to time. Apart from that, I love working out. My interests on the other hand are design focused. I’m currently in university. I love my practice and everything including, game, web and interaction design, video art and visual effects, 3D modeling and character design, and digital illustration. I hope to get into game design or visual effects in the future.

A list of random likes: coffee, chai tea, dark chocolate, rock/blues/jazz/80s pop/soundtrack music, statement jewelry and accessories, cafe art shows, arcades, comic book stores, purple, thai/Indian/Chinese food, roller blading to classic rock, quality alone time.

A random list of dislikes: people i am unfamiliar (I have trust issues oops) with and have to make small talk with, the biting cold, rain, non fiction, staying too close to reality and not being allowed to daydream/imagine/roam freely in my thoughts, physical touch, overly crowded areas.

My love language is acts of service both ways. And as said before I’m not the most comfortable with physical touch. As for what I want in a partner, I would love a companion to just explore my hobbies/interests and their hobbies/interests together. Bonus points if some overlap haha.

Thank you!

A/n: Hi!!! I had such a hard time thinking of who I should match you up with but I came to a conclusion! Also I have around 25 requests in my inbox that makes me very happy !! Sorry that this is so short but I hope you still like it! Anyways on to the match up…

Requests are still open…

I am gonna Match you up with…

JUNICHIRO!!

You want someone to explore your hobbies with?? He will be there to help you!

He doesn’t necessarily do PDA or physical affection in general (that’s where I struggled with the match up)

He wouldn’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable, so acts of service is enough for him to show his affection for you

But please say some sweet things to him, because this man’s love language is words of affirmation as well as acts of service

Nice strolls in the park maybe??

He‘d listen to you, interested in your studies and even asks you to explain some stuff further to him.

In return he tells you about his school day :)

Would take you to aqua zoos, the cinema or take you with him to shop for groceries

But honestly you two couldn’t go anywhere without having the most fun ever

Anything just gets 10x funnier

[spajonas]

Teaser Thursday - Typhoon Amanda

It’s time for teaser images for THE DAYDREAMER DETECTIVE OPENS A TEA SHOP! First up, when Typhoon Amanda finally enters Mei’s life, she causing mayhem and destruction, and poor Mei is left dealing with the clean-up. I remember writing this and thinking of the imagery of dealing with natural disasters, and I’ve decided it’ll be a significant part of the next book of the series! Hopefully that little tease will hold you over until the next book is available.

THE DAYDREAMER DETECTIVE OPENS A TEA SHOP is now available! Get caught up with Mei and her hometown of Chikata, or start the series with THE DAYDREAMER DETECTIVE and see how it all started.

Now Available!

Buy The Daydreamer Detective Opens A Tea Shop

Available on iBooks, Amazon, Kobo, Nook, and more! (You’ll be able to choose your bookstore on the following page, if you have not chosen a default Books2Read store already.)

Teaser Thursday – Typhoon Amanda was originally published on S. J. Pajonas

[shakey-hands]

please please can we get fukuzawa awkwardly having to tell ranpo he’s dating reader and the two of them start fighting and reader is subjected to it??? 😍😍

haha yeah. first ask that imma answer, let me know if you guys want more. my asks are open for any (except mineta gross) mha, ouran, or bungo characters :)

{this one is gonna be done with she/her pronouns but if you ask for gender neutral or he/him or any other pronouns, i can do it}

---

The clock struck two when Y/N looked at her phone, leg bouncing up and down in a way that always annoyed the people around her. Great. It was thirty minutes past their meeting time and her boyfriend still had not shown up with what she understood was his adopted son.

It had been a good plan. Meet on neutral territory, gas up (what Y/N assumed was) a teenage boy with a sweets addiction, and then break the news. Y/N was not sure why they needed to go through such lengthy troubles to inform her boyfriend’s son that they were dating. He was at least old enough to understand what dating was. And from what she had heard from Kunikida, Fukuzawa’s son had a very prominent dating life of his own. But Y/N trusted her boyfriend, no matter how many times he looked off into the distance with quiet wisdom that felt vague.

Y/N sipped her tea, realizing that caffeine would only worsen her anxiety. It didn’t matter how many times Fukuzawa and Kunikida tried to tell her that the meeting wouldn’t be a big deal and that the son would love her, she wasn’t so sure. He was working at the Armed Detective Agency and was good at what he did. At least those were Kunikida’s words as Y/N and him were quietly reading in the same room as they did on Saturday nights. While Y/N appreciated Kunikida for his straight forward/driven personality, he did not fare well in comforting her.

Which brought her to her boyfriend. His solid, piercing eyes would always soften as she talked about her day over their dinner dates and he would brush the back of his hand on her cheek in the moments they were alone with one another. While Y/N rarely noticed because she herself was too infatuated with him, Fukuzawa cared deeply for her after seven months of dating. Their last hurdle was introducing Y/N to Ranpo. Fukuzawa was not at all worried since Y/N had a knack for making sweets and made people feel as if they were special when she smiled at them. There was never a shortage of praise around her.

Y/N checked her phone again, hoping that an apology text would come through and she would not be left in the dark. That however was proving difficult. Fukuzawa was driving with Ranpo eating cotton candy in the passenger seat. He had to be bribed away from the sweets table Dazai had set up for some ungodly known reason to mess with Atsushi. It was embarrassing how long it took for Kunikida to pry Ranpo’s little grubby hands away from the snacks and then another amount of time for Fukuzawa to get Ranpo to put on his seatbelt.

It made Fukuzawa nervous that he was so late. He knew Y/N would be understanding, it was part of the reason he enjoyed her company so much. Knowing her, she would probably be bouncing her knee and staring down at the table, overthinking things. He, of course, was right.

As Fukuzawa was pulling into the parking lot, he spotted his girlfriend’s car. It was pristine, as always, and had a small cat paw sticker on the back left bumper. He smiled inwardly, realizing that he had been waiting for this. There was a future with Y/N and Fukuzawa couldn’t wait.

Ranpo still had yet to get out of the car, his glasses dangling from his shirt pocket and a light dusting of sugar crystals on his lips. He was pouting, of course. Kunikida did not pack enough snacks for the car ride, meaning Ranpo did not have the mental energy to get out of the car and go into whatever flop coffee shop the president insisted they go into. People were so stupid and Ranpo already just finished a case that was so obvious. The local police really needed to be more useful.

“Get out of the car,” Fukuzawa said, getting more and more agitated.

“No,” Ranpo said.

“Let’s go. I promise there will be sweets inside the shop.”

“So? There were sweets at the agency.”

Fukuzawa rolled his eyes, knowing Ranpo would sit in the car out of stubbornness. “Ranpo-”

“Yukichi?” A soft voice called out from the entrance of the cafe.

Fukuzawa turned to see Y/N standing right outside. She had a to-go cup of something hot in her hands, jacket sleeves pulled over her hands to stop the warmth from burning her skin. Even though it was overcast and windy, Y/N still seemed to have a certain glow about her that always took Fukuzawa’s breath away. She waved timidly, not knowing why he was awkwardly standing behind his parked car with a weird defensive stance. He nodded over to her, giving her a genuine smile before turning his head back to the car and glaring.

“Is everything okay?”

Y/N began to approach her boyfriend. The only other time she had seen her boyfriend have this stance was when she had bumped into some eyebrowless pale emo kid in an accident at the mall. Fukuzawa seemed to pick the weird fights, but she just smiled through it. His eyes held a certain annoyance the Y/N had not seen before. Her eyebrows furrowed as she took a step off the curb. Fukuzawa held out his hand, motioning her to not get closer. Y/N paused, unsure about his demeanor.

“Ranpo, don’t make me ask again.” Fukuzawa’s voice held a bass to it that Y/N had never heard before. She could only assume it was his dad voice that he has never had to use with her.

The window rolled down on the old car for just a crack. “I don’t remember a question being asked.”

The voice was whiny and slightly muffled, as if the speaker had sweets in his mouth. Fukuzawa rolled his eyes and put his hand on the glass. Y/N was slightly shocked by her boyfriend, but decided to let him do his thing. She was not a parent and the closest time she had ever been was when she had a babysitting gig decades ago when she was a teen. While she was interested in a family, she had neither the time nor mental capacity to follow through. So she stepped back onto the curb and took a sip of her tea, relishing in the warmth it provided.

“Ranpo, if you don’t get out of the damned car, there will be no sweets at the agency for a year.”

A clear threat had been made.

The door slammed into the car next to it, causing a dent that Fukuzawa watched form. Out from the passenger seat, a short man with a slight pout crawled out of the car. Definitely not the young teenager Y/N had been expecting. He was only slightly taller than Y/N and wore a cape. In fact, he looked like a full grown adult, maybe only ten years younger than Y/N. Her face said it all, though neither men were looking at her. They just stared one another down before Fukuzawa remembered his loving girlfriend stood awkwardly behind him. He motioned for her to come over.

Ranpo did not look impressed as he looked her up and down. Y/N looked too ordinary to know Fukuzawa in her jeans and plain jacket combo. Her shoes were dirty from all the yard work she had done throughout the years. As she got closer, Ranpo watched closely as Fukuzawa gently touched the small of her back before wrapping his arm around her waist. While Ranpo had never seen the President act like this, he did not care.

“Ranpo, I would like you to meet-”

Ranpo yawned loudly. “She’s way too old for me. Almost to hag status.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. She began to stumble over her words, not knowing how to respond. Fukuzawa’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe that Ranpo would even think he was trying to set them up. Ranpo made a disgusted face.

“No offense lady, but you don’t even look fun. Like all you do is sit in the dark and contemplate the excitement of frostingless yellow cake.”

How do you respond to that?

Y/N looked down, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She was suddenly thankful for the sudden gust of wind that burned her cheeks, a sign that snow was rolling in. Who insults like that? The little sniffle that Y/N let out set Fukuzawa back into the present instead of the daydream he had slipped into where Ranpo got his ass beat.

“You can’t talk to her like that,” Fukuzawa said sternly. “And she’s not here for you.”

“Obviously. She could never handle the Greatest Detective.”

“No!” Fukuzawa said, tightening his grip on her waist. “I wanted you two to meet because we’ve been dating for a while and I thought it was finally time for you two to meet.”

Ranpo suddenly scoffed dramatically. Once. Twice. Three times. “And here I thought we agreed never to keep secrets! And all this time you’ve been giving your praise to someone else!”

Fukuzawa looked at the small man incredulously. “I’m allowed to date, Ranpo.”

“Not really!” Ranpo exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. Those who were passing by continuously glanced, wondering why they were arguing so loudly in a public space. “How gross is that! You’re like centuries old!”

“Look, I just thought you’d want to be in the know. If I had known you’d throw a tantrum, I would have just waited until after we were married.”

In that moment, Ranpo and Y/N spoke simultaneously:

“Tantrum?!”

“Married!?”

“Oh I’ll show you a tantrum!”

Ranpo pushed the old car to make it move back and forth in its parked place before beginning to punch the glass. There was no real power behind his throws, so there were soft thumps being emitted. Next he started to kick the tires, also without power behind his movements. He truly had transformed into a toddler, making the people walking by walk a little faster. He came off as some random crazy person on the street rather than an acclaimed detective.

Fukuzawa didn’t know where to look until a warm soft hand held his cheek, guiding his eyes towards Y/N’s. She smiled softly, ignoring Ranpo as he began to get physical. Her smile caused a chain reaction in Fukuzawa’s heart, making him resist the urge to get down on one knee at that very instance. He did have the ring adding weight to his pocket. She kissed his forehead, making him awkwardly bend down as she chuckled against his skin.

“You want to marry me?”

Fukuzawa blushed slightly. “In due time, of course.”

She chuckled again and nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m not calling her mom!”

[sweetbunnykook]

Forget-Me-Not

Adopted!JK x Detective!Noona - Oneshot/Drabble

Warning: taboo relationship, angst (manipulation/unhealthy boundaries)

Word: 1,855

Synopsis: Jungkook prepares to surprise you during Halloween but you have other plans that fuel his insecurities.  

A/N: I combined most, if not all, of the drabble ideas you guys sent me. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this drabble that is borderline a oneshot! ♥ Everyone had such wonderful ideas I couldn’t just choose one. I also had to force myself to stop writing because it was going to turn into a chapter. 

Jungkook just wanted to spend Halloween with you in peace. That was it. Just you and him, in front of the television, wrapped under a single blanket, wearing matching clothes and drinking warm tea. He even planned to order food from your favorite fried chicken restaurant with the little money he made doing art commissions. It was supposed to be a surprise and you were supposed to be jumping with joy when you see him holding two tea mugs in his hands, wearing a pumpkin patterned pajama pants and a large plain white cotton shirt big enough for you to climb inside in its warmth.

Is it surprising that when you walked downstairs, saddle bag in hand, dressed in an outfit he’s never seen before (a dress that was certainly revealed too much of your decolletage), he would be furious?

“Where are you going, mom?”

He can feel his stomach drop when your bright eyes suddenly dimmed upon seeing the cups in his hand and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I…” You struggle to find the words, knowing that his gaze is steadily trailing up and down your body. You’ve never dressed like this for any of your previous dates and Jungkook dreaded that you were going to end up in another man’s house, in another man’s bed, and come back reeking of this bastard’s cologne.

“I have a d-date,” your meek reply comes as you walk down the last few flights of stairs and open the shoe closet, grabbing a pair of boots and a clean pair of socks, your back towards him.

“With the same guy?” Jungkook’s voice lowers and you can hear the clinking of porcelain as he sets down the mugs on the coffee table, next to the rental DVD.

You nod. “Yeah.”

When you risk a glance towards him, you regret it immediately. Jungkook’s fists are clenched at his sides, his jaw is tight, and his eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

“Kookie,” you sigh, dropping your shoes back onto the rack to stride towards his tall figure cloaked in semi-darkness. “I’ll be back soon, maybe around midnight, okay?”

“The last time you said that you didn’t even come home. I was worried sick.” Jungkook pulls away from you when you reach to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m a detective,” you chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. The pitter-patter of the rain outside isn’t helping nor is Jungkook’s anger seeping out of every pore. “You know there’s nothing to worry ab-“

“It’s easy for you to say, mom. It’s easy for you to pick up your bag and go because you never look forward to our plans like I do. You never think for a second that maybe I want to spend the night with you and not have to wait for your leftover time like…like a pet.”

Has he always felt that way? It seems almost impossible given you spent your waking hours showering him with affection.

You pressed your lips together. “I didn’t know we were going to spend time today and I always, always prioritize your needs above mine. Don’t ever say that to me. Where is this coming from? Jungkook, if you need me to-”

Whatever you said might have struck a nerve within him for he flinched backwards, shaking his head.

“Forget it,” Jungkook takes the mugs back from the coffee table and paces towards the kitchen, knowing you’re trailing behind in concern as you struggle once more to keep him calm.

He knows he’s being unfair. He knows that you may have forgotten to tell him you were going on a date today, that it was his fault for planning a surprise on a holiday when you’re free from work. You only went on your rare dates on your day offs when you didn’t need to go grocery shopping or tend to other household responsibilities. The fact that you bought a new dress tells him all he needs to know about how much you looked forward to this night, even forgiving his snide remarks about your date when you first introduced him months ago. You don’t deserve to be treated this way and it makes Jungkook’s eyes fill with tears not just from frustration but from guilt that you ended up with him, a burden. This wounded, bleeding burden of a boy who falls more and more in love with you as the years go by.

Jungkook hates your little dates where you most likely had sex before coming back to him. The idea of a man kissing your soft nipples, your full hips, the inside of your thighs – it makes him sick with wrath. Jungkook hates that you still see him as the boy you took under your wings all those years ago. Jungkook hates that you’re so comfortable walking around in a towel in front of him because you don’t see him as a man; he knows you would never be that carefree with a date. He owns a piece of you that no other man can see. But his punishment is that he’s kept in this mold of the adopted son he desperately wants to be rid of. Changing his body to become stronger, becoming independent, pretending to be mature most of the time about the idea that a stepfather can appear in his life at any time – Jungkook was sick of it. He was sick of it all.

He throws the mugs in the sink, the two porcelain clattering in cacophony as it hits the sink and cool tea swirls down the drain.

“Jungkook…” your strained, mournful voice reaches his ears and his heart breaks. He can’t breathe, he needs to get out of there, he needs to get out fast.

“Kookie, wait-” You reach for him once more but he turns back into the living room, taking the rental DVD in his hands before he takes the flyer for your favorite restaurant laying haphazardly and balls the paper in his fist.

He skips up the stairs, noticing that you didn’t follow him this time. Somehow that makes it hurt even more.

Jungkook throws the DVD and paper on his bed and opens his closet, reaching for a pair of black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. He sheds off the plain shirt and pajama pants (so much for October festivity) and quickly change into the black set, keeping an ear out for the sound of the front door closing. He grabs his cellphone, his wallet, and keys off the textbooks stacked on his desk and shoves them into his pocket. For a moment he catches his reflection from the mirror pinned to the closet door and Jungkook decides, from his teary red face, that he hates himself more than he hates your dates and your cluelessness.

He’s gotten taller, much taller, stronger, smarter, but emotionally he is still the boy you rescued all those years ago. He’s still the boy who looked up at you and called you his superhero and smiled through the bloody black and purple bruises on his face when you held him and sobbed.

Jungkook slams the door shut behind him as he walks away from the comfort of his bedroom. Stepping down the stairs, he’s surprised to see you sitting on the couch, your feet still bare and your phone clutched in your hand. Why haven’t you left?

“Kookie I’m-“ You pause. You take notice of his attire and take a deep breath. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Please don’t do this,” your voice cracks and Jungkook grinds his teeth. Yes, he hates himself more than ever. He’s self-centered, dramatic, and immature, he thinks, it’s no wonder you won’t see him as anything other than a child. Hell, being regarded as a dog would be better.  

“Just go on your date, mom. Sorry for ruining your perfect night or whatever and tell him I said hi.”

Jungkook walks past you to grab his backpack. He won’t be able to focus on schoolwork and he doesn’t have anywhere else to go except Jimin’s house yet he slumps the bag over his shoulder anyway.

“I canceled the date. I’m not going anywhere,” You grab his sleeve, halting him in his tracks before wrapping your arms around him. He’s gotten so large that your fingers barely touch when you hold him.

He’s silent for a second, harsh breaths gradually fading to soft sighs when he hears you sniffle once and lay your forehead on his back.

“…You didn’t have to do that.”

You shake your head. “I should have expected that you’d do something special.”

“It’s not your fault…” Jungkook can see the porcelain cups in the sink from where he’s standing. His cup and yours, the handles designed to fit each other like puzzle pieces. “I’m…I’m just…”

How does he admit that he’s throwing a tantrum because he wants you all to himself? How does he admit that it was unreasonable of him to expect you to read his mind? How does he admit that his heart feels like it’s about to pounce right out of his chest when you’re not near him? It was embarrassing enough for him to slip into your bed at night while you sleep, lying about his nightmares to earn the privilege of your gentle fingers brushing through his hair in your sleepy daze. He might die of shame if he admits that he’s been daydreaming about a night like this when you can be at ease and when he can pretend he’s your lover and pull you close.

Halloween has always been a tradition – not a strict tradition but a tradition nonetheless that is not disrupted by strangers. He’s way past the age of bouncing off the walls for candy and horror movies but he’d hoped that, the older he gets, this ritual of spending time with you and living out a part of his fantasies during special days won’t perish.

“I’m sorry, mom.” Jungkook murmurs at last, letting the rattle of the kitchen windows from the rain keep him grounded. “I…I didn’t mean to be like this. I wanted to surprise you and I just…I got angry and it wasn’t right. I’m sorry. Can you call him again and-?”

“No.”

Jungkook swallows. Forgiveness feels so out of reach. It feels…

“I don’t want to call him.” You continue. “I want to be here with you…if you’ll have me.”

He turns, making you tilt your head towards him to reveal your watery eyes, and wrap his arms around your shoulders, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your perfume smells like heaven. You smell like heaven and you feel ever better pressed to him; soft against solid, molded like the puzzle piece patterned mugs in the sink.

“Do you even have to ask, mom?…I want you here with me. It’s…it’s okay, right? You won’t be mad at me?”

You peck his cheek, tucking your sorrow deep inside like the same way you’ll fold this new dress into a bag and return it to the boutique.

“I will never make you feel alone.”

[markwatkinsconsumerguide]

Consumer Guide / No.110 / Howzat?!  Cricket broadcaster and magazine editor, Annie Chave, batting the questions from Mark Watkins.

MW : Describe your favourite room in your house...  

AC : My new office. It is small with a daybed and a desk. It includes a shelf with my County Cricket Matters magazines & envelopes for posting, a bookshelf of cricket books, several photos of the Taunton pitch and one of Marcus Trescothick. It also has a really precious photo of me with my dad watching cricket when I’m about 8 years old. 

From my window, I can see the hills outside Exeter. I’ve painted the room a light grey and it is usually bathed in sunlight. I love the sense of calm I feel when I shut myself in my office.

MW : When setting out to watch County Cricket, what essentials do you usually carry in your bag? 

AC : I always have the current book I’m reading, my binoculars and a warm layer. More recently I have my phone and I have a recording device so that I can interview people. I will now always have backdated & current copies of County Cricket Matters but I’m yet to go to a county match since I’ve been doing my magazine so I don’t know how many to take.

MW : What other essentials are usually provided at the ground?

AC: Cricket is the main essential. Tea, cake and beer a close second and familiar faces a third. But a sense of calm, of solace and of healing is also right up there. 

MW : What is the most picturesque ground you've visited?

AC : Without a doubt Lynton & Lynmouth. It is a valley in North Devon that is right by the sea with steep hillsides surrounding the pitch where goats precariously balance at incongruous angles.  It is a stunning and timeless setting.

MW : Which ground has the best surface?

AC : Taunton, of course, because it is unique and rarely produces a dull game!

MW : When summer is over, what is your cricket substitute?

AC: Nothing substitutes cricket. There is little to compare with the sense of joy as March turns into April and I find myself anticipating the season ahead. Since I have begun editing County Cricket Matters I have been able to maintain a connection with cricket over the winter and I value that hugely. I also do a lot of reading and writing to fill in the time.

MW : Just before a new cricket season begins how do you usually prepare? 

AC : I buy my Playfair Cricket Annual and Wisden and I love The Cricketer round up of the counties. I also choose a county fantasy cricket team at CricketXI.com  and I’ll do a lot of reading up about county signings and retirements so that I am prepared for my new County Cricket Natters podcast, which is a “Match Of The Day” type show that rounds up the week’s championship games.

MW : How useful are you with bat & ball? 

AC : Well, I’m worse than useless with the bat. I try to hit everything to the boundary and I can’t get bat on ball. But I have been known to bowl a bit and I’ve upset a few men’s fragile ego by knocking their stumps over with my straight medium pace. My claim to fame is that when I briefly played women’s cricket for  Gunnersbury Women’s Cricket Club, I fluked the wicket of Charlotte Edwards, when she was brilliantly caught off my long-hop. She was only 14 at the time.

MW : ...and how about the rest of your family?

AC: Well now, that’s a question. My father played cricket and kept wicket until he was 76. Nimble and fast behind the stumps right up until he retired. He was a decent bat and when he was younger was a useful seam-up bowler who took a lot of wickets.

My two brothers still play. The younger a decent left-handed bat and very good keeper – the elder a slow bowler who has claimed many wickets and is a good man in to bat for the draw.

My husband is a very useful opener who could have played at a higher level than he did. He began his bowling life as a fast bowler but in later years he became a useful off-break bowler and one hell of a slip fielder. Now in his late fifties he still opens the batting and often with our son.

My son is a left-handed bat who plays the long game, starting steadily and able to accelerate at an alarming pace. He is also a nifty right-arm, off-break bowler who varies his pace and gets a good bit of bounce.

So yes, a fair amount of cricket in our family.

MW : Who is your current cricket heartthrob?

AC : I don’t really go in for heartthrobs but out of current players then I’d go for Jofra Archer.  Past players - Viv Richards. Such brazen talent.

MW : Which cricketer gives you the most heartache?! 

AC : Toss-up between Moeen Ali and Jos Buttler because I feel they both have to always justify their test place and yet they are so hugely talented.

MW : You are Test selector for the day, what would be your (current) England eleven? 

AC :  This is a really hard question because it depends if we’re playing in England or against a team of left-handers or at a particular ground etc.  I think I’ll make it a team to play in England and I’ll imagine that the team :

Rory Burns

Dom Sibley (don’t like watching him bat though!)

Zak Crawley (a classy bat.)

Joe Root

Ben Stokes (after Headingly in 2019 there is no explanation.)

Jos Buttler (I think a test side with Jos in is a strong Test side but I recognise he’s not the best keeper – that would definitely be Ben Foakes – however, in England conditions I think Jos is good enough and the impetus in the batting is important.)

Chris Woakes (under used and underrated.)

Jack Leach/Moeen Ali (I literally cannot choose between them so dependent on if we need to strengthen the batting.)

Jofra Archer

Stuart Broad

Jimmy Anderson

MW : How would you sell County Cricket to the uninitiated?

AC : I think anything that has such a rich history behind it is worth experiencing. Each ground has its own multi-layered past where momentous games have taken place and iconic players have broken records. The setting of each and every one of the 18 county grounds is unique and full of promise.  I love that sense of past glories that help to define its character and I’m aware that each match I attend could bring a moment of magic or history at any point.

But County Cricket is unique because of its relaxed and friendly atmosphere. You have the ceremony, the classy players, the thrill of the contest, the changing conditions, the double innings, the sense of camaraderie in the crowd but you also have a quieter more respectful experience. You are able to wander around, change seats, chat with friends and with strangers, go to the bar without fighting your way to an endless queue and you have time to daydream, time to read your paper and have a break for lunch. 

There is also a great rapport between player and spectator because the pace is slower and the drama comes in short bursts so the player is more relaxed; the spectator better able to engage. There is nothing more life affirming than time alone at a county match.

MW : What radio do you listen to in the car? 

AC : BBC Radio 4 for Drama, BBC 5 Live for Sport & BBC 6 Music for my musical requirements and always cricket, or football, if it’s on ; Exeter City is my football team, but I’m partial to Arsenal too.

MW : What was the last good DVD. movie and TV show you particularly enjoyed watching?

AC : As with my reading matter I tend to enjoy science fiction and detective thrillers.

I think the last good DVD I watched was 1917.

It feels like forever since I’ve been to the cinema and I can’t really remember what I enjoyed there last, but it would have been a Star Wars film I suspect.

The last TV series I really enjoyed was Firefly.  

MW : Where can we keep in touch?

AC : County Cricket Matters has a website https://www.countycricketmatters.com/ where you can also purchase magazines at the shop

It also has a Facebook group County Cricket Matters and a Twitter Account @matterscounty

I’m on Twitter @anniechave and on LinkedIn and Facebook.

(c) Mark Watkins / March 2021

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Barista!Phil Masterlist

Links Last Checked: April 16th, 2022

part two

An Insomniac’s Daydream (ao3) - Young_Rouge_Rose

Summary: Dan Howell is an insomniac, a pianist, and possibly a modern day Nostradamus, as his twisted dreams seem to be pointing towards the destruction of the world. When plagued with such dreams he does what any sane and natural human being would. He gives up sleep. No sleep. No dreams. No end. Phil Lester is a humble barista who feels like a daydream and somehow manages to keep the monsters, which come with such twisted dreams at bay. But there is more to it than meets the eye, for the past always has a way of catching up with you. This has happened before, but it can't happen again.

A Small Passion Fruit Sweet Tea - unorthodoxsavvy

Summary: Phil is a barista at Starbucks and Dan becomes a customer.

Been Thinking About You a Latte - fiction-phan

Summary: “You’re the cute and quiet customer that frequents the coffee shop where I’m a barista and also where my rival barista works and we’re both fighting for your attention in increasingly creative and inconspicuous ways (making foam art, writing cheesy pick-up lines on your napkin etc. etc.)”

Café Latte - auroraphilealis

Summary: Phil’s always been that awkward boy who never quite belonged, and when he runs off to University, that doesn’t really change; he’s still that weird boy who continuously finds himself being bullied, even as the barista behind the counter. Until Dan comes along.

Cigarettes and Coffee Shops - phan-pizza00

Summary: Dan and Phil meet in a coffee shop (Starbucks). Phil is a barista and Dan is struck wordless by Phil’s beauty.

Coffee - waverlysangels

Summary: Dan takes all his girlfriends to the same coffee shop on a date, but they all end up breaking up with him. The same barista, Phil, is always there and Dan opens up to him. Phil tells him to drink his coffee and that they’ll be plenty more people after his exes. Dan sees that Phil’s number is on the cup and…

Coffee Shop Rivalry - phictional-ly

Summary: Dan is a loyal employee in Phil’s newly found coffee shop. At least, so it seems…

Coffee With Labels (ao3) - pandaanna01

Summary: Where Phil is the cute barista that serves Dan coffee at the coffee shop that Dan always goes to.

Frottica (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Dan finally acts on his feelings toward the sexy barista at Lester's Coffee Shop. Phil is relieved by the man's boldness, and an exciting new relationship begins.

I think I’m really glad the A/C stopped working (ao3) - confusednp

Summary: Phil’s tired of working at Starbucks with no love life to speak of. All he has is his cat, his coworker, and his mysterious favorite fanfiction author. Oh, and that cute boy in the tattoo shop next door.

Love Is In The Air (Please Make It Stop) (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: In which Phil works in a coffee shop and Dan’s a customer who may or may not have been cursed by Cupid. Either way, there are an awful lot of kissing couples around…

Love Yourself (ao3) - imnotinclinedtomaturity

Summary: A lot of things about Dan's life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he's got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He's currently lacking inspiration, he's rather lonely, and he's stuck in a rut.

Dan's been going to the same coffee shop for years. It's quiet, it's quaint, it's near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that's he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista.

Murder at Amazing Phil’s (ao3) - mania_jests

Summary: A missing Duke, big corporations, hard drugs and a cute barista named Phil. None of these things should intersect and yet Detective Daniel Howell was finding that this case is full of surprises.

Take Every Ounce of Love (And Beg You For More) (ao3) - starrywrite

Summary: Uni!AU / Coffeshop!AU in which Dan has finals and the only thing getting him through this week of hell is seasonally appropraite coffees and the cute barista with pretty eyes.

The Human Requirement to Breathe - philsdrill

Summary: It’s a difficult life for Dan. Being famous and recognisable isn’t easy when you’re walking through a crowd of people… especially when you’re claustrophobic. Phil runs a coffee shop and an unusual customer ends up meaning more to him than he ever expected.

The Quiet of Empty Cafes (And What To Do Once It’s There) (ao3) - thornsword

Summary: “Chai latte for the guy with the fancy ass suit who pushed in!” Dan and phil are baristas who enjoy calling out people when they do things like jump the line.

When The Stars Go Blue - phangirlingforphan

Summary: Dan’s a failing musician without a song who struggles to make rent every week, so he sits atop his flat block roof every night and stares out at the city wishing for inspiration. Phil is a dreamer who paints and works part time as a barista; he’s bright, wears lavender and is, in other words, everything Dan needs. And one night, he wanders up to the roof, too.

When You Can’t Sleep at Night - botanistlester

Summary: Dan has insomnia and his mum takes him for drives whenever he can’t sleep. One day, she takes him to a cafe where he meets a blue-eyed man with charcoal stains on his arms who gives him a reason to keep coming back.

Whipped cream with sprinkles on top (ao3) -  theshyauthor

Summary: Dan is a university student who gets too little sleep and Phil is the cute barista he has a crush on.

[the-amazing-spider-bi]

the college au nobody asked for I leta lestrange/newt scamander I 4k I ao3

The roommate AU in which otters hold paws while they sleep, Leta didn’t think she would ever fall in love with someone who can’t even handle his coffee without milk, Credence collects crushes on all of his male teachers like they’re Pokemons, and Dumbledore finds endless amusement in his students’ antics.

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

“Hi,” Leta says. “I heard your group was still missing a member for the Sociology of Fashion project, so I was wondering if I could join you?”

The gaggle of girls in front of her startles, but when Leta smiles, they smile back. She tries to be as friendly as she can - which is difficult since she is more used to projecting a bitch resting face than acting innocent - until they end up exchanging numbers and agreeing to meet at the library on Monday to write their outline.

They go their separate ways when the other girls, who are obviously a group of friends, go see a movie, and Leta pretexts a previous engagement so they don’t have to invite her out of pity. They still wave goodbye, and Leta smiles one last time before she turns around. She tightens her grey and green scarf around her neck and walks away in a flurry of fallen leaves. She is going to get coffee, by herself, and then barricade herself in the coffee shop until she finishes her Power and Privilege essay - for a seminar, it sure involved an enormous amount of work.

Leta isn’t the type of girl people like. According to her classmates, she is posh and weird and standoffish, all of which are true. She doesn’t talk or smile or try enough to please people. She knows she could, really - she just doesn’t care to. It is alright with her, though. She would rather be alone most of the time than go back to the endless string of dinners and playdates her parents used to make her attend back when she was a girl.

So she is surprised when her phone lights up with a notification, thinking these girls are really fast to text.

Newt Dorkmander: did you know otters hold paws when they sleep?

Newt Dorkmander: actually it is to avoid drifting off of course but still

Newt Dorkmander: the thought is lovely

She tries not to smile at her phone as she types, you do know just because it’s a text doesn’t mean this won’t be deduced from your daily animal facts quota, don’t you? - she has to take off her gloves to type, and then when she comes into the shop the sting from the cold metal handle surprises her.

Newt Dorkmander: i do my best to lighten a cold november day and this is how you thank me

Newt Dorkmander: i cannot believe it

“Well someone is uncharacteristically perky today.”

She pockets her phone and does her best impression of her grandmother’s dignified stare. In front of her, Credence the coffeehouse guy is grinning in his green apron, already preparing her cup. Credence the coffeehouse guy is exactly Leta’s type of man, by which she means he is quiet, doesn’t bother her any more than he has to, and brings her coffee.

“I’m not perky,” Leta states. “Take it back.”

“Nah, it’s too late, your reputation is ruined forever,” Nagini, who is almost always to be found wherever Credence is, says from that seat in front of the counter she claimed as hers at the beginning of the year.

Leta rolls her eyes at them. “You freshmen are growing more annoying every year.”

“You’re barely one year older than us,” Nagini points out.

“College years are like dog years,” Leta informs them. “As such, I am fifteen years wiser than you.”

Credence the coffeehouse guy smiles and says, “Americano?”

“Americano,” Leta confirms, and if she refrains from making a terrible The Fault in our Starsjoke, then she will carry this secret to the grave. But still. A genuine John Green reference. She spends way too much time with Newt.

Of course, this isn’t like it’s a recent development - they have known each other since they were thirteen and Newt quite literally stumbled in her life with freckled cheeks and messy hair, then through their teens when he tiptoed around awkwardly with a lanky, ridiculously tall figure and she rushed through everything with the dedicated anger of a rebellious posh girl.

Then Newt had been expelled, and everything in her life went bonkers, but this is the part she tries not to think about.

Credence hands her her coffee and doesn’t make any more comments about who she was texting or how happy she looked, because he doesn’t make it a habit to comment on people - or talk to them - and he really is one of her favorite persons on campus.  

She spends the rest of the afternoon hunched over getting five thousands more words done, and when she leaves, Credence the coffeehouse guy has been replaced by Rita the coffeehouse girl, who she likes a lot less. She takes care to avoid eye contact and pulls out her phone, scrolling through social media feed without really reading anything until a headline catches her eye. She reopens her conversation with Newt, whose last message was an apocalyptic string of texts about being out of tea.

Leta Lestrange: you know netflix just uploaded the new planet earth season

“I know,” he says.

She looks up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

Newt is standing up in his usual blue overcoat and a faded yellow Hufflepuff scarf she gave him for Christmas when they were sixteen. (They had a price limit that time, so she had to knit him the scarf and ended up buying one anyway after a few unsuccessful hours. It’s not like he noticed anyway.) He is so outrageously tall she has to tilt her head to see his face, just so that he can avoid her gaze.

He shrugs and smiles at the ground. “I was on my way from the library, and it’s nicer to go home together.”

She frowns. “And how did you know I was there? Mister Scamander, are you stalking me? Should I check for hidden cameras? Do you keep pictures of me under your pillows?”

“Don’t be silly,” Newt says placidly. “I sleep in the next room. I can just come over to watch you sleep the normal way.”

She laughs. “Always good to know you have a lot of opinions on the best way to stalk me.”

“Well, one can never be too prepared, can they? I could always end up as a handsome brooding vampire if my zoologist plan doesn’t work out. I think I have the smoulder.”

“You certainly dress like you’re from 1910,” she says.

“You’re just jealous you can’t pull off the trench coat detective aesthetic as well as I do.”

She opens her mouth to tell him he has never pulled off anything, ever, in his life, but feels a shiver crawling up the back of her spine and changes her mind. “Just a second,” she says as she whips around to glare at Rita the coffeehouse girl who watching them raptly from behind the class. She scrambles to pretend she is not.

“Being noisy is an understandable flaw, but there is nothing worse than being noisy and bad at it,” she says conversationally.

“If you’ve sufficiently scarred her, can we go now?” Newt asks. “I’m freezing.”

“Bossy,” she complains under her breath.

They walk home together.

Around them, the atmosphere is wet and chilly, and not quite snowy either, which is the worst type of weather, according to her. It feels like the cold slips into her clothes in between the threads to stick to her skin in a damp layer that feels like sweat, only much worse. She doesn’t think twice about leaning close to Newt to protect herself from it, and he doesn’t think twice about wrapping his scarf around her shoulders, still talking about the cool things he learned in Introduction to Zoology module. For the entirety of the trip home she drifts in and out of focus, sometimes picking a specific topic he brought up and asking for more details or an explanation, sometimes daydreaming when he explains some technical part of Neurology he doesn’t quite understand yet himself. By the time they get to their flat, he has moved on to complaining about his Introduction to Physiology, Pharmacology and Neuroscience course, by which he is clearly bored to tears and that he still wants to attend anyway. She doesn’t press him about it but she is pretty sure his scholarship involves perfect attendance.

They walk up three sets of stairs - the place is right outside campus in this tiny brick building, rent as cheap as any flat with three rooms can be, which means no elevators, to Leta’s great despair. Without having to ask she gets in front of him to open the door herself, because Newt always loses his keys inside the holes in his ancient coat pockets, so it is just faster this way.

Immediately as she opens the door a dash of brown fur bounces into the hallway, climbs the sleeve of Newt’s coat, settles his shoulder where its nibbles at his ears.

“Hello you,” she hears Newt coo at Pickett. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she goes to take off her coat inside. There is a hot shower she has been dreaming of ever since she woke up this morning waiting for her, and then undercooked pasta in front of an animal documentary.

Whoever said college students weren’t living the dream?

When she wakes up the next morning, Newt is hunched over on their couch, copper hair messed up beyond repair, eyes half closed. She takes in the sight of his plaid pajamas and the squirrel burrowed in his hair, because he keeps spoiling Pickett then being surprised when he doesn’t want to join his siblings in the great wild outdoors, the moron. He looks utterly miserable.

He started up the coffee maker, though, so she can work with this.

“We’re buying tea this afternoon,” she says, before adding, more gently: “Hey, do you want me to do that hot chocolatey coffee you like to survive your morning classes?”

“Yes, please,” Newt says in a tiny voice.

She presses her hand against his shoulder as she goes behind the counter to make him a mocha and make herself an entire Thermos of black coffee. He gets dressed while she pours them their drinks, by which she means puts on the first wool sweater he found and jeans. She does the same while he sips his cup and checks on all his rescued animals of the moment - Niffler the magpie with the broken wing who keeps escaping his hen coop to steal their shiny cutlery or her silver earrings, Pickett who resolutely doesn’t want to leave, and an enormous Maine coon Newt insists on calling Zouwu despite how ridiculous it sounds. When she leaves in a hurry of perfume and long trench coat with her Thermos in hand, Newt looks considerably perkier.

A few hours later, she is considering the pros and cons of the infamous Veggie Salad versus Caesarean Salad case. Since Newt’s class finishes in one hour when her afternoon ones begin, and, well, she doesn’t really have any other friend nor a lunch break long enough to go home, she is planning to get some food from the cafeteria before she goes to her classroom and eats in front of her book. It sounds sad, but it’s actually a very good book, Jane Austen’s Emma, which she had somehow never read before, her high school curriculum consisting only of Pride and Prejudice again and again and again. She is usually more of a gothic, Byronic hero kind of gal, with a bit of sci-fi thrown in when Newt recommends one of his nerdy books to her, but well, it’s Jane Austen.

She looks forward to that lunch alone watching Emma and Mr. Knightly fall in love. The universe doesn’t care about that.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Nagini says behind her.

She turns around slowly. The younger girl isn’t quite smiling, as she rarely ever does, but she looks as friendly as she can be with eyes surrounded by eyeliner and black lipstick, black clothes, black boots, black eye, black everything.

“Freshmen have lunch breaks now? Back in my time-” Leta starts teasing.

“You ate on the floor some gruel right out of the bowl before your Latin class started?” Nagini guesses.

Leta chuckles. “Close enough.”

“Wanna sit with us, or will it ruin your street cred?” Nagini asks, eyes shining with curiosity, or maybe just hunger.

Leta shrugs and pays for her salad at the counter. “If you promise never to use the words street cred ever again, sure.”

At Nagini’s left, Credence smiles shyly. She has never seen him out of his coffee shop uniform, and he is definitely not what she imagined, with a tiny silver cross hanging from a chain on his neck, a rainbow lapel pin on his jean jacket and an undercut.  They move from the cafeteria’s blinding artificial lights to the tables outside - they are already in winter and it is cold out, but Leta is used to avoiding loud, busy rooms, what with Newt’s condition, so it doesn’t bother her all that much. As for the two kids, tables are almost empty by this time of the year, so it doesn’t take a genius to get what their appeal can represent.

Nagini kicks up her feet on the table and leans sideways on Credence’s side while Leta has a wooden bench all to herself.

“So, about your ruined reputation,” Nagini starts. “What was up with you yesterday?”

“Did you see Professor Grindelwald falling down in the street?” Credence asks and takes a tiny bite of his apple.

“I wish,” Leta says, because if there is one thing that unites Nagini and her it is their mutual hatred for Grindelwald. He still teaches one of her classes today and she had him twice last year, once in her Introduction to Political Science class and another time in an Advanced Rhetorics option she picked up and gave up on soon afterward. The university is divided into two camps, really. There are those who think Grindelwald is like a white-haired, mole-rat-looking reincarnation of Jesus Christ or Martin Luther King or whoever teens idolize these days. Then there are people with common sense who see him for what he is, like Leta.

“The other day he took Credence’s phone in class and when he gave it back he changed his lock screen to a picture of him,” Nagini recalls. “Not even a funny picture, just this close up on his face, staring at the camera, Big Brother style. Credence still hasn’t changed it either.”

“What do you want?” Credence says with a self-aware smile. “I have terrible taste in men and daddy issues.”

“Gross,” Nagini whines.

“That’s not the problem,” Leta says. “The problem is out of all the silver fox material in this college - we have Dumbledore and Graves teaching - you went ahead and got a crush on him.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t also have a crush on Dumbledore and Graves,” Credence says.

They laugh about it. Before an awkward pause can settle, Leta says, picking at her plate with suspicion, “Anyway, no, my roommate just sent me something funny.”

“What was it?”

Leta knows about retelling past jokes and that only waste, you just really had to be there, you know? and fake laughs this way come, so she says, allusively, “Just a fun fact about otters. He’s really into animals. He’s a bit of a dork about it, eats vegan, picks up every stray cat that crosses his path, the whole deal. Zoology students and all that.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Nagini says. “This school has one of the best programmes in the country, don’t they?”

“Yes, that’s why we chose to come here,” Leta shrugs off, scrunching her nose at her salad, poking it around. It even smells weird. “This is way more disgusting than I remember it to be, isn’t it?”

There’s a silence. When she looks up, the two freaky twins are both raising their eyebrows the exact same way. It’s uncanny.

“That’s nice,” Credence drawls out.

“That my salad tastes like rotten grass?” Leta asks, raising an eyebrow as she grins at him.

“No, though it always tastes like cold garbage, so you only have yourself to blame,” Credence says. “You chose your college depending on your friend?”

Leta is uncomfortable. “He was - is my best friend. We met in boarding school when we were kids, with all the rich posh kids running around. It was hell, so, that makes friendship very intense.” They still look at her weirdly, and she is good with words, but even she doesn’t know how to convey the harshness of boarding schools when you are a bit different, a bit weird , so she adds: “Anyway, he was expelled in the middle of high school, and it was even worse without him here, so we decided we would stick together through college at least.”

She doesn’t talk about being the only black girl in her year, or Newt being diagnosed at thirteen, or how cruel children can be. Sometimes when she thought about it too long she felt so angry, almost as angry as she used to be in these years where she would talk back to the other kids when they mocked her and end up in detentions more weekends than not. She is quieter now, almost free of all of that teenage angst, better, but sometimes she feels like she is only pretending to be tamed, to be something she is not, like Pickett the domesticated squirrel.

“That’s actually very cool,” Credence says. “I can’t imagine living with my old middle school friends. Well, I didn’t have friends in middle school, probably because they were scared by my raw coolness, but even if I did, I guess I just changed a lot since then.”

“I don’t know. I never really thought about that,” Leta surprises herself by saying.

In the end, they move on from the subject to discuss Credence’s thing for every forty-something male teacher he meets, the revelations about a Moscow Trump tower, and salad that tastes like cardboard. When she gets to class, though, she keeps thinking over and over about growing up. She has always prided herself on being more perceptive than others - not even considering that Newt might be a different person as an adult than as a freckled thirteen-year-old is blindsiding her in a way she doesn’t care for.

She tries to forget about it and focuses on getting her degree.

But the thought planted by Credence sticks in the back of her mind, feeling so very foreign to her. It is relentless and invading and points its ugly, alien head at the most inappropriate moments throughout the week, and she can’t help but wonder.

She is the one who picks her roommate up at the end of his classes on Fridays, waiting with a coffee in hand for her and a chai for him. It is part of their routine. She watches the first wave of bouncing, impatient Bio students leave the building, then a second one, even bigger and noisier somehow, until Newt emerges from the lot and walks towards her. For the first time since they were fifteen, she appraises him. He looks like, well, Newt. So ridiculously tall he has to hunch over a little to pass doorsteps, shy smile, hands in his pockets. Then her gaze stays on him just a second too long, and he has the same wiry, messy-haired, freckled figure than when he was a kid, but maybe it looks less lanky now, somewhat. He doesn’t stare at the ground quite as much when he is out, his eyes darting from one point to the other in wonder, and suddenly she wishes she could know about the patterns he sees when he stares at the world like that.  

She still smiles in the same way she always does when she offers him his cup and his fingers brush against her gloved hand.

“Thank you so much,” he says, smiling. “Not to be dramatic, but I think if I have to listen to one more Neurology class, I might gouge out my own brain.”

“Lovely,” she comments. “You talk to Professor Dumbledore with that mouth?”

“Indeed, Mister Scamander,” an older man butts in with an amused expression and sparkling eyes behind half-moon glasses. “If you feel that strongly about my classes, I am always pleased to hear my students’ feedback during office hours.”

He trips over his own feet and stammers his excuses as Albus Dumbledore laughs at him in polite silences, and Leta tries not to be too amused by his misfortunes. If warmth oozes in her stomach, it must be either laughter or the hot coffee she is gulping down. It burns her tongue and her throat and keeps her hands busy not fixing Newt’s half-bent collar.

Newt is still talking with his hands to Dumbledore about his Zoology project when they leave campus. She has never had him in class, and never will, but even if she had never met him before, she would like him for the encouraging way he smiles as Newt talks to him about slugs’ brains or whatever he is explaining right now. Despite teaching one of Newt’s least liked courses - too many human examples, not enough slugs - he is still by far his favourite professor. It is enough for her.

Dumbledore goes home on a scooter, of all things, a Vespa, and Newt doesn’t get how funny it is when she tries to explain.

“I’m sure it’s very practical,” he tells her as they climb up the stairs.

“This is clearly not my point,” Leta says. “You’re just willfully blind because you have a crush on him.”

“What? I-I do not. He’s my teacher .”

Leta raises her eyebrows. Oh, really now. “And?”

“This is- wrong, and ridiculous, is what it is, and I will not talk to you about it any further.”

She stays silent as she opens the door. He gets even more flustered. His entire face is blushing all over, his skin like a sunset from his neck to the tip of his ears, and he fidgets with his sleeves, and it is sort of adorable, really.

“I don’t have a crush on Dumbledore!” he says, too loudly.

Then they go in and Niffler has gotten loose somehow and all of their spoons are in his cage, so he has reasons to get busy, but as soon as they’re sitting on their old couch again with a cup of hot cocoa, she raises her eyebrows again and he almost throws his cup at her. She breaks out laughing.

When she opens her eyes again, he is looking pointedly at his computer screen. This is when it happens. She can only witness in horror Newt’s profile rearrange itself in her head, move away from chubby cheeks and bitten lips, and this is when, as if she has never seen him before, she realizes he is handsome.

In some abstract way, she knew this before. She had noticed defined cheekbones, jawline, eyes with ever-changing colors, pushed him towards a girl or a boy or anyone and told him to just try his luck. It was only theoretical, though. It is like - she knows gravity exists, knows Earth rotates around the sun drawn by its sheer weight, but she also doesn’t know it, doesn’t understand it or feel the push of the sun’s attraction. This is like being in the reach of a supernova.

“Why are you still looking at me,” Newt complains, frowning at his screen.

Shit.

“No reason,” she says, not averting her eyes.

“Alright, so maybe I have a tiny crush on him. Just a smidge. It’s just- I- he’s so nice,” Newt says, turning around to look at her with wide, earnest eyes that look green today. “And a role model. Sort of.”

This is not the crush she is worried about.

[jxwritesss]

I’m currently writing this on wattpad as well! @jxwritess

This is a Noen Eubanks fan fiction, I’m trying to spread my book around, pls share and help, it means a lot xx, my main platform is wattpad please read it on there if you find this and enjoy it!

New York. The only place in the entire world, where robots were being developed. Robots, that looked exactly like humans, and there being only one distinctive difference, a tattoo. One that said RA-H.

An RA-H. Robotic animated humans. These androids are helping the world as much as it is destroying it. They force people out of jobs, but in doing so create even better things then humans. Thousands of different political views, millions of haters and lovers. And then there's me.

Malia Blanche, 17, I lost my father, and I was the spitting image of my late mother. I only recently moved to LA, where my life was bombarded with these new androids, I get the concept of them, although I don't truly understand it.

Well, on with the story shall we?

-Chapter One.

Sunday, the day before I start college. A new life, a new story and a new beginning. I can finally pursue my dream of being a writer, just like my mother.

My mother attended John Brown college academy  , her department was romance, mine, mystery, ever since I was a child I thrive for solving mysteries, actions, you know in the movies where there's a fight scene, and it goes slow motion and they throw the punch of victory, thats what ignites my fire, the thrive for doing good, but in a dangerous way, I could always figure out who was lying in a movie, or who the murderer was. Maybe I should be a detective, but my flow comes with writing.

Although I was attending my new school in a day, I lazily decided to stay in bed until half 10, I needed to be at Realsons&Co for 11:15, to get my uniform fitted. John Brown is a very pretentious academy, and I'd worked three jobs, and poured my heart and soul into getting here. Only the best attend the Academy. I don't necessarily fit into the 'my daddy got me in here' well, obviously. I quickly slipped on my jeans and jumper, and slid into my most prised possession. Although it had been pre-owned. The Audi was my mother's, she put her heart and soul into the car, and I will respect her decision and keep the car.

I take out my GPS although I already know where my fitting shop is, as I pass it a few times on the way to my grandma's.

Carefully parking in the visitor section I leave my car, and walk up the steps, and enter the shop, the bell above my head dings and an elderly woman pops her head up and immediately smiles at me. 

"Are you Malia?" The woman asks putting her newspaper down and picking up a signing book.

"Yeah, I'm not too early am I?"

"Of course not, dear.  I'm Molly, my grandson Will, he's in the back, he will measure you up if you need anything readjusting or if you can't find anything your size. John Brown, Deanford and Attenwood are in the back left." She says pointing in the direction.

I thank her, and mentally thank that the place is practically empty. I don't like small talk, thanks social anxiety.

Walking through the back I spot John Brown uniform. A black blazer with red linings, a short black skirt and a white blouse and a dark red tie. Not too childish but not suitable enough for adults.

At the corner of my eye I see a tall boy sat on his phone, his eyes flicker up for a second at me, then back down to his phone.

I continue my search to look for the right size for my uniform when I feel a pair of eyes on me, it makes me feel uncomfortable and I start to guess that the pair of eyes is Molly's grandson Will, I mentally scold myself for being so awkward and pretending not to know that he's watching, when I hear his chair scrape my heart decides to do an athlete course and I pray he can't hear it from where he's standing.

I can tell he's now behind me, as I face my social fears I turn around and slam right into his chest, and in result dropping all my stuff, Will snorts, before helping me by picking up some of the clothes that dropped.

"Thanks," I say, grabbing the clothes from his hand and attempting to walk past him, but his arms stop me.

"Was that sarcastic or not?" He asked smiling. I take a second to take in his looks, he doesn't look as bad as I thought he would, but he doesn't act like a arrogant guy either.

"I'll let you figure that one out," I smile politely back, "I'm Will." He says moving his arm in a posh manner to let me through.

"I know, Molly told me," I answer, "I guess you know who I am?" "Yep, how could I ignore a pretty girl like you?" I mentally roll my eyes at the typical boy. "Mhm, well I need to get changed so excuse me" I say speed walking away from him, boys that make comments like that make me feel extremely uncomfortable.

As I turn the corner to the fitting rooms, I hear Will's voice once again, "I'm gay by the way," he says laughing, I stop in my tracks, suddenly feeling a bit stupid.

——

Checking that I haven't left any clothes behind, I pile them onto the counter, where Will is now standing, he starts to put all my clothes in an expensive looking plastic bag, he looks up at me, "Sorry about earlier, I was just messing about." "No, it's okay, I felt a bit silly when you said you were gay."

He shakes his head and laughs, "most people do, well the ones that aren't stuck up with money up their ass usually do." "Well I'm only here on a scholarship, so I'm not one of them people," I say handing him over the small fee I have to pay, as the scholarship covers most of it. "Surprisingly so am I, I got accepted for Athletics at John Brown," I never really though I would but I guess I should thank the Lord, my parents can't wait to get rid of me anyways, being gay has a price to pay, apparently."

"Well, they obviously don't see the good person that you are." I smile at him, although I wish he hadn't of brought it up, I'm not necessarily the best at giving advice.

The bell rings, and a tall, slim girl walks through.

"Tanner" she says walking through right into the back without a second glance.

"I understand what you mean by stuck up," I whisper, Will chuckles and passes me my bag, the girl walks back and stands behind me, not even two seconds later she starts tapping her foot and complaining.

"Since when do we serve nobodies, Will? That's right we don't. Now move, thanks." She says pushing right past me and throwing her uniform on the counter. Luckily it wasn't a John Brown one, otherwise I might've just about died.

I quietly wave at Will and walk out, seeing a shining white Porsche outside. Seriously where do you even get one that looks so shiny from?

I put the bag in the passenger seat, still feeling annoyed about the girl, as I reach my small flat,   I lock my Audi, and read a movie poster about a girl going missing  with her extremely ill dad. Making a mental note to watch the movie later, I walk up my stairs and unlock my door, I make myself a cup of tea and order some pizza, as I walk into my room, I open up my laptop, and have three new emails, one spam, but two from publishers. My heart does leaps as I open the first one.

'Telford Publishing'

- Hello Malia, we are proud to hear that you are following in your beloved mothers steps. I have read your book sample, but I would like to offer you a potential job, and a tour around  the new              T Pub&Co. I know how much it would mean to your mother if you accept my offer.

Many thanks, Gary.

A potential job?? Could this be my genuine big break?  Hearing a knock at the door, I run over, wanting to start up a reply as soon as possible. Grabbing my purse I open my door to an RA-H

"Malia Blanche?"

"Yes, here's my ID." The robots light turns red as it examines my ID. Doing a robotical smile it's arm stretches out, grabbing the pizza I express a thank you and run back to my desk.

'T Pub&Co.'

Thank you for my sample! I will gladly accept your offer, please email with more detail about the tour and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. My mum would be so happy.

Sincerely, Malia.

As I send the email I let out a squeak of happiness with pizza in my mouth. Clicking onto my word pad, I let myself fall into the world of fiction, and let time slip through my hands.

——

And that's how it is now 3.36am on a Monday trying to start a new story, anything to take my mind off the upcoming day, and the extremely embarrassing 'Tanner' fiasco.

I push my chair back from my old, ridden desk, and flop onto my bed, snuggling into my bedsheets, this has been going on for a week, for some reason I have no flow, the biggest writers block, I have stories everywhere across my room, started, just the plot, a thesis, a blurb. But recently I haven't found anything to give me that push. I turn and toss in an unsucsessive attempt to sleep, and as I check my phone it is only 4 am.

Great, no sleep for the wicked.

——

Groggily, I turn over in my bed and look over to my clock, 6.07am. Throwing my bed covers over, I lazily get up and put on the uniform that luckily fits perfectly. Thinking about my email yesterday, there is nothing more that I want in the world then my writing to become known. Realising that I spend too much time daydreaming, and badly making pancakes, i'm late and have no time to see if I have a reply. Already. Typical Me.

Rushing out of my door, checking the contents of my bag to make sure that I have everything that I need I speed walk right into someone walking up my door, crashing everything they were holding onto the floor.

"God I'm sorry, I didn't mean too, wasnt looking where I was going." I look up and realise that, I wasn't even speaking to a human, but none other then an Android. It simply says, "No worries miss," and continues with its day. Those androids are the ones that Robert Morett himself created, word is that his son is attending John Brown. Although i'm here with a writing scholarship, I doubt he'd need any type of acceptance letter. He could just ask, he is one of the most richest people in America.

Pulling my keys out of my bag I speed walk towards my car, carefully throwing my bag in, and starting the Audi, before starting my drive I pull out my phone to the Maps app, although I used to drive past John Brown to get to school I still want to be prepared.

—

Pulling up at the academy, I notice a few eyes staring at the jet black Audi with the tinted windows, they're probably expected a drop dead gorgeous girl, or the sexiest guy

to walk out, but in all honesty I'm neither.

Turning off my car and stepping out the eyes are suddenly averted to another jet black car, most likely a gorgeous boy or girl in it.

My mind wavered at wondering whether I should stay and stare at the person in black, or be late to my lecture.

Achieving my dream comes first.

I promised my mother that I'd focus on my work, and not get distracted. I intend on keeping that promise.

[disco-computer]

He looked like he had just eaten vanilla ice cream very messily...

Title: Happy Endings/Brotzman gets a blow-job                                                                                              Plot: Dirk wants to convince Todd to quit his mundane job and join him in the detective agency. He does a special favor that Todd has been dreaming about to convince him.                                                                                            Warning: Strong sexual content. Mature audience.                                          Contains smut                                                                                                          Dirk/Todd, obviously. :-) 

Todd Brotzman was tired. Exhausted, over-worked and just plain stressed out. The dark circles under his eyes became more noticeable as he no longer felt human. He was a machine - programmed to finish typing everything by the set due date given and programmed to make everyone happy. It was draining him. He started this new job as an editor around 3 months ago after all the crazy shit happened - with Dirk, the corgi and what-not. He was happy that Amanda is taking care of herself now, though he still worried about her of course. It was close to the weekend and Todd should have enough money in his bank account to cover rent - with a couple extra hundred for spending. Not bad for a man in his thirties who sometimes felt like he desperately fucked up somewhere along his life course. There is hope. He reaches for the anti-anxiety meds under his desk and is reminded that he’s seeing Dirk tomorrow for some catching up. A feeling of happiness slithers up his spine followed by a mild tightness in the chest. He didn’t know if this was normal anxiety about not having seen Dirk for a while or pure excitement about it.

Dirk Gently was doing well for himself. He still had his own nice flat decorated by his favorite art pieces and the plan for his detective agency was falling into place nicely - he was just getting everything organized; contacts, business cards, a spacey desk especially for Todd and Farah’s very own walk-in closet. Something Dirk was slightly jealous about - he did want the closet for himself but being a detective means making some sacrifices to accommodate the crew. Today was Thursday - oh shit…he’s seeing Todd Brotzman tomorrow! A date they had to set into place about 2 weeks ago. Dirk thinks very highly of Todd, his sexy assistant with a bad boy attitude and gorgeous blue eyes. Dirk has a plan to convince Todd to completely quit his day job so he can commit to being his assistant full-time. Dirk would love to have that boy on call! He slips into a daydream about it and thinks of their last sexual encounter. Dirk had spent the night at Todd’s place, it had been a long night of detective’s work but was followed by a glorious morning of rubbing cocks together in the shower. They haven’t had sex yet, but Dirk keeps a little bottle of lube in the medicine cabinet, just in case. Suddenly a ping on his phone reminds him of the package that should be arriving today. He not only ordered business cards for himself but some for Todd & Farah as well. In all seriousness Dirk and Todd should be able to both make a decent salary at this, as well as Farah. They just had to commit. Clients pay well to good detective work and rewards for catching bad guys can be generous.

Friday morning. Todd finishes up some loose ends on his laptop. He stayed up late to make sure all of the articles sent in from his boss are finished so he can have today all for Dirk. It had been a little while since the two crashed together and the lack of Mexican Funeral groupies has Todd completely sex starved. Not that there were many groupies, but there was the occasional hot girl from time to time. Todd had no trouble getting sex, if he wanted it. He also thought about Dirk often. Dirk was a very different fantasy for him. Todd can be a little girl crazy but sometimes he thinks he’s fallen completely gay for Dirk. Especially because he couldn’t stop thinking about Dirk’s bum. Dirk always wore tight pants hugging his backside and whether it was intentional that he was showing off or not it was definitely having an affect on Todd. He wants to bend Dirk over on the detective’s desk, pull his pants down and stuff Dirk with his oversized cock, making him cry out. Dirk would love it and beg for Todd to fuck him harder until it hurts. They would probably break the desk from being so vigorous! Just what Dirk always wanted - to be fucked super hard by his hot assistant. At least, what Todd hoped he wanted. It’s something Todd wants to finish off sweetly though, holding Dirk at the end and letting him know they belong to each other. Finishing the dishes which had piled up for a week, Todd heads out the door remembering to bring his laptop with him incase his boss sent any unwanted e-mails. He also bought a little something for Dirk - a custom made Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency coffee mug which he had made at a local shop which custom designs things. The letters were bold bright red bold across the white cup. Todd was sure he would love it. He placed it in a brown paper bag and headed out the door.

At the arcade, Dirk is already tied up in a game of space invaders when Todd rolls up beside him. “Mind if I join in?”

“Todd!” gasped Dirk with excitement. He forgets the game and gives Todd a big hug, holding him tightly. Todd rubs Dirk’s back. The two naturally pull away, but are still holding hands.

“Todd, what have you been doing!? Are you okay!?”

“Yes, Dirk. Just working hard. That’s all.” and lands him a kiss on the cheek.

Dirk’s heart flutters with the excitement of seeing Todd, and it already feels like they are back to being boyfriends. Todd places 4 coins in the machine and the two of them play intense rounds of the space invaders game while catching up. Todd explains he is sorry for being distant and Dirk tells Todd how things are falling into place nicely for his detective business - How he has everything planned out - as long as there were still some remaining funds from the Patrick Spring case. After some time the noises of the video game end as Dirk beats Todd, 2 out of 3 rounds. “Ha.” stated Dirk, “I don’t usually beat you at this one.” Todd pouted but only a little bit. They then start walking towards the exit and get into Dirk’s flashy sports car for a ride back to his place.

Todd is astonished upon entering Dirk’s apartment. The fresh scent of the still new apartment, he sees the work desk accompanied by modern art decoration. “Dirk, this is awesome! Here, I bought you a little something. It’s not much but I thought with the new business, you might want something to promote it.” Dirk opens the brown paper bag and his eyes are widened by the customized gift. “Todd…It’s perfect!! Absolutely brilliant. I’ll use it for my morning tea!” Todd laughs and seeing Dirk’s joy from receiving the small gift from him warms Todd.

“Todd, I want you to listen to me. I hate what your lifestyle is doing to you, you’re always worried and constantly stressed out. I want you to live with me. Together you and I can run this detective agency and I know you will be happier.”

Todd smiles, even blushes slightly and takes Dirk’s hand. “I know. I want that too Dirk, but I have to do this for the best of us. I want to support your business so that’s why I’m working this shitty job. It’s hell right now but it will pay off.”

“You don’t have to,” Pushes Dirk. He grips Todd’s hand tighter and tells him firmly. “If we are together at this you don’t have to be miserable. I want you to quit that job and work together with me. We will be happier and might I remind you more time for an afternoon of cuddling on the job.

Dirk lifts up Todd, thought they have about the same strength Dirk can manage to carry his partner since he is slightly shorter. Dirk carries Todd into the bedroom and lays him down on the bed, which Todd loves. The passion gets heavy. They are kissing hard. Dirk glides his tongue over the front row of Todd’s teeth, feeling the texture of the slight gap in the middle. Todd is savoring the taste of Dirk’s lips with a growing erection pushing tight on his zipper. Not thinking they are going to last much longer, Todd pushes away.

“Dirk….I love you. I fucking love you.”

“Quit your job then, Todd. You know it’s the right thing for you to do.”

“Stop it Dirk, stop it! In an angry fit, Todd just starts kissing Dirk again and they almost return to making out when this time Dirk pulls away, both breathing heavily. “What can I do to convince you Todd, that this is what is right for us. Join me and it will make the two of us happy. We’ve put this off for too long!”

“Ok Then Dirk. I want us to be happy. I really want you to suck my dick.”

“What…?” Dirk’s eyes lit up but he was doubting what his own ears thought he heard.

“Dirk, I want you to suck my cock…” he gazes up at him, holding Dirk’s hand and waiting for a response.

Dirk lets out an uncontrollable grin and as he is stripped down to a tight white undershirt, showing off his tone and tight bum hugging boxer briefs. Todd is shirtless and unzips his jeans, pulls them down to expose his full boner. Dirk nearly feels his mouth watering like Todd’s cock was a prized gourmet meal. This time Dirk does not argue with Todd. He positions himself down on his knees while Todd gets seated at the edge of the bed. He wraps his lips tightly around Todd’s big cock and it is delicious to Dirk. Moving his head up and down to accommodate Todd’s length Dirk is also challenged with widening his jaw in a way that he can fit as much of it into his mouth as he possibly can. Todd is moaning with intense pleasure.

“Oh, oh, ah, AH!!” Todd lets out in-between heavy breathing as Dirk sucks him hard and savoring the length of his penis. Todd is watching with one fist pressed down to the bed clutching onto the sheets and he uses his other hand to push down on Dirk’s head. Dirk is loving every minute of giving Todd a blow job. The hardness of Todd’s cock inside his mouth felt amazing. “Ah…Ahh!” Todd continued with a smile, eyes closed as Dirk feels Todd come into him. His semen pours into Dirk’s mouth filling his taste buds with a sweet and bitter warmness. Dirk holds it onto his tongue for a few seconds, savoring the flavor before a full swallow to consume it. He didn’t realize how messy it was until he raised his head up to look at his partner. Todd giggles at the sight of cum dripping from Dirk’s mouth. He looked like he had just eaten vanilla ice cream very messily. Dirk just laughed and licked his lips to taste it again, wiping some of the excess off with the bedsheet. He tasted so fucking good. Todd can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face either.

The two crash on the bed and cuddle together naked and they can’t stop laughing and giggling about what just happened. “Thank you, Dirk. That was really great.” Todd stated, brushing his hand against Dirk’s cheek. They smiled at each other endlessly. “I think I will have to take you up on your offer Dirk, especially if there’s going to be more of this.” says Todd.

“I would definitely hope so.”, replies Dirk. Todd kisses him and the taste of his own seed on Dirk’s lips is a savory reminder that Dirk belongs to him. The two of them get dressed and head into the living room to continue cuddling and they watch a program on Animal Planet about caring for new puppies.

They watch tv for about a half hour to rest from their encounter. Then there’s a knock on the door. Dirk gets up to answer and its Farah. She greets both of them. “Todd! It’s been so long! I’m glad you’re here. ” She says with excitement. Farah always looked so fabulous. Today she was wearing her green jacket with slim black pants. Maroon blush applied to her high cheekbones which always paired so well with her face and eyes. “Here, I have something to show you guys, She takes her big red designer handbag and pulls out 3 pistols, black leather holsters included. “I figured we’d need some weapons since were going to be in this thing alone.” Todd looks astonished when Farah hands him his pistol. He loves it. “Thank You” he says. Dirk is shocked at first and he is usually skeptical about carrying such a weapon but the customized bright yellow handle won him over. Todd’s was bright blue and Farah carried the red one. While Todd enjoys the look and feel of his new pistol Farah and Dirk go into the kitchen discussing the remaining plans about the agency. Todd suddenly remembers something rash and puts away the gun, pulls his laptop out of his bag and opens the draft e-mail to his boss about his resignation. He didn’t even give a 2 weeks’ notice. After what just happened Todd was sure that he made up his mind.

When Todd finishes and sends the e-mail he enters the kitchen to tell Dirk and Farah about what he’d just done. Dirk nearly spilled his tea and squealed of excitement when Todd told him the news. “Oh Todd! This is incredible. Together we will be the power of 3!” Farah shot both of them a smirk when she sees that Dirk and Todd are holding both of their hands together and gazing into each other’s’ eyes. “Yeah…” started Todd, looking up at Farah. “Were totally boyfriends again!” finishes Dirk with a quirky smile and the two of them kiss, but only a peck in avoidance of putting on a show in front of Farah. “It’s not like I didn’t know!” She rolled her eyes laughing. Her cellphone rings and she suddenly has to go, for now. “Bye Farah!” They both said. ‘Thanks for the weapons!“ She heads out the door hurriedly and Todd turns to Dirk. He pulls out his phone and puts on a happy 70’s disco track "Upside Down” by Diana Ross and the two of them dance together in the kitchen to celebrate the new alliance. Todd was no longer a slave to routine and being with Dirk was all he really wanted. Dirk couldn’t be any happier to have Todd either. It was a happy day ��Er�:

[axolotiels]

That’s Not How the Story Goes

Once upon a time when I was a wee little writer who had recently finished ASOUE, I was displeased that Lemony Snicket neither met the Baudelaires nor adopted them. I fixed that, and uncovered it recently, only to have to fix it again because little me wrote like a gremlin. You’ll see that not much has changed.

Enjoy!

It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that Lemony Snicket, a man thought to be dead many times over and with great penchant for writing utterly dismal stories about three ingenious orphans and their many escaped perils, has stepped out for a moment. I do not use the term 'step-out' to give another insinuation that he stepped out either in front of a moving car or off of a cliff to add another false death to his growing list; I merely mean that Mr. Snicket now has other obligations that are far more important than chronicling his dismay, delight, and other words that start with the letter 'd'.

'Delight' is not a word that many would associate with someone as melancholic as Mr. Snicket, and with good reason. Not only is his life an ongoing disaster, he also took the liberty of chronicling the equally disastrous lives of the Baudelaire orphans following their parent's demise.

Like it was my duty to inform you that Mr. Snicket has stepped out, it is also my duty to inform you that something most unimaginable has occurred following the end of his series following the Baudelaire orphans.

For those of you uninitiated in the final book written in his series of increasingly unfortunate coincidences, he stopped writing about his findings about the Baudelaires. Or rather, he stopped publishing his findings, because after that final book (Entitled 'The End') he had a very difficult time finding and following the Baudelaires.

He has entrusted the manuscripts that he has written to me, and I can safely assure you that there is little to no substance to them other than his signature writing style and Mr. Snicket bemoaning things as he is often prone to doing.

The Baudelaires, who had been through just about as much as a group of children could possibly go through, were staggering into a seaside town. It was a quiet place, and thusfar, nobody had noticed them. I wish, dear reader, that I could tell you how the Baudelaires managed to acquire new clothes, food, and medical treatment in such a short amount of time with nary a penny in their pockets (But with many pennies in the bank, which in retrospect, probably explains quite a lot.). I wish that I had been there to see it to pen it down with such accuracy as Mr. Snicket had before me, but alas... I would if I could, but I can't, so I shan't.

The Baudelaires were hardly lucky in anything that had thusfar happened to them, but in this tiny, dreary, seaside town that was riddled with caves and people who did not ask too many questions, they were relatively well off. Both Violet and Klaus were able to acquire jobs, though they didn't pay enough to allow them much extra beyond paying rent and eating food. It was almost a ritual that the Baudelaires had whenever either Klaus or Violet received a paycheck that they made some remark or other about 'it's better than being paid in gum and coupons'. Nobody laughed but it was in good enough humor.

They didn't see that many people, and were quite reclusive, as children who had been through so much were prone to being. In truth, they did not need the jobs they had. Violet, the eldest, had inherited the Baudelaire fortune on her eighteenth birthday; the fortune was one of the things that caused their many problems, but they would be quite foolish not to use it. Besides that, Violet and Klaus enjoyed having something to do, including forgetting that they had quite a lot of money as they tried to subsist off their wages, panicking, remembered their savings account, and starting the cycle again.

It just so happened that the 'something to do' on this fateful cloudy day was going out for a stroll while they went to the nearest supermarket in the midst of the town.

Klaus Baudelaire was the one who was walking along in the middle, Violet was tailing behind him and reading a list of whatever it was that they needed to procure, and Sunny was walking resolutely ahead of them. An old man was sweeping up the barber shop that stayed open despite seemingly only having three customers, and when they passed, they waved.

It is my gathering and the gathering of a fellow agent by the name of Kingsleigh that the Baudelaires largely enjoyed their home in the town by the sea because it was so close to water. It was not a beach, like the place from whence they had come, although there was certainly a gray and pebbly beach nearby, but it was a town that was so nearby water that it made them feel the littlest bit safer. After all, when everything you had kept going up in smoke, literally and figuratively, you'd take measures to counteract such things.

After disappearing into the supermarket that was hidden beneath a dull gray sky, they reappeared with a few bags of groceries and other assorted items. Klaus had picked up writing materials and common-place books, which he seemed to have an awful lot of, Sunny had purchased a few extra-strong teething rings for herself, and Violet had purchased a few random screws, nails, gears, and whatever it was that the market had in its tiny hardware section. Klaus was a reader, but he had taken quite a shine to writing as well. He remembered everything he had ever read, from the Baudelaire library, to the dismal secrets of VFD, even recipes to make foods which he was sure did not exist. Sunny was still working on special skills that could apply in a much calmer setting, but since she was a small baby (Which was not that very long ago, really) she had four very sharp teeth that could sever the toughest wires and even be used to climb large elevator shafts that happened to be empty. Violet was an inventor, and though her inventions now were mostly alarms, detection rackets, and ways to keep track of things that did not need keeping track of, she had proved quite adept at pulling inventions out of thin air when hurtling down a mountain backwards at high speed.

These skills were, for the most part, useless in their quiet life in the quiet town next to the quiet sea where scarcely anything happened. This was quite fine by them.

As they walked down the main street of the town, each of them thinking their own thoughts as most are prone to doing, Klaus suddenly looked at his elder sister and said, “Do you think we could stop for some tea?”

Violet looked up, surprised. “I don't see why not, but it does look close to raining.”

Sunny, who had overheard their conversation, responded with, “It always looks like it's going to rain.” But she said it in a merry way, like she was daydreaming, which the young Baudelaire was most certainly not.

Violet considered this and motioned for them to turn a corner a bit earlier than usual. Down the street was the town's only tea-shop, a store for tourists that sold the usual sand in bottles and colored seashells, a paint store that helped to paint said seashells, and a library that had been abandoned long ago and was now hollow of its books.

They stopped at the tea shop that only had outside seating beneath two weather worn umbrellas, and the Baudelaires sat down outside at a table and rung the service bell. Now that nothing was happening to them, they had a lot less to talk about, so they sat there in silence and watched whatever bird dared to flit across the sky above the town.

I impart something else upon you, for those initiated: the Baudelaires had previously acquired an infant. This child was someone they often thought about in their silent gray town, wondering where she was and how she was doing and whether or not she had been carried away by some large sea bird. The Snicket whose place I now take once had two siblings: a brother named Jacques, who was rather unfortunately murdered at the Village of Fowl Devotees, and a sister named Kit, who also perished but due to something that I am not allowed to talk about, despite Mr. Snicket having written at least 3 separate books containing information about what I am not allowed to talk about. (Which is a deadly fungus named Medusoid Mycelium). This sister, Kit, had accompanied the Baudelaires to their previous home (Here to mentioned in book 13; honestly, if you don't know all of this please go read this abysmal series for yourself.) and had the baby that the Baudelaires now thought an awful lot about. Beatrice, named after their mother, was quite ingenious and could read after only a few months, which is not something that babies are often inclined to do. The Baudelaires and Beatrice had been separated on their journey from their island home to the dreary mainland at which they found themselves now.

One can imagine that, though the Baudelaires tried their hardest to be happy and were happy for the most part, that such things like thinking about a lost infant that had become a part of a family that you no longer had would bring down your mood considerably. The saddened thoughts spread from sibling to sibling sometimes, as if they were all telepathically linked, which is a phenomenon that has not yet been taken as fact but may explain an awful lot.

The owner of the tea-shop stuck his head out of the door, took their order (Which, like the weather, was much too drab to remember properly, especially with only Mr. Snicket's rather hazy eyewitness account) and went back inside.

The Baudelaires, as you may have gathered, had become very suspicious people. They had not set out to become suspicious people, just as you never set out to become a strawberry-crazed maniac with a large stick or an associate and I to become ghost writers for one of our organization's last standing agents. It was merely the circumstances with which they found themselves that forced them from becoming three nice young kids to three nice young kids that would jump at the drop of a hat. Agent Kingsleigh has relayed to me that there was scarcely a day when they did not jump at shadows or unexplained noises in the night. So as you can imagine, the sight of a man in a gray suit staggering toward you with a suitcase in one hand and a look that was an amalgamate of several other emotions would most definitely arouse suspicion, even in a town as small and as nameless as the one that they lived in.

Violet looked up and eyed him down fiercely, sitting as straight up as she could. Before the man could speak, she held out one hand in a 'stop before I throw this screw-driver at you' gesture. “Can we help you?”

The man stopped, and the Baudelaires finally were able to get a good look at his face. His hair was black and neatly combed but still looked as all hair looks when its owner is under tremendous stress. His suitcase looked to barely be holding itself together, watermarks and scratches ripping their way through the dusty brown leather. Klaus held back a grimace; perhaps the most disconcerting thing about this shambling man was his face, and by extension, his eyes.

Eyes, like being suspicious, were also something that the Baudelaires were exceedingly familiar with. The man did not have eyes that resembled the insignia of VFD, but they knew those eyes. They were scarily similar to their own, weathered and gray beneath their actual color. The eyes of a person who had seen everything, lost it, worked hard to regain it and had it ripped out from under them like a poorly-woven rug. The man was not old but looked to be aged by stress, much like his hair.

Having met Mr. Snicket on a few occasions, though most of these were as he was on the run from quite a few rather rude men and women who wanted to tie him to the front of a boat and sail into the sunset or things of a similar ilk, I can say that Mr. Snicket exudes a very depressing aura. He is melancholy by nature, and with good reason to be. A melancholic aura was not the aura that the Baudelaires gathered about him that day. Agent Kingsleigh has reported that the aura that Lemony Snicket projected was that of horrifically happy disbelief, which is an amalgamate of 3 separate emotions.

He stood there with his mouth agape and the hand that held his suitcase shaking.

“I...” The man tried to speak and found himself unable, taking another step forward before being stopped again.

“Can we help you?” Violet said again, not in the mood for any more nonsense for the rest of her life.

The man in the gray suit cleared his throat and straightened himself up, but still looked windblown and disheveled. “I... you do not know me, Baudelaires,” He said, his voice a deep and saddened baritone that sounded like it was trying its best to be both nonthreatening and to keep its owner from coming to tears. “But I know... I know you.”

This is a very alarming thing to hear when one has led a completely normal life and has not been chased across the country and over the seas by a man with a unibrow and a bad habit of setting important things on fire while blaming other people. The Baudelaires had in fact spent quite a few years of their lives fighting away this man with a unibrow and every bad habit imaginable, so hearing a man who looked as though he'd been dragged through a hurricane over a particularly angry lake say that 'he knew them' was a rather frightening thing to hear.

“No. No, no, no, we have had more than enough of people following us and giving us trouble.” It was Klaus who spoke up this time, a defiantly cautious glint in his eye.

The man looked mildly disappointed for a second, but his expression remained mostly unchanged. “I-I know, Baudelaires. Forgive me for surprising you but-”

Violet stood at the table as the pleasant smell of blueberry pastries and sugary tea contrasted sharply with the less-sweet attitude with which the Baudelaires had surrounded themselves. “Unless you have come bearing news about anyone named Beatrice Snicket, we would appreciate it if you let us alone. Good day sir.” She said this like a man who was attempting to throw a small child from a chocolate factory. I do not know why she mentioned Beatrice, but bless her for doing so.

At the sound of the two names, both 'Beatrice' and 'Snicket' respectively, the man froze again. Even his shaking stopped, and for a few moments, he looked as though he were on the brink of collapse. His eyes flashed and he faltered again, but this time he asked a question. “Beatrice... Beatrice Snicket? There is no Beatrice Snicket.”

A cold wind blew through the street and shifted him a bit in place, hiding the shiver that racked him. With every passing second, his eyes seemed to grow bigger and the Baudelaires said no more, waiting.

“Beatrice married Bertrand.” The man in the gray suit said slowly.

“Beatrice didn't marry our father.” Klaus said, and saw Sunny give the man the most suspicious once-over he'd ever seen. “She never even knew out father.”

The man in the suit looked bewildered, running his hand through his dull black hair. “Who is... Baudelaires, I...” For someone who made his existence entirely on words, he found himself at a remarkable lack of any.

“We would greatly appreciate it,” Violet said in a calm but utterly venomous voice. “If you would leave my siblings and I alone.”

Once again, the man only stared, and the Baudelaires were left to wonder what was taking their tea so long. He straightened himself but still did not move in the quiet street of the quiet town. After he appeared to be lost in thought even among all of the other emotions that his face betrayed him of feeling, he said in a hushed voice, “My niece. Beatrice Snicket is... is my niece.”

It had taken quite a bit of time for Mr. Snicket to gather this information despite all of the evidence pointing at it in the most obvious way. When one has been through as much grief and gross disbelief as much as Mr. Snicket and the Baudelaires both had, it can be quite hard to articulate speech. This was precisely what was happening to Mr. Snicket at that moment in time. He actually managed to take a deep breath and exhale it slowly enough to speak in a more understandable and less chopped up manner.

“Baudelaires, I am sorry to intrude on your personal space but please allow me to introduce myself. I am Lemony Snicket. I'm the last...” He faltered, and spoke up again. “the last living Snicket. Unless my... my niece Beatrice is still alive.”

The Baudelaires said nothing, stunned but still not quite as stunned as they once would have been. They collectively wondered where their tea was.

“I.... Baudelaires,  I've been trying to find you since the fire. The-the fire I was framed for.” He was allowed to take a few flat steps forward as another gust of wind funneled down from the sky.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny exchanged judgmental glances. “The Snicket file?” It was Sunny who spoke up this time. Despite not even being a fully-fledged child, she was remarkably articulate, especially when things such as this came into the equation.

For a second, Snicket looked relieved. “Yes, that's... that's the one.” He became serious again quickly. “I'm very sure that you're well aware that Count Olaf started a great many of those fires, including yours.”

“What do you know about Count Olaf?” Klaus asked, trying to funnel away the almost mocking tone he had acquired. They were less threatened and more annoyed by now, but they were also curious.

A clatter came from inside the tea-shop's kitchen, and everyone jumped. 'Clatter' is a word which means a loud crashing of plates, or in this case, 'agent Kingsleigh finally realizes that Lemony Snicket is standing outside and rushes to contact our supervisor'. I am sorry to inform you that this clatter overshadowed the conversation. What you are about to experience is what is known as a chronological jump, in which I am forced to skip a few details which, fortunately enough for me, are not absolutely instrumental in the retelling of this account.

By the time the tea-shop completed the Baudelaire's order, Lemony Snicket was seated across from them at a table. The siblings had crowded close to each other like birds in a storm, listening and talking whilst trying to make some amount of sense. They could tell that this man who now sat across from them and who was trying to keep from bursting into tears at any given moment, had been through a lot.

They had told him about their endeavors on the island, which he had not been able to follow, and were about halfway through when the shop owner passed them their tea and blueberry turnovers before going back inside and tending to the telegram he'd received from me.

“So, Baudelaires please allow me to attempt to digest this,” They did and waited for his response. “Kit is in fact deceased, she had a baby whom you named Beatrice, and on your way back you somehow lost her and you have ended up... here.” He sounded as though he were about to cry, which was not a new development but a distressing one nonetheless.

Violet nodded. “We're sorry about your siblings, Mr. Snicket.”

“I can't imagine what it would be like to lose Violet or Sunny, especially after all we've been through.” Added Klaus, suddenly feeling very ill at ease, though he couldn't figure out exactly what made him feel that way besides everything.

Snicket gave them a weak smile. “I don't expect you to, Baudelaires. With all that's happened, I'd hoped that you wouldn't have to.”

There was something both oddly comforting and oddly unnerving about the things the man called Lemony Snicket said. I am to believe that at that point, he had told them that he'd been chronicling their misfortunes, and they had understood that it had something to do with VFD. There was also something else that Mr. Snicket was hiding, and this they knew well, despite having seen him for all of about twenty minutes.

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Snicket?” Violet asked while taking a tentative sip from her tea. She didn't think the tea would harm her in any way, but she was very put off by whatever was occurring, even if it was harmless and terribly sad rather than harmful and terribly sad.

He thought for a moment, penning down details that he had observed from the Baudelaires and their tellings of their time on the island whilst attempting to keep the wind from blowing them away. “I don't know. I never do. But,” he looked up with his eyes flashing, if only a little, “I'm not running from anyone anymore, not at the moment anyway. I suppose I have you three extraordinary children to thank for that.”

They looked at him a bit stunned. He was correct, of course, but it was still an odd thing to hear. What he said was 'thank you'; what he meant was 'thank you for killing Count Olaf or otherwise letting him die, as it now puts me further away from danger as well as you further away from danger'.

Lemony Snicket went back to his papers for a moment, his pen scratching furiously.

The Baudelaires were faced with a dilemma, a word which here means 'should we turn away this incredibly sad man with a tip of the hat once we leave' or 'should we further our interactions with this sad man though we are not obligated to do as such'.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny all excused themselves for a moment and walked far enough away that the gusting wind disguised their hushed voices.

Again, I wish I could tell you what transpired, but neither I nor the agent working there that day was able to write down what it was that they were saying. Snicket was busy writing down thoughts of his own and glancing balefully up at the Baudelaires, appearing to almost believe that they would disappear like spirits or those who had been framed of murder if he did not keep looking to see if they were there.

Suddenly, Lemony Snicket had most of his work go up in smoke, a phrase which here means 'his papers did not spontaneously combust but a great few of them were scattered into the empty street by a rather rude gust of wind.' He clamped his suitcase shut and sprinted into the street, which is remarkable when one knows how many bone fractures he's had in the past.

The Baudelaires all rushed back to try and swat down the flutter of parchment, and with four people all hunting paper like cats, it was easily accomplished enough. Violet was given a perfunctory nod by each of her siblings while delivering a stack back to Snicket, and as she handed him the papers, she looked him in the eye.

“Mr. Snicket... do you have a place do stay?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, as if unable to comprehend the question, and then responded, “No, no, but I'll manage.”

“We know it isn't much, but we do have a couch.” Klaus spoke up from behind Violet; he'd taken his seat again alongside Sunny.

For a second, Snicket looked horrified. “No, no, Baudelaires, I couldn't accept that offer.”

Violet, who still held her cautious demeanor, was also struck with something akin to pity. “Please, Mr. Snicket you won't be any trouble.”

“Not to mention, it's getting a bit more blustery than this later tonight. Your papers won't survive a storm like this outside.” Klaus looked calmly at the man in the gray suit.

Snicket pursed his lips, deep in thought, as he often was. “I believe I've put you in enough danger already, Baudelaires. You never know who's following you when you're someone like me.”

Violet straightened up and looked him in the eye, an act that can be quite frightening, especially when one is a young woman who was ready to fight tooth and nail at any given time, should something go awry. “Even if you are being followed, Mr. Snicket, even you should know that we are more than capable of defending ourselves.”

Sunny glanced slyly at her sister and the now startled-looking man she was talking to. “She's right, you know. I still have my teeth.”

“I still have my inventing skills.” added Violet, crossing her arms.

“And I still have my memory and my books. More of the former than the latter.” Klaus crossed his arms as well, as did Sunny, and soon three fourths of the table was sitting resolutely with their arms crossed and their hair being mussed by the cantankerous winds.

“You've been through quite enough.” Snicket muttered, averting his eyes in favor of his scrambled parchments. It was not that he lacked empathy, but the fact that he thought he didn't deserve to be among their good graces. “If I were faster, perhaps I could have stopped some of those... those atrocious acts, but I was not. I don't want to be too slow for you again... it's best if I leave you be.”

The Baudelaires shared a thoughtful glance in the gusty afternoon in front of the tea shop. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny made a silent agreement without so much as a flick of the head. They ignored their forced cautious nature for the first time in a very long while.

Snicket had begun packing up his things when Sunny got up and placed one tiny hand on his forearm, and said in a strangely adult voice for someone so young, “We forgive you, L.” She said it with the implication that there was nothing to be forgiven, but all three of the easily startled siblings knew that he needed to hear it.

He looked up, and his expression of alarm seemed to melt into melancholic relief that only people like Mr. Snicket can manage. Once again, he looked as though he were about to cry, but once again again, this was not very new.

It took a moment for Snicket to respond while he made sure all of his papers and pens were in the right order and had not been rigged to explode. Once he was done, he was met by the three faces of the children it had taken him so, so long to find. He sighed and put one hand to his forehead. “I'm not going to change your minds, am I?”

“No.” They all responded in unison.

He quickly looked away with a soft grin playing on his lips as he wiped nonchalantly at one of his eyes, as if hiding tears was something he had to do often.

As it was my unfortunate duty to inform you that Mister Snicket stepped out, it is my much more pleasant duty to tell you that he did accept the offer to sleep on their couch. An even more pleasant bit of news is that this is the first time in at least ten years that he has not left the same post after three days of staying their. He has asked me to stop the recount here, and I shall respect his wishes. One more parting bit of information, but you did not hear it from me, and I did not hear it from Kingsleigh: The Baudelaires are quite enjoying having an uncle again.

[lemma-lassie]

All the asks

Here you go @advicefromanobody

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? A friend on our way to the ER for her tremors

2. Are you outgoing or shy? Yes?

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? Some friends I recently reconnected with

4. Are you easy to get along with? Um probably not idk

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? Nah

6. What kind of people are you attracted to? Female musicians who are outgoing with a sense of humility and compassion

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? Nope

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? Matt because he keeps texting me but like I’m gay so

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Depends on who it’s with

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? It’s been a while. Probably my bff @swawesome-wow

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? “Omg Harold confirmed”

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? “Fly/I believe I can fly” (the glee version) “In Remembrance” (a Choral piece) “Dance All Night” Idk that’s all I got

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Yes yes yes yes yes but only when I’m okay with being touched so like don’t surprise me

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? Somewhat? I prefer “fortune” to “luck,” but I don’t know why

15. What good thing happened this summer? I went to Vienna!!

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? No…

17. Do you think there is life on other planets? Im not up to date on enough information to make an educated decision

18. Do you still talk to your first crush? I mean we’re friends on Facebook

19. Do you like bubble baths? No, I’m allergic to plants so the products usually irritate my skin

20. Do you like your neighbors? Yes, they’re an amazing family

21. What are you bad habits? So many?

22. Where would you like to travel? Greece, Germany, South Africa, anywhere possible

23. Do you have trust issues? Yep

24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Going the fuck to sleep

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? Eyebrows?

26. What do you do when you wake up? Scream internally and then eat bread

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? I’m already practically white, might as well go a little lighter

28. Who are you most comfortable around? My best friends

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? Never been in a relationship

30. Do you ever want to get married? Yes

31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail? Not yet, but getting there

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? Emma Watson and Bonnie Wright

33. Spell your name with your chin. Sbba

34. Do you play sports? What sports? Is karate a sport?

35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV oh my god

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? So many times

37. What do you say during awkward silences? “Whelp.”

38. Describe your dream girl/guy? A passionate, selfless, intelligent, caring woman who can better me and whom I can better in return. And who is, like, gay

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? TARGET and dollarama

40. What do you want to do after high school? lol I’m in college so I guess I did something right

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? No. I think it depends on the circumstance. For example, rapists don’t deserve a second chance

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? Either I’m focused, pissed, exhausted, shocked, sad, or daydreaming

43. Do you smile at strangers? Yes, I always feel guilty when I don’t

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Mm, neither bc motion sickness and claustrophobia But I guess space

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? My alarm

46. What are you paranoid about? My teachers being disappointed in me

47. Have you ever been high? Yes, once

48. Have you ever been drunk? Yes, far more than once

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Maybe

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? Purple

51. Ever wished you were someone else? Probably hermione tbh

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? I wish I could have more patience.

53. Favourite makeup brand? Elf because it’s cheap af

54. Favourite store? Target

55. Favourite blog? Uh

56. Favourite colour? Teal

57. Favourite food? Bread?

58. Last thing you ate? Rice with sausage and toppings

59. First thing you ate this morning? Chocolate croissant (usually toast though)

60. Ever won a competition? For what? I think like best science project in seventh grade, it’s kinda gone downhill since then

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? Nein

62. Been arrested? For what? No

63. Ever been in love? Maybe

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? Truth or dare. Two friends.

65. Are you hungry right now? I wasn’t until you mentioned it

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? Nah, my real friends are pretty great

67. Facebook or Twitter? Facebook

68. Twitter or Tumblr? Tumblr

69. Are you watching tv right now? No

70. Names of your bestfriends? Maha, Joslyn, Sarah, Matt

71. Craving something? What? Sleep

72. What colour are your towels? Teal

72. How many pillows do you sleep with? One or two

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? My stuffed bear Patches from 6th grade choir trip

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? 20ish I think

75. Favourite animal? Cats

76. What colour is your underwear? Grey

77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate unless it’s icing

78. Favourite ice cream flavour? Sea Salt Caramel

79. What colour shirt are you wearing? Green and white

80. What colour pants? Green and white… I’m in pajamas

81. Favourite tv show? Sherlock

82. Favourite movie? Harry Potter

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? No

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? No

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? No

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? Nemo’s mom

87. First person you talked to today? Joslyn

88. Last person you talked to today? …Joslyn

89. Name a person you hate? Donald Trump

90. Name a person you love? Joe Biden

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? Nazis

92. In a fight with someone? Not currently

93. How many sweatpants do you have? None and it’s awful please help

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? Like 6

95. Last movie you watched? Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

96. Favourite actress? Emma Watson

97. Favourite actor? Alan Rickman

98. Do you tan a lot? It’s burn or nothing

99. Have any pets? A cat named Lily

100. How are you feeling? Tired

101. Do you type fast? Ish

102. Do you regret anything from your past? Yes

103. Can you spell well? When I wear my apnea device... damn apparently not because I read that as "sleep" not "spell"

104. Do you miss anyone from your past? Yes

105. Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes

106. Ever broken someone’s heart? Yes

107. Have you ever been on a horse? Yes

108. What should you be doing? Sleeping

109. Is something irritating you right now? People not doing their fucking work

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? Yes, several times

111. Do you have trust issues? Yes

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? My therapist

113. What was your childhood nickname? Lassie or Em

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? Yes, many times

115. Do you play the Wii? Rarely

116. Are you listening to music right now? No

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? Not particularly

118. Do you like Chinese food? Yes

119. Favourite book? 1984

120. Are you afraid of the dark? Only after scary movies

121. Are you mean? Only when I’m sleep deprived

122. Is cheating ever okay? Haha no

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? Never tried

124. Do you believe in love at first sight? I guess?

125. Do you believe in true love? Either you love someone or you don’t, it’s just whether or not you’re honest about it

126. Are you currently bored? A bit

127. What makes you happy? Music, bread, sleep, friends

128. Would you change your name? I would change my last name to my middle name to reflect my mom’s family

129. What your zodiac sign? Capricorn

130. Do you like subway? Fuck yes

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? Remind them that I’m gay af and that they have a girlfriend

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? My best friend

133. Favourite lyrics right now? “I slept in last night’s clothes and tomorrow’s dreams but they’re not quite what they seem”

134. Can you count to one million? I sure hope so but I’m not about to try

135. Dumbest lie you ever told? That I bought veggies and not dessert

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Closed tf I don’t trust people

137. How tall are you? 5'7"

138. Curly or Straight hair? Wavy?

139. Brunette or Blonde? Brunette

140. Summer or Winter? Summer

141. Night or Day? Day

142. Favourite month? October

143. Are you a vegetarian? No

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Dark

145. Tea or Coffee? Tea, always

146. Was today a good day? Lol no

147. Mars or Snickers? Mars

148. What’s your favourite quote? “We all must make the choice between what is right and what is easy.”

149. Do you believe in ghosts? I’m not sure

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? “Effects of age on detection of emotion”

[romancingthedragon]

Tweeted

Just Pinned to More Books To Read: The Daydreamer Detective Opens A Tea Shop Paperback https://t.co/ViiMH0V54C pic.twitter.com/Cf6nNBKLQR

— Eden (@EdenAshe) December 5, 2018

[spajonas]

Sunday Update - February 26, 2017

I’m sorry I haven’t been as present around the blog as I usually am. This week was hellish for me, and though I wanted to come here and post something fun and positive during the week, I just couldn’t do it. You see, I have a new book out tomorrow (blog post tomorrow about it!) and per usual, I had a fight with Amazon over it. It was almost enough to make me give up this whole shindig.

In the past 3 years and 5 months, I’ve been an author, I’ve published 10 books and 5 short stories. Every Single Release, there’s been a problem with Amazon. I can’t help but think, it must be me, right? Other authors don’t have these kinds of problems. In fact, I hear from authors all the time, “I’ve never had a problem with Amazon. I wonder why you do?” Uh-huh. I WONDER WHY TOO! Because it’s dehumanizing and demoralizing the way they treat me, and I’ve had enough of it. I could go through and catalog all my problems for you (they had issues with my series name, my subtitles, they linked up the wrong books, they published my book and said it was “unavailable” [TWICE], etc etc) but just thinking about everything I’ve been through makes me want to bang my head against the table. Sigh.

What I really hate is that they don’t listen. This past week when they determined that I needed to take my subtitles “A Miso Cozy Mystery” off all my cozy mystery books or they would shut down my KDP account, I tried to talk to them about it. I was following all the rules. I wasn’t keyword stuffing. “Miso Cozy” is a play on “Me so cozy” which I thought was obvious but probably not to some customer service person in India. It was on the cover (stipulated by THEIR rules). Nope. They didn’t care. “We’re sorry, but we can’t provide further information at this time,” is the reply I got basically saying, “Don’t bother emailing us again because we don’t care.” I had to spend time going through and deleting it out and republishing.

That took up three days of my time, then this weekend, they linked up the paperback of the third book in my series to the first book’s ebook version, therefore screwing over any idea I had of having reviews up before release day. I cried yesterday, and I don’t cry often over this stuff. I usually take a deep breath and move on. But this was it. I’d reached my limit.

That’s not to say that I haven’t had problems at other vendors. I had problems two years ago with Apple denying my short stories over and over, but once I fixed those problems, I never had another one. I had problems getting paid from Kobo. I had problems with Google Play because they didn’t let me know I hadn’t filled in a form to get paid. I had problems with Barnes & Noble too in which they messed up my entire series and I had to switch to Draft2Digital to get it fixed. But those have all been one-off problems. Amazon is a problem with EVERY SINGLE BOOK, and then to top it off, I had a disastrous time in KU too.

Sorry, I didn’t mean for this Sunday Update to be a rant, but it did take up enough of my week. Besides dealing with Amazon, I also got other things ready for my book launch, worked on wrangling my newsletter problems, walked outside three times because it was SO NICE OUT, went to the chiropractor, and edited Hikoboshi 1. So it was really busy! Today, I’ll be editing more of Hikoboshi 1, working out a timeline for that story because I keep getting lost on what’s happening, and working on teaser images for THE DAYDREAMER DETECTIVE OPENS A TEA SHOP.

So much to do. So little time.

What else happened this week?

I got out in the fresh air, saw turtles all lined up on a log, and enjoyed walking to and from school to get the kids.

Having lunch outside in the sun is THE BEST.

When dealing with Amazon, many drinks are needed. If I need a new kidney, I’m blaming them.

And I hit my expected word count for Hikoboshi 1. I knew this book needed some details going into revisions so I set my goals to hit 85k for it. Just before entering the third act of the book, I met the goal! Everything from here on out is gravy. 🙂

This week on the blog: the publication of THE DAYDREAMER DETECTIVE OPENS A TEA SHOP and hopefully a teaser image for it!

Sunday Update – February 26, 2017 was originally published on S. J. Pajonas

[spajonas]

Japan Tea Shop Inspiration

When it comes to my books and Japan, tea is an important part of the story. In the Nogiku Series, Sanaa loved her coffee and Jiro loved tea. They did business at Shofu-an, the Minamoto’s tea house in Ku 6, and drank tea during negotiations. In the Miso Cozy Mysteries Series, Mei opens a tea shop where she specializes in helping her elderly clients and those around town. She loves her tea shop and everything it represents for her future.

So, when I sat down to write these books, I looked for some good inspiration on how I would picture them in my head so I could describe them for my readers. If you’d like to learn more about tea houses, definitely check out this post on Tea House Names and Ceremonies. Today, I’m going to show you some of the inspirational photos I collected especially for writing THE DAYDREAMER DETECTIVE OPENS A TEA SHOP.

I love this building. It has such charm. This is how imagine most of the buildings in Chikata.

Japan-Kyoto-Uji-City-Kanbayashi-Mitsuboshi-en-Tea-Shop-and-Museum-Byodo-in-StreetView-2-April-2004 by tiarescott, on Flickr

And here are some more storefront inspirations that helped me picture Oshabe-cha, Mei’s tea shop.

Tea Shop @ Uji by Tim Yau, on Flickr

tea by henrie tsai, on Flickr

Wonderland by Lilac and Honey, on Flickr

When it comes to the inside of the shop, I really wanted to have the place be warm wood and eclectic clutter, much like Mei. Remember that she inherited Etsuko’s bento box collection from THE DAYDREAMER DETECTIVE BRAVES THE WINTER, so I picture them on shelves around the shop.

Kaikado – Tea Caddy Shop, Kyoto by Christian Kaden, on Flickr. © Christian Kaden / www.Japan-Kyoto.de

Green Tea Shop by Mathieu Thouvenin, on Flickr

tea shop by sparkle glowplug, on Flickr

Ocha no Kanbayashi, Tea Store in Uji by Christian Kaden, on Flickr. © Christian Kaden / www.Japan-Kyoto.de

I love those photos! They’re truly inspirational. Hopefully they fire up your imagination for when you read the Miso Cozy Mysteries series!

(All photos in this post are used in accordance with Creative Commons Licenses.)

Japan Tea Shop Inspiration was originally published on S. J. Pajonas

[spajonas]

An Interview With S. J. Pajonas On The It's A Mystery Podcast!

Happy Labor Day to everyone in the US and Canada! I have a little treat for the blog today. I was recently interviewed by Alexandra Amor on the IT’S A MYSTERY PODCAST and the episode went live today! In the interview, I talk a little about how I came to be a Japanophile, how I worked Japan in my writing and subsequent novels, all about Mei Yamagawa, the heroine of THE DAYDREAMER DETECTIVE, and my trips to Japan.

Here’s more about the podcast…

» Listen or read the transcript via Alexandra Amor’s website » Listen via Apple’s Podcasts » Listen via Stitcher

Or you can watch via the Youtube video!

I hope you enjoy the interview and that you have an awesome week!

An Interview With S. J. Pajonas On The It’s A Mystery Podcast! was originally published on S. J. Pajonas