#back from work an hr ago so I gotta distract myself for the time being

[aviscranio]

yea over two hundred gotta unfollow some

[hunterartemis]

Media Bias (Avengers X Alien!Reader)

It was a request from anonymous reader and since I have limited experience with tagging, I am going to quote the person’s request here:

“ Hi can you please do Avengers x reader where the reader is like Starfire from og teen titans (but the reader is green and the blasts are blue) and the Avengers go on a talk show and the host is being very mean to her. Thanks”

So, dear anonymous. I hope you enjoy!“

Words: a whopping 4100

Y/n, open the door” I heard Sam thudding away on my door as I buried myself in the layers of blanket and put the air condition humid enough to cause a mini monsoon.

“Go away Wilson and leave me alone--” I bellowed on top of my voice.

“Y/n it’s been more than 7 hrs, you got to come out... whatever happened in the morning you gotta let it go--”

“I don’t wanna let it go... I am a national embarrassment--”

You must be thinking, what is the situation you’ve been dragged into. Let me pause there and rewind 17 hours back to give you a complete understanding which lead to this complete mess.

People think our story ended and sealed with Thanos never got to see what we go through in the New York penthouse. With the ongoing Pandemic on board, people are desperate to see us even more, as if it is the new Thanos and we are to defeat it. There is no greater sense of helplessness than playing the puppet of courage without doing anything. So whoever wrote that “after the defeat of big bad, the heroes rejoice” was a big idiot.

And thus, I found myself awake after hours, sitting alongside the broad glass panel that showed the completely stopped-in-time, shining in the dark cityscape of once bustling New York. A fleeting sense of desolation plagued me as I remember my own world in the verge of extinction. My breath almost stopped in the great worry of my fellow living being in this planet; the one who saved me from destitution--

 “y/n, is that you?”A calm and concerned paternal voice broke the train of my thought. I sharply looked behind my shoulder to see a disheveled figure of man standing in the dark. By the tousled curls and the slouched hem of the sweatpants, I knew was Bruce.

“Urh, you startled me!” I said with a dismissive voice. I felt almost embarrassed to realize what I was thinking moments ago. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.

“It’s you who startled me y/n, what are you doing up so late?” Bruce said with a groggy voice rubbing his eyes rather irritatingly. “We have an important event to attend tomorrow first thing in the morning” he slowly moved towards from the shadowy part of the room to the path of dimmed light from the glass panel and spared a long glance at my face. The way he looked at me sometimes irritated me, because it was an inalienable fact that he fell into the same category of humans who express an unhealthy obsession with my kind: a scientist.

“It’s not like I enjoy staying up like you Lowly Human...I am as stressed for tomorrow as you are!” I tore my face from his ken to express my displeasure. In reply, he sighed disappointedly, which sounded patronizing in my already agitated mind.

“I wish you’d stop insulting my specie whenever you get upset...” he gently put his hand in my shoulder, but soon he withdrew and stepped back. “And what is that god-awful smell?”

Any female whether she is human or not is very sensitive to criticism, especially about how she appears, thus Bruce’s comment was not only offensive but hurtful as well. I could not restrain my anger and annoyance anymore, and I stood up sharply to face him “I just happen to wet myself in the rain yesterday at my detour downtown and it turns out it has too much sulphuric acid and it is peeling my skin away... right before when I am about to go up close on television.”  My hand subconsciously moved up to my cheek, where flakes were forming in my otherwise jade smooth skin. “And you are telling me to stop insulting your specie... I will when you unicellular cretins will stop ruining your own environment—“ I folded my arms defensively, gazing away from Bruce’s face “--as if I don’t get ridiculed enough for my chrorophyllic skintone, and now I am shedding like a common reptile.”

“Alright alright I am sorry...” Bruce threw up his arms defensively, and his small paces back and forth showed his discomfort more than anything, “do you want something for your skin, CeraVe or something? I can fetch you some ice if you want?”

His apologetic gesture made my whole effort defeated; but my pride disrupted me from being apologetic “Forget it... as if those human manures would work on my skin—“ I heaved a sigh and looked at him again “must we do the thing? I mean I am not the only alien that set foot on earth in this decade, why must I be walked around like a showdog in front of all the people?”

For some moments Bruce did not answer me. I almost thought he was ignoring me, but then I realised that he must be contemplating on every word he wanted to say and every word that was running through his brilliant mind. Out of anyone in the team, Bruce was the visual hole, the less than heroic material: even with the Hulk. And for this, the society made sure that he would be self conscious for the rest of his life for his other identity. My annoyance almost melted to sympathy when I heard him speak in a rather frustrated voice.

“Y/N, I know that you are stressed about this and frankly I hate this stuff too, but this is very important for the people: for your people as well as ours. Not all things that come from the space are benign and people need reassurance that you are not hostile. I hate this too, but it is for the greater good!”

“Greater good, greater good... it is always for the greater good!”  The same old daily whining of lofty agenda made me sick “I am sick and tired of these Brucie, I don’t want to do this anymore... I am tired about people asking me weird questions and cretins posing as scientists trying to push probes on me the first chances they get-- I wish I could just disappear with the portal that brought me in this cursed place!“

Bruce came closer and grabbed my shoulders gently “Don’t say that y/n... otherwise we wouldn’t have the means to counterattack all those aliens—“ my silence might have given him the cue that he wasn’t doing a very good job at convincing. His wavering eyes fixed on my face once again as he spoke “okay, here is a deal: how about it is the last time you appear in public, hm? Once you satisfy them that you are part of the team, I swear people will leave you alone... they left the Hulk alone too once they understood that he is one of the good guys!”

“No but...“

“No ifs and buts... go, and have some sleep. Let me look in the lab if we have some squalanes and peptide solutions lying around—“ he said with a paternal affection and disappeared into the dark passage which lead to his room

“Thanks Brucie you are the best—“

I couldn’t help but to smile a little. Humans!

...

“This is a bad idea I am telling you--“ I told Bruce with an hushed tone as the makeup artist went on with a puff on my face for the millionth times. The rest of my team was behind me, getting the same attentions to their dismay. I could tell Bucky was downright uncomfortable as his makeup artist had a hard time getting not distracted by his bionic arm; and Wanda was downright glaring at the man who kept flicking the brush on her nose.

“relax y/n, you are smart and you are friendly, you are going to ace this and trust me people are going to love you--“ Bruce said with gritted teeth to make sure no one could tell what he was saying. He almost flinched as some of the powder made into his nose and the makeup artist followed him up with a q-tip.

“My face is itchy...“ I whispered again, trying not to gouge my face out with my nails as the powder sat on the flaky part of the cheek. If this wasn’t a studio I would have scratched my face like a lunatic and ended up as someone who was attacked by a bear in the mountains. And I was glad that I was standing beside Bruce who knew how not to go overboard with the things. Clint would have brushed them off, Wanda and Bucky would have panicked, and Sam’s gestures no matter how genuine would have made me laugh.

“Wanda already told the makeup artist to spray you with Squalane, your face isn’t half as bad as it were yesterday night“ Bruce then went on politely gesturing the makeup artist to spray the stuff Bruce brought from the lab in a clear bottle, and the look on the Makeup Artist’s face was between annoyance and bursting into tears.

“Brucie...“ “I don’t wanna mess it up--“ I said nervously as we walked into the couch and settled with the others.

“Trust me you won’t... “ Bruce graciously consoled me.

The cameraman cued and we were all gestured to look into the main camera as the lights in front of us adjusted accordingly. Within all hustle and bustle, the host walked in like a royalty, and by the looks of his face and those following him with makeup and refreshment, he had a really bad morning.

“We will go on air in 3, 2 and 1”

“Good Morning America, this is your host Justin Fallon and welcome to another episode of The Early Show. Today we have with us some really special guests. You might know them from News, the murals, the comics and the Merchs please welcome our own global superheroes: The Avengers. Welcome to our show” the host said with an uncomfortable friendliness and turned towards us.

"Thanks for having us with you" Sam answered graciously, with a little awkwardness. I could understand why; it was always Tony, Steve and Natasha who spoke in public. After such a terrible loss, he is struggling to fill up their shoes for the sake of our public image. He had been wrapped up into a pretty bad controversy recently for succeeding as Captain America and it had a pretty bad toll on him—to the point his speech kind of went from cheerful to composed in an unnatural way.

 "It’s been way too long since our morning couch looked so colorful and it surely brightens up the day.” The host said with an obligatory politeness. Although the term was innocent enough but it seemed not so—I instantly froze up and million things started flying inside my head: was I looking good enough, is my patches showing under the layers of power and squalane. Turns out it was not me alone. From the corner of my eye I could sense the tension behind me from Clint and Bucky and I know it was different than mine. The host must have wanted the old team, and looked like he was stuck with the mediocre leftovers.

“Thank you...“ Sam replied.

“So here you guys are after averting the big wipeout crisis, in the quiet and chilling, so how does it feel to be in the pensive from being hyperactive all the time?“

“Well, at first it did feel kind of boring and lack luster, but slowly we are adjusting to it. With the ongoing Pandemic crisis I think we just have to adjust to the situation. In a way, I think we are all helping each other by staying inside and recuperating.” Sam answered diplomatically.

“That’s so nice” the interviewer said quite curtly and then changing the topic he sharply turned to Doctor Banner “I know of all you people Dr. Banner will find this Lockdown Leisure slightly more comforting, isn’t that so Doctor Banner?”

Wait, what was that? Was that even normal? Sam was sitting in the front and after him Bucky, then Wanda and then Bruce. Should not he come gradually? Breathe... maybe I am reading too much into this. Keep a friendly face, don’t think too much... the entire nation is watching... this is the one time I have to do things right! It’s for me, my team who housed me and my people.

I had to give props to Bruce for managing things calmly despite his claims about public speaking. He politely replied “Well theoretically it should be but it’s not like causes of anger cannot exist within the so called peaceful environment if you think about it, but I am glad you showed your concern” and like a pro, reached out to the glass in front of him to sip some water—like some real celebs in talk shows.

“Isn’t that true! So Solaris, how does it feel to be surrounded by the icons of the earth?”

I wasn’t really ready for the sudden attention. For a second I blanked out completely and gaped my mouth like a complete idiot. My stupefied face must have been quite prominent because the host tried to laugh it off lightly to divert the attention. I am still wrapping my head around the fact how some humans work so beautifully under so much attention—If I could choose between blasting off alien armies and speaking in talk shows, I will take the aliens instead.

“I..I--It’s quite fun... there is never a dull moment with them--“ I manage to utter, and thankfully it wasn’t a gurgling sound from a deep abyss.

“The thing is, being the most newest member, you sort of have a mystery around you, the kind of a Blue Comet sort--“

“Oh thank you— “ great going me, like a real talk show celeb—keep it up!

“So why don’t we break that down... Solaris, is that true that you came from a whole another galaxy which is not Milky Way?” the Talk show host asked, reading from a small piece of card.

Finally, something I can talk about all day: stars, planets and galaxy. I will have to slay this, I chanted inside and replied after drawing a breath “Yes that’s true. I am from Planet Auriga from Pleiades system. Our Sun is Alcyone, the second brightest star right after Aldebaran. You people call our system Taurus Constellation--” 

“--so much astrophysics, take notes kids they might ask you at the NASA interview.“ the talk show host interrupted. It annoyed me greatly because I could finish the words I worked so hard to speak confidently. So that’s how Bruce must feel all the time when people interrupted him when he explains things. However the host went on as if nothing happened “For a near human creature in this planet, do you identify more with the Professor X’s troop or with the Avengers?”

Near human creature? My race is literally the most Superior in all of galaxy.

“I don’t really understand what you mean...” I said as politely as I could manage.

“I mean isn’t it hard to fit in when you are the only alien in the group--“

The flippant remark was rude and I tried not to wrap my head around it. I recalled Bruce’s words to keep cool and maintain a neutral face replied : “I mean I am not the only one, Thor is also not of the earth and he is a darling to be around. Alien or not I think I have learned a lot about myself and the ways of earth by spending time with this wonderful people?“

I could hear the audience clapping and cheering with my reply. A surge of pride swept across my chest and I smiled slightly at the audience.

“How sweet--“ the host said, keeping with the cheerful mood “as the outer world people are coming into the planets, we think a lot of things are shifting, do you find it hard to cope into the earth from where you come from--“

Finally, a thoughtful question, I made a solid eye contact with the host and replied “No, the atmosphere is pretty much the same in Auriga, but I think humans can do a lot better taking care of the environment. I know for a fact that millions of planets and their lifeforms were extinct because of excesses I see on earth.”

The thoughtfulness of the host was only for so long “The girl’s been around... if you know what I mean—“ he commented with a little wink, and from the audience’s laugh I knew he didn’t mean something polite or mildly positive. After the laughter subsided, he turned again to me “I dig the midnight blue hair... it is so contradictory and yet it works“ he complimented “because you know scale and hair are not something we see very often in our planet--“ 

Excuse me, what was that supposed to mean?

“--so tell me are the lapis cascades all natural? I mean they are not dyed at all?”

“No they are not... the special keratin bond that reflect the blue pigment of the natural light but they are actually transparent—“ I added objectively.

“So that means in the right lighting you don’t need to mow the bush—“ the host said with a curved smile on his lips, and the audience went on laughing in the same manner they did moments ago.

Even under the blowing airconditioner, I started t feel really warm around my neck “I really don’t know what you mean; you are making any sense at all! Do you guys need special light to mow the bush, do you do in the solstices or during the eclipses—“  this time I didn’t hide the fact that I was annoyed.

“--she is really really funny you guys--“ the host again smiled and acted like I was a stone wall and my reaction didn’t register in his mind at all. “So you are saying you don’t mow your bush at all?“

“I live in a New York Penthouse, there is no bush--“ honestly if this wasn’t a dumb talk show, I would have taught this impudent human a lesson.

The host looked a little uncomfortable as our eye contact lasted for several seconds. He cleared his throat and went on “Okay you guys, she just clarified that there is no bush, so let’s move on to your...your look... I am so fascinated by it, it’s so reptile chic--“

What’s your fascination with cold blooded animals? Are you asking to die like one?

“Um, thanks...?!”

“So how do you manage to maintain this--“

That was honestly the last straw. This host is impolite and rude and he leeches off the discomfort of his talk show host. When this realisation hit, all my self-control and self preservation went out of the window. The vacuum was replaced by the sheer annoyance towards the host who deliberately mistreated us since the beginning.

“Do you think that’s how I live, maintaining my skin and mowing the bush--“ my pitch rose from my previous composed tone “I mean what kind of questions are these?“

The host was still wearing his phony smile on his face, but I could see the colour slightly draining off his face “No I was just asking, because the audience wants to know--“

“I think the audience is smart enough to understand that they cannot get the green skin on natural blue hair, so can you move on to a more sensible question?“ I answered heatedly and defensively at the same time, and as I spoke I felt the aura of tension shifting from discomfort to sheer panic.

“Y/n... don’t do this--” I heard Bucky whisper very faintly from above.

“Solaris, don’t get me wrong, but we don’t always get a green-skin hottie on the morning couch, don’t be offended!” he said while he gestured covertly to cut the camera on the other side. I have to give this man an applause , I could tell he had busted all his courage but he kept the face of nonchalance too good to be true—no wonder he sat on this chair for so long.

“What’s your obsession with the skin colour?—“ I said heatedly as I stood up from my seat “Don’t you dare cut the camera... don’t you dare! Do you think you humans are the epitome of beauty from which point everyone in the galaxy should confirm? I am sick of this... Everyone, I am so sorry for your wasted time but no more of this!”

“Solaris--“ this time it was Sam’s voice that implored me from the sides. For a split second I felt bad for him, because as Captain America, he would have to take the heat from the public. But I was at the point of no return. If I back out now, I would be called a pushover and I would have to endure that image for the rest of my life in the earth.

“You know what, as you are so obsessed with my looks, I would love to show you another thing of mine that is blue--”

Blast

So long story short, Solaris goes to a morning talk show, Solaris encounters a rude host and Solaris blasts him with her Blue Sun Beam. Biggest disaster ever!

The thudding outside the door would not stop, and honestly their over attention was getting on my nerves “honestly, why don’t you go away... what are you, my royal nanny?”

“Very funny Solaris... now come out and get some food--” this time it was Bucky who spoke. Although he was the shortest to reply, but it made me well up. He had the shittiest history amongst all of us: hunted, betrayed, manipulated and now sidelined—how can I see my problems bigger than him.

 “How can I... I ruined everything, all the reputation you built throughout the year, I blew it up within 3 minutes, how can I show my face to you guys! I was supposed to be the superior being--“

A moment of silence followed. But then the old familiar calm voice spoke from the other side

“y/n... It’s not about superior or inferior, you were just very very honest with your feeling! sometimes it’s good for the public, sometimes it is not. I mean look at me--I have struggling with my anger all my life and god knows the stuff I have wrecked in Hulk state. It’s okay to make a mistake... no one blames you!”

“Ha ha right...“ I replied sarcastically, feeling mad about how well Bruce understood my situation.

“Honestly, the way you acted today... Tony would have been proud!”

I could not hold myself anymore. All the feeling that has been plaguing me until now: embarrassment, guilt, confusion, sadness... all came down like a thundering rain with that one statement. I rushed and slammed the door open and jumped on Bruce to embrace him into a tight hug. At first I could tell Bruce was taken aback, but soon his firm arms snaked under my back to hold me tightly.

“I am so sorry... I ruined you all--“ I hid my face in Bruce’s shoulder. Suddenly I felt a gentle pat on my back, I straightened up and looked, it was Sam. His awkward cautionary expression was gone and he looked cherry as the old days “As Captain America, I cannot condone your behaviour, but as Sam... well, that jerk deserved it--“ he reached for his pocket and took out his cellphone “and hundred thousand people in New York agree with you“

I looked at him with a curious expression as he gave me his phone. When I looked at it, it was a tabloid video that had the clip of me blasting the host and it had—

“Stars in galaxies!... 100K likes?” I exclaimed

“And look down, there are comments too--” Bucky scrolled down from behind my shoulder to descend to the white space.

That jerk deserves it, he was literally harassing her...You go Solaris #MeToo

Solaris is so cool, I wish I was as cool as her.

Ugh, I hate that morning show host, if I was in her place I would have thrown him off the stark tower, #SunQueen

Racists never change, and We stan our color positive hero #SolarisRocks

Humans...

...

Okay, that took a lot of time because at first I didn’t know how to work on the request, then I had to go back and forth and rewrite most of it two times because I wasn’t convinced it was good. So I sincerely hope it’s good because I am freaked out as hell.

I also gave reader a name because she is inspired by an alien character in TeenTitans called “Starfire”. So I call her Solaris, and was constantly reminded of Solar of Mamamoo (TMI)

I don’t hate on Fallon, I just used his name because it is recognisable by American public and I also had to see a lot of Jimmy Fallon’s show to write about the Talk Show plot. I was also greatly inspired by Naomi Campbell, RDJ and Nicki Minaj’s interviews.

[newtonsheffield]

Hello!! Life is a mess, your au is wonderful. Seriously I keep checking it every few days and ending up late to work BC I get distracted scrolling through to catch up. Loving the Lucy and Greg content, was wondering if you had the time or inclination for some content on them and their shenanigans pre-relationship? Don't get me wrong they're like my favourite couple in the series but I always loved the background of them being honest-to-god friends before they fell in love!! Anyway no stress! Have a good day! ❤️

Oh heyyyyyy!

Life is a mess, you’re right. Being an adult is the actual worst, like I didn’t ask for this and now I gotta go to work everyday?? And then decide what to eat?? And the actually make it?? Ugh it’s relentless. And I’m very flattered you see this little AU as something worth being late for work for and I will admit, I am sometimes late to work because I’m writing these little posts. What a pair we make!

Okay! I’m so glad you enjoy Lucy and Gregory!! I think they’re so underrated in the Bridgerton fandom and I have taken it upon myself to force them upon everyone!

So, per your request here are Lucy and Gregory In the early days of their acquaintance, before Lucy looked at Gregory and realised she was rather unfortunately in love with him. And before Gregory saw Lucy laughing in His brother’s house and realised he was a complete idiot.

Gregory Bridgerton had only worked at Bridgerton and Sons 4 weeks, and he didn’t know very much about the working world, but he did know this: Lucy Abernathy was the most competent woman he’d ever seen, and it was absolutely effortless. She walked with purpose around the office, her head held high managing Kate’s schedule perfectly. No one said no to Lucy Abernathy, what she needed was achieved with a firm voice and a smile, needling and wheedling what she wanted. And no one cared, everyone in the office loved Lucy. Gregory watched as she asked The man from IT who came to look at her computer about his wife, asked Janet from HR about her son John, charming everyone. And he couldn’t help but watch her, fascinated by her competence. By the fact that the pens in her pen holder were all the exact same colour, the notebooks on her desk meticulously organised, all exactly the same colour, her filing system impeccable. Why are you looking at me like that? Lucy said irritatedly one day, barely glancing up from her computer. And Gregory felt the truth slip past his lips before he could stop it I’m just learning about you. You’re interesting. And Lucy had stilled, finally turning towards him, her brow furrowed in confusion. If you were half as interested in Anthony’s filing system you’d have noticed I changed your name to Geoffrey Bridgerton 3 days ago, Have fun correcting it. And as she disappeared into Kate’s office with a sly smirk on her face, Gregory felt another surge of respect towards this odd woman. _

La la la Lucy! Gregory’s voice sing songed across the office to her. Lucy rolled her eyes spinning her chair in the direction of his desk. Yes, Gregory? How many I be of service kind sir? A smirk lifting the corner of her lips as Gregory grinned at her, leaning back in his chair, fiddling with his glasses as he said I’m bored, do you have any games you play? Lucy scoffed, turning back to her work, Yes I do. It’s called work hard and then go home, you should try it some time. Gregory’s laughter echoed across the office sending a strange little flutter through her stomach. Come on Lucy Loo! I know you do something all day other than manage Kate’s appointments. Lucy had considered carefully for a second, eyed him a little suspiciously, in the wide eyed earnestness that seemed to emanate from him, and then sighed I call it Hide and Seek. I count how many times Anthony’s eyes flick to Kate in the staff meeting. And then How many times she blushes when their eyes meet. Gregory guffawed happily, My God, Lucy Abernathy you are absolute amazing. We are betting on this this afternoon! And when Lucy left work with a crisp £50 note in her coat pocket she couldn’t help but be very satisfied with her afternoon’s work. And a little thankful to the way Anthony’s eyes had flicked to his coworker 89 times in an hour.

[let-it-raines]

What a Lie We’re In (1/3)

All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

(A Christmas Fake Dating AU)

Rating: Mature 

a/n: What? A holiday fake dating story? So original, you say? No one has ever done it before? Especially not me. lol. Forget all of that, and let’s jump into this trope-a-palooza of a holiday story!

Big thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over this and convincing me that I still know how to write ❤️

ao3: | HERE |

-/-

“Did you eat all of my candy?”

Emma opens another cabinet, looking inside to the wine glasses and tumblers, before closing it. She’s been keeping her bag of candy in the cabinet where they keep their plates and bowls, hidden at the very top behind some reusable water bottles. Killian is a healthy eater, always stocking the fridge with fruits and vegetables and food she doesn’t think is actually real food, so she didn’t think she had to hide her junk food that well.

Hide it, yes. Hide it well, no.

Until now.

“What was that, love?”

Emma slams another cabinet closed and turns to look at Killian. He’s walking out of the bathroom, chest still damp, and only has a white towel wrapped around his waist. When he first moved into the apartment six months ago after Ruby abandoned Emma to go live with Dorothy (live with, get married to, same thing), Emma was taken aback by the lack of clothes wearing Killian partakes in. He’s an attractive man. She’s not blind. He goes to the gym as often as she does, but mostly, he spends a lot of time doing heavy lifting at his job as a contractor since he apparently likes to be hands-on, literally. His body is toned, and the son of the bitch knows it. He also knows he’s got the face to be able to get away with a lot of…well, a lot.

At first, it was all disconcerting, but now, he could walk around with his dick out and Emma wouldn’t care.

What she cares about is where her candy is. That’s the real priority. But she knows Killian will try to use his lack of clothes to distract her. Never worked in the past, not gonna work now, bud.

“My candy,” Emma repeats. “Where is it?”

He wipes behind his ear with the small towel in his hand. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff. You don’t like the good candy.”

“Well, my good candy has been moved, and we’re the only two people who live here.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, staring him down hoping he will somehow be intimidated by her stare and fess up to everything. He won’t be, but Emma can try. They both have their tactics.

Killian clicks his tongue. “What about the fellow you brought home last week?”

“Do you mean the plumber?”

“Was that who he was?”

“You know I don’t bring guys back here.” Emma moves from the counter and opens the fridge, taking out a handful of grapes from the fridge. She probably needs to eat some of them and not candy anyway. As she pops one into her mouth, that’s when it clicks. “Your girlfriend ate my candy, didn’t she?”

He scoffs and keeps drying his hair, but she sees the way he scratches his ear. Gotcha, Jones. “I don’t believe I have a girlfriend.”

“What? Tink break up with you because you wouldn’t let her eat dessert on your dates? Wait, I heard it. Don’t make it dirty.” Killian walks toward her, getting in her space, and she knows him well enough to know he wants her to flinch, to move, to stop her line of questioning. That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to. Emma pops another grape in her mouth. “Did you eat my candy? Was it your way of wallowing? It’s okay if you did. I’ll take another bag for payment.”

“For your information, Swan,” he whispers as he places his hand on her hip, “we are no longer seeing each other, but it was mutual. She did, however, eat your candy when she was last here. If you really want to know, we used it to – ”

“Stop,” Emma groans, pushing him away and running to the other side of the kitchen. “Nope. Don’t take that any further. Some things should be left private.”

His head tilts back as he laughs, the underside of his jaw black with stubble, and then he’s reaching into the cabinet above the fridge and tossing her the bag of sweets.

Oh.

“I hid it after Will and Rob found it while we were playing cards last night. Will nearly went through all your milk duds before I realized what was happening.” He raises his brow. “You have something you want to say to me?”

Emma knows what he’s aiming for, and she isn’t going to give it to him.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “you need a thicker towel. I don’t think you want people seeing you when you look like…that.” She nods her head down and then picks up a handful of Kit Kats. “I gotta go to work.”

“Off to die inside at your cubicle, love?”

“Oh, you know it.”

Emma grabs her purse and unlocks the door only to hear Killian speak. “It’s December. How do you still have Halloween candy leftover?”

Emma shrugs. “I bought one bag to pass out to kids, two bags for me.”

“Bloody brilliant.”

“I do what I can. See you tonight. I’ll try not to wake you up from your nap when I come in.”

“That would be the least you could do.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but then she’s officially walking out the door of her apartment and down toward the elevator, a Kit Kat bar hanging out of the side of her mouth.

The thing about Killian Jones is that he’s simple to her.

He likes his friends, his job, his rum, and his women. There’s not much else to him, and Emma is okay with that. While her last roommate was her best friend, this one doesn’t have to be. He can just be a guy who pays the bills so she can keep living in a nice place and who, on occasion, talks shit about other people with her while they binge watch TV.

That’s all she needs.

And all and all, Killian Jones is a…fine roommate. Yeah, fine is an accurate way to describe him at least eighty percent of the time.

Even if she does get annoyed when he brings his dates home. But that’s only because it’s always on the nights she plans on going to bed early, and the noise of other people being around keeps her from catching up on sleep.

Emma is not one to mess around on sleep.

But yeah, he’s fine. Annoying as hell over half the time, but he’s fine in the small dosages she sees him in. He works odd hours, isn’t always on the job, and she is stuck with regular hours in her office. There’s not a lot of glory in working HR for a small engineering company, but that’s what happens when you make dumbass decisions like Emma did. She’s lucky she has a stable job. She’ll try not to complain too much about it.

That’s what she tells herself every morning when she sits in her car and stares at the drab brick building.

Money. She has to make money.

And hey, she gets almost an entire week off for Christmas next week, and that’s fucking incredible, even if she does have to spend it in her hometown with her parents and their Hallmark-like attitude toward the holiday and the events it puts on. Her mom is a teacher at the elementary school and produces the Christmas play every year while her dad is a vet and outfits all his patients in little holiday bandanas and bows. He even has a tree in his office decorated with bone ornaments.

It’s…a lot. But it’s family, and as Emma stares at this building that’s sucking the life out of her, she can’t wait to have a change of pace and some home-cooked meals, even if there are as many downsides as upsides to going home. Her Kit Kat bars aren’t giving her the nutrients she knows she needs.

Being an adult is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes, especially when going home for the holidays is seen as more of a burden than a gift with a fancy bow on top. It’s more like that turkey that dries up and falls to pieces in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Well, that and the squirrel crashing every decoration in the house.

Happy holidays.

-/-

“Nah, mate, I don’t have any plans.”

Emma quietly puts her keys down on the table next to her front door, laying her purse down with it, and she kicks her boots off until they topple over each other and lay in the middle of the hallway. She can hear Killian talking, and it gets even louder when she walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker.

“No, no, well, you know, I rarely do anything, not since Liam.” There’s a pause as the coffee begins to percolate and Emma grabs another Kit Kat from her bag. “I went home with Milah once, but that was years ago…no, mate, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying here by myself…yeah, I think Emma is going home to her parents.”

And that’s when she realizes what Killian is talking about.

Christmas plans.

He doesn’t have any. Emma didn’t know that. She didn’t really bother to ask. She doesn’t bother to ask much of Killian. She picks up pieces here and there, as she’s sure he does to her, but they mind their own business.

He doesn’t have a family to go home to? She knows he’s originally from England, but still. There must be someone.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Killian says. “I promise if I need anything, I’ll let you know. Alright, bye Scarlet.”

The coffee finishes, and Emma picks the pot up and starts pouring, filling her large mug halfway before getting hazelnut creamer out of the fridge and making the coffee drinkable. Killian joins her in the kitchen and perches himself on one of their stools.

“Good day at work?” he asks.

“Eh, it was a day. You?”

He shrugs. “The same. I’m finishing up on this house tomorrow, hopefully, so tomorrow will be a good day.”

Emma nods and sips on her coffee as Killian taps his fingers on the counter, the rhythm the same as the song he usually hums when cooking. “So, when are you heading for Storybrooke?” he asks.

“Monday after work.” Killian nods and keeps tapping his fingers, and Emma, stupidly opens her mouth because despite what her exes have told her, she does apparently have a heart. “If you don’t have any plans and have off work, you’re welcome to come with me. My parents are always thrilled to welcome more people. Just be prepared, it’s like a Hallmark movie up there.”

His eyes widen, the blue lighting up, and his upper lip starts to quiver, laughter very obviously waiting to break through. Dammit, why the hell did she decide to be nice? This is going to give him all of the wrong ideas.

“Why, Swan,” he smirks, leaning forward and resting his chin in his propped-up hand, “are you inviting me home for the holidays with you? You’ve been harboring a crush this entire time, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised. I see the way you look at me when I finish up in the bathroom. Don’t be ashamed of it. Most women find me attractive.”

Emma flicks Killian’s forehead, and really, he should be thrilled she didn’t dump her hot coffee on his lap like she wanted to.

“I was just trying to be nice. You didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns on her heels to walk away. She is going to her room. She doesn’t have to put up with his shit. “Forget I even offered.”

“Wait, wait, Swan.” Emma’s shoulders tense, and she doesn’t turn around. “Are you serious about your offer?”

“I mean, it would have some conditions in that you are a slightly less obnoxious version of yourself, but yeah, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come home with me.”

“I’d like that.” Emma twists around, trying to size him up, and for once, everything seems genuine. “I have a condition as well.”

Idiot. “What could your condition possibly be?”

He winks, and she already knows this is going to have her eyes rolling so far into the back of her head they get stuck there. “Don’t go falling in love with me.”

What a cheesy ass sarcastic line.

“In your dreams, Jones.”

What the hell has she gotten herself into? This is absolutely the last time she lets her conscience guilt her into doing something nice. Emma was already going to be miserable, but now she’s miserable with a buffer.

At least her mom will be happy getting to go into hostess mode.

-/-

In the days leading up to them leaving for Storybrooke, Emma convinces herself Killian is going to back out of the trip. He’ll realize this is awkward and not a good idea. They live together, sure, but they don’t actually know each other. They’re not close friends.

But Killian never backs out. Instead he asks her things like what the weather is like there, if her parents drink wine, if he needs to bring his own bedding. He asks a million questions a day, and they continue when they’re in her bug making the drive from Boston to Storybrooke. He wants to know what her parents do for a living, what their hobbies are, pretty much everything someone needs to know when they’re about to spend half a week in the house of strangers.

Strangers who don’t actually know they’re having someone stay at their house to awkwardly sit on the sidelines as Emma’s family celebrates the holidays and has their usual holiday arguments.

Yeah, Emma didn’t ever tell her parents Killian was coming. She knows her mom well enough to know the moment Emma mentioned bringing someone home, her mom would have stopped listening before Emma could explain that it was just her roommate. It would have been this whole big thing, and Emma knows she can handle explaining it better in person when she can snap her mom out of getting excited about nothing.

Plus, who doesn’t want a Christmas surprise?

(Emma doesn’t.)

After Killian stops being one of those obnoxious kids who never stops asking questions, they sit in relative silence for the car ride, music entertaining them, and little by little, cities fade away and more trees pop up, evergreen forests surrounding them. It’s always the sign for Emma that she’s leaving her life and going back to her old one.

That and the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign.

Everything about the town is the same. The buildings are small and kind of dingy downtown, and when she passes Granny’s, she bets those onion rings are the same too. God, she hopes they are. This is probably the only thing that can get her through this week. She should have texted Ruby and made sure her grandmother hadn’t changed any of the recipes. If she had, Emma definitely would have stayed home.

People walk down the sidewalk all bundled up in their coats and scarves, saying hello and chatting with others they pass. It’s the opposite of Boston where Emma can go her entire day without having to say hello to someone, and a little shiver runs down her spine at the thought. She needs to get out of here as soon as possible and to the isolation of her parents’ farmhouse, even if that presents her a new set of problems.

Storybrooke, Maine is, decidedly, not Emma’s favorite place for a hell of a lot of different reasons.

Killian, though, seems to be taking it all in with the wonder and confusion of someone who has never lived in a small town like this and who is a bit shell-shocked.

Get used to it, buddy.

“Oh, hey, one more thing,” Emma sighs as she pulls up to her parents’ street a few minutes later. “My real last name is Nolan. I changed it after high school, so my parents’ names are Nolan. The whole ‘Swan’ thing is a sticky situation for them even though it’s my mom’s maiden name.”

Killian’s eyes narrow, and she has definitely shared too much about herself now. “Am I allowed to ask or…”

“No. just try not to call me ‘Swan’ around them.”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

Emma slows down as the road turns from paved to loose gravel leading up to their driveway. There are several cars parked alongside it, and either they now own extra cars or her parents have friends over. Great. Just what she needed. Other people around when she’s coming home and surprising her parents with a guest. At least Killian will likely be that buffer she keeps hoping he’ll be.

They get out of her car, and Emma pops the trunk for them to get their bags. Killian grabs the bigger ones despite her arguing with him about it, but she’s fine to just carry her purse and the bag with presents. Emma closes the trunk, slamming it shut, and squares her shoulders.

This is fine. This is all fine.

Until ten steps later, it’s not.

Her parents have this incredible wraparound porch with swings and rocking chairs, and sitting in one of them is Neal Cassidy.

What the hell?

She doesn’t…she can’t…why is he here? He has no right to be here, no business being here, and seeing his face makes her want to vomit.

It makes her want to cry, too, but Emma can’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she’d like to sink into the dirt and never emerge again.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles, stopping and turning toward Killian who is looking down at her with an arched brow. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?”

God, she can’t believe she has to tell this to him. It’s too many pieces of her past in too short a period of time. This isn’t something she ever wanted to talk about again and certainly not to Killian. She was really hoping she never had to see Neal’s face again.

Honestly, she never considered it to be a possibility.

If only.

“That guy sitting on my porch is an ex of mine. And I’m talking about a bad ex, not one of those who you can be friends with afterward.”

“What the bloody hell is he doing here then?” Killian looks over her head to look at Neal, but Emma grabs his hand and yanks on it until he looks at her. “What?”

“Don’t look at him,” she hisses. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I’m sure it has something to do with my parents. Just…I don’t know what to do.”

“Do we need to turn around?”

“No, no, that’s pathetic. Just…maybe he’s going to leave soon, and it’ll be a quick hello and then I never have to see his face again. Let’s get it over with.”

“If you’re sure, Sw – Emma.”

“I’m sure.”

She’s not sure at all. Mostly, she wants to take Killian’s suggestion and run far, far away.

Once more, Emma braces her shoulders, and she moves forward. If she stops and thinks too much, she’ll chicken out. It’s how she is. If she thinks about something for too long, it ruins every bit of courage she has. Now isn’t the moment for that when this week is one that makes her need courage.

Maybe, Emma realizes, she didn’t invite Killian here just to be nice. Maybe she needed that buffer to keep her old demons at bay, even if just barely, and that was her motivation all along.

That really makes her asshole of the year. Well, after Neal. She hasn’t seen him in years, but he still gets the asshole of the year award.

Neal sees her before she can get to the front steps. He rises from the rocking chair and moves toward her. He looks older now. He was always older than her, but she can actually see it now. There’s gray in his beard and more lines on his forehead. His features are similar, but she swears there’s an eeriness to his eyes and a lie to his smile. Maybe those were always there, but Emma imagines she was blind to it all when she loved him.

Amazing how opening her eyes to love blinded her to so much else.

“Emma? Is that you?”

No, jackass, it’s some other blonde woman walking into her parents house.

“Hi, Neal.” She forces a smile that she knows is awkward, but he was never good at reading her enough to know the difference between a real smile and a fake one. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve just seen me for the first time in half a decade, and your first question is what I’m doing here? Nice to see you too, Ems.”

It’s illegal to murder, Emma, she reminds herself. You don’t want to end up in jail because of him.

“It’s my parents’ house. I’m supposed to be here. You’re not. So, again, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs and ignores her. “Who’s this?”

Emma turns to Killian who is staring ahead, his jaw clenched, and he speaks before she gets a chance to. “Killian Jones,” he begins, dropping a bag and reaching forward to shake Neal’s hand, “Emma’s boyfriend.”

Emma nearly chokes on her own air and possibly her own lungs and whatever else is down there, and she’s stuck. Her brain and her feet and especially her mouth are all stuck. What the hell is he doing?

“Emma’s boyfriend,” Neal repeats, his voice incredulous like the fact that she could have a boyfriend is ludicrous to him. “Really?”

“For awhile now,” Killian lies. Wow. Has he always been this good of a liar? “It’s nice to meet you, but I think Emma and I need to get inside and put our stuff away. It’s been a long drive.”

Neal nods, but Emma catches his eyes glance over at her. What was that? “I understand. I need to get my fiancée from inside, but then we’ll be on our way.”

Fiancée?

Neal has a fiancée? Who is in her parents’ house?

What kind of upside down hell has she walked into and how does she reverse time and get back to the place where things are normal?

“Nice seeing you,” Emma lies, but Neal is already walking inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as if it’s his house to go into. She quickly turns to Killian and hopes her face conveys the “what the hell” look she’s going for. And in case it doesn’t, she hisses, “what the fuck was that?”

“Forgive me, love, but you obviously didn’t want to see that man, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in saying that. You weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, aye?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So what’s the harm in him thinking you have a devilishly handsome new boyfriend?”

Emma rolls her eyes, ready to take the piss out of him, when her mother comes running out the front door.

“Emma, you brought a boyfriend home?”

Well, that’s the harm, Jones.

-/-

Emma tries explaining to her parents that Killian isn’t really her boyfriend, that he’s just her roommate who came home with her because he doesn’t have any family, but she never really gets the chance with Neal still hanging around. That would be mortifying, so she rolls with it, hoping that she can clear it all up sooner rather than later.

But Neal never seems to leave.

His fiancée, Tamara, apparently teaches with Emma’s mom, and from the looks of it, they’re great friends. She can’t imagine any other reason why her parents would let Neal Cassidy in their house, but then again, they have always been great at doing the exact opposite of what’s good for her. It’s torture, and as the night goes on, it seems like it’s never going to end.

When are they going to leave?

When can she stop listening to Killian falsify their life?

She’s got to say that he’s fantastic at taking truths and turning them into lies. According to him, they met when he became her roommate (true) and got to know each other as friends first (eh, a half-truth). Then, slowly, feelings started to develop in the little moments, and they decided to give their relationship a chance (unequivocally false).

He’s got this uncanny ability to make everything feel…not ridiculous. She doesn’t know the word she’s searching for, but she’s sure as hell that Killian could find it and incorporate it into a story to make everyone here think they’re in love.

Emma has no clue how they’re going to get out of this without her parents being heartbroken because Emma can see the hope and happiness in her mom’s eyes. She’s over the moon. Her dad, however, doesn’t seem to be.

Of course this is how it goes. Her mom is thrilled because she’s not a spinster, and her dad is upset because she’s not a spinster.

“So what do you do, Killian?” he asks. “You need a roommate apparently.”

“Dad,” Emma hisses, wanting to sink into the couch, especially because she knows she’s the one who needs the roommate and not Killian. “Don’t.”

“What? I’m not allowed to ask about the man who my daughter is dating?”

“You are, but you’re not allowed to interrogate him.”

Killian places his hand over Emma’s on her thigh, and God, this really is the worst night. Why do people have to go home to family on the holidays? At least she didn’t automatically flinch at the feeling of Killian’s hand on hers.

“I’m a contractor,” Killian tells her dad. “I used to work with my brother. It’s his business, but I’m the head on projects now. It’s hard and unpredictable sometimes when my job is to make it predictable, but it’s good work. There’s a lot of good new housing popping up in the neighborhoods outside of Boston. Beautiful new construction.”

“What happened to your brother?” her mom asks.

Killian’s hand tightens over hers while his other hand scratches behind his ear. “Liam passed last year. Car accident.”

Mary Margaret places her hands over her chest while Neal and Tamara look at each other, obviously ready to go. Emma, meanwhile, tries not to act shocked. She should know this. She should know that he had a brother who died. She’s heard him talk about Liam before, but she thought…she thought he was alive, just that he lived really, really far away or something like that.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Thank you, Ms. Nolan.”

Silence falls in the room, and it feels like a lot of her time in high school when she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. At least now she can have alcohol or drive away. One or the other, though, obviously.

Or she can go back to that sinking into the ground thing. That seemed like a good idea.

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Tamara sighs with a clap of her hands. “Honey, we need to go.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Mary Margaret asks.

What the hell, Mom?

“We really have to go,” Tamara insists. “It was nice seeing you guys, though.”

“Oh, it was wonderful seeing you, sweetie. Good luck in New York. You’re going to be great at your new job.” Mary Margaret hugs Tamara. “Nice seeing you as well, Neal. You’ll fit right in, but I know your dad will miss you.”

Emma is so busy trying to take in all of this brand new information that she doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Through blurred vision, she sees her mom hug Neal, and yeah, Emma wants to go home. She wants to go back to her apartment where she doesn’t have to put up with this kind of shit.

Where there’s no Neal and his fiancée and especially where her mom isn’t hugging her asshole of an ex and treating him like he’s a good person.

There’s a squeeze on her hand and suddenly, Killian’s fingers are wrapping around hers. That’s when everything snaps back, and she realizes Neal is telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, bye,” Emma mutters, putting on that fake smile again.

“Maybe we could go for lunch while I’m still in town,” he suggests.

Emma bites her tongue to keep from scoffing, but she can’t help the words that come out of her mouth. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Have fun in New York.”

Neal looks like a wounded puppy when Emma manages to look at him, but she doesn’t care. He shouldn’t have had the audacity to ask her in the first place, not after everything he’s done.

Happy holidays to them all.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret hisses as soon as the front door has shut and Neal and Tamara are gone, “that was so rude of you! You can go to lunch with Neal.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma groans, letting go of Killian’s hand and standing up. “I am twenty-eight years old. I’m not going to go to lunch with the man who ruined my life because you don’t like being rude. Just…let’s eat dinner, and you guys can tell me what we have planned for this week. Killian is thrilled to go to the play. I told him all about it.”

“Emma, I still don’t think – ”

“Come on, Mary Margaret,” David sighs as he claps his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get these two dinner. They had a long drive, and I’m sure they’re starving. You like ham, Jones?”

“Love it,” Killian says as he stands from the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can get a wine bottle from the rack.”

They’re all going to need it. Or at least Emma is going to.

Dinner is, well, awkward, which Emma expected, but she expected the usual awkwardness of having dinner with her parents after going a year without seeing them. This is an entire other level. Killian tries to ease it. He’s put on his most charming smile, his accent coming through thicker with each story he tells, and while her Dad seems put out, her mom is every bit as charmed by him as Emma would expect.

That makes it all fine and good until Emma’s reminded that her parents think Killian is her boyfriend, and his place would go down in flames if she told the truth now.

As much as she would like to spite her mom, that is the last thing she needs.

“So, Killian, you can stay in Emma’s room,” her mom says as they finish up dinner. “I’d have you stay in the guest room, but it’s currently filled with props and costumes for the play. But you're both adults. Who are we to keep you apart at night?”

“The couch would be fine,” Killian insists, holding his hands up.

“Nonsense, you are a guest here. You need to be comfortable. Let’s get you all settled and ready for bed.”

It’s almost like she’s in a trance as her mom guides them up the stairs to Emma’s old room. She vaguely hears her tell stories of different pictures hung on the wall by the staircase, but she doesn’t really notice. Instead, she hangs back with her dad who does not look thrilled at the whole situation.

For some reason that offends Emma. As far as her dad knows, she’s brought a man home for Christmas. A man who she loves enough to bring home, which is not all sunshine and roses for her. Once again, she’s jealous of the people who go home for the holidays and know it’s going to be a happy time.

“You know, you don’t have to act like I’m sixteen,” she tells her dad. “I live with this man. I think it’s okay for us to share a bedroom here for the week.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy about this. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Emma stops at the landing and turns to her Dad, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. Or up. She forgot how much taller her dad is than her.

“Try a little harder to make that believable.”

David laughs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Welcome home, kid. I’m glad you and Killian are here.”

-/-

-/-

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[seeminglyseph]

god how are there so many things. I got distracted because my computer is being a laggy pile of dicks, but knowing it’s because it’s a shit computer is a little comforting, lol  I thought I was just exceptionally hard on computers. ‘12 tabs open in firefox AND spotify? you absolute madlad’ you know? So a decent computer is on the list sometime. I need to restart everything before I start drawing or like my computer goes ‘high resolution with four layers? I think it’s about time for the program to go non-responsive for 30 seconds and scare the shit out of you.’

budget rambling under cut, and then bitching about friend breakup

- Galaxy S6 LITE will cover my need for a portable drawing space so that’s plan one

- New desktop makes for maybe an easier work process. This one’s nebulous in the timeline, depends on when my office gets moved because then I’ll need a desk first.

- I want a long corner desk that like takes up a wall and a half so I can have other projects on the side without it creeping into my drawing space like I do right now. One I’ve been eyeballing at staples is about $400, which I hope I can save up for. Futon to have people over in the office but if it’s still covid for like another year or some bullshit it would be pointless to spend my money making guest spaces.

- I think I want a couple shelves to keep my trinkets and stuff on too ‘cause I got a lot of dumb figures and stuff just to put on my shelf and think ‘I almost have the whole batfamily, just need Jason and Duke.’ though I got a bootleg tim and he’s way way too tall so maybe one day they’ll put out a nice tim figure that’s not like $50.

- couches for the basement ‘cause we’re getting rid of the ones we have. My mom thinks we don’t need to replace them if we have a couple chairs but it’s on the same level of importance as the futon, like why make a guest space when I cannot have guests?

- definitely thinking of upgrading to csp EX if only because it turns out animating is kind of fun and csp PRO has limited frames. I really like csp as a program so I’d like to stick with it. Getting EX on the tablet though might be easier because it’s a monthly subscription rather than a lump sum. Which I know is worse in the long term but sometimes it’s just what’s manageable? I don’t want to go back to adobe, though I can install cs5 if I have to. bought that disk 10 years ago and I’m gonna transfer it through computers until it burns out. but this desktop is shit and would die anyway.

the main thing I gotta get a control on is impulse spending. I can talk til I’m blue in the face about what things I need to spend less money on, but the fact is I have to master that ADHD impulse thing. I think my mom has gotten past her opinion that she needs to take financial control away from me because I’m a financial danger to myself or whatever, it will definitely help if the state of crisis would actually be allowed to dissipate. I’ve been on edge since october 2019 and I just need to figure out some stability. also loved ones need to stop dying and maybe life can start feeling normal. it’s very weaselly of me to blame my spending on high stress, but medication dug me into a hole last year and stress made it worse... I’m not vomiting anymore (knock on wood)

my sister who earns almost $40/hr was talking to my mom like ‘you don’t need to worry about us, you keep all that money for yourself’ and I, on disability living below the poverty line, wanted to scream. I had to talk to my mom about how she and my sister are getting hardcore financial support from their friends and family I am not. And they’re both starting head and shoulders above me, so maybe when the family sends money for the family can I have some. And now I feel like a total heel because my sister so nobly declined. it was absurd enough on christmas when my parents and sister were talking about all the friends that were either mad they couldn’t snowbird, or who went snowbirding despite covid. 90% of my friends make minimum wage, and maybe don’t even know me that well. I thought I was best friends with someone and they turned out to hate me so I have no idea how much anyone cares about me now, you know? But I guess some people can hang out almost every weekend for years and share secrets and stories and memories and vacations and not actually care about the people around them. So who knows. I don’t want to... let that make me care less. Everyone is carrying something and I want to be as kind as I can. But I think I will not be kind to that person unless something monumental happens. there are moments where her actions leave me so scared I want to die, that no one, not even the people I thought were ‘my people’ will love me. I rationalize “I should have realised she stopped responding to me weeks ago, I should have noticed she didn’t want my life updates. I should have noticed that in the time it went from ‘I don’t want to move if my dad’s still in the hospital’ to ‘we’re pretty sure it’s gonna be okay.’ to ‘I don’t know what’s going on and I’m very scared’ to ‘If my dad dies I don’t know if I can move’ to ‘maybe I’m just overreacting it just was really bad for a bit there’ she didn’t say a word of comfort or a question. She didn’t respond to my questions about the house and was resistant to giving me information about the rooms I was going to live in.” but she’s 32. We’re both 32. this isn’t two 14 year-olds who don’t know how to act like people with undeveloped brains and no skills yet in emotional development. A 32 year-old woman who can’t so much as follow up with any of those statements from a close friend is the one in the wrong. If there was a concern there was plenty of time to state it, and when she did finally state it there was no need for it to be ‘if I may be candid no one here wants to put up with your emotional behaviour’

It’s not normal or healthy behaviour to treat people like she treated me. And yeah she’s got her own problems and maybe she’s just emotionally stunted and too much of a coward to actually face consequences, but that doesn’t make what she did okay. She never apologised, rather than try to make things better she multiple times made it worse and then she left me stranded. I’m not a freak here. I’m not a monster. She’s probably unhealthy, but she was in the wrong. there’s no universe where helping your parents move is more difficult to handle than watching your father die of ALS. Even if she outed me as an accident, she did nothing to fix it, nothing to warn me, and nothing in apology afterwards. everyone makes mistakes but if you just let them fester then they stop being accidents and start being willful negligence (speaking of if you’re going to road rage in your school bus you should actually do your safety checks, even if it’s “too cold” I mean you are transporting children and you have been in more accidents in the time I’ve known you than anyone else I have ever known. But I mean it’s not your fault work is so strict with you that you were on your final warning for reckless behaviour. I mean everyone’s struggling, that’s why it’s you especially who keeps ending up in the ditch needing a tow and brag about your aggressive driving habits.)

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Fifty-Five

“Let’s see…” I pulled out a notepad from out of my pocket. It wasn’t there just a second ago. Never mind that detail. “Two down. Now who’s next?” I crossed out the two names that were on the notepad. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a death note. Well, it could’ve been, but that wouldn’t have made those two names very happy.

The first name on the notepad was pretty easy to take care of. All I had to do was tell them (well, him, sometimes her) that Conrad was proud of them. The second person was a bit harder. It was still worth it, I think, but damn, I sure had to pull some strings here and there to make it work. Exhausted, I made little mouths out of my hands. No, not literally (though was that possible?), just the kind of hand mouths you do when you do hand puppets.

“Who knew making people happy could be such work?” One hand asked.

“Yes! But so rewarding!” The other hand replied. On one hand, I could see that hand’s point, but on the other hand…

“It’s just exhausting, y’know? I’m human, after all.” I almost said ‘only human’, but I wasn’t only human.

“Yes! Happy Blanc is good Blanc! Happy friends even better!”

“Mm-hmm…yeah, I care about my friends. Though the first one we helped give a happy ending, Kelly Roger, I never really knew that well.” Conrad knew them better. I never really got to know Conrad that well. Not as well as a previous me, anyhow.

“Know or not, happy is good!”

“Can’t argue with that. Well, I can, but I don’t really care to.”

All the hand conversations didn’t get me anywhere. I was still wandering through those halls, passing by displays of odd little inventions. In a sense, I too was an invention. Well, in more senses than one. Would I want to be called an invention? To be honest, I’ve been called worse.

You could call me whatever you wanted to: guardian angel? Sure. Santa? In a sense, except I existed every day of the year. Hungry Hungry Hippo? I don’t see why you would call me that, but you could. Mostly, I was just a euphoric ball of energy. Well, if that ball was human shaped and that energy was concentrated in sending good vibes. The downside of the whole thing was that in the process, I sacrificed all my smarts.

All for the sake of good vibes! Also, fruit snacks. Yes, a necessary sacrifice if there ever was one. However, that too had been sacrificed. No fruit snacks. No gummy worms.

But these were not sad times! No! Given the circumstances, I should’ve been at least a bit sad, but I wasn’t. How could I be so happy considering I was aboard the ship of an all-powerful evil organization that I happened to be wandering around in because why not? It sure beat the alternative, which would’ve been hanging out on a dying planet. So, how then, could I be so happy considering I just left a dying planet with most of the people in it dead and I may never see home again? Wasn’t that sad, even just a little bit?

The answer was easy: I was happy because I was happy.

There I was, with a hop and a skip, and happy as a clam...chowder. Oh yeah. I forgot. Hunger was still a thing.

“Ugh, I need, like...what’s the term for food that makes you happy?” I pondered. “Junk food, right? Wait. No. It can’t be junk if it makes you happy.” Comfort came to mind, but that didn’t seem right, either.

I continued to brainstorm, but then I remembered that thinking didn’t make me happy, so I stopped and moved on. The nice thing about being so aimless was I couldn’t fail any goal if I didn’t have any goals to begin with. For the moment, all that I was concerned about was my growling stomach and finding something interesting. Okay, you could call that a goal.

Eventually, that aimlessness grew boring. Eventually as in within a few minutes. So I settled on the next room I came across and see what would happen. It was a long stretch before the next room, but when it finally presented itself, I lit up with joy. It was a lit room with the words on the door “Movie Study Room”.

With a name like that, how could I get bored?

Two of us against a horde of guards, soldiers, corporate security, whatever they may have been, one thing was for certain: we would be lucky to make it out unscathed.

Coriander had gotten her little laser backpack thing to work just before we had caused such a distraction. Bless that spice girl.

“They get knocked down, but they get up again!” Coriander seethed as she looked behind her. I did the same. Yikes.

“Wrong band. You’re supposed to tell me what you want. What you really, really want.”

“What?! This isn’t the time for jokes!”

Yeah. She was right. Especially because I didn’t have any means to defend myself. Though I will say it was rather refreshing to rely on someone else. Refreshing? More like depressing. What if she got hurt or killed or something?

“Hey!” I stopped. “I’m getting short of breath!”

“That’s your own fault! I didn’t choose to eat all that junk food before coming here!”

I turned my head. There were more coming. They were already within our sights and ready to shoot.

Through grit teeth, I uttered one word to Coriander.

“Fire.”

Multiple shots from the lasers hit the guards. Coriander, triumphant, turned to me with a smirk.

“How bold of you to give me commands.”

It was too late to think of a clever remark. I’d have to let her have that one. By the time she spoke those words, I was already running toward the fallen enemies, unsure if they were dead or alive, but taking a gamble all the same.

“What the hell are you doing?!” She balked.

“Being reckless!” I yelled my reply as I pried a large gun out from one of the guard’s hands. “I couldn’t let you do everything yourself, could I? That wouldn’t be any fun!”

More of those armored figures piled in. My hands shook as I pointed the heavy weapon toward them.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you. I bet I could fire this thing faster than you guys could lift a finger.”

Coriander cupped her hands “Bet!”

Oh, come on! You’re on my side! You’re not supposed to call my bluff!

“Prepare for ambush,” one of them spoke into their helmets, which I presumed had a built-in headset.

“Really? Come on, guys! I know you all got family and stuff and complex lives I’ll never know, but you’re mooks and I’m supposed to be the hero! Can’t you just play along?!”

They raised their weapons and I heard the sound of boots stampeding across the floor behind Coriander and I.

Ugh. I really don’t want to die like this. I mean, I know death was all but certain, but that doesn’t mean I want to get shot.

Coriander got behind me. Maybe she figured if she was going to get shot, she may as well let me be a human shield, first. How noble. I would’ve liked to believe I’d have done the same. In a loving way, y’know?

Still, that wasn’t about to happen. Not just “not on my watch”, but also because just as I said, death by gunfire wasn’t on my bucket list. So, in a last ditch attempt, I shot below us.

We both fell into total darkness.

Inside the room at a group of folks in lab coats staring at one of those old box TVs. Each of them looked my way.

“Hi guys,” I waved.

They all waved back. I walked past them and noticed an empty chair, so I decided to take a seat. Where I ended up sitting was a spot sandwiched between one Flashbulb member and what I had to assume was another one. Well, of course! But couldn’t I be more descriptive? Hmm…

The one to the left of me had a slicked-back hairstyle and star shaped sunglasses. Coincidentally, he also looked quite glum. To the left of me was a lady with auburn hair in one of those bob cuts. Or maybe it was in a bun. Actually, it may have been both. She had a clipboard in her hands and appeared equal measures friendly and abrasive. Just a first impression.

“How goes it?” She asked me.

“Oh!” I grinned. I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome. “I was just passing by. Thought this place looked neat, decided to check it out.”

“What department are you in?” Was the next question in the interrogation as she tapped a pen against the clipboard.

“None, really. Well...when I first showed up here, I once told someone I was Dr. David Blaine and with the trash department. It was really just a lie, though.”

“So you’re someone who shouldn’t be here?”

I gave a hearty laugh with a sprinkle of a giggle.

“You could say that! I’m just visiting!”

The tapping grew more intense, but she didn’t look ready to break skulls, far from it. Her gentle, yet volatile demeanor reminded me of a certain someone who went back to her own home not too long ago. Ah, but I knew this person was different, of course! She wasn’t even wearing glasses!

“Well, while you should probably be dealt with, it just so happens that I’m not in any department who deals with intruders. So while you’re in here, I’d say you’re welcome to stay.”

“Cool. Say, you remind me of someone,” I pointed out.

“I get that all the time,” she waved her hand away and laughed.

“I bet! I’d get that all the time, too, if I were in your shoes. Though I doubt we wear the same size.”

We shared a laugh once again.

“Ahem,” one of the members in the room interjected. “Aren’t you going to evaluate our performances and tell us how we can improve?”

“That’s right,” she nodded.

“Oh? So that’s what you guys are up to?”

“Indeed. I’m Dr. Hepburn of the HR Department. These fine scientists were recently defeated by the inhabitants of the version of Earth they were tasked to improve. So I’m here to tell them where they went wrong and help place them in a new department where their skills may be better put to use.”

“That’s neat! But what’s that gotta do with watching movies?”

“So glad you asked! Wanna watch it with us?”

“Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

One of the members of the defeated department got up and put a DVD in the TV’s built-in DVD player. As she went to sit back down, she held out her hand. I shook it. She may have been my friends’ enemies, but I wasn’t about to be rude!

“I’m Dr. Sodapop, by the way.”

“Oh! I’m...um...Dr. Pepper?”

There was no reason to say that since they already knew I wasn’t one of them.

“Well, I’m Blanc, but all my friends call me Dr. Pepper,” I backtracked. Note: none of my friends have ever called me that.

As the DVD booted up and the menu screen came up, it soon became clear what we were about to watch: Grease. Some musical movie with John Travolta that I never paid much mind. But hey, gotta appreciate the classics, I guess?

Dr. Hepburn grabbed the remote and pressed play.

The opening scene was one where a guardian angel visits one of the characters. I thought it was quite cute, and highly relatable, that was, until the guardian angel calls her a beauty school dropout. The next thing that played after a musical number was another musical number where two characters declare “you’re the one that I want”.

“See, this is where you guys went wrong,” Dr. Hepburn pointed out to them. “You thought you could turn people into zombies with ‘greased lightning’, but you forgot the power of ‘you’re the one that I want’. Rookie mistake.”

“Can someone explain this to me?” I stared at the screen and felt like I just took shrooms after thinking they were gummy bears. Just as I spoke, the credits rolled.

“Wait.” I blinked. “Is the movie over?”

Nope. Partway through the credits, there was a new scene.

“Oh, is this like one of those post-credit scenes in movies?” “Shh!” They all shushed me. All but Dr. Hepburn. She looked delighted to answer my question.

“Not at all, the movie’s just playing out of order, and we have no idea what the next scene’s gonna be.”

“It’s really the only way to watch movies,” added one of the other members. “I’m Dr. Rizzo, by the way.”

“Really? How do you figure that?”

“Well, by changing things around, it changes the whole movie and changes the meaning! We can discover new things we didn’t know before that way!” Dr. Hepburn once again answered, ever eager.

“I don’t know. I’m just confused.”

“That’s how it is at first; you watch one of these special editions and you’re a little lost, but then it starts to click and you’re like ‘this is the best movie ever!’ Ever since, I’ve grown to think that way about every movie I’ve seen,” another member added. That one, I learned, was Dr. Danny Zuko.

“I love this part!” One exclaimed. The part in question was Rizzo singing a song to what I believed was likely her love interest, someone named Sandra Dee.

“Wait. Is she Sandra Dee? I thought she was Rizzo.” I shook my head in confusion.

“You got it all wrong! She’s making fun of Sandy! They’re rivals!” One of the flashbulb members corrected me. Then another shushed me.

“Why would they be rivals? They’re in love, aren’t they?”

“No, no, no. Sandy and Danny are in love.”

“Can’t all three of them be in love, and y’know…?”

“Love triangle?”

“Ew, no. I mean, they could all be in a poly ship, y’know?”

“It’s set in the 50s.”

“So? It’s a movie.” One of them looked about ready to get up and deck me, but Dr. Rizzo stopped them. “Let them finish,” Dr. Rizzo told the other member. “They might be onto something.”

That’s when it occurred to me that some of these scientists were named after Grease characters.

“Actually, no, that was all I had. Sorry to let you all down.” I wasn’t really sorry. There was nothing to be sorry for. “By the way, you guys got popcorn?”

“HOLY FUCK!” Dr. Danny Zuko cried out, shocked. After a few heavy sighs, returned to a normal, room temperature voice. “We forgot the popcorn.”

Dr. Hepburn paused the movie, then turned to Dr. Sodapop. “Will you make us all some popcorn with your popcorn materializer?”

“You mean a microwave?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll grab a bag. One sec.”

After approximately two minutes and forty-five seconds (approximately. No one was counting), Dr. Sodapop returned with popcorn. I grabbed a handful and shoved it in my mouth. Crunch was the sound it made, though it came off as more of a “cronch”.

“We good to continue?” I asked, my voice muffled by the buttery goodness of microwaved popcorn.

“Mm-hmm,” everyone hummed in unison, then Dr. Hepburn pressed play. That I had no idea what was going to happen next was exciting in a dumb way.

But more than that, it was nice to have company.

Up above, there was a faint light. Such a light was already faint when we were closer to it, but down below, we were like a speck. I reached out and felt flesh. Now, if you’ve known me by now, you’d known I could be somewhat of a gambler. So when I reached out to hug the flesh that I felt, there was a likely chance that I was about to hug a corpse.

“Ugh! Get off of me! I can’t see a thing!” Came the lurid voice of one spice that could have tasted like dish soap depending on who was doing the tasting. To me, she tasted just fine, though.

“It’s good to see you! I thought we were both goners!” I squeezed her.

“Well, I can’t see you, so maybe we’re both dead right now.”

“No, no!” I pointed up, a gesture that was rather pointless when we couldn’t really see each other. “Look up! There’s a light! We fell! We might be...in the void of space...or...the void of the space between spaces!”

“So what you’re saying is, we’re dead? Wait. You said ‘til death do us part’. If we’re both dead, does that mean I can just walk away?”

“Nu-uh!”

She got up, pulling me up with her.

“I’m teasing. It’s clear we’re still on the ship.”

She flicked a switch on her little laser backpack thing and lights lit up. Once she did, I could see her cute face with that blue hair I loved to rustle and behind that head of hair was a wall. I went up to the wall and knocked on it. Yep. We were still on the ship.

“Turns out there’s multiple floors. That’s one mystery solved!” I snapped my fingers.

“Ever the optimist,” she groaned. “So what’s the plan now, smart one?”

“Wanna cuddle?” I suggested.

She shook her head. “Those armed guards will probably show up down here any minute. Though I don’t know why they haven’t already. If anything, what we should be doing is getting a move on.”

Aw. But she was right. I knew that going in. It may take a while before we even got a chance to catch our breaths, let alone eat or sleep.

We walked down the halls until we heard someone’s voice nearby.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Instead of a person, what we found instead was a spare radio. Coriander picked it up.

“Yes. Those two intruders were shot dead. All clear,” she held her hand over the radio and turned to me. “We have to play along.”

“Oh. Uh. Good job? Shit. Um. Wrong number? Jeez. Okay, get it together. You can do this.”

“Is there anything you need to tell us?”

“Us? There’s more than one person there? Fuck. I stepped into this one, didn’t I? Good going, Juniper.”

My eyes widened. I just about let out a gasp.

“No, never mind me, you guys,” she continued. “You guys are probably all busy, what with your intruder killing and all.”

I snatched the radio out of Coriander’s hands.

“Hey Juniper! It’s us! Red and blue!” I yelled into the radio, unable to contain my excitement.

“Red and blue? Wait. That voice! Hey guys! I missed you!”

Coriander grabbed the radio and pulled it out of my grasp, then stuck her tongue out at me.

“Yeah, we missed you too. ‘Sup?”

“Oh, um, I’ve been fine!”

I leaned over Coriander’s shoulder and yelled. “ARE YOU OKAY? YOU’RE NOT HURT, ARE YOU?”

“Ow,” Coriander hissed. “You’re leaning too hard.”

“Oof. Sorry,” I backed away.

“Well...there was that part earlier where this guy tried to kill me with a metal bar and apparently put my brain into a computer…” she laughed. “Oh, but I’m fine now!”

“That’s not something you should laugh off, you know,” Coriander scolded. Well, hard to call it a “scold” as I could tell there was a hint of worry in her voice.

“But I’m fine, really. No need to worry. Verse came and saved the day.”

“Right, I think she mentioned something like that when we talked over the radio. Wonder what happened to her.”

“She went home. It’s all good now, I think. Well, I’m not sure. It seems like she’s got a lot to work through, but I’m glad for her.”

I felt like drawing a sigh of relief that she said ‘glad’ and not ‘happy’, for Coriander’s sake. Although she seemed fine, it may have still been a sensitive word for her.

“Yeah, us too. If nothing else comes from this suicide mission, at least we managed to help one person.”

“Nonsense! I’m not counting you guys out!”

“Okay, thanks. Just for that, let’s disregard our odds for now. You are safe now, right?”

“Well, I am in a bit of danger, actually…”

Oh shit. My mind and my heart raced together to see which one was faster.

“What’s going on?”

“Well, you see...I got roped in with the Medical Department and apparently I’m now a sub for this head nurse called Dr. Nightingale and she’s like really tough and kind of domineering.”

“She hasn’t hurt you, has she?”

“No,” then her voice got quieter, though I could still hear her. “But I kind of want her to…”

Coriander slammed her palm into her face and shook her head. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke once again into the radio. “Juniper,” she groaned.

“Yes?”

“Don’t call again unless you’re actually in trouble.”

She hung up before Juniper could so much as make a sound. Once she shoved the radio into her pocket, she began walking again.

“What? What was that all about!” I threw my hands up as I tried to keep pace with her.

“That woman’s beyond saving,” she grumbled.

“That was still rude! I think...I’m not really sure? Anyway, if she picks up again, you should apologize.”

“Sure. I ought to just accept that everyone we meet ends up being ridiculous in some way.”

“That’s right!” I snapped my fingers. “But we should still try to help them anyway!”

Right on cue, static came in from the radio. Coriander picked it up.

“Look, I’m sor--”

“Hey guys, it’s me, Casablanca.”

In other words, it was Blanc.

“Now, technically I shouldn’t be able to speak with you guys right now. I don’t have one of these things, and I’m in a room with other Flashbulb members. Also, I’m not moving my mouth right now. But if you disregard all those things, we can have a nice chat.”

Coriander handed me the radio. “It’s your ridiculous friend.”

“You mean ‘our’ ridiculous friend,” I corrected her.

“I don’t remember getting custody of them when we got together.”

Together. To + get + her = I got her. Wow. I was speechless.

“I just wanted to let you two know that technically, all the other guards should be able to hear you.”

“What?!” Both Coriander and I were in shock.

“Well, I say technically, because they didn’t. I pulled a few strings here and there to make things easier for you. Anyway, best of luck out there!”

“How’d you do that?” I asked.

“Oh you could call me an ‘Angelus Ex Machina’. Because if you think about it, this ship is one big machine. Anyway, peace!”

“Uh...okay...bye?”

I handed the radio back to the one I was together with. “Okay,” I relented. “That part was ridiculous, I’ll admit.”

With that little distraction behind us, we moved on.

So here’s when things got weird:

Rizzo had a pregnancy scare. That was the scene we were on. I had even more questions.

“So let me get this straight: Sandy, Danny, and Rizzo, are all in a relationship. But then Rizzo is also in a relationship with Kenickie, but then Danny is also in a relationship with Kenickie.”

“You got it all wrong,” Dr. Frenchie corrected me. “Rizzo is in a relationship with Kenickie and Danny is not in a relationship with Kenickie.”

“That can’t be right,” I shook my head. “You saw the way Kenickie and Danny acted toward each other. I don’t even act that way with my best of friends. They’re totally seeing each other.”

Later, as the film went on in its own way, Frenchy (the character) appeared, and was alongside one of the other T-birds. It seemed like all the T-birds went with the women in the Pink Ladies group because they felt pressured to by society. In every other scene, they acted more intimate than each other than the ones the movie insisted they were paired with. That got me thinking…

“Fellas,” I asked the male Flashbulb members in the room. “Is it gay to form a group of all guys and call yourselves the ‘T-Birds’?”

“Hmm…” They put their hands on their chins and wondered. “Yeah, a little bit,” one of them spoke up.

“Ladies,” I turned my attention to the female members. “Is it gay to form a group of all girls and call yourselves the ‘Pink Ladies’?”

“Hmm…” They also put their hands on their chins. Then, Dr. Hepburn raised her hand up and smiled a triumphant smile.

“Maybe they are all bisexual?”

“Bisexual and poly,” I agreed. “Yes, that seems to be implied with the way Kenickie is seeing Danny and Rizzo, and Rizzo is seeing Kenickie and Sandy. Then Sandy is seeing Rizzo and Danny. It’s all connected.”

Upon drawing my conclusion, the rest of the credits rolled as if to signify that my hypothesis was correct. Everyone clapped, me included. It felt like we had all cracked the secret code of the movie.

“Well, that was a fun movie, you guys. Thanks for the popcorn, too!”

“Don’t mention it,” Dr. Hepburn waved her hand away. “It was our pleasure.”

“By the way, while I’m here, what is it your guys’ department did?” I looked around.

They all shuffled their feet. “Ehh…”

“I can answer that,” Dr. Hepburn, always so reliable, spoke up. “They were part of the Population Department.”

“Oh yeah!” I perked up. “I think I recall them when I last infiltrated here!”

“Ohoho, how notorious! Well, those fine folks thought they had a population problem. Or rather, another department thought there was a population problem in the far future in one of the many timelines. First, they thought there were too few people. So they cloned everyone, and named all the clones Katherine. The naming was actually my idea,” she put her hand over her chest. “I’m named after Katharine Hepburn. With an ‘a’, but those ones with with an ‘e’. Go figure.”

“Oh, so you helped!”

“I gave them a little inspiration with the naming. You see, whenever others would see the name ‘Hepburn’, they would think of that other actress. Like, hello? Audrey who?”

“I know, right! I don’t know anyone with that name!”

“Bless your heart for that! So anyway, later on in the further future, I think it was the year 8008135? They had a different problem: too many of the people were clones of each other and there was too many people in general.”

“Wait. How do you define ‘too many people’?”

“That’s a good question!” She jotted that down in her notepad. “Well, they thought there were too many people. It’s rather odd speaking in past-tense, since here we are, in the past, but to these fine folks, those events were their past. But to the Katherine-verse, that’s a very long time from now. Well, there is no ‘now’ or ‘later’ considering where we are.”

“Yeah, I never did have a good sense of time in the first place.”

“That’s okay. Most of us here don’t. Anyway, they came up with the idea of turning all the Katherines into zombies to lower the population back down, and they’d turn them into zombies by triggering a transformation via a rendition of ‘Greased Lightning’. In the end, they were defeated by a rendition of ‘You’re the One That I Want’ and all the zombies were turned back human. But before the rendition, they did manage to reduce the population by ten percent.”

“So not a total loss,” Dr. Sodapop added.

“Basically you committed genocide,” I spoke up. “Eugenics and genocide.”

“Well, it sounds bad when you put it that way.”

“And again, how many people are too many? Who gets to decide? For that matter, why did you think that there were too many people? Just seemed like a big number, and you wanted a smaller one?”

“Well, first it was too small…” One of them began. I didn’t bother naming or knowing who.

“Okay. How much is too small? Who are you to decide what the right amount is?”

“We’re scientists! We have seen the past and the far future!”

“Hmm...yeah, I getcha,” I nodded. “But have you considered those were human lives? Also, ten percent is no small number.” “Indeed! That’s why it wasn’t a total loss!”

“Also,” another added. “They were all clones of each other meant to repopulate the earth after the numbers were too small, so technically they weren’t even that important in the grand scheme of things.”

“But try explaining that to one of them. Were any of them consulted? Did they agree to forcibly turning into a zombie to kill each other just to reduce their own population? Like, on an individual level, personally, I don’t think I’d want to turn into a zombie. Stardust, maybe. An angel, sure. But a zombie? Hmm...no.”

“What is a human life, anyway?” “We’re more concerned with the population as a whole than the life of one person, given that we are, or were, the Population Department,” further explained Dr. Sodapop.

“Now, now,” Dr. Hepburn stopped me before I could rant any further. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure why I was so worked up. Maybe it was some kind of personal kinship with clones, seeing as I was one, myself. “You shouldn’t expect too much from them. They’re not from the Ethics Department.”

“What? There’s an Ethics Department?”

“Indeed,” Dr. Rizzo spoke up. “They’re the only team of ethical scientists The Flashbulb has. Though the problem is, they’re only concerned about the ethics of their own department.”

“Mm-hmm. It seems to be a problem with micromanagement as a whole. I may have to put a comment in the suggestion box the next time I’m in the area. Though that suggestion box is about 500 kilometers away from here. So it may take me a while,” Dr. Hepburn muttered as she wrote more notes in her notepad.

“Well, you guys, it was nice to hang out with you all, even if most of you are mass murderers, but I’m bored, so I must go.”

“It was a pleasure to have some company,” Dr. Hepburn bid me farewell. That’s when I remembered.

“Oh yeah, company! Just so you guys know, I’ve got some friends here who are looking to take you guys down.”

“Interesting...which department?”

“All of them!”

I decided to stay seated. If I was going to dump more exposition, I may as well. Much to my (lack of) surprise, everyone in the room laughed.

“I wish your friends best of luck, but if they really wanted to secure their chances at some kind of victory, I’d suggest they focus their efforts on one department and call it a day.”

Each of the members chatted among themselves and seemed to agree with that notion.

“Yeah, I agree that would probably be the best course of action, but that wouldn’t really do my friends any good. The department that wronged their Earth is already gone.”

“Oh? What department was that?”

“The Morale Department! It was really quite fun, too! But then something happened and I guess you could say it all...overloaded...eh? Eh?”

“Ah, yes. Such a shame, that department. It seemed to be a success story, too.”

I can attest to that. I was both a success and a failure. A mistake. A happy accident.

“Now everyone’s gone crazed and the world’s destroying itself. Sound familiar?” I asked around.

Everyone looked at each other and shuffled their feet. Nervous glances were shared.

“Sorry about your Earth,” Dr. Hepburn waved her hand. “But about your friends, such a feat would take them a lifetime, if not several lifetimes. I have trouble just getting to my office most of the time. Besides, there’s all the logistics to consider. What will they do once they defeat us?”

“Beats me. Don’t know, don’t care. It’s their story, not mine. I’m just here to cheer them on.”

“What a good friend you are,” Dr. Hepburn did her little pen tap. “Just a little bit of advice for your friends: however they end up going about it, they should avoid the Arts and Crafts Room at all costs.”

“Room? Not department?” I was confused as all hell, but what else was new?

“Hm. Was it Arts and Crafts or the A/V Club? Sorry, I’m a little fuzzy on the details,” Dr. Hepburn bowed her head and I shook mine in turn.

“Don’t worry about it!”

“Rest assured, I won’t. Though I do wonder how it may happen some day. We’ve made great strides towards bettering humanity and give us another five, no, ten universes, and I’m sure we’ll get it right. Then, everyone will live in the ideal world, whatever that may look like.”

“Sure, but no matter how you look at it, you guys are the villains.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective. From our perspective, we’re the heroes, and those who try to stop us are the villains.”

“I’m sure I could see things that way, if not for the fact that such things like genocide and enslavement are pretty villainous if you ask me.”

“Maybe so. Nobody’s perfect, after all. But we’ll be perfect eventually.”

“Unless you guys are defeated, that is.”

She smiled and nodded.

For what it was worth, I really did appreciate the time spent with all of them, even if I admit I got a little heated there. Oh well, what could I say? I still cared about some things. Probably.

I got up out of my seat. It seemed like the right decision. There was only so much sitting and chatting I could do before I started to grow restless. I imagined the same thing applied to Euphoria, although she/they had the luxury of both being able to sit and chat and be everywhere at the same time. Me, I had to take the stairs.

“Well, at least your friends aren’t relying on any supernatural stuff, like we had to deal with,” Dr. Danny Zuko lamented. “The ones who defeated our department somehow contacted their alternate universe selves, with NO EXPLANATION AS TO HOW and then their alternate universe selves came over to our Earth and both versions ended up defeating our horde of zombies through SONG. Ridiculous, I know.”

“For sure,” I was stunned in my tracks. Every inch of me filled with goosebumps. “I thought there was a rule that if an alternate self goes to a different universe, the self in the other universe ceases to exist. Either through dying or by never having existed in that universe in the first place.”

Dr. Hepburn tapped her pen against her cheek. “Yes, indeed. That’s a universal rule that most departments in the company agree upon. However, maybe it didn’t apply to the Katherineverse?”

Sure. We were just going to call it that, huh?

“How does that make any sense?”

“Well, it may be a universal rule, but that doesn’t mean it’s an all-encompassing one.”

“That or there’s some serious inconsistencies going on and I’d like to speak with the manager.”

Everyone looked at each other.

“But everyone in The Flashbulb is the manager, technically,” Dr. Hepburn explained. Then, her eyes widened and she held her pen up. “Oh! Maybe you mean Grandmaster Flash!”

“Grandmaster Flash...I wonder if I’ve heard that one before somewhere?”

“Oh yeah. Everyone wants to be Grandmaster Flash, but so far the only Grandmaster Flash is the Grandmaster Flash and no one has met Grandmaster Flash.”

“But haven’t you spoken with the Grandmaster Flash before? Surely, you, being in HR, must mean that you’re pretty high up on the corporate ladder.”

“Erm...no. Not at all! I’m more of a glorified advisor, but even then, all I do is give advice. Most of that advice gets written down and put in a suggestion box and then none of the suggestions are implemented! But we can all learn something from our mistakes, can’t we? Like, maybe we should know why none of the suggestions never get implemented? Or maybe we should have a better means to give feedback. All things to consider.”

“So if you’re not one of the higher ups, who’s higher than you?”

“Everyone! But then again, is anyone lower than me, either? Hm...all things to consider now, isn’t it? I give advice and people listen, but my suggestions are never implemented.”

All trying to figure out how The Flashbulb worked did was make my head hurt, which also did not make me very happy. What would have made me happier was if I wasn’t so confused. Thus, I understood everything. But then I discarded all that understanding because I didn’t really care. Also my stomach growled.

“Right!” I snapped my fingers. “I forgot! I’m still hungry! That popcorn wasn’t enough! Can any of you tell me where I can get some food?”

“There’s the cafeteria,” Dr. Rizzo pointed out.

“Or, if you have a prescription, you can get something from one of the vending machines. But you’d have to go all the way to the medical department for that.”

I turned my head and smiled. “I’ll just see where I end up and go from there! Thanks guys!”

“Take care!” They all waved to me as I left the room.

As I departed, I wondered how Velvet and the spice of her life was doing. Not that I had to wonder, as if I was happy enough to know, I’d already know, but it also made me happy to wonder, so that was just as important.

What a predicament we were in. I began to laugh, which since my raiding partner couldn’t hear my thoughts, she probably thought I was laughing at nothing.

“When are we not in a predicament?” I mused in the midst of cackling laughter. “If what Blanc said was true, what’s even the use of these radios? And then, if we can’t communicate with each other if we get separated, what do we do? How are we supposed to protect Juniper if we can’t even reach her? For something so technologically advanced, I’ve noticed no cameras, no computer terminals to hack into. I feel really out of my element here.”

“Of course you would be. I tried to warn you before. Pretty sure others did too. This is uncharted territory for you and you figured you could just go in blind.”

“Yeah, well considering where we are at the moment, we’re quite literally in the dark.” There were other things to consider as well. Like where the path we were on would lead to, or if there were multiple paths we could take. Why those guards decided not to go down or shoot at us?

“I’m glad you can still find humor in spite of our situation,” Coriander retorted.

“Of course! You know me! I find ways to lighten up even the darkest of times.”

Coriander stopped. She turned around. “I know you alright,” she pointed up at me. “You use humor to deflect from whatever’s on your mind that you don’t want to deal with. So what is it that’s bothering you?”

“What isn’t?” I laughed again, but then sighed. “Everything’s coming to an end, isn’t it? I thought that there’d be a chance we’d have everything more figured out. Or that someone else would figure it out. I never really considered myself the ‘hero’ type or even a good person for that matter, but here we are, flailing about and saving the world just for the sake of it.”

“It really has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” Coriander seemed to agree. “I mean, it doesn’t feel that long ago that a version of you and I were trying to kill each other, and now we’re here. Really, we had a lot of time to prepare, but the more dire things got, the more everything seemed to happen so much faster.”

“Aw, sweetie,” I patted her head. She swiped my arm away.

“I didn’t say you could do that!” She barked. “I’m just trying not to put you in a goddamn slump. Jeez.”

“Still, what if Verse was right?” I could already feel the slump coming. Please let me pat you more. “What if the best ending had already passed us by and now the only options left are imperfect ones?”

“What, that tired ‘you can’t save everyone’ rhetoric?”

“We already didn’t save everyone. Lots of people died. Most people, in fact,” I started to sigh once more. “When I look back, it’s like, have I ever really saved anyone?”

She stood on her tiptoes and held the hair over my forehead up, then kissed my forehead.

“Hey! How come I couldn’t pat your head but you get to do that?”

“Because the situation called for it. Anyway, you’re an idiot. First, I’m alive. Second, so is Verse. Also, there’s that alternate Blanc, but I don’t think you had a hand in that one, plus they kinda weird me out, not gonna lie. But also, even if you hadn’t saved anyone, that’s not really the point. Most people don’t save others. It’s, like, just not a thing. So just the fact that you managed to save a couple people is pretty impressive.”

“Gee, what would I do without you?”

“You’re plenty capable. Not sure why I need to remind you that.”

“Please remind me. Whenever I’m in doubt.”

“That may either be a lot of reminding or none at all, depending on how things go. But for now, let’s try to focus on what’s ahead.” I nodded.

On the subject of what was ahead, I spied some scrap metal on the floor. I thought of picking some up, but it looked far too heavy. Shame, too, as there could have been some use for them. Maybe it was for the best. More than anything, I needed my mobility.

As we were about to turn left through the hallway, we both spied a sign on the wall.

“Dead End – Turn back now,” we read aloud in unison. Coriander shone her light through the hall. It seemed to extend. I nudged her.

“It might be a dead end, but then again, it might not. We should at least keep going just to make sure.”

She nodded. We continued forward and saw another sign. That one read ‘You’re still here? Why?’ That same philosophical question had plagued my mind throughout my life.

Even still, we kept going.

That was, until we came across a wall. On the wall, the words ‘Told you so’ were written.

“I hate to say it, but –” “Then don’t,” she stopped me dead in my tracks. Well, what really stopped me was the wall, but I wasn’t about to turn back, either. No, because I noticed something off about the wall. Little chips against the corner of the wall. I took the gun I had stolen off of one of the guards and slammed it into the wall with full force. Chunks of the wall fell off and then both Coriander and I saw it: a keypad.

“What the hell? How’d you know there was a thing like that?”

I shrugged and gave a smug grin. “Didn’t, but part of that wall seemed off.”

She examined it and I leaned in close as well.

“There could be a safe behind this wall or maybe a screen will appear and a recording will play. Then again, the most likely scenario is that whatever purpose it may have once served, it no longer does anything now. What with how dark this place is, I doubt anything down here has power.”

No. That didn’t seem right. Considering how advanced and powerful The Flashbulb had been made itself out to be, seeing something so powerless and abandoned didn’t seem like them at all.

“There has to be something. We just have to find the right combination.”

“Good luck with that. Not like you can tell what the combo is just by looking at it.”

“Uhh...I’ll get a number seven, hold the fries,” I joked.

“I regret to inform you that this isn’t a fast food joint.”

I shook my head. Our banter wouldn’t get us anywhere. Though with a bit of luck, the number seven could have one of the numbers for the combination. Then again, it was so hard to tell. There were no indications as to which buttons were the correct ones, let alone, how many digits the combination was. Really, it wasn’t so much of a combination as it was a permutation, but potato pah-tah-toe. No one calls their locker codes ‘locker permutations’, do they?

“Come on, clock’s a tickin’,” Coriander’s voice invaded my mind. She was right behind me. Or beside me. There was no clock, not literally, but there was her foot, and it was tapped against the floor. Then it seemed like she began to tap her hand against the wall beside her. From my peripheral, she seemed to bob her head to and fro, as if listening to some music. Perhaps the music in her head?

Argh! This isn’t working!

But...but...I had to think of something, right? Right?

My thoughts drifted to biting my own fingers off. You know, for those times when the nails just won’t cut it.

Instead, I ran my fingers across the keypad and noticed some indentations. Sure enough, the indentations were made on four of the keys: 2, 4, 6, 8.

2...4...6...8...who do we appreciate? Hell if I know.

If my assumption was correct and the four indentations meant that it was a four-digit permutation, then while it sure narrowed things down considerably, that also left room for it to be something like 2,2,2,2 or 4,6,6,6. Which meant there were still 3024 possible permutations.

“I don’t want to be standing around here forever, you know,” I could smell her irritation even if she had been standing on a whole other planet.

“Fine! It’s...I’ve got this!”

I caught a glance of her behind me. She stood with her arms spread out to their sides.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m exerting pressure. Are you feeling it?”

“Yes!” I grit my teeth. It wasn’t the time to be frustrated. Just as she said, “clock’s a ticking”. Oh. That was it.

I entered the code, then stood back.

After a single beep, the wall slid out and in its place was a door.

“How’d you know the right combo?” She asked.

“I went clockwise,” I explained.

“That tells me nothing!”

Upon the door was a series of text. Before we went through, we examined what it said. “Arts and Crafts Room and the A/V Club. Authorized personnel only. Abandon all hope.”

“Wasn’t that last bit a little melodramatic?” I scratched my chin.

“Yeah, I’ve abandoned all hope every since I was born, so that’s whatever to me.”

I laughed. “Abandoning all hope should be a prerequisite to arriving at The Flashbulb’s headquarters.”

We both shared a good laugh, and then went through the door. All we had to do was push it open a little and bam! We were in.

Into what, we had no clue. All around us was total darkness.

“We should hold hands just in case something bad happens,” I suggested.

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid of the dark?”

Something dropped onto the floor in front of us.

“What was that?!” She freaked out and grasped for my hand.

Spotlights began to shine down on us. Then, we could see a little better. First, what dropped on the floor? A popsicle stick. Near the dropped popsicle stick? An entire pillar, made out of popsicle sticks.

“For the record, I’m not scared! I used to sit and play video games in the dark all the time!” She let go of her hand and pointed at me.

“I mean, yeah, kinda same.”

Then, a voice from a megaphone came in.

“Hey guys! What are you two doing down here?”

We looked around to see that the voice in question came from above the popsicle pillar, where a lady with black hair in a bun (the key feature being a couple of popsicle sticks holding her hair bun together) was laying down on her stomach, her legs folded up and kicking in the wind. She looked to be painting on a piece of wood.

“Keep on your guard. She’s with them, so she’s probably really dangerous,” I whispered to Coriander.

“No shit,” she replied.

“Are you two new members or something? If so, please leave me alone! I would rather like to be focusing on my art right now!”

“Uhhh…” I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Actually,” Coriander jumped in. “We’re here to overthrow The Flashbulb and put an end to their bullshit!”

Oh no. Why’d you have to go...well, better her than me, I suppose.

“What a relief! I’m tired of those guys!” She kicked her feet and laughed. “Still, if you’re going to hurt me, please make it quick. Us interns are known to be cannon fodder.”

“Wait. You’re...an intern?” I was taken aback.

“Yeah! For sure! Well, I was. Kind of still am. You can call me Dr. Bob Ross! That’s to separate me from Dr. Ross, because if I went by that name, then people would associate me with Dr. Chandler and Dr. Phoebe. Wouldn’t want that? Or, when I’m making films, I’m Dr. Lynch! So...uh...take your pick!”

“I’m severely confused right now.”

“So you’re not our enemy?” Coriander seemed confused as well.

“Not unless you want me to be! Which would be quite the role to take...anyway, you’re in luck! Because I can help you two!”

“Really?”

Coriander and I both looked at each other.

“Maybe this Flashbulb member isn’t that bad.”

“Indeed!” She heard us. “They keep me locked away and everyone’s afraid of me, but that’s only because they’re afraid to get in touch with their artistic side! I only ever get food sent to me and art supplies, but that’s it. It’s quite the tragic tale, really. Especially how everyone thinks I’m evil.”

“If The Flashbulb is evil...and they think you’re evil...wouldn’t that make you good?” I pondered.

“Exactly! Art is the ultimate good!”

I started to smile. Maybe this Dr. Bob Ross, or this Dr. Lynch was just the lucky break Coriander and I needed.

[blastron01]

Ascendance of a Bookworm – 077

Interlude: A Gatekeeper's Job

I'm Gunther. I'm thirty-two years old, and today I'm standing watch at the south gates to protect my beloved family.

Otto is being extra annoying today. He just can't stop himself from constantly grinning, and he isn't actually doing his job at all. My guess is that something good's happened to his wife, who he just adores. I get it, sure, but that face he's making is just begging for a couple good punches.

"Get yourself together, Otto. Is that the kind of face a gatekeeper makes?!" "I am keeping myself together!"

When I call him out on it, he smacks himself in the cheeks, making an effort to shape up, but he barely manages anything. His cheeks are a little redder, but he can't keep a straight face at all. As I sigh in astonishment, I hear a low chuckle behind me. I turn around and see my commanding officer, shoulders quivering with laughter.

"Your subordinate's just like you, isn't he?" he says. "He's paying exactly as much attention to his job as you do when you're worried about your daughters." "Ah...?! Uh, no, sir, what I―" He claps me on my shoulder. "Have a talk with him," he says, sauntering off. "He always does it for you."

Back when I had to miss Tuuli's baptismal ceremony, and whenever Maïne's in trouble, Otto's always been there to listen to me, so I guess I owe him one.

Gotta do it, then. It's not gonna be great, but maybe I should go keep him company after work. ...Although, whenever he really gets started talking about things he loves, he gets completely unstoppable.

I sigh again. Learning that that's what people think of me was pretty unexpected, and I really had no way of knowing that everyone wanted us two irritatingly doting family men to be friends with each other, either.

After we hand over our posts to the night shift, Otto and I start walking towards the eastern gates. The eastern gates are connected to the main highway, so it gets the most pedestrian traffic, and the road that connects to them is lined with inns and eateries. The side streets and alleys off the main road are packed with shops too, and these are the ones that the people who actually live here tend to use.

Since it's the summer, every single shop has its doors flung wide open, an here and there I can hear the rowdy voices of people enjoying a drink or four. We make our way towards a bar that's a favorite among the soldiers here, taking care to avoid bumping into anyone else along the way.

The bar is full of the smell of food and drink. When we walk in, the two medium-length tables in the middle of the room are full of a party of about ten or so people having a loud conversation about something or other. The handful of smaller, round tables around the edge of the room that are meant for a few people are also almost all full up.

"It's really busy," remarks Otto. "C'mon, over there," I say.

I head towards the back of the room, cutting my way through the noisy party in the middle. On my way, I call out to the manager standing behind the counter.

"Hey, Ebbo! Two bereas this way. And some boiled sausage too, when you get the chance." "Comin' up!"

I put in an order for two bereas from Ebbo, the manager. To someone like me, who's been a gatekeeper ever since his apprentice days, basically everyone in this little city's an acquaintance, except for the nobles and rich people that keep the curtains closed on their carriages.

I slap down a large copper coin on the counter to pay for the drinks and the sausage, and Ebbo sets out two large wooden mugs, filled to the brim with berea. I grab the mugs, careful not to spill anything, look around the room for an empty spot, and start moving towards a round table near the back of the bar.

The table's still got all the tableware on it from the previous customers, but when the two of us start heading for it a sharp-eyed serving girl quickly runs over to clear off the wooden cups and forks. There's a piece of the bread that they serve meat on instead of plates left on the table, already damp with juice. She uses it to roughly wipe down the table, then tosses it to the ground. The shop dog runs over, tail wagging, and hungrily scarfs it down. Otto and I set our mugs down on the freshly cleared table and sit down, our chairs clattering against the wooden floor.

"We give thanks to Vantolle," we both say, lifting our mugs in gratitude to the god of alcohol, and take a drink.

I down my entire mug in one go, gulping noisily. In my opinion, this is the absolute best way to enjoy a frothy mug of berea. The feeling of the drink pouring down my throat after it's gotten so parched from work is irresistible. The sensation of the tiny little bubbles and that special bitter flavor hit my mouth an instant later.

I let out a satisfied sigh. "That's the stuff! ...So, what's happened?"

I set my empty mug down on the table with a clack. Otto, who still has some froth around his mouth, takes a plate of boiled sausage from the serving girl and orders us another round. As I reach for the chunk of hard bread they served my sausage on, Otto starts acting absolutely lovestruck, foppishly shrugging his shoulders.

"Wellll, Corinna says we're still not telling anyone yet, so even if it's you, sir, I just can't say!" "What, you're having a kid or something?" "H, how, how did you know that?!" "I mean, based on how you're acting and the fact that your wife doesn't want you to tell anyone, what else could it be?"

Otto gives up, scratching his cheek. To be a little more honest, I figured it out after going through the exact same thing and having someone point it out the same way. No need to tell him that, though.

Seriously, though, Otto's going to be a dad, huh? Is this merry man really going to be okay?

Those words flicker through my head, but even that was something that people asked about me back then, too.

Yeah, if he's so happy about having a child now, then he'll probably be a good, doting father. Based on my own past, I'd bet there'll be no problems there at all.

"Alright, here're your refills! Thanks for waiting."

The serving girl sets down fresh mugs with a heavy clack, their contents sloshing a little and sending a spray of foam over the sides. Neither she nor us customers pays it any mind, though, and I hand her a medium copper coin. Otto and I drink our drinks, distracted by the hubbub around us. Unlike my first mug, I don't slam it back in one go, but instead let the complex flavor roll across my tongue, tasting the bitterness of the wheat mixed with the sweetness of the malt, before finally swallowing it down.

Come to think of it, wasn't Otto's wife the seamstress that Eva and Tuuli admire? Tuuli was saying that after her darua contract runs out at her current workshop, she was going to try really hard to move to Otto's wife's workshop next. Also, her older brother's the proprietor of that company that's been taking care of Maïne. I myself only really know Otto, but it seems like our families have somehow managed to get pretty close.

"Otto, make sure you do right by your wife and kid. Your kid's going to be the heir to a major store, isn't he? Maïne was saying something about that." "...About that, sir."

His entire demeanor suddenly changes. His face hardens, his foppish demeanor disappearing, and he looks off into space as if he's searching for words. When I see his shoulders tense, just like Maïne's did when she was trying to tell us something she'd been bottling up, my head suddenly cools, the buzz of the alcohol disappearing. Despite the fact that I'd just taken a swig, my throat suddenly feels dry. I take a long, slow drink of my berea.

"...Alright, what is it?" "Ah~... well, this isn't an immediate thing, but... in a few years, I'm probably going to quit being a soldier."

The reason Otto had become a soldier was originally so that he could try to marry the heiress of a major store. A mere trader falling in love with the heiress of a major store. Basically everything about being a trader is different from being a merchant in a city. There's no way a trader could suddenly become a merchant working for a major store. At that point, the people around her were saying that he was only courting her in order to gain the social standing of a major merchant, so she treated him with a lot of suspicion at first. However, when Otto bought his citizenship and found work as a soldier, not a merchant, it showed her how serious his feelings were.

That was a major shock, though, when I heard about it. That happened when I was still stationed at the west gate, so that must have been, what, four years ago? One day, a particular trader, who'd always said that he was selling his wares so he could go home to his parents one day and open a shop in the city they lived in, came through the gates as usual. A few days later, that same trader shows back up again at the gates, saying that in order to woo a woman he'd sold everything he owned to buy a citizenship and was now looking for non-mercantile work. The other gatekeepers had to ask him to repeat himself several times, not believing their own ears.

I'd known Otto since he was a kid, though, all the way back from when his father kept bringing him along his journeys as a trader. It was easy to understand that if a man like him who said that he was going to go back to his parents someday suddenly sold everything to buy citizenship, he must have seriously fallen in love at first sight.

Thanks to his life as a trader, Otto knew his numbers, could read our official documents, and was decently good with his hands. In the end, I'd recommended him to the higher-ups in the guard, on the condition that he was mostly going to be doing paperwork. There are many soldiers who, no matter how diligent they are about training, constantly forget to do their paperwork. Otto joining the soldiery made dealing with the merchants and nobility coming through the gates with their letters of recommendation a lot easier on us all.

But now he's quitting being a soldier? Does this mean that his wife's family has recognized him as a merchant?

I've known for a while that when he's not on duty at the gates, he's been helping out with things at his wife's shop. I also know that he's been making sure to keep his mercantile senses sharp by talking with the traders and merchants that come through the gates. If this is the result of all of his hard work paying off, then I'm really happy for him, but there's something in his face that reminds me of a man who's lost his bearings.

"So now that you're having a kid, is that dutiful older brother of Corinna's finally recognizing you?" "...No, we've occasionally had conversations about that before, so that's probably not it. I think this is because of Maïne." "What?!"

I slam my cup down, eyes nearly flying out of my head. I hadn't expected that my daughter's name would come up at all. Otto, however, looks a little more relaxed, reaching for his cup and taking a drink.

"Sir, when I was looking for work outside of being a merchant, the reason I thought being a soldier was the best choice for me was so that I could make acquaintances with the people living in this city. I wanted to make sure that I could remember everyone's faces, and that they'd all remember mine. Also, I wanted to be able to know about all the merchants and nobles coming and going, so I decided that being a soldier would be a good way to gather a little intelligence." "Hmm," I say, noncommittally. "I'd planned to keep being a soldier for a while longer, but things around the store have started changing. The rinsham and hairpins that Maïne brought us have been extremely good products for us, so the Gilberta Company's been achieving great things lately." "Huh, because of the products Maïne brought you?"

I'm happy that Maïne's being praised, and as a parent I'm pretty proud about that, but something feels a bit off about all that. From where I'm standing, rinsham is something that Tuuli made, and the hairpins that Eva and Tuuli made were much prettier than Maïne's. When Maïne tries to make things, she doesn't have enough strength to do it, so she winds up making a whole lot of mistakes. I can't even count all of the times I've seen her look at something that hasn't turned out quite right with her head tilted to the side in confusion.

"But the Gilberta Company's main business is in clothing and accessories, so when she and Lutz made a vegetable-based paper and brought that to us... it's very profitable and influential, but it doesn't fit the direction of our store. Benno wants to expand the scope of what we sell. Corinna, though, really doesn't have any interest in anything but clothing, so she's been saying that she doesn't want to do any expansion." I frown. "Are you telling me that Maïne bringing you things has been causing conflict?" Otto frantically waves his hand back and forth. "Oh no no no, I wouldn't call it conflict at all. From a merchant's standpoint, all those things are amazing. I totally understand why Benno wants to get involved. It's just that Corinna doesn't want to sell them. That's why Benno's thinking that he wants to hand over the Gilberta Company to Corinna earlier than we'd planned, get me to help, and own his own shop... He's going to start a new shop in order to sell the things that Maïne comes up with to other cities."

If the proprietor of a major store is going all the way as to start a new store, then selling and distributing these products must be generating colossal sums of money. A little while ago, an extremely excited Tuuli had been trying very hard to explain to me that Maïne was actually extremely rich, but I figured, reasonably, that she was just exaggerating. There's no way that a girl just barely out of her baptism would have any real amount of money.

"...So it's true, then, that Maïne's been earning a ridiculous amount of money?" "It really is. But, she's been extremely careful about controlling her finances. Maybe someone taught her about that, because she's far better at it than you'd expect a kid to be. I don't think you'd have managed to teach her how to calculate transactions at that level, sir, so where in the world did she learn it?"

He grins teasingly at me. I stare back at him for a moment, then snort. There's only one being that could have taken notice of my cute little girl, filled her to overflowing with mana, and gifted her with knowledge beyond understanding.

"The gods taught it to her. My daughter is beloved by the gods, after all." "I kept thinking you were just exaggerating like a normal father, but it's kinda scary how persuasive that idea is now."

Otto laughs, shrugging his shoulders, then takes a big bite of his sausage. I take a bite of my own, then turn the conversation back to him.

"So, when are you planning on quitting? We don't have anyone able to take over for your work, you know?" "Oh, yes, there's no way that I'd be able to hand off my post anytime soon, so I was thinking that it would be sometime in the next two to three years. I've been thinking I want to train up someone to be good at calculations, though." He sighs. "Ahh... Maïne getting caught by the temple was a miscalculation on my part."

I recall that Otto had advised Maïne to not become a merchant's apprentice, trying to convince her that both her physical weakness and the strain she'd put on human relationships meant that it would be better for her to work out of her home. What she decided back then was that she was going to work at home, sometimes come along with me to the gates to do some work there, and keep living like that for as long as she could, wasn't it? I don't think anyone was thinking that she might get caught up by the temple.

"It was a miscalculation for me too, I guess. Maïne had been saying that she didn't want to make any noble's acquaintance, then suddenly she started saying she wanted to go apprentice as a priestess. Just to read books whenever she wanted, huh, that girl..."

Just remembering the time when she'd told me that she wanted to go to the temple and be a priestess makes my grip tighten painfully on the mug.

"It seems like Benno had been gathering information and trying to pull some strings, but... Sir, are you happy with the way things turned out?" "Do you think I am?" I say, shooting him a sharp look. He raises his hands in defeat, shaking his head. "No, not at all."

No matter how many good conditions we got, Maïne attending the temple isn't anything I would have picked by choice.

"I don't think I possibly could be happy about that," I say. "They're promising that she's going to be treated the same way that the nobles are, but once you start thinking about those guys' sense of privilege, there's no way that that's actually going to wind up happening." "...Yes, exactly."

It's just lip service. Sure, to make it look good, they'll probably give her some blue robs, but I know for a fact that they're not going to treat her the same as a noble in any meaningful way.

"Although, we did manage to avoid getting her thrown in the orphanage. If she can come home, then I still get to see her. Those guys are nobles. Even if all we got out of this was that she didn't get completely snatched away by them, then that's still a win in my book." "It's a very precarious position, though." "...Yeah."

Maïne's magic had gone berserk, coercing the temple master into backing down, so things are somewhat hazy right now, but he was originally planning on sentencing me and Eva to death and throwing Maïne into the orphanage. She saved our lives, and we won her the ability to live at home, but that was an enormous concession on the temple's part. Wishing for any better treatment than that is futile. Rather, the temple master is going to be livid that he was coerced by a mere commoner, and is absolutely going to treat her terribly. Just thinking of what might happen once she starts going to the temple fills me with dread.

"Sir. This is second-hand information, but according to Benno, Maïne has at most five years of relative peace at the temple. Since there aren't that many nobles around right now, people that have mana are very important, but once their numbers start to increase then there's a very real danger that they're going to treat her as a burden." "...Just five years, huh? It's still better than the alternative, though. If she doesn't go to the temple, then it won't even be half a year from now before she dies."

I'm letting Maïne go to the temple for the sake of prolonging her life. That is all I can do for her. If I had magic tools, I could do it myself, but I don't have either the connections or the money to be able to get any. I'm too worthless as a father.

"If she can't go to the temple, then making a contract with a nobleman would be fine, too. She has a lot of value: she has mana, and she can make money. If she can demonstrate how valuable she is before things start getting dangerous, then there's a good chance that she'll be able to secure better conditions on the contract than just being kept alive." "Maïne said that she wanted to stay with her family, so she didn't want a contract with a noble, but... as her father, I think I'd prefer her to keep living."

She suffered with her fever for so long, but now that she's finally able to do the things that she wants to be able to do, I want her to live for the sake of her dreams. But, does her wish to live extend all the way to making a contract with a noble? What kind of noble would she contract with, and what conditions would she be able to get on that contract? Everything is all up to Maïne.

I'm her father, yet there's so little I can do. Benno consulted with his relatives to gather all sorts of information for her. The guild master sold her one of the magical tools he'd gathered for his own granddaughter's sake. I can't help but wonder if they've done so much more for her than I ever could.

"...Just what can I do for her, as her father? I don't have money, I don't have connections. No matter how important she is to me, in the end, I'm just a soldier that can't even protect his own daughter, aren't I? I'm just a bad joke."

I let the alcohol do its work, letting out the feelings I can't ever let out at home. I've been so self-importantly declaring that I'd protect all of the families of this town, when there's nothing I can really even do for them.

Otto slowly tilts his head doubtfully to one side as he listens to me grumble.

"No, I'd say that you, the soldier who guards the gates to this city, are the gods' baton of command." I narrow my eyes. "...What do you mean by that?"

Otto glances around the room, which still roils with noisy activity, then leans a little closer, lowering his voice.

"Thanks to Benno's assistance, Maïne is more-or-less well-protected within the city by a magical contract. At the very least, there's plenty of people here in the city who want to keep Maïne safe. Out of all of Benno's predictions, though, the one that we should be most scared of is the possibility that Maïne might be kidnapped by a noble from somewhere else." I gulp. "What happens if she's kidnapped?"

I've been mostly assuming that the danger was going to come from the nobles in the temple. I hadn't even considered that nobles from other parts of the country might have their eyes on her too.

"If she leaves the city, she'll be cut off from the contract magic's effects. If nobles from this city do anything, and someone like the guild master or Benno decide to do something about it, then they might be able to appeal to the lord of the city to investigate the matter. However, if the nobles are from another city, then there's a possibility that they'd be out of the lord's reach."

Benno is the proprietor of a major shop, and it's plain to see that he has a lot of political power. Hearing that someone like him, or the master of the merchant's guild, or even the lord of the city himself have limits to where they can actually exercise that power hits me like a blow to the head.

If the lord of the city can't do something, then how could I possibly do it either? How in the world do I deal with nobles from another city?

I squeeze my forehead tightly, fingers digging into my temples. Otto, though, gives me a broad, challenging grin.

"If we don't want that to happen, then we're going to want to find out this of the priests in the temple has ill feelings towards Maïne and do some investigation into what nobles those people might have relationships with. Also, we'll need to keep an eye out for any nobles from other places who come to the city, then decide if they're trouble or not. Since that's the case, then wouldn't you think that the gatekeeper's job of reading every single letter of introduction and written invitation that people bring with them is, in fact, a very suitable job for keeping Maïne safe?"

I blink several times, thinking back on what a gatekeeper's job is. He's right in that if you want to know about the movement of the nobility, being a gatekeeper is an excellent way to do so. No noble from other cities ever comes through our gates without either a letter of introduction or a written invitation. Whether by horse or carriage, nobles who enter the city always pass through the gates, then based on their letter of introduction, head straight to the inner ramparts and enter the nobles' quarter. Distinguished noblemen never ordinarily wander around the districts where us commoners live. If we're alert for any noble stopping their carriages in the city or heading straight for the temple, then there's a good chance that we'd be able to head off any kidnapping attempt.

Even if, for example, a nobleman were to hire some thug to do the kidnapping for her, any gatekeeper on duty would instantly recognize them as a stranger. We can pretty easily spot anyone who makes their living doing shady business, too. If I talk to the people here as I make my rounds, asking them if they've seen anything suspicious, and get closer to my fellow guards, then I could, just by my every day actions, put myself in a position where I can find out very quickly if something strange is going on. This is entirely part of my job as a soldier.

"Sir, weren't you the one who said that you became a soldier to protect all the families of the city? Maïne counts. I think that if you just keep doing what you've always been doing, you can protect her." "Now that I think of it, I think starting next spring we're going to be reassigned to the eastern gates. That might be some good luck."

Every three years, squads are rotated between the gates. That's probably in place to stop things from getting in a rut, help deepen the bonds between all the soldiers, and make sure the work winds up being the same everywhere, but I don't really care too much about the actual details. All I care about is the fact that this upcoming spring, my squad is going to be reassigned to the eastern gates. Those gates face the highway, so they have the highest amount of traffic out of all of the gates, and it'll be the easiest place to get information from. It's the gate through which the largest number of strangers come through, so it'll be the place where I'll need to be the most vigilant.

"You'll need to be on your guard, and don't let anything slip by when you're gathering information," says Otto. "I think it would be a good idea for you to figure out how you can use your connections with the other soldiers, and go over how they can get in contact with you so that you can start moving as soon as even the littlest strange thing happens. I'll help, too. After all, Benno's sticking his nose into all sorts of things these days, so it's not like this doesn't affect my family either."

With a defiant grin, he makes a fist and flexes his bicep, bending his elbow, making the sign we soldiers use to wish each other a good fight.

"Sir. Let's definitely keep her safe."

I return his grin and down the last of my berea, washing the last of my melancholy away. My cup clacks against the table as I set it down. I clench my fist and bend my elbow, then tap my fist lightly against Otto's.

"Yeah. My family's one of this city's families, so I'll protect them too."

END OF BOOK ONE

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[liebeztod]

tired of being a secret

It’s been a while since I’ve craved to write. I think so many terrible things — and I mean terrible as a relative term — have happened to me that finally, it’s time to put it all down in words, rather than the confusing mess they are in my head.

I guess I stopped writing because of how terrible things got at work. And I mean, TERRIBLE. A part of me was too exhausted to write whenever I had to go about my days at BMW. I was also afraid to record anything because of the possibility of legal action I wanted to take. At this moment, I feel like those things could’ve helped me. But because of work, the depression came back. The anxiety too, and both in full force. Suddenly there was this urge to kill myself again, this desire to just… let go of the wheel and ride on into oncoming traffic. I knew I had regressed, and I was mad that work led me to this.

In May of 2019, I filed an HR report with the HR Lawyer. All because I didn’t trust Megan, our local HR Manager. And given the way things turned out, I was right not to trust her. The entire investigation lasted from May (when I filed) until October. It was so much up and down. But worst of all, everyone in my department started to ignore me. My boss, David — Mitch, Nina, and obviously Jang. It was even more stressful because of all the duties they took away from me as Center Assistance Manager. Nina’s job was eliminated, and she was given the job of SRM — but still they withheld work from me. Work that I was supposed to absorb from her. For 4 months I was without tasks — David having taken all the legal matters away from me, but never supplementing it with anything else. It was getting humiliating to beg for work — beg for Nina’s work which I had already done in the past. It wouldn’t have been a new job for me. The bigger frustration was how she had two jobs to do, and was obviously prioritizing her new one, while I was sitting at work, literally twiddling my thumbs, online shopping, looking for projects. Making up projects! The anger in me was… insurmountable. I had to start going to therapy every week. I started taking anti depressants in September, because of how fucking terrible it was to go into an office where everyone ignored me.

The worst part about it, when it ended in October, was finding out Megan told everyone to ignore me. But without letting me know that was the plan. That’s what makes me so angry, and why to this day, I still think about taking legal action. I’m not even going to say it “SEEMS” unethical for her to have done that, because at the end of the day, it isn’t seems, it WAS unethical. I’ll never forget what she did to me. Creating a hostile environment where I felt the need to seek medical help, am on anti depressants, am visiting my therapist once a week, and where my doctor finally said, “I’m taking you out of work for 8 weeks.”

I came back in February. But I guess a lot of the important things happened while I was at work.

Aside from family and friends keeping my head above the water, I dabbled in something that was probably one of my greater shames. Going into it, I knew it was wrong. And coming out of it, I told myself, “That was wrong, and you never should have done it.” But I did do it, and all because I wanted some sort of reprieve from what was happening in my life.

Of course, my initial hurts were due to work. I was always stressed, always coming home crying, exhausted, beaten. I hadn’t even done ANYTHING at work. I just sat there, but they were the most draining days of my life.

The second hurt was still Peter. After seeing Peter in Japan last April, I had resigned that he was the only one for me. AGAIN. And I can tell you at this moment, as I write this, I still feel that way. But around July of last year, I was getting antsy. When he and I spoke to each other in that hotel room, me inadvertently confessing my love for him while he acknowledged he too had feelings for me, I clung to that. I still cling to that. When he told me, “One day you and I will be together. It’s going to be us someday, in the end” I clung to that, too. Like a mantra. Every day telling myself — we are going to be together. And even knowing that, I didn’t want to allow myself any kind of distraction.

Until I did.

Peter told me his girlfriend was to move back to Hawaii in August. I felt like I had time, y’know? The internal cravings were finally scratching, asking for just one hook up, one night with some random guy I’d regret.

But I did something worse. I went on a date.

His name is Scott. We met on Twitter through the Dodger twitter community. One date, and he didn’t kiss me. Second date, at the top of Perch Rooftop. We made out all night. Third date? Dodger game. Fourth date? Another dodger game. Fifth date? A weekend getaway in Palm Springs. Sixth date? I dunno, another Dodger game. Mastros, museums, botanical gardens, you name it. I did more with Scott in 5 months than I have with anyone else. In a way, I guess he was my first boyfriend. But… I also want to put an asterisk on that, because of the number one caveat in this whole story: Scott is married.

I think Scott is STILL married as we speak. But I don’t know. I knew he was married going into my first date because, like a smart person, I googled him. I googled “Scott _____” and found his wedding website, wedding registry, you name it. I saw pictures of him and his wife, who just got married March of that year. So why, in July 2019, is he asking me out on a date? Well, they were separated. Not “legally” separated but taking time off. That should have been a red flag to me, and maybe it was… but I think I went into it because of this promise of casualness. This idea that I wouldn’t have to commit to him.

“There’s no way this guy is going to want to get a divorce for me, so, yeah.”

He fell harder than I did. And when I would tell him, “Yeah, you need to try one more time with your wife,” he always seemed to be very disappointed by my answer. I think he was always waiting for me to tell him, “I want you to get a divorce from your wife.” But as much as I grew to like him, I always knew — he’s not willing to TRY. If he just married this woman, and then called it quits after two months, what’s that mean for what could’ve happened between us?

It didn’t end as well as we promised it would. He threw a tantrum when I agreed with him that we should end it. He offended me by blocking me on Twitter, so I said, “I’ll do you one better” and blocked his phone number. Unfortunately, Apple only blocked his number on my phone. And about a month after “the break up” (which happened around Thanksgiving), I turned on my laptop and received this large, sappy message about how I’m his “unicorn,” and how I’m the one that got away, and how he and I will be together in the next life.

I guess it scares me. I say these things about Peter.

At this point (December 2019) I hadn’t heard from Peter since his birthday, July 13th. All throughout August I remember wanting to message him, ask him if he’d broken up with his girlfriend yet. I wanted to ask him this in September, in October, in November. Even when Scott and I broke up, I wanted to ask this in December and January, and even February. But I felt like it would be so disingenuous. I wanted to ask in August, yes — but I made up the excuse, “Well, maybe she isn’t moving back to Hawaii until the END of August. I’ll chat him up then.” But it would seem SO OBVIOUS if I was reaching out to him. I also had Scott, who I was quite fond of. Never in love, but fond of. It was nice to have someone obsessed with me, and I knew I liked him because of how jealous I would get about girls messaging him on Twitter.

But still, the goal was in my mind: Peter.

After Scott and I broke up, I just… felt like it’d be a disservice to text Peter now that I was suddenly “free.” I said I’d wait a few months. So finally, four days ago, I did it. I texted him. And oh, what bliss!

But something else happened before this. The thing that prompted me to text Peter.

After Scott, I was… bored. I felt better, of course. Scott could be so judgmental. He was uber jealous, super upset about how promiscuous I used to be. And I say that with a laugh, because I wasn’t “PROMISCUOUS” — I was just curious and slept with different men because I didn’t know what I wanted, what I liked. And this was something Scott always made sure to voice that he didn’t like about me. Especially the whole Dieter debacle…

Anyway, I hadn’t entertained any texting with anyone for a good while. Until last week. 

I got a text from Vincent, a service guy I met at NAC last year who works at one of our dealers. If I am being honest, he kinda looks like Scott. Just a little. But in a way, he was kind of… MORE annoying. A little more rough around the edges, a bit sexist, a big tease when it came to flirting. To be honest, I was put off by it. But if I’m also being honest, I was horny and bored and lonely. So… one thing lead to another, and we started sexting. That’s it. SEXTING.

So I guess there was this idea that he was going to see me at this year’s NAC. Spoiler alert, I wasn’t invited this year because of the changes made to my job — but he didn’t know that. And then, because of this coronavirus, the NAC was CANCELED!! Literally, a day after it was canceled, he immediately started our conversation off with this… admission that he’s married. So, like… suddenly that there’s no chance of us meeting, he had to get that out of the way: “you seemed like you wanted something more, and I just wanted to let you know I’m married.”

Of course, I was mad, but I was still BAD. I still kept sexting him, because again, suddenly there was this idea that I didn’t have to COMMIT. However, I had a very sobering moment a couple days after this admission… I found his wife’s Facebook page, and was face to face with a picture of her, Vincent, and their two children.

I ignored him the entire weekend and told him today, “Yeah, we gotta stop. I know it’s just WORDS, but she says you’re the love of her life on her Facebook profile!”

I’ve shut him up with that alone.

So now I’m left with this… DISGUST. Why am I only being approached by married men? In Scott’s case, he kept it secret. In this guy’s case, he kept is secret until suddenly the conference in Las Vegas was canceled. I can’t help but think… do married men flock to me because I seem like I have low self esteem? And do I prove that I do by entertaining them? I’m even sicker and more jaded about dating than ever before. Suddenly it just seems more likely, more apparent that men are cheaters, and want something else after matrimony, or after the birth of their first or second child.

It made me sad. It made me feel filthy, because I shrugged my shoulders when I saw they were married and played along anyway. And so… I texted Peter, in hopes that I’d remind myself what love felt like. Even if it’s one sided, even if he doesn’t feel the same way. I just wanted to remember how I felt when talking to him, because it’s the closest thing to love I’ve ever known.

Me: “Hey you, how’re you doing?” Peter: “Am okay, been wondering how you’re doing too. […] It was good to see you last year. Lol, said that last time didn’t I.”

I started telling him about my disability leave, and he asked why I didn’t come back to Japan. Then we just talked and laughed and laughed. I felt… so uplifted.

Me: “I’m judgmental. You know this.” Peter: “Yes, I live in fear of ending up on the other side of that judgement.” Me: “What? I’d never judge you except for your terrible movie tastes.” Peter: “M-m-mean.”

And then, since it was bedtime for me, and he was still at work (I think the time difference was 11pm for me, and 2:30pm for him), we started saying our goodbyes. And then… he said something that took my breath away:

Peter: “I still think about when you came here, you know. I don’t text because I assume you’re living your life. But yeah, anyway.” Me: “Haha, Peter, believe me, I think about that all the time. Like, very fondly. You’re part of my life. You’re not an intrusion, you know? Anyway, we can catch up later. Don’t get fired from your job by talking to me.”

I know it doesn’t seem like much, but I guess it just… made me happy to know he thinks of me. And to know he thinks about those nights we had together in Japan. Innocent, uneventful nights — except with the underlying subtext of wanting something more. Perhaps that was my first taste into being “ok” with infidelity. He was just DATING his girlfriend. And I said, “But I’ll do it. I’ll do it because it’s Peter, and because I love Peter.”

Here’s the last sadness I am going to impart before ending this entry, albeit haphazardly.

If it isn’t Peter, I hope it’s someone who doesn’t keep me a secret. When all those men flocked on me at NAC last year, they were all married and wanted me as their dirty little secret. When things ended with Scott, I asked if he’d tell his wife. He said no, she didn’t need to know. I remember thinking, “Wow, that’s a great way of trying again with your wife.” And now with Vincent, I am also a secret.

I know I’m picky, but I guess I’m just… amazed by this idea that I only attract men who want me on the side, and not in their real lives. Not that I want to be in their real lives. But it doesn’t feel like anyone i’ve ever given my time has ever been interested in giving me all of theirs.